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When words matter most

Back It Up, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

My friend Clif Travers and I did a residency together at the Joseph A. Fiore Art Center. That was an opportunity to meet artist Lois Dodd, who came by one night for supper, along with painter David Dewey. I was rather starstruck, since I’m an unabashed fan of Dodd (and Dewey, for that matter).

Dodd proceeded to give a short, pithy and entirely constructive critique of one of my paintings. She made her point without in any way making me feel bad, and I walked away having new ideas and even more respect for her talent.

Compare that to a critique I’d had fifteen years earlier, by a pastelist and faculty member at a distinguished American university. “It looks like an immature Chagall,” she said. I went home and destroyed the painting by trying to make it more abstract.

(Sadly, I can’t find images of either work, although the corpses might be lying around here somewhere.)

Stuffed animal in a bowl, with Saran Wrap. 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

When words matter most

I’ve regretted wrecking that painting ever since. As a much more experienced painter, I think her criticism was simply wrong. She was simply saying, with her New York fin de siècle myopia, that while dreams and memory were fine, she had no time for highly-representational painting.

The part of that story that embarrasses me is not what she said, but my response to it. I should have set it aside and tried again on a different canvas. But I rushed into revisions while not even realizing how angry I was.

I was an experienced painter at the time; what made me flare up so badly?

Possum, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping in continental US.

Most artists are sensitive about their work; it’s deeply personal. Making it exposes our most private thoughts and feelings, which are in turn wrapped up in our identity and worldview.

Furthermore, we put a significant amount of time, energy, and dedication into our work. We can laugh when the uninformed say, “my kid could do that,” but when a respected practitioner dismisses it without care, that’s another issue entirely.

Art is also a means of communication, so negative feedback can strike at a deeply personal level. That’s especially true if the work is part of a creative leap forward, when we’re already feeling a sense of risk. Or, in the case of my painting, when the subject is deeply important.

Tin Foil Hat, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping in continental US.

Watch what you say

Artists are, believe it or not, human. Harsh or careless criticism is demoralizing.

There’s often a power imbalance between the critic and the subject, which shouldn’t be taken lightly.

I was once panned in a newspaper review, and it made me cry. There’s a difference between helpful feedback and tearing something down. Good criticism helps artists grow; careless or mean-spirited commentary stifles creativity.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Rachel’s Garden: a favorite watercolor painting

Rachel’s Garden, ~24×35, watercolor on Yupo, museum-grade plexiglass, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

On Wednesday I challenged you to do 30 watercolor paintings in 45 days. “What is your favorite watercolor painting?” a reader responded. My favorites are by John Singer Sargent, Winslow Homer, and Anders Zorn, I said. Then she clarified that she meant a watercolor painting by me. That’s harder.

To me watercolor is like drawing: an extremely personal medium. I use it to sketch out ideas and for travel. And of course I teach watercolor once a year aboard schooner American Eagle. I like my watercolor quick and dirty, in part because it helps me get over myself when I get tied in knots in oil painting.

Bunker Hill overlook, watercolor on Yupo, approx. 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Watercolor paintings are infinitely varied. The result depends on the paper used, the brand of paint and the character of the artist. I gravitate to Yupo and hot-press paper because I like their editability. Others like the soft lyricism of cold-press, and indeed that’s what I generally use and teach with at workshops.

Path to the Lake, ~24X36, watercolor on Yupo, framed in museum-grade plexiglass, $2985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

It’s very hard for me to identify a favorite painting, though. It might be Glade, which long ago went to a private collector. Or Clary Hill Blueberry Barrens, which I think captures the excitement of a windy day at the top of the world. Or Bunker Hill Overlook, which is a painting of just one of the more than 6000 lakes and ponds in Maine. Or Path to the Lake, which reminds me of my pal Clif Travers and his cemetery obsession. But right this second, I think Rachel’s Garden, above, is my favorite. As watercolor paintings go, it’s loose as a goose, and I like that.

The deck of the lovely and gracious American Eagle.

I’ve tossed in one from my time teaching aboard the schooner, because it’s on cold-press. It’s one of the few paintings I’ve done that’s not for sale.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: