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.

Monday Morning Art School: ruthless pruning

Prom Shoes 2, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.

Sorry about my absence last week, but it was a lovely vacation.

A major part of learning to paint is learning to see, and in the process, learning to draw. This means not getting caught up in the details, but seeing the big shapes and how they fit together. This is fundamental to painting.

This means we stop thinking of the object we’re looking at as something we can identify, and start to see it as a series of shapes, or more accurately, a light pattern. That’s difficult, and even experienced painters can be tripped up.

Two Peppers, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00

Oops! My bad.

A few years ago, my student Sheryl drew the lobster-boat Becca & Meagan, which is moored year-round at Rockport Harbor. It’s painted a signature red, and I have painted and drawn it many times. Sheryl measured and drew, and I patiently corrected her. This went on for most of the class, until Sheryl finally insisted that I sit down and take measurements with her.

Whoops! It wasn’t Becca & Meagan at all. Its owner had launched a new boat, Hemingway. She was painted the same red and moored at the same buoy, but with her own unique configuration. I was so used to seeing Becca & Meagan there that I had stopped really seeing at all. I was drawing what I ‘knew’, not what was there.

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

It’s not what you know, it’s what you can see.

If I set a teacup in front of you, you’ll be guided in part by what you know about teacups: they’re rounded, squat and hollow. That gives you some checks on your drawing, but it also allows you to make assumptions about measurements and values. That can lead you astray.

To draw it successfully, you must stop reading it as ‘teacup’ and start seeing an array of shapes, planes and values. For most of us, that takes time. My process is two-fold. First, I sketch to figure out what I’m looking at. That’s investigative. Then, I ruthlessly prune, forcing my drawing into a series of shapes and values.

All objects can be reduced to a certain, limited number of shapes. These build on each other to make a whole. When you see things as abstract shapes, you expand your possible subject matter. A plastic pencil case is not inherently much different in shape from a shed. A shed, in turn has the same forms as a house. If you start with a pencil case, you can ramp yourself up to Windsor Castle in no time.

Primary Shapes, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

Notan and all other value studies are, above all, about cutting the picture frame into shapes, what Arthur Wesley Dow called “space cutting.”

Dow wrote the definitive 20th century book on composition, which sets down fundamental principles still used today. He taught his students to restrict the infinite range of tonal values in the visible spectrum to specific values-perhaps black, white and one grey. He wanted students see all compositions as structures of light and dark shapes. The success or failure of a painting rests on whether those shapes are beautiful.

Students sometimes chafe at being asked to do still life, but it’s the best training to learn space cutting. Just as important, it’s easy to set up and execute quickly, so you can practice on paper in just a few spare moments.

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

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

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