Whoah! I knew I was behind in tracking my progress with gouache painting here, but I thought I was just one or two behind. Maybe I don't have the drive to document if I think things are going well. Not that it hasn't been a roller coaster. In my opinion, the above is one of the best paintings I've done. I went out on a late afternoon scouting trip to find painting subjects. My idea was to take a picture then return home to draw the scene. If you haven't picked it up from reading this blog, I'm rarely confident in my drawing ability. I restarted this blog last Fall with the goal of drawing at least one thing from life everyday. I have not done that. 
Anyway, putting a photo on my computer screen at the same size I intend to paint allows me to measure or draw on a grid. So that was the plan: find a place, draw at home, return to the spot at the same time and paint plein air.
Except, there was a drastic weather change, going from sunny skies to completely overcast with occasional rain drizzles. No chance of getting those same shadows. It was forecast to continue for three days, so I ended up painting from a photo. This was a breakthrough for me. I was conscious of dividing the picture into planes with the distant hills across the valley, that terracotta slope to the left, the bushes, and the tree. I also didn't worry about painting everything that was there or capturing the exact shapes of the foliage. The "fun" was getting the light coming through the leaves, both from the blue sky and the cast light from the right. Overall, there was more intention in this as I worked on it. I'm pleased with it. But this wasn't the first painting since I wrote here last.
This was the first painting I did and I was in the opposite emotional state from that first one. What put me in the mental dumps, aside from the world going to hell, was that I had bought a year's subscription to Schoolism. It was a hundred dollars off sale and I had enough money from convention sales to more than cover it. What got me to pull the trigger was a new course by Nathan Fowkes. It was a daily Color and Light workout - paintings meant to be done in an hour. I thought it would be a great place to start and I could do it in the morning and have plenty of time for other stuff, artistic or otherwise.
But I was lost in the first lesson. I started doing what I had done in my Lena Rivo gouache course, trying to imitate Nathan exactly. Although he included most of the information to design a brush like he was using, there were elements missing and I had never designed a brush before. Plus, he's moving at real time so my anal need to analyze his strokes and then duplicate them meant constantly stopping and starting the video. I felt overwhelmed much like when I visit a con and see tables of animation student's work. I feel I'd never be accepted by a studio if I was trying it today. I take joy in their work and feel tremendously lucky to have graduated in the mid-seventies. What the hell was I doing?
I woke up depressed and needed an artistic "win." So I set up in the backyard, picked an angle that had some of the traits a painting should have and started painting. No drawing ahead of time, no coating the page, just slapping down paint. Every painting goes through an ugly stage. This painting seemed stuck there. But I kept going. I didn't worry about capturing the reality when it interfered with the painting. I started adding detail of the light hitting the tree. I readjusted values. At the end, it was not perfect but it was a painting. Nothing exciting about it. Some posters described it as very peaceful. I'm glad they got an emotion out of it. It really lifted my spirits.
I showed my wife. She appreciated it and I explained how frustrated I had been feeling about my new courses. She was puzzled, "Isn't this supposed to be 'fun?'"
I blinked and returned to the Schoolism page. I also visited their Facebook page where students post their work and saw that my first workout attempt wasn't so bad. I decided to switch courses to "Landscape Sketching in Watercolor and Gouache" which is the course his new book is based on. Most importantly, I took myself off the clock. I didn't have to stick to a weekly schedule as if I was turning in assignments. That's what you do when you pay for the whole teacher/student relationship. I spent 40 years in animation. I'm not trying to get hired anywhere. I still intend to do all the assignments. You'll see them in my next post. But this "having fun" thing was worth exploring. Which brings me to my next paintings.
So after having the good experience from scouting up Tapo Canyon, I went on another scouting trip. This time, I wasn't intending to return and paint there. A late afternoon painting excursion would end up right in the middle of dinner prep. Anyway, I shot some trees near a wash, a hillside, the pattern of shadows in a park and an alley. All of these were basically at the same location. Each of them, would give me foliage practice and shadow patterns.
When I looked at them the next day, it was the alley that seemed to offer the best composition. But then I slumped in my chair and sighed, "Why do I want to paint an alley?" I knew it would be good practice. I knew every painting taught me stuff. But why am I learning to paint? I know why I write. It's to tell stories. But why am I learning to paint?
I don't know when the idea hit me. Why not juxtapose the ordinary with the extraordinary? When we watch kaiju movies, we're invariably near the monsters -- well, except when it's an old movie showcasing a guy in a rubber suit crashing through miniatures. The proximity increases the tension. But what if Godzilla was just passing through, being careful not to step on cars, or people. What if it was a sunny day without the smoke caused by ineffectual bombs or crashing planes?
I found a good picture of a Godzilla toy shot from the right angle, or at least close to the angle I wanted. I mocked it up in photoshop, seemed good, I was off. The main thing was to get the atmospheric perspective that would put Godzilla far enough away. I didn't quite get it in gouache, so I used smudged pastel to add a little more atmosphere between the monster and me. And, just like that, I was telling a story.
I was looking at some brilliant work by James Reynolds, a painter most famous for his western subject matter. Again, can't remember when the lightning of inspiration hit but I wondered what it would look like if a cowboy was herding giant bees instead of cattle. Once again, I mocked up the idea on my computer and it looked good. And funny. But when I drew it into my 5" x 8" sketchbook, it was immediately apparent that I would have to paint larger or use teeny, tiny brushes, which I knew would not go well.
So I sketched it out on some 9" x 12' watercolor paper and then I was hit by a rare bolt of wisdom. I thought that it might be wise to try painting one bee in a field before an entire herd. Very glad I did. The bee was a little trickier than I expected but what I really needed more experience with was the field. I needed to place the bees in tall grass. Also, there was a quality of summer heat and bright light that I wanted to capture and I'm not quite there yet. But I am not unhappy with my sketchbook bee. It may not be a story in itself, but it raises questions. That's good too. -- Tad
