fbpx

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:

Critiquing my own painting

Tom Sawyer’s Fence, Carol L. Douglas, private collection

Formal critique of your own work allows you to disentangle yourself from your emotions and look at your painting’s strengths and weaknesses objectively. Since I’m teaching a 4-week critique session starting on Monday, I thought I’d demonstrate the process with one of my own paintings.

To avoid any bias in my selection, I did a search of my name and used the first image that popped up. There was once a party at the house Tom Sawyer’s Fence surrounds. Along with the champagne and canapes, the chatelaine invited her friends to whitewash her fence. After all, it was rather a long fence. That was such a brilliant move that I decided to paint the fence myself.

Size matters

It’s quite possible to critique paintings on the internet, but knowing the size helps you determine the work’s effectiveness. I no longer remember exactly, but I think Tom Sawyer’s Fence was about 14X18.

Three focal points.

Focal point

Is there a focal point and series of focal points, and is the viewer’s eye directed to them with contrast, detail and line?

You could argue there isn’t much subject matter to this painting. But don’t confuse subject matter with focal points; they’re two different concepts. There are two high-contrast areas that draw the eye, and a third, the gate, that isn’t as well defined. More contrast between the gate and the trees behind it would have made that third focal point pop more.

Line

Is line used effectively and reinforced in the painting?

This painting is all about line-the tree trunks at counterpoint to the fence and the grass, so I’d say that it’s a successful use of line.

The value structure.

Value

Does the painting have a solid value structure? Does it need to be restated or is it clear?

The best way to analyze value structure is in greyscale. There is a strong interrupted dark running behind the trees, supported by the shadow along the grass, so the overall composition is solid. However, a stronger dark pattern behind the fence would have supported the horizontal energy better.

Color

Is there a cogent color scheme? Is it expansive enough to be interesting?

This is a classic expanded-complement color scheme (green-blue-violet against orange) so it’s certainly cogent. There is a lower-chroma passage on the left, and high chroma on the right. (The red is my tone peeking out.)

Balance

Does the painting hit that sweet spot between static and riotous?

There’s symmetry between the left-leaning tree trunk and its three companions on the right, but, overall, there’s a lot of swing in this painting. The only static place is the sturdy upright tufted grass, which could have been painted more lyrically, especially as it’s the foil to the cool colors that dominate the canvas.

The simplified shapes.

Shape and form

Are there interesting shapes in the painting? Does the brushwork suggest three-dimensional form?

Overall, there’s a good variety of sinuous, straight, large and small shapes. However, what’s missing is depth. There’s a sense of these shapes being cutouts laid over each other rather than being in a three-dimensional space that recedes and breathes. The only suggestion of space is the atmospheric perspective on the left side.

Texture

Is the brushwork compelling?

There’s bold, varied brushwork, including in the sky. This is not the brushwork I use today, but I still find it attractive. Someone more interested in detail might want smaller, more particular rendering.

Rhythm and movement

Is there energy driving you through the canvas?

Gosh, I sure hope so.

There are seldom absolute answers to any of these questions; however, the purpose of learning this system is to create a logical process to examine ideas and opinions about art. My current critique session is Monday evening, 6-9pm, Feb 19th to March 11th. Seats are limited, so register ASAP.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

The value of critique

Becky Bense. Remember our post about Frixion pens? This was done with one.

Critique ought not be a question of likes and dislikes. It involves analyzing a painting in terms of formal elements of design, which include:

  • Focal point
  • Line
  • Value
  • Color
  • Balance
  • Shape and form
  • Texture
  • Rhythm and movement

I’ve expanded on these ideas here, for those of you interested in how to use formal criticism to make your own work better. It’s helpful to use these standards in any group critique session.

Cassie Sano.

The same rubric can also be applied to work that you have no direct relationship with, such as paintings you see in a gallery. They can help you understand why a painting moves you or leaves you cold.

Your gut reaction, after all, is a profoundly reliable indicator. It may be telling you that something is off-kilter long before your rational mind understands what’s wrong. It may be reacting to an idea whose only mistake is newness or audacity. Or, there may be something in the psychological makeup of the artist that grates on your own complex psychology. I have this latter response to the work of Pablo Picasso. It doesn’t make Picasso’s work good or bad; it’s just intolerable to me.

Today we finish our annual five-day Sea & Sky workshop at Schoodic Institute in Acadia National Park. “Don’t sandwich me!” one of my students remonstrated at one point. She’s referring to a well-known management technique where one ‘sandwiches’ the bad news between positive feedback. I wasn’t doing that; I really did see marked improvement in her painting.

Shelley Pillsbury

For students, every painting is a wrestling match. Not only are they attempting to master new ideas, they’re fighting their own internal demons. For me, each painting is a step on a road to mastery, and I am watching to see how things have improved. I’m less interested in whether a particular painting is good or bad than I am in whether a student has resolved whatever knot is currently bedeviling him or her.

By the way, I’m going through the same process of learning as my students; I’m just at a different point along the road. I sometimes wish I had a teacher. Since I don’t, I repeat the same lessons to myself that I tell them.

Lauren Hammond

At some point in a critique session, we inevitably come to a point of disagreement. Yesterday it was about a grey in a painting. I felt it was chromatically disjointed and pulled against the composition; several students thought it was a good foil for other colors.

Who was right? Nobody and everybody. There are degrees of objectivity. If you doubt that, just consider the various interpretations of the scientific facts we understand about COVID.

Without further ado, here are this year’s paintings, minus those by Paula Tefft, Linda Smiley, Jen Kearns, and Areti Masero-Baldwin, who couldn’t be with us last night.

Germaine Connolly
TB
Linda DeLorey
Karen Ames
Diane Fulkerson
Jennifer Johnson

My 2022 workshop schedule can be found here. That includes the beautiful red rocks of Sedona, urban painting in Austin, TX, June and September workshops aboard schooner American Eagle, mountain vistas in the Berkshires, and our ever-popular Sea & Sky at Schoodic in Acadia National Park.