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Finding my center

NOTE: My Tuesday Zoom class is sold out. If you’re interested I’m waitlisting another class for Monday evenings starting May 18.

          I’ve been looking at this all wrong. This time is a gift, an opportunity to try new things, starting with online classes. 
Sunset sail, by Carol L. Douglas. Available through Folly Cove Fine Art.

I could avoid the struggle of redefining my work and teaching while in Argentina, but once home, it hit me at gale force. It didn’t help that I spent five weeks battling an intestinal bug. Every event, workshop and class I’d meticulously planned for this summer was either cancelled, postponed, or in limbo. Suddenly, I had no business plan at all.

Last week I accepted paintings back from two galleries that have quietly closed their doors. Both were suffering from pre-existing conditions, or what I’ve taken to calling ‘business co-morbidities.’ I’m seeing that a lot right now. This crisis may end up being like a spring ice storm that does Nature’s severe pruning. They’re scary but lead to a healthier forest. However, they also leave tremendous short-term damage. In human lives, that translates to heartache.

I’ve started spending Sundays listening to my friends preach. Bill Carpenter talked about how hard this shutdown is for kinesthetic learners. That’s me, so a piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Then our own Tommy Faulk talked about using this time to ask why we’re doing what we’re doing. Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe this time is a gift, an opportunity for a reset.

White Sands of Iona, by Carol L. Douglas.


Mary Byrom
is weeks ahead of me in transitioning to teaching online. She listened carefully as I laid out all my frustrations. Mary’s a great teacher, so I wasn’t surprised that her solution was lucid and simple. I already had all the tools I needed; it was really a question of adapting them to this new medium of Zoom.

It took no time for me to put her suggestions into practice. Tuesday’s class (which was the last one of my current session) was a joy to teach. If the feedback I got is any indication, it was good for the students, too. So, yes, we’ll have another online session and hope that the need for social distancing is gone by the time it ends.

The Alaska Range, by Carol L. Douglas

We meet on Tuesdays from 10 to 1, on the following dates:

  • May 12
  • May 19
  • May 26
  • June 2
  • June 9
  • June 16

I’ve had two people joining me from out of town during the last session. That made me realize that you don’t need to be in Maine to take this class. That means my old students from New York or my former workshop students can join me. 

We still stress the same subjects as we would do outdoors:

  • Color theory
  • Accurate drawing
  • Mixing colors
  • Finding your own voice
  • Authentic brushwork

We utilize painting protocols to get you to good results with the least amount of wasted time. That means drawing, brushwork and color. I’m not interested in creating carbon copies of my style; I’m going to nurture yours, instead. However, you will learn to paint boldly, using fresh, clean color. You’ll learn to build commanding compositions, and to use hue, value and line to draw the eye through your paintings.

Beach erosion, by Carol L. Douglas. Available through Ocean Park Association.
 

Watercolor, oils, pastels, acrylics and—yes, even egg tempera—are all welcome. Because it’s a small group, I can work with painters of all levels. The fee is $200 for the six-week session.

As with all my classes, this class is strictly limited to twelve people. Email me for more information and supply lists.

Lilac’s 75th Birthday

When in New York recently, I joined a friend painting on Pier 40 (at the foot of Houston Street). I painted a small oil sketch of two of the tugboat Lilac’s stacks, which reminded me, for some reason, of my twin daughters. The oil sketch will be available—among many other works—at the celebration of the Lilac’s 75th birthday on Memorial Day weekend.

Hours are:
Saturday, May 24—10 AM to 6 PM
Sunday, May 25—10 AM to 6 PM
Monday, May 26—10 AM to 9 PM

(I won’t be at the artists’ reception, but it’s from 4-8 PM on Monday.)

A percentage of the sale of paintings will go to support renovation efforts for the Lilac.

“Twins”
8×10 oil sketch by little ol’ me

Handle with care

The saddest sound in the studio is the plink of a pastel stick shattering on the floor. (It sounds like the ka-ching of a cash register.) But there are many ways to damage pastels.

A student had stored these pastels in a nylon carrier which holds six plastic boxes. Each box contained a selection of hard and soft pastels in roughly analogous colors. Because there was no rice or foam or compression holding the pastels in place, they danced jigs against each other. The resultant grey slurry coated the sticks, making it impossible to tell what color each pastel was.

We are cleaning them and putting a bed of rice in the bottom of each tray, but the process takes hours. Better to avoid the problem.

White rice (uncooked, please!) is a tried and true method of keeping pastels clean. It is cheap and renewable. (Be careful disposing of it, since it might tempt small animals.) Nevertheless, little rice-filled boxes are a pain in the neck to handle en plein air.

My favorite pastel box has hard panels which press in place with Velcro seals. These hold my pastels securely between two sheets of foam. My local art supply store has discontinued it because it isn’t well-made (I’ll vouch for that) but rather than show you some commercial alternatives, I’d suggest that you look at this delightful rendition made out of a cigar box. For my purposes, it’s too small, but I do like the price.

Cori Nicholls’ cigar box pastel pochade. Devilishly clever, follow her link, below!

http://www.wetcanvas.com/Articles2/47843/611/

I have an old Dalor-Rowney wooden pastel box which might be perfect for making a larger version of Cori’s box.

Short break to move studio

I am painting this week with a much larger brush, relocating my studio to accommodate more students. I love to paint, no matter if it’s on a wall or a canvas. Back soon with another “how to paint” adventure!

Gwendolyn enters the room

Gwendolyn is a beginning watercolorist who is reengineering the world of plein air for her classmates (and for me). She has made her French easel more functional than I ever imagined possible. Look here to read her first entry, which explains her innovations to date. I plan to make one of her noodle brush holders tomorrow myself. Brava, Gwendolyn.