Tag: Monday Morning Art School

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School—trust the process

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

I’m busy writing my upcoming Zoom class, Trust the Process (making technique tell the story you want to tell). That could easily be one of those glib phrases that’s so repeatable that it starts to lose its meaning. However, I think creative success depends on it.

Many painters define their artistic identity based on their successes or failures. But when our sense of worth gets tied to outcome, our confidence flickers: one day we’re geniuses, the next we’re frauds. That’s no way to sustain a joyful or productive painting practice.

Midsummer, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3,188 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

That’s the trap of outcome-based thinking. It’s familiar to almost everyone who’s ever picked up a brush. When we chase external validation—awards, sales, praise and, especially, social-media likes—we create a cycle of euphoria followed by despair. The highs are fleeting; the lows are dismal and feel interminable.

That whole rollercoaster puts our sense of artistic self-worth in the hands of someone or something else. No wonder so many artists live in states of constant insecurity. When others control the verdict, we never feel settled in our own skin.

How process helps

But process-based painting restores our sanity. Art isn’t the sum of our accolades; it’s our creative thinking made visible. What happens on the canvas is a reflection of curiosity, observation, and problem-solving, not a performance. When we remember that the painting process matters as much as the final outcome, the ground under our feet steadies. The joy of painting comes from the physical act of making marks, mixing color, exploring edges and taking risks, not from waiting breathlessly to see whether someone else approves.

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

Creativity requires relaxation. Exploration and play happen only when ego steps aside and you drop into the moment. If you’re tense, self-critical or worrying whether your painting will be good enough, you’ve already shut down the important part of your mind. The more you separate your ego from the results, the more freely you’ll work, and the better your painting will be. The joy, and the results, are all in the making.

A few decades ago, I had a student who started every class by announcing: “This painting is for my mother’s birthday,” or “This is going to be a housewarming gift.” I couldn’t talk her out of that, but it was consistently paralyzing. She worried about what the recipient would think and whether it would be good enough for the recipient. Sadly, her work never measured up to the expectations she set before she even picked up a brush. In trying so hard to make great paintings, she froze. She squeezed the growth out of them. Along with that went all her enjoyment, experimentation and play. There was no vitality and no joy. Not surprisingly, she eventually quit painting.

Blueberry barrens, Clary Hill, oil on canvas, 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

What does Trust the Process really mean?

Trust the Process means having a reliable, repeatable way of working that will carry you through the rough patches. When technique becomes second nature, you can stop thinking about it and start thinking creatively. That requires painting enough for mastery, but it also helps to understand how painting technique has developed over the last six hundred years. There really are right and wrong ways to do it.

When the mechanics fade into the background, you paint in the moment. And from that place, both skill and satisfaction grow naturally. The process is where art actually lives.

If this idea resonates, then I’d love to have you join me for Trust the Process (making technique tell the story you want to tell), my live Zoom class designed to help you build a dependable, joyful, repeatable painting practice. We’ll dig into technique, creative decision-making and the mindset that frees you to paint with confidence. We meet Monday nights, 6-9 PM EST, starting on January 5, 2026. It’s suitable for all levels and all media. You can learn more here.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: the 10-Minute sketch

Glaciar Cagliero from Rio Electrico, 12X16, $1159 unframed, available.

I’m writing this post between my tasks making coffee at my church. As with many other things in my life, the workload for this once-mellow task has ramped up, as our church has blown up to three overflowing services a week. That’s pure blessing, but it also means I’m snatching small moments to write. I don’t like working on Sundays, but I’m trying to get my January classes written before I leave to help my daughter paint her new house. As I wrote on Friday, there are seasons in life when we can’t concentrate on making art, and this is one for me.

I promise I’ll attend one service without my laptop. As always, I’ll bring my sketchbook. I hear better when my hands are busy, and I get a half hour of uninterrupted drawing.

Cliffs and glaciers, 12X16, oil on Baltic birch, $1159 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

There is no perfect moment

I’ve known many women who can’t paint until their chores are finished. That’s a laugh; our chores are never finished. At 67, I’m aware that we have only finite time, and that the perfect moment will never arrive. But here’s the good news: you don’t need a perfect moment. You just need ten minutes.

A 10-minute sketch is the smallest and kindest gift you can give your creative self. No masterpiece required, no pressure and certainly no grand plan. Just pick up a pencil, a brush or a pen and let your hand move. The goal isn’t a frame-worthy piece. The goals are to start and then to strengthen the habit of daily sketching. Ten minutes is short enough to be doable and long enough to crack open the door to deeper artistic thought.

