Blog

Some of my painting friends urged me to consider a Hughes Easel.  Counterweights allow a painter to manipulate it with one finger--back and forth, up and down, saving time and aggravation with sticky knobs and stubborn gears.  I called Don Andrews, maker of Hughes Easels in Punta Gorda, FL and ordered one back in April.  Look what pulled up on October 16th!  

Up at 4:30am and out the door by 5:30am in Tusayan, just a few miles outside of the South gate, we can already see the sunlight painting the underbellies of the clouds.  This should be a good sunrise!

The morning was clear and cold.  Winds whipped with gusts up to 20 mph.  Not a fun day to paint outdoors, so I checked in with the staff at the Geology Museum to see if I might set up indoors.  The Museum has huge windows revealing an expansive view of the Canyon.  

I decided my first painting would be of Skeleton Point.  The shadows would remain pretty constant and give me time to get a "warm-up" painting in.  It was a different experience painting behind windows!

I had plenty of time to start a second painting.  I decided to take a narrow view of just a portion of Skeleton Point.  By now the building was full of visitors.  I don't mind people watching and I really enjoy interacting with them.  There were many families with young children visiting on this day.  

When I realize that a child is watching intently I will turn to them and ask, "are you a painter, too?"  They almost always nod and say they like to paint.  Even if they tell me they can't paint, I invite them to help me with some portion of my canvas.  Here, Luna helps paint a little bit of Pipe Creek.  She even gave me a bit of advice on painting some of the vegetation!

After a midday break, I set up once again, this time with a small canvas.  I had immediate interest from young children, so I let this little girl help paint Plateau Point.

Elena worked on the shadows.

Just look at that intense focus!

A little later, I thought I'd have time to start a fourth one.  Gil and her family were watching, so I put my vest on Gil and gave her a brush.

A look back at her mom for approval.

I didn't catch this young lady's name, but she had fun.

By late afternoon I had a line-up of kids wanting to give it a try.  The painting didn't resemble much of the original intent, but that didn't matter.  

Unai was visiting with his mother and aunt from the Basque region of Spain.  He finished up the painting with incredible focus.  As I was cleaning up my equipment and starting to pack it away, he returned with a small notepad and proudly showed me some of the drawings he'd done.  They were good.  We had a discussion about how light moves across the formations in the Canyon.  

One just never knows when a brief experience such as "helping" a painter with their canvas, might be a life-changing experience for a young child.  Think about an experience you might have had in your youth that sent your focus to what you are doing and enjoying today as an adult.   I would love to know your thoughts and experiences!

Here are all the lucky gals to have been chosen for this year's event.

Here's John in a typical pose with brush poised either for the next stroke, or emphasizing a point he made earlier in the day.

This painting of John's is a good example of what he taught about painting trees.  

Look for the mass and simplify the scene.  Don't try and paint each individual tree.  

There is always a "dark hole", an area that is the darkest dark amid the foliage.  Can you find that in his painting?

Find where the sunlight lightens  the foliage but hold back on painting it too bright.  Save just a few spots of brightest bright to paint where the foliage turns toward the sun.  You'll see that he applies some spare dots of palest yellow on the cottonwood tree crest.

Just as with distant landforms turning bluer and grayer the farther away they become, so it is with anything that rises high overhead.  Whether it's a tall building, a tree, or a towering cliff, adding a little blue as the subject rises will make it seem to tower overhead.  Just as with distance, there is more atmosphere between you and the top of the subject.  Warm wavelengths (red, yellow orange) are bounced out by dust, water vapor, whatever is floating in the air.  Paint those colors warm at the bottom; cool toward the top. In the painting above, I popped a little rusty orange under the tree to communicate light bouncing off the ground and onto the underside of the tree  That is also where you can find the dark hole.  As the foliage turns toward the sunlight, in this case it is lightened and warmed just a bit with yellows.  If it was closer, I would likely try to have put more blue into the top of the tree.  The next might be a better example, however.

Two principles are at work in this painting.  The saguaro is "blued" as it rises and warmed with a bit of orange at the bottom and on the undersides of the cactus arms.  

John also taught another important principle and that is painting shadows.  Shadows are not just dark; they communicate a lot of information and need to "agree" with the surrounding color.  Whatever the "local color" of the ground is, mix a little lavender/purple in if it is afternoon or evening.  If it is to be morning shadows mix in a little blue with possibly a hint of green.  

Take a look at John's website and enjoy how he sees the natural world!

This is the reference photo.  It's a simple scene with the shaded rock wall in the background, the lit wall on the left, and the sloped grassy area in the foreground.  And, of course, the sky, so basically, four parts.

The canvas is one I primed long ago with a deep yellow tint.  I wipe it down with a layer of slick medium so that any goof-ups can be easily wiped off.

Using Ultramarine Blue, I cover the background.  It is transparent; you can see the canvas right through it. Same with the vertical cliffs on the left.  Since they are mostly reddish, I cover them with Quinacridone Burnt Scarlet.  The foreground is blocked in with a mixture of Burnt Scarlet and Indian Yellow.  What's left are the trees.  Since Blue and yellow make green, that's what I'll use to block them in.

Just as a test, I punched in a clump of prickly pear in the foreground to see how that feels.  A painting does need to have something to anchor it in a corner.

To get a little sunlight on those dark junipers, I wiped off some of the dark green around their crests, and came back in with a lighter yellow.  It still looks like a mess at this point.

I block in the sky here.  That lighter tone adjacent to the dark background will make it feel even darker.  

There is a hint of red rock in the shadows, so I wipe off some of the blue as a guide for where I'll start putting in the shadowed red rock. I also start to indicate some of the detail and deep crevices in the wall on the left.

Push and pull.  Deepen the red and lighten the lit areas on the left rock wall.  Add some dark red into the shadowed background.  A little more detail in the junipers, and sun-struck faces on the left rock wall..  AND I'm starting to ponder if I want to put in the suggestion of a trail.

More vegetation detail, more work in the background.

I want to get the feeling of the sunlight warming the slope and striking the tops of the junipers.  Still haven't done anything much with the foreground and that lonely clump of prickly pear is still waiting its turn.

Once it reaches a point where it feels good, I try not to fiddle with it any more.  The junipers look just the way I want them.

Now a lot of work on that golden grass.  A suggestion of a trail. Some knife work to get the erratic grass clumps, AND a lot of work on the foreground anchoring prickly pear.  I had them all rather dark until I remembered that they often look better if I work a little purple into their shadowed side.  A fine pointy brush allows me to get just a little sun glint on a few edges.  This is where more of  Eric's teaching comes home to roost.  Not every cactus pad needs to be defined.  Let only a suggestion of a trail exist and let the viewer's eye figure out where they might pick a path up this slope.

Finished!  This is historic Woo Ranch some miles outside of Sedona and Cottonwood.  If you know where Palatki is, this property is adjacent to that ancient site.  The slopes are steep, but lead to a wonderful  overhang where one can view petroglyphs and imagine what life must have been like there hundreds of years ago.  

When we first moved to Cottonwood, Arizona in 2003,  we loved visiting the nearby mountain town of Jerome.  As a  shy and nascent painter, I would often see Mark standing on a sidewalk totally absorbed in painting.  Although worried that I might be an annoyance, I finally worked up a little courage after watching him and said "hello".  He was friendly, and asked if I'd been painting long.  Only about two years, I admitted, and I had little experience painting plein air.  He said we should visit his studio at the Old Jerome High School, which had been turned into an art venue with painters, sculptors, musicians, and writers renting the classrooms.  Months later, during an open house at the Old Jerome High School Mark apparently took my husband aside and told him one of the classrooms was soon becoming available.  Renting it would make a great studio for me.  Stan decided that would make a fine Christmas gift.  On Christmas morning 2004, I opened a little box and found a key.  I was totally dumbfounded when Stan told me it was for a studio!  The rest is history.  I have to thank Mark--and, of course, Stan for giving me my start.  

I've been gone from the Jerome scene for a long time and learned recently that Mark had passed away.  I have one of his paintings, a small 8x10, and  I treasure it.

Let's take a look at Mark's work and his influence on my work.

Mark's work varied from landscapes of the Sedona area to his lyrical floral pieces.  I loved how he got the thought across without going into classical detail.  As you can see here, Mark didn't stand on formalities.  Definitely a free spirit!

,

Mark simplified complicated compositions and subjects.

His brushstrokes are direct.  Once again, making a complicated scene accurate, but simple.

Mark could say what needed to be said with the least number of brushstrokes.  

Some critiqued his style as "cartoonish".  Knowing Mark, I don't think he cared.  This was his style, his recording, in  his painterly handwriting about the town of Jerome, and the world around him.

Whenever I get too "fiddly" with some aspect of a painting, I stand back and tell myself, "just lay down one stroke".  Mark also taught me to take a painting and turn it upside down on the easel or view it in a mirror, before considering it finished.  That's when glaring mistakes reveal themselves.  By doing that, the painting is taken out of the familiar context and you are able to see it objectively.  

Finally, here's a shot of the Old Jerome High School where I found my painting voice and enjoyed 5 great years painting on the creaky wooden floors of what was the English classroom.

You may have seen this before-my mobile studio.  Everything is checked over and replenished the night before heading out to paint.  

The first thing I do is turn on my powerful little speaker and select a Pandora station. 

Gear is packed, coffee is ready, and time to find a painting site.  It is 50 degrees, so warm in the sun, but pretty chilly in the shade.

After a lengthy discussion with a maintenance guy, I poked our sign in at the base of a date palm.

None of the palms in this park are native, but planted over the early years of cattle ranching and attempts at agriculture.

I have fancied this scene many times, but another scene is drawing my attention

That clump of Washingtonian palms across the pond--I like the reflections in the still water.

Lara stopped by.  She is a watercolorist, and a good one!  

I had lots of curious ducks waddle my way.  And as you'll see several friends stopped by, too.

Warren and Nancy live right across from the park.  Nancy brought a little bag of chocolate chip cookies.

Cookies, coffee, and painting--Perfect combination!

After about 90 minutes, my painting was finished.  

Lara was nearly finished too.

I returned to the parking lot, to rest a bit, then, a nice surprise, my friend and neighbor Anne stopped by with her lunch, so we found a table and enjoyed a little conversation with a photographer Jeremy Eichhorn.  

And this would be the scene I'd paint in the afternoon.

And another nice surprise; friends, Bill and Jori stopped by!  And, although I don't have have a photo, a friend I hadn't seen for a long time, Lisa C. just happened by.  

Here's the piece I worked on in the afternoon.  By 3 p.m., some pretty angry clouds had started to form over the Catalinas, so I packed up my gear and drove home.

Better sunsets with clouds.  Here's the sunset on Paint Arizona Day.  The show of work begins April 30th at Four Corners Gallery in Tucson.

It's always fun to see where the gallery staff decides to display paintings.  I love how my two large pieces look on this deep red wall.

Friday evening, the auction opened for the "minis".  Before I knew it, four of my six pieces had sold!

Let me introduce you to Doug Holiman.  A retired geologist, and a lifelong lover of all things of indigenous cultures. Doug, who is of Blackfoot heritage, has been admiring and collecting my work for several years.  Stan and  I had a delightful visit with Doug and his wife Karen, just before heading up Hwy 60 to Wickenburg.  Doug gave us a fascinating tour of his Native artifacts and rare books on Native cultures from the Mississippi River west.  Doug came to the show the following day and purchased one of my paintings!  However, he didn't consider the purchase finished until we "sealed the deal" with a pipe he made, and wild tobacco he'd collected.

This has to be one of the most unusual sale closings I have ever experienced!  Doug fashioned and decorated everything you are about to see.  I warned him that I'd never smoked anything in my long life--but was willing to try.

Hand-collected wild tobacco, a tamping tool, pipe bowl he fashioned out of Minnesota pipestone, a grounding stone, and the pipe stem.

He made an offering and thanks to the four directions.

Lit the pipe, made three puffs, then handed it to me.  And, yes, I inhaled--three very tentative inhalations.  And the deal was sealed.

These three found homes on the first evening.

This one found a home on Saturday.

Everyone is ready for the quick draw auction on Sunday morning.  This of us who chose to do the quick draw had 90 minutes to complete a painting.  Nerve-wracking, for sure!

At least we could work from a photo, so I did an evening scene of Grand Canyon.

And what a fantastic group of women artists!

The metal container holds solvent.  I rest my brushes in it while painting.  There is a strainer, not shown, that fits inside.  I can swish brushes and get some of the paint off between uses.  The fine particles of pigment go through the holes and sink to the bottom.  By the next day, most of the solvent is clear and there's a layer of sludge resting on the bottom.  The cup on the right will hold yesterday's sludge.

I'll pour the clear solvent into the red cup, watching for the sludge to start moving off the bottom of the solvent can.  If I'm careful, none of it will get into the clear solvent.

Looks as though I used a lot of blue paint yesterday.

The sludge is poured into the wine cup and what's left coating the can is scraped out with an old brush, then any remaining sludge is wiped out with a paper towel.

Clear solvent is poured back into the can.

The strainer is returned to the can and I'm ready to go.

Here's a progression of my sludge cups.  The one on the left is what I'm currently using.  Middle is the last one I filled. The third one on the right has been drying out for over a year and starting to separate from the cup.

I have about a dozen of these little oddities.  A weird thing to save, but to me, the strata represents years of paintings, and predominant colors