Poplars, 12X16, oil on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.
Going to Sedona Arts Center
I did about 95% of this painting while whooping it up with Ed Buonvecchio and Laura Martinez-Bianco in the Oak Creek Valley north of Slide Rock State Park. It was the last day of Sedona Arts Center’s 19th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. Ed wisely focused on the rocks rather than the trees. Laura and I waded into the foliage, looking for the abstraction that would define the place.
The scene has a flat meadow of dry grasses that cut straight across the base of the trees. Although the color was exquisite, I could find no way to include the grass without making a compositional blunder. Furthermore, black poplars are leggy and ungainly trees, although they were a magnificent golden color on that autumn day.
Claude Monet repeatedly visited poplars in a series of now-famous paintings. Nominally, these are about the trees, but their real subject is the interplay of light and pattern.
What I found so compelling (and difficult) about the scene was the repetition of the strong vertical motif in the trees and the rock spires behind them. I emphasized this by making the far-left tree bleed into the vertical chasm above it.
Sometimes we take risky decisions. Inevitably someone will come along and tell us how to correct our ‘mistakes’. I could have avoided the confluence of tree and rock, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting to paint. Monsieur Monet never took the safe path; why should I?
Poplars is going with me to the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival later this month. I’m always happy to go to the Sedona Arts Center; not only do I get to see lots of my friends, but it’s a great organization.
Floof, 8X10, private collection.
Floof!
This is going to a private collection out west. Its owner wanted a coastal Maine painting (who doesn’t?) so she’s getting this tiny confection of surf and rock, with a bit of pine in the top left corner. That’s pretty much what this state is all about, after all.
I am not sure why I called it Floof, except I kept saying that to myself as I churned the water up. As for the rocks themselves, they’re along the Bagaduce River in the town of Penobscot, ME.
A reminder
Student show Richards Hill Gallery 394 Commercial Street Rockport, ME 04856 4-6 PM Friday, October 11, 2024
Sunrise, City Park, by Carol L. Douglas, 18X24, oil on linen, available in Artworks for Humanity auction.
This summer I ambled up to Belfast with Ken DeWaard, Peter Yesis, and Stephen Florimbi to paint for the third annual Artworks for Humanity. As usual, we puttered around but nothing stuck. I did, however, learn what a captain’s gig is: a long narrow boat with both a slew of oars and a mast and sail. And I did several starts, which I may or may not finish.
From Harbor Park, Alison Hill
I can only wonder why Stephan Giannini loves to paint nocturnes, but he’s very good at it. I only like nocturnes if I can start them just before dawn, as I’m very much a morning person. Luckily, my subject, City Park in Belfast, looks great at dawn. It faces east.
McLaughlin’s Lobster Shack, Lincolnville, Stephan Giannini
I’ve given you just a sample of this year’s paintings, but the full complement is viewable here. There are 25 lots in all; just click on the main image to start scrolling. (I’m lot 20.)
Goose River Morning, Peter Yesis
These paintings will be auctioned to support Habitat for Humanity of Waldo County. Sadly, I’ll be out of town. If you too will be away from midcoast Maine I urge you to bid on your favorite painting by contacting Kim at Waterfall Arts. She will take your information in advance and Habitat will have stand-in bidding on your behalf, up to your maximum bid.
In recent years, affordable housing has become difficult to find in coastal Maine. Visitors are affected just as much as full-time residents, because this disproportionately impacts service-industry workers. Buying a painting in this auction does more than just give you a lifetime memento of the place you love.
Afternoon Light, Björn Runquist
The public is invited to view the work in the Bayview Room of the United Farmers Market of Maine between 2:30-3:30 on September 28th. A ticketed reception with the artists will run from 4:30-5:30. The auction, by Belfast Mayor Eric Sanders, will begin at 5:30.
Belfast Morning, Eric Jacobsen
Harbormaster, Dan Corey
Visit www.artworksforhumanity.org for more details. Tickets can be purchased online, in advance at the office of Mailloux & Marden, P.A. (151 High St., Belfast), or at the door.
First intimations of fall, 8X10, oil on prepared birch surface.