The Whole Enchilada, 12X16, oil on archival canvas, $1159 unframed.

Just show up

You become an artist by showing up, not by waiting for conditions to improve. Every time I lead a workshop or Zoom class, I see this in action. There are always students who are nervous about the process, but before they know it they’re lost in the quiet pleasure of looking and responding. That tiny window of attention changes everything.

A 10-minute sketch bypasses your inner critic. There’s no time for self-doubt, perfectionism, or overthinking. It’s all action and seeing. When you return to that small practice day after day, you’re not just improving your drawing skills, you’re building a creative habit that reinforces your identity as an artist.

Cerro Electrico from the path to the National Park, 11X14, oil on Baltic birch, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Your 10-minute sketches are the spark

So, start today. Do a fast contour drawing of your coffee mug or a quick value study from the window, even if it’s on the back of a receipt with a ballpoint pen. Keep it light, simple and curious.

But if ten minutes can settle your mind and sharpen your eye, imagine what six weeks of an evening Zoom class or five uninterrupted days of painting will do. This removes you from your routine and drops you into a world where your creative practice matters. You spend time surrounded by other painters, working from life, refining technique, laughing, learning and remembering what it feels like to be fully immersed.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: the #1 mistake painters make

Skylarking, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Even when we work with a very competent instructor or institution, painters are largely self-taught. That’s true of most creative disciplines, since every hour of instruction is followed by hours of practice and self-discovery.

Eventually, we all run into a frustrating truth: effort doesn’t always equal results. We work for hours, even days, and still end up with a painting that feels fussy, flat, or somehow not quite right. Mostly that comes down to one simple mistake: prioritizing detail over the big picture.

Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“It looks just like a photograph” is not usually a compliment

“It looks just like a photograph” is something casual passers-by will sometimes say to painters, and it always makes me wince. It generally means the details are all there, but the big sweep of movement and energy is lacking. As artists, most of us are drawn to detail; it’s almost instinctive to notice the sparkle on the water or the delicate branching pattern of new leaves in the spring. (In real life, we’re attracted to those sparkles and branches because they’re gently moving, which doesn’t translate to canvas.)

Frankly, detail is fun to burrow into, and I’m not saying don’t do it—that is a question of your own personal style and vision. But diving into detail before establishing the big shapes and values is the fastest way to derail an otherwise promising piece.

Brigantine Swift in Camden Harbor, 24X30, oil on canvas, framed, $3478 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Structure vs. detail

Painting isn’t built from details outward; it’s built from structure inward. When your underlying shapes, values, and composition are strong, the painting sings before you ever add a highlight. But when the structure is weak, no amount of careful rendering can save it. If you doubt that, go back and look at the work of Baroque painters like Caravaggio or Peter Paul Rubens. As crazily detailed as their canvases are (by our modern standards) they rest first and foremost on solid value structure.

Avoiding this trap is simple

I’ve mentioned that I paint without my glasses; it prevents me from focusing on detail. But even clear-sighted individuals can remember to start with the largest shapes and the biggest value relationships. Ask yourself: Where is the light? Where is the shadow? What are the major masses of the scene? Block those in with confidence and clarity. Only after the bones of the painting are solid should you refine, adjust, and bring in the detail.

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Helping you learn

Watching someone move from frustration to epiphany is absolutely the most rewarding part of teaching. It’s also why plein air workshops are transformative. “I’m just asking you to trust me for one week,” I tell my students. I’m there to stop you when you fall back into the habit of fussing or adding tchotchkes to try to fix a not-fully-thought-out composition. We all do it at times, from exhaustion, nerves or sheer obstinacy. But one of my jobs is to intercept that and put you on the road to good design.

Over the course of my workshops and classes, we revisit this idea again and again: simplify first, refine later. You’ll learn to organize values swiftly, make decisive compositional choices and build paintings that hold their structure from the first brushstroke. Once you truly internalize this approach, painting becomes easier, faster and far more joyful. You stop fighting the canvas and start working with it.

I have two types of offerings to help you with this process. The first is a class starting in January called Trust the Process: making technique tell the story you want to tell. It’s on Monday evenings, 6-9, and is open to painters of all levels. The second is my workshop schedule for 2026, below.

If you’ve been feeling stuck, unsure, or just ready for a real leap forward, this is your invitation.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: use a bigger brush

Mather Point at dawn, oil on canvasboard, 9X12. $696 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Artists should choose a bigger brush far more often than they think, especially when they want stronger compositions, clearer value statements, and more confident paint handling. I have few small brushes at all—a single #2 round for oils and a dagger brush with a fine point for watercolors.

Bigger brushes force us to think in big shapes

A painting succeeds or fails on its large value masses, not on its detail. When we work with a larger brush, we naturally block in shapes rather than fuss. This keeps our attention where it belongs: on composition, value relationships, and the overall movement of the piece.

Grand Canyon at sunset, oil on canvasboard, 9X12. $696 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Bigger brushes prevent overworking

Small brushes are perfect for poking, fussing, and destroying the freshness of a painting. Larger brushes won’t let us over-refine areas. They help avoid the muddy, overworked look that happens when we keep adjusting the same small spot again and again.

Bigger brushes teach us to paint with a light hand

I can paint a better fine line with a #4 flat on its side than I can with a rigger. A bigger brush is more stable and holds more paint, meaning less jiggling and fewer stops to reload. There’s a world of tonality that comes from learning to control the pressure in a brush. Bigger brushes can go from bold to delicate, something small brushes just can’t do.

Grand Canyon, late morning, 8X16, oil on archival linenboard. $722 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Bigger tools make bolder decisions

When we’re holding a brush the size of a small spatula, we’re forced to paint with intention. We choose our strokes more carefully. We commit. When students tell me they want to learn ‘looser brushwork,’ I start by picking out bigger brushes for them. They encourage broad, authoritative marks, which bring energy and confidence to our work.

Bigger brushes improve surface quality

More paint means juicier, cleaner and more expressive strokes. Instead of scrubbing thinly with a tiny brush, we can place full-bodied, deliberate marks that convey texture, light, and form with immediacy.

Bigger brushes speed up our process

Of course a bigger brush covers more area, faster. But beyond the square-inch question, covering the canvas quickly means we see the painting as a whole early on. This is essential for alla prima work. We get to the heart of the piece before the light changes. I’ve included four paintings here that were done in rapidly-changing light. None of them would have been feasible had I messed around with a tiny brush.

Cowpath, 9X12, oil on Baltic birch, $696 includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Bigger brushes help us learn faster

Students often think their problems come from a lack of detail control, when in reality they’re struggling with proportion, value, or composition. A big brush forces us to address these essentials head-on. When the big shapes are right, the details practically paint themselves.

Are you a noodler?

I’ve watched countless students hesitate at the exact moment when their painting needs a courageous reframing. Painting with confidence sometimes means accepting that our first idea may not be our best. We need to be willing to accept that and make corrections with authority.

“Big shapes to small shapes” isn’t just a catchy phrase; it’s foundational to painting. When the big shapes are right, you can suggest detail with a few breezy, economical marks.

This approach is actually harder than futzing around with detail. It’s the discipline of stepping back, really looking, and making corrective moves while the painting is still fresh and malleable.

If you’re ready to break the habit of overworking your paintings, I go into more detail about this in my workshops.  

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: simplifying shape and proportion

Heavy Weather (Ketch Angelique), 24X36, oil on canvas, framed, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

When you begin a painting, the natural instinct is to replicate every little wrinkle, cast shadow, and subtle nuance. But strong painting starts with drawing and structure. You must distill a composition down to its essential shapes and accurate proportions. That includes clear focal points and a compelling value structure. Once you have that you can worry about expressive brushwork.

A sketch of Trundy Point. It doesn’t need to be complicated; it’s a map, not a masterpiece.

Start with the underlying basic shapes

I’ve mentioned that I have the advantage of being slightly nearsighted, and I don’t paint with my glasses on. The rest of you can squint. What are the big masses? Forget identifying whether that’s a tree or a house; it’s a mass topped with another mass.

Every complex form or scene can be broken down into simplified geometric shapes. In addition to making better compositions, shape simplification helps you map proportion. Of course, you’ll occasionally need to check how tall vs. how wide the objects are and where they intersect.

Do this work in a sketchbook, where an ounce of prevention (drawing) is worth a pound of cure (overworking the painting).

How to block in a compelling composition

Once you understand the basic shapes, place them on your drawing. I never work inside a box; instead, I draw and then crop my drawing to match my canvas size. In fact, sometimes I do this several times, searching for the strongest composition.