We’re in a long run of beautiful weather here in Maine. Ken DeWaard, Eric Jacobsen, Björn Runquist and I have been out plein air painting as much as possible. I really need to do some paperwork, but there’s no rain on the forecast. How do people in southern California get anything done?
Here in New England, we know that any long stretch of warm, sunny, rain-free weather is the exception. Like squirrels storing up nuts for winter, we’re storing up visual memories of these warm days.
Overgrown, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard.
I haven’t concerned myself with results. I’ve just painted fast and immersed myself in the process. Are any of these finished? Absolutely not. But they’re better than what was on those boards before.
For some reason, it’s been all about the weeds for me this week. I’m a big fan of God-as-gardener; I don’t think artificial gardens can touch wild meadows for beauty.
Nature’s palette shifts as the season progresses. Spring starts with delicate pastel blossoms blooming alongside the lilacs and dog roses. By midsummer, the blossoms grow more colorful, with crown vetch, clover and fireweed (and the brief, glorious burst of red wood lilies). Now that we’re approaching our first frost, we see radiant spirals of white and purple asters among the goldenrod. All are punctuated with the dried husks of milkweed and other earlier-blooming plants.
An unmowed field, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard.
Purple loosestrife is, of course, an invasive pest and noxious weed; the experts all tell us that. They suggest pulling the plants before they can set seeds or, if it’s not in a wetland, spraying with an herbicide. (However, it likes its feet damp, so it avoids wholesale chemical slaughter, for the most part.)
It’s been around longer than I have, but its press is so bad that I’ve avoided painting it. However, the color is like nothing else in nature, and it complements goldenrod wonderfully.
The heck with it, I decided. If Eric doesn’t mind that it’s growing in his back field, neither do I. “The bees love it,” Eric told me. And anyways, I’m kind of an invasive species here, myself.
Sunbathers at Beauchamp Point, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard.
I’ve painted boats at Beauchamp Point many times, since Rockport is a haven for wooden-boat enthusiasts. This week, I was distracted by a group of sunbathers, laughing and talking in the sweet evening air. There’s no sand on this ‘beach’, just rocks and bigger rocks, but there’s something satisfying about stretching out on a sun-kissed boulder. Pro tip: if you want people to leave, just start painting them.
Yesterday afternoon, Björn and I were finishing up, the others having moved along. An onshore breeze picked up. The temperature dropped, the leaves showed their undersides; a large flock of gulls pirouetted over our heads. “Where I’m from,” I told Björn, “the leaves turning over means a weather change.” He’d heard that too, but no such weather change is on the forecast.
After a lifetime in western New York, I could predict the weather from the sky, the wind, and even the smell of the air. Even after a decade, I have no such ability in Maine. I once asked Captain John Foss, what signs he looked for to predict a weather change. “I listen to the weather forecast,” he told me.
Mark next Friday on your calendar
Grand opening Carol L. Douglas Gallery at Richards Hill Friday, September 13, 5-7 PM 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, ME 04856
Mature white pine at the Olson House, Cushing, ME, one of three things I painted on Thursday. Being contrarian, I refused to paint either the iconic view or the iconic house.
In past years, painting with Ken DeWaard, Eric Jacobsen and Björn Runquist wouldn’t have been worth a mention. This year I didn’t manage it until last Thursday. My summer has been terribly overbooked, something I’ve been complaining about for decades. That’s a pity when one lives in the northeast, where summer and fall are the best seasons.
I recently suggested to my daughter that we make a pact to not work more than 45 hours a week on non-family things. “I can’t possibly!” she responded. She’s a third-generation over-scheduler; my mother was the same way. When I was 35, my mother tried to get me to stop it, with about the same success. At 65 I begin to see what she was talking about. You don’t do anything well if you’re trying to do everything.
Having unsuccessfully laid down the gauntlet to my daughter, I spent the Labor Day weekend wrestling with myself about where I’ll cut down.
Brigantine Swift in Camden Harbor, 24X30, oil on canvas, framed, $3478 includes shipping and handling in continental US. Yes, this was painted en plein air, and if you want to see it in real life, it’s at Lone Pine Real Estate, 19 Elm Street, Camden, ME
What good is a teacher who doesn’t paint?
I sometimes feel as if I’m potting along in a Chevy Aveo while my friends pass me left and right in their Corvettes. I love teaching and I’m good at it. But that makes it too easy to sacrifice painting for teaching time. Painting should be constant revelation, change and discovery, and you can’t do that without a brush in your hand.
This, of course, is nobody’s fault but my own.
As I always tell my students, painting in the studio is good, but painting outdoors in natural light is the best possible training for an artist. In Maine, summer and fall are the best seasons, but, dang, they’re short!
Athabasca River Confluence, 9X12, $696 includes shipping and handling in continental US. I might crank about travel right now, but this is a place I’d go back to in a nanosecond.
I’m limiting my 2025 workshops.
I’m only going to teach four workshops in 2025, and none of them will involve flying.
This is an opportunity for more advanced painters to work on the complex concepts in painting, like directing the viewer’s eye, narrative flow, serious drawing, etc. If you’ve already studied with me, email me to ask if you should take this workshop. If not, send me some sample work as per the course description.
That’s the only workshop that’s only for advanced painters. The rest are open to students of all levels (and I like a mixture of experience; it makes it livelier for everyone).
Sunset over Cadillac Mountain, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling. There’s a reason this is my longest-running workshop.
This is an opportunity to spend time at America’s first national park. I’d encourage you to live in if possible; it becomes a bonding and immersive experience. However, I always have commuters and they seem to benefit as well. I’ve been teaching this workshop longer than any other, because it’s a personal favorite.
This is centered in historic Lenox, MA. I chose this location because it’s in easy driving distance of NYC (3 hours) and Boston (2.5 hours). The Berkshires are relaxed, agricultural, historic and scenic. Plus, you can get good cider doughnuts. It’s the only workshop I teach where I also have been known to go shopping.
This is the height of fall color, for which of course New England is famous. Add the tang of the ocean and the peculiar reds of blueberry barrens and it’s downright otherworldly. I throw in a few curveballs, like a model in the landscape and a visit to the Farnsworth Art Museum in Rockland.
It means that only 59 people will have the opportunity to study with me in person in 2025. (I’ll still be teaching on Zoom, of course.) I’ll be promoting these workshops all fall, but if you know you want to take one, you might as well register and make your deposit now.
Midsummer along the Bay of Fundy, 24×36, available.
Given a choice of painting the same subject en plein air or in the studio, I’ll always go outdoors. I think it makes for better paintings, but it’s also a better experience.
In general, painting from life is superior to painting from photos. Photography works out the subject, composition and color for you, and it’s hard to escape its bossiness. People can work from life within the genres of still life, interiors and figure painting, but the natural world is the biggest and best source of observed reality.
The Whole Enchilada, 12X16, oil on archival canvas, $1159 unframed.
Full immersion
Being surrounded by the environment that I am painting is a full sensory experience. Yes, that can include insects and jackhammers, but it’s more likely to include sweet smells on soft breezes and birdsong.
For every painting location, there are many potential subjects and compositions. I once stood on a hillside and painted in each cardinal direction. I didn’t begin to plumb the possibilities of that site.
Painting outdoors lets me experience natural light in its full color spectrum. Look at any photograph of a scene you know and love, and you’ll quickly realize how photos flatten and distort color. And painting indoors under bad lights is just horrible for your color perception.
I’ve painted in rainstorms, in withering heat and humidity, and in blasting Arctic cold. More commonly, I go out when the weather is moderate, but its changeability has taught me ways to control and adapt my painting, and above all, to work fast.
Dawn Wind, Twin Lights, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.
The great outdoors
Being an outdoorswoman to my bones, I appreciate that plein air painting lets me work in beautiful places. Standing quietly in one place for hours allows you to see it in a different way from that of the typical tourist. People love the natural world but due to issues of time, money and mobility, they can’t always get to it. (I remind myself to be thankful every day I can climb Beech Hill.) Plein air painting is a way to bring nature to a world that’s increasingly insulated.
On the best of days, you can text a photo of a wood lily or an elk to a friend. That’s humbling.
Palm Tree and Sunlight, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Some of my best friends are plein air painters
I know plein air painters from all over North America. The crush of plein air events means we’re often thrown together in ways that forge deep friendships. I might not see them for years, but we fall back into our old rhythms of friendship very easily.
I see this in my workshop students, too. There is something about standing on a rock with the same people for a week that fosters closeness.
Plein air is not limiting
Some of my friends love painting architecture; some like painting in large cities (that used to be me). Some are attracted to the bleak industrial wasteland. Some like the high desert, and others like the ocean. I’m easy, myself; I love the landscape I’m with. But there’s no wrong subject in plein air. Beauty is everywhere, and as long as I’m still mobile, I’ll still seek it out.
Daylilies and lace-cap hydrangea, 11X14, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
When Colin Page asked me if I’d paint for the 76th annual Camden Garden Tour, I said, “sure, why not?” Don’t ever tell him I said this, but Colin is such a nice guy that he makes one want to do nice things too.
I’m not a painter of gardens. They’re one of the few landscape subjects I avoid. The painter can’t generally improve on what the skilled gardener hath wrought. Great gardens (as Merryspring Nature Center’s are) are beautiful, but they’re also neat. My natural inclination in landscape paintings is toward the scruffy, like me.
The contrast between the intense color in the foreground and the airy lightness of the great daylily bed at Merryspring appealed to me, even as I realized it would be a compositional bear and equally difficult to paint.
“Never proceed to paint until you have a drawing you love,” I tell my students. My problem was, I kept jabbering with passers-by. It’s a small town and I’m blessed with many wonderful friends. I didn’t finish my sketch until noon. Since I had to leave at 3 PM to get ready for the Camden Art Walk, it was time to fish or cut bait.
The featured artist for this year’s Garden Tour is Cassie Sano, who has studied landscape painting with me on and off for several years now. My students are passing me left and right in their Cadillacs.
This canvas is certainly not overworked, since I finished it at warp speed. It was a good warm up for Camden on Canvas, which starts this morning.
I wonder where I could find some musicians to play for the Camden Art Walk?
As we do every year, Björn Runquist, Ken DeWaard, Eric Jacobsen and I started a last-minute text string debating where we should paint. Dithering is an important part of the plein air landscape painting process; after all, there might be something brilliant right around the corner.
But here in Camden there’s not a single intersection or overlook that wouldn’t make the bones of a good painting. I know what I’m doing, and I suspect the Three Musketeers do too. The good lord willing and the creek don’t rise, I’m rowing out to Curtis Island on Friday and painting on Sea Street on Saturday. But double-check at the information kiosk on Atlantic Avenue just to make sure.
Larky Morning at Rockport Harbor, 11X14, on linen, $869 unframed includes shipping in continental US.
I’m thinking about Camden on Canvas and an impractical location occurs to me. It’s a glacial erratic on Fernald’s Neck. It would be long hike with a large canvas and my gear (although not nearly as onerous as painting from the top of Bald Mountain. Even when I get there, I’ll be confounded by the composition, as it’s just a huge rock by the shore. However, it’s one of those subjects that always excites me when I see it, so this might be the year I do it.
Glacial erratic with my friend Marjean for scale.
The problem of choosing plein air locations is compounded when one is teaching or organizing an outing for a group. There are practical considerations that aren’t as important when I’m painting solo.
At Rest in Camden Harbor, 12X16, oil on birch, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Here’s how I approach the question:
Does the view interest and inspire? That’s a moving target, but I look for places with interesting compositions and varied elements. That way there’s something for everyone.
How’s the lighting? I consider the time of day when it’s possible to be in that location. And, of course, at midday, I generally encourage people to down brushes and rest.
Is it accessible? This is far more important for a plein air class or an event where you have spectators than it is for solo painting. However, with big canvases come big equipment, and that’s where park-and-paint can be very helpful. There’s a famous location in Schoodic that’s now off-limits to groups. I never took mine there anyway; I judged it to be just too easy to tumble off that cliff.
American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Is the terrain negotiable? I don’t mean just for me, but for everyone in my plein air group. The best locations are ones where the agile can move out and explore, but others can paint from near their car.
Can painters set up chairs? I have a duff back, and I no longer stand to paint. I want a place I can sit, and where my students can set up chairs if they wish. There’s no shame in sitting to paint.
What’s the weather forecast? It behooves a plein air painter to know all the overhangs, bridges, gazebos and other places he or she can shelter from the weather. That includes the sun if it’s blistering hot as it will be this week. A contingency plan is a must. In Maine, mine is my own studio as a backup location. In other areas, it can be a rented hall.
Do you have permission? I will never forget being yelled at because other painters who were not part of my group had trespassed on private property. Make sure you have permission before you go on someone else’s land. One of the hidden costs of my Schoodic workshop at Acadia National Park is the required permit (and a hidden cost for all my workshops is insurance).
Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Leave no trace. If you brought it in, bring it out. Police your workstation before you leave.
Are there amenities? We all need restrooms, food, and water. While I can fend for myself, I need to be clear with students about their options before we arrive. There’s no Starbucks at Schoodic, and I hope there never will be.
Can I get help in the case of an emergency? If there’s no cell-phone reception, I want to be within minutes of a ranger or a road.
Can we get away from the crowds? In Maine (and other popular destinations) that’s not always possible, but I work hard to keep people out of the worst traffic jams. Some people like talking about painting, but others really want privacy in which to work.
Are there multiple points of interest? There are many plein air painting sites with one great view, but they’re inherently less interesting than those with a variety of points of interest. Is there depth, with distinctive features in the foreground, midground and background?
I spend a lot of time scouting in the area in which I paint (and teach), usually with sketchbook in hand. You should, too.
The four locations in today’s paintings are all places we’ll be painting during Painting in Paradise, here in Rockport.
Two openings this week:
Thursday, June 20, 2024, I’ll be at the Camden Art Walk, at Lone Pine Real Estate, 19 Elm Street, Camden, ME. That’s 5-7 PM, and the Art Walk is kind of a street party. It’s rather short notice, but I would love to see you there. Especially as my husband is threatening to bring his bass guitar and plunk away in the corner.
Friday, June 21, 2024, I’ll be at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde, ME, from 4-7 PM for the opening reception of their first seasonal show, Barns. I’ll have three of them in the show, and my fantastically-gifted student Cassie Sano has taken my spot in the cooperative. I’m curious to see what she (and the rest of my friends there) is up to.
Benefits: This challenge forces us to focus on color mixing, understand color relationships, and create harmony in our paintings. It also helps improve our ability to convey light and atmosphere with a simplified color range.
Regrowth and regeneration (Borrow Pit #4), 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
2. Time Constraint Challenge
Objective: Complete a painting in under an hour. Then do the same subject again in under thirty minutes.
Benefits: Working quickly encourages decisive decisions and helps us capture the essence of the scene without overworking.
3. Different Times of Day Challenge
Objective: Paint the same scene at different times of the day (morning, midday, evening).
Benefits: This challenge enhances our observation skills and understanding of how light changes throughout the day. It teaches us to depict different lighting conditions, shadows, and atmospheric effects.
Brooding Skies, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522
4. Weather Conditions Challenge
Objective: Paint the same scene in sunny, rainy, and/or cloudy conditions. (As they say, if you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes.)
Benefits: Painting under different weather conditions pushes us to adapt to the changing environment and learn to represent different atmospheres and moods.
“Thunder Bay Freighter,” Thunder Bay, Ontario
5. Same scene, different subjects
Objective: After choosing your view, paint two different studies focusing on two different subjects within that view. If there’s something in the view that you’d typically shy away from, try making it a focal point. (Except trash; nobody wants to look at trash.)
Benefits: This discourages us from trying to cram everything into a painting. It forces us to spend more time on composition.
Some quick tips for success
If you haven’t already done so, it’s time to set up your kit for summer. One of my resolutions for this year is to repack my kit every time I get home from a session, rather than fussing with it in the morning when I should be painting.
Spend time sitting with your scene before you start painting. The more you look, the better you’ll paint.
Consistency is key. The more you paint, the easier it gets. Don’t get discouraged; think of every painting, good or bad, as a learning opportunity.
Assuming all went well, I got back to Boston last night from my lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. Laura should still be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)
Downpour, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US
Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but it’s raining. I love these spring rains; it’s chilly but not cold, and the plants begin their rebirth. But as Ken DeWaard says, who needs another grey painting?
Actually, I disagree. Sea fog can be very beautiful, as I hope I’ve demonstrated below. And if you don’t believe me, ask the great Romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich.
Sea Fog, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $696 unframed.
Painting rainbows is tough. They’re luminous, shimmering, and there’s really no shift in value. Double rainbows are even harder; they have a slightly darker passage between the color bands, which looks ridiculous in paint. Not that there’s anything wrong with being ridiculous.
Toy Reindeer with double rainbow, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435 framed, includes shipping in continental US.
That day started with a halfhearted rain and moved to a downpour, much as yesterday and the day before (and so many other days this spring) have done here in Maine. It’s impossible to paint outdoors in these conditions, even in oil. The mist beads up on your palette and emulsifies with your paint. So, on that day, I painted through a window. The angle wasn’t great, and I only caught a small smidgeon of sky, which is why it has that deep central vee. However, the things that matter are all there: the southern beeches, the pinnacle rock formations, and, of course, the rainbow.
Alla prima oil painters usually favor hog’s bristle brushes. These are far less expensive than softer hairs like sable. They are the only brushes that spread thick paint smoothly and evenly, making for the freshest alla prima technique. There are some good synthetic brushes on the market, but none of them are quite as stiff as a good natural bristle brush.
Bristle brushes tend to form a flag (a v-shaped split) at the end over time. However, if the brush is made properly, with good interlocking bristles, it will have a natural resistance to fraying. Because field painters often go long periods without being able to clean their brushes, durability is important.
Don’t use that as an excuse to not clean your brushes thoroughly. Rinse and wipe out all the solids and wrap them tightly until you can get to a sink. When you do wash them, use a good fatty soap and make sure all the paint is out of the ferrule (the metal part), or they’ll lose their shape. A brush that’s got paint clogging the ferrule is impossible to resurrect. (My daughter’s brush soap, which is very good, is available here, but she will not be shipping more soap for the next few weeks.)
Flats:
Flat brushes make an immediate, energetic mark. They’re excellent for fast, powerful surface work, long sweeping strokes, and blocking in shapes.
Used on their sides they also make great lines, far more evenly than a small round can do.
I like an 8-10 flat, because I tend to paint with large brushstrokes, but what size you use will depend to some degree on your painting style.
A bright is a just a stubbier, less-flexible version of a flat. It’s great for short, powerful strokes or situations where you want a lot of control. Your painting, your choice.
Rounds:
A round is a more lyrical brush than a flat, and is a classic tool for painterly surface marks. It can be used to make lines that vary from thin to thick. You’ll need a big one (perhaps an 8 or 10) for big, bold brushwork, and a wee pointed one (such as a 2) for fine detail.
My uncle used to say, “be true to your teeth or they’ll be false to you.” The same is true of small bristle rounds. They lose their points very quickly if you don’t clean them carefully.
Filberts:
If I was stranded on a desert island with just one brush, it would probably be a size 8 filbert. Its great advantage is the variety of brushstrokes it makes. It’s can make single strokes that taper, such as in water reflections. Its rounded edges are good for blending. Set on its side, it makes nearly as good a line as a flat.
Double filbert or Egbert:
This is a ‘novelty’ brush like a dagger or fan brush, but it’s one I use all the time. It’s a lyrical brush that has a lot of expressive quality. Hold it at the butt end and swing it like a baton, and suddenly your painting will sing.
However, if you don’t clean it carefully it will splay and develop a split at the end, which renders it useless. I speak from sad experience here.
A bonus: I’ve been painting walls for the last week, and my favorite new brush is the Wooster Shortcut. Better control than a long-handled brush, easier to clean than China bristles, and with modern latex paint the coverage is just as good.