My sketch for Heavy Weather. 5X8, graphite on Bristol-finish paper. This is a drawing that I spent a long time on, moving elements around until I was satisfied with the composition.

This allows me to explore all aspects of the idea before I commit to a composition. Sometimes I do a carefully-realized drawing. More typically, my drawing is not even identifiable as the subject; it’s merely a series of shapes.

How much of the canvas will the largest shape occupy? Is it part of a repeating motif or a one-off? Is it dark or light? Is it centered or offset? What quiet passages or negative space balance it? How does it support focal points?

This exploration is the most important part of painting (and to me, the most fun, since it’s fast and free). If line and value in a sketch are working, we know before we start whether the painting will end up feeling energetic, balanced, or completely static.

Refine edges before details

Working in big shapes does not mean those shapes remain unrefined; in fact, the best loose painters are the ones working from beautifully-drawn outlines. Drawing is the scaffolding of painting. Get the edges and proportions right while the shapes are still bold and simple.

Simplify and emphasize for impact

The beauty of this approach is that it can be pursued to whatever level of finish you like—either left wide open or with a high level of detail. With structure locked in, you can choose to paint the smaller elements as you wish, as long as you don’t overwrite your initial bold composition.

Napoleon I on his Imperial Throne, 1806, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, courtesy Musée de l’Armée

However, even the most meticulous realists edit some things out. For example, look at the above painting by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres. At first glance, it’s highly detailed, but that’s selective. The robes are simplified, the carpet is simplified, and the background is simplified. (It’s huge, by the way.) Ingres knew what he wanted us to look at, and everything else is subservient to that. With a strong composition, his viewers instantly felt the power of Napoleon’s imperial pretensions, even before they noticed the details that Ingres did include.

Once the bones are in place, you can worry about style

Once shapes, proportion, value and placement are set, you can worry about brushwork. That includes lost-and-found edges, which can lead the eye through lesser forms and amplify major passages. You’ll find you’re a lot closer to looser brushwork if you lay a strong foundation first.

There are openings in my January-February Zoom classes

Trust the Process: making technique tell the story you want to tell
Monday evenings, 6-9, Jan. 5-Feb. 9, 2026

Where Do I Fit In?
Tuesday evenings, 6-9, Jan. 6-Feb. 10, 2026

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: six things that matter in painting

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Painting is not magic, it’s craft. No matter whether you’re working through studio oil painting techniques, watercolor experiments or exploring plein air painting, mastering these six essentials will improve your work.

See accurately

Before a brush ever touches canvas, train your eye. Accurate seeing underpins strong painting.

Downtown Rockport, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, framed, $1594 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Learn to handle materials with confidence

  • Technical fluency frees you to focus on expression.
  • Know the proper ground for the medium you’ve chosen and the difference between good and mediocre papers, canvases and panels.
  • The only way to know your brushes is to experiment with them. That means use different types of brushes and strokes. It also means you should experiment with other ways to move paint, such as palette knifes, silicone chisels, credit cards or rag rollers.
  • Clean color mixing is a skill that takes a while to learn, but understanding how pigments and paints behave is the only way to avoid muddy results.
  • Understanding how solvents, oils, gels and retarders impact your paint is fundamental.

Compose with intention

Great paintings are designed, not accidental.

  • Draw, baby, draw: work it out in advance in your sketchbook before committing to paint. Those minutes you spend will save you hours down the road.
  • Establish clear focal points and build your painting around them.
  • Apply the design principles of balance, rhythm, unity, variety and movement.
  • Decide at the beginning what to include and what to leave out. Composition is about editing as much as drawing.

Work from life

Plein air painting teaches you to simplify, to respond to changing light, to see values and forms quickly, and to lay the image in without perseverating over the details.

Working from life teaches more than working from photos ever will. Even if you ultimately end up working from photo references, painting from life is invaluable for training your observation skills. The more practice you have painting from life, the less chained you are to photo references and the more you can draw from your internal vision.

Victoria Street, 16X20, oil on linen in a hard maple frame, $2029 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Solve problems creatively

Every painting I’ve ever done started off brilliantly (in my head) and eventually reached an ‘oh, dang’ moment when its shortcomings became obvious. The difference between success and failure was in how I responded.

  • Step back and analyze objectively.
  • Make bold corrections rather than fussing endlessly over details.
  • Quit noodling.

Build a sustained practice

This is the least-glamorous part of life as an artist.

  • Paint regularly—even when uninspired—to build consistency and skill.
  • Learn to critique your own work on the fly.
  • Learn some art history; you’re part of a many-thousands-year-old tradition, after all.
Camden Harbor from Curtis Island, oil on canvas, $2782 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Bonus for those pursuing painting as professionals

  • Good presentation supports your credibility. At a minimum, that means a website, business cards, and a resume.
  • Develop your personal voice through repetition and reflection.
  • Understand the art market: galleries, pricing, marketing are part of the professional painter’s toolkit.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: why some colors fade

The pine nursery (Madawaska Pond), 12X16, oil on canvasboard, available.

Regular readers know I’m serious about replacing heavy-metal pigments with their non-toxic equivalents. The hardest is the cadmiums, since they mix differently from their non-toxic analogs. However, I’ve done well with everything but cadmium orange.

Research suggests there’s a fugitive pigment problem with two common cadmium substitutions: naphthol red and Hansa yellow. However, the science is mixed. Are these colors going to fade over time? Yes, no, and maybe.

Daylilies and lace-cap hydrangea, 11X14, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The binder matters

Compared to oil paints, watercolor pigments fade faster (which is why I use this watercolor site as my first stop in researching pigments). Oil paint is made with linseed (or walnut, or safflower) oil, which forms a durable film as it cures. That film offers some natural UV protection and binds the pigment tightly to the surface. Watercolors, on the other hand, rely on gum arabic and leave almost no film. The pigment is just sitting there exposed. So, all pigments last longer in oils than in watercolor, especially when the work is varnished.

The paint manufacturer matters a great deal. Cheap student grade paints are made with cheap pigments, and the result is often fading. If you’re serious about painting, choose serious paint.

I’m about to get into the weeds of pigment numbers. If you’re not familiar with how they work, read this on how to read a paint tube, or check the manufacturers’ websites. If they’re good paint-makers, they’re upfront about the pigments.

Forsythia at Three Chimneys, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.

Is Hansa yellow fugitive?

Hansa yellow isn’t a single pigment—it’s a family of modern, synthetic yellows based on arylide chemistry. You’ll see them on paint tubes labeled as PY3, PY73, and a few other close cousins. Some versions are more lightfast than others, but all of them fall somewhere in the middle—not entirely fugitive like Alizarin Crimson, but not bulletproof. Add to that the fact that different brands formulate their paint with different binders and pigment loads, and the result is a maddening lack of consistency.

The ‘lemon yellow’ Hansas are the worst offenders. PY1 and PY2 are fugitive or marginally lightfast pigments. PY3 varies by manufacturer and batch. The medium and deep Hansas are more lightfast, including PY97, PY65 and PY74 (which is commonly found in acrylics). 

Naphthol red

The fugitive Naphthol reds are PR3 and PR9 (developed primarily as a printing ink). Look for PR112, PR170 and PR188. Better yet, substitute a Pyrrole Red; they’re all lightfast. PR254 is one of the most light-stable reds available on the market today.

Cypresses and Sunlight, 11X14, Carol L. Douglas, $1087

The sad story of the disappearing quinacridones.

I love all the quinacridone pigments—they’re lightfast, brilliant and inexpensive. But certain of them, especially on the yellow and red end, have disappeared or become very difficult to find.

The problem is industrial. Pigment manufacturers don’t exist for the art world. We’re a tiny sliver of their business. These pigments were originally developed for things like car paint and plastics. If a particular quinacridone pigment stops being profitable for auto manufacturers, it often gets discontinued. That’s exactly what happened with the original PO49 Quinacridone Gold—it was taken off the market because the volume sold to artists just couldn’t justify the cost of keeping it in production.

How to choose stable, long-lasting pigments

Always start by reading the pigment numbers, not just the names on the tubes. Don’t panic if your favorite paint changes—just test, adjust, and keep painting. Buy products from good manufacturers. And make peace with the idea that nothing lasts forever.

Got a favorite discontinued pigment or a lightfastness disaster story? Drop it in the comments—let’s commiserate together.

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: 5 simple things you can do to instantly improve your paintings

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Improvement doesn’t necessarily come from grand gestures like buying new brushes. The biggest leaps come from simple, repeatable, immediate actions. These are things you can do today to make tomorrow’s paintings stronger. Here are five that never fail.

Skylarking, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Take off your glasses or squint

I’m nearsighted; I paint with my glasses on a string around my neck and they’re there only because I need them to drive home. Some of you were unfortunately born with perfect eyesight. For you there’s only one remedy: squint.

Blurriness simplifies the world. It mutes unnecessary detail and helps you see big shapes, value relationships and underlying design. Paintings fall apart when we chase every detail without considering how they fit into the whole. Before you touch your brush, remove your glasses or squint until you see only three or four major value shapes. Then paint those. Detail is for the end of a painting, and it’s not always necessary.

Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Stop buying more paint

You don’t need three trays of watercolors or 40 tubes of oil paint to make great color. In fact, that just stops you from learning color theory. That’s why I suggest paired primaries, which are just a warm and cool version of each primary. I augment them with a few earth pigments because they’re cheap and versatile, and (in solid media) white. Mixing within them teaches you, whereas buying lots of paint just impoverishes you.

Buying more paint can be a form of flailing around. It can be displacement behavior; it’s simply easier than buckling down, especially when what’s on your easel isn’t going well.

Step back and look

There’s a maxim that a painting should compel from thirty feet, three feet, and three inches. That just means it needs to draw you in from across the room and hold your interest once you’re close. It’s amazing how different a painting looks from a few feet away. Up close, a passage can look and feel like a struggle to the death. From a distance, it’s just a patch of color in either the right or wrong place.

Make stepping back part of your rhythm. If, say, you’re standing on a cliff and you can’t back up, take a photo on your phone. That creates an emotional distance that’s almost as useful.

Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36 $3188 includes shipping in continental US.

Simplify, simplify

Every painting ought to be a distillation of a truth, not a transcript of an event. Ask yourself, what is the story? Then edit out the extraneous detail that doesn’t support it. If your painting is about an old house, don’t get lost in the weeds. If your painting is about those blackberry brambles, don’t get lost in the house’s trim.

Those are decisions that should be made in the composition phase. Everything irrelevant should be subservient to the point you’re trying to convey.

Paint more

Skill doesn’t arrive like a thunderclap. It grows, one session at a time. You can read, talk, and think about art all day long, but there’s no substitute for time in front of a canvas. Twenty minutes of focused drawing or painting will move you forward faster than hours of browsing. Set your alarm early tomorrow and paint something small. You’ll surprise yourself. That’s why daily paint challenges are so helpful; they get us moving even when we don’t feel like it.

Improving as a painter isn’t about waiting for inspiration or reinventing your technique. It’s about building better habits, right now, with what you already have.

So go ahead—squint, simplify, mix from a smaller palette, step back, and paint more often. Those five small choices will do more for your art than any magic brush ever could.

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: how to draw trees

Baby pine tree in snow, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas

Last week, I challenged you to paint five trees in five days. Trees require careful observation and a clear sense of structure. If you understand how to draw trees, painting them is easy.

Start with the canopy

Before you pick up your pencil, ask yourself: what is the canopy shape? Is it rounded, conical, flat-topped, or irregular? Every species has a characteristic outline, and nailing that shape is the first step to drawing them right.

Then look at the branching structure. Are the limbs weeping, upright, straight, or crabbed? Do they branch alternately or oppositely?

Take a quick measurement to figure out the height-width ratio of your tree. How much of that is exposed trunk? A common error is to make the canopy much too small for the trunk, like a broccoli floret. Another is to have branches that only extend out to the sides, instead of all around the tree.

Windy Bay, Little Turtle Lake, 1922, J.E.H. MacDonald, courtesy National Gallery of Canada

Next, the bark

Immature and mature trees often look very different. The bark tells the tree’s age and species—compare a baby birch’s smooth red trunk to the deep fissures of an old oak. Observing this keeps you from painting generic tree trunks that could belong anywhere.

Trees in the macro: careful observation

Andrew Wyeth was probably art’s greatest observer of trees. Consider his Long Limb (1998). The painting is less about botanical accuracy and more about design, but the narrow twigs and leaf shapes still reveal the species if you look closely.

In Far from Needham (1966), Wyeth didn’t improvise the structure—he carefully drew out what he was painting. That gives the abstract design much more power.

Tree in the midrange: integration and atmosphere

In J.E.H. MacDonald’s Windy Bay, Little Turtle Lake, above, trees are integrated into the background through a closely allied color structure. He’s not fussing over details; he’s ensuring they sit naturally in the landscape.

Compare that to Ivan Shishkin’s Oak Grove (1887). This is poetic realism: the lighting and atmospherics are exaggerated, but the branching structure and leaves are precisely observed. That balance gives the painting its impact.

Autumn’s Garland, 1915-16, Tom Thomson, courtesy National Gallery of Canada

Trees in the distance: simplify

As trees recede, shape and value dominate. In Tom Thomson’s Autumn’s Garland (1915–16), the silhouette is key, and value contrast is reduced to push them into the distance. Lawren Harris’s Montreal River (c. 1920) shows how distant trees can be reduced to brushmarks or even a single undifferentiated shape.

Montreal River, c. 1920 oil on paperboard, Lawren S. Harris, courtesy McMichael Canadian Art Collection

How to draw trees, step by step

I draw trees as a series of columns or tubes. I start with trunk and major limbs. This helps me see perspective if a branch is coming toward me or away from me in space.

When I’m done with that step, I always check my negative space. That’s how I catch errors in drafting.

Then I rough out the outline, but without erasing the initial circles; they’re the tree’s joints.

After that I set shadows and establish the value pattern.

Then I rough in foliage, thinking about masses and values, not leaves.

Presto, it’s a tree.

Observe first

Understanding trees isn’t about memorizing species; it’s about learning to see canopy, branching, bark, and structure at every scale. Once those fundamentals are in place, you can easily paint trees, each different, but all rooted in strong drawing.

What do you want in a painting class?

As I plan next year’s offerings, I’d love to hear from you. What inspires you? What would you love to learn, explore, or revisit? Your insights will help shape my classes and workshops going forward.

As a heartfelt thank you, you’ll receive a $25 discount code for anything on my website once you complete the survey. It’s my way of saying thanks for helping build something meaningful together.

It’s a short survey—just a few minutes—and your voice will make a real difference.  Click here!

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: five days, five trees

Baby spruce on the shoreline at Corea, 8X10, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

Early autumn is a season for show-offs. Maples are decked out in red, birches are fluttering gold confetti, and the oaks are quietly deepening into bronze.

This week, I’m challenging you to paint one tree a day for five days—a fast, seasonal series to sharpen your skills and catch the fleeting colors before they’re gone. Think of it as your equivalent of a daily walk: short, refreshing, anxiety-reducing and, above all, fun.

Those of you doing the Strada 30-day challenge (and you are legion) will find this a natural fit with your current discipline.

Eastern White Pine, 11X14, Carol L. Douglas, private collection

The challenge

  • Paint one tree each day, Monday through Friday.
  • Work small.
  • Focus on one tree per painting, not on an entire landscape.
  • Work fast. This is about observation and response.
  • You can work in oils, watercolor, gouache, acrylic, markers or even crayons.
Baby trees, 6X8, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

Why trees?

Trees are ideal seasonal subjects. Each species responds to autumn differently, and every tree has its own character. By painting multiple specimens over a week, you’ll learn to:

  • Notice subtle shifts in color.
  • Closely observe the growth patterns of different species of trees.
  • Capture structure and gesture quickly.
  • Understand how light and atmosphere affect foliage.
  • Loosen up.
Nobody said these trees had to be realistic. This is also a 6X8.

Tips for Success

  • Pick your tree before you start. Eliminate decision fatigue.
  • Squint to simplify shape and value.
  • Start with big color masses, then refine edges and accents only as needed.
  • Resist the urge to noodle.
  • If it rains, paint from your car or porch. Or, if you can’t take time for plein air this week, paint from photos.

Share

I’d love to see what you create. Post your tree paintings on Instagram or Facebook with the hashtag #FiveTreesChallenge and tag me so I can see what you’re doing.

Pear tree, 9X12, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

Why I’m asking you to do this

Many years ago, I set out to paint a 6X8 canvas of an individual tree every day. I quit only after I’d exhausted the selection of trees at my disposal. Since I live in the Northeast, this took a while.

My daily tree exercise was as useful to me as studying figure. I learned to understand trees in their robust roundness, and to draw them gesturally.

A short, structured challenge like this builds good painting habits. It sharpens our editorial instincts and creates painting momentum. By Friday, you’ll have a lovely little series, and who knows? Maybe you, like me, will keep painting trees.

Take it further

If this week’s challenge whets your appetite for deeper study, join me for my October Rockport Immersive Workshop in Rockport, ME. We’ll paint Maine’s spectacular autumn landscape, with focused instruction, plenty of easel time and a community of fellow painters. There’s no better way to grow than to paint intensively in good company.

Learn more and register here.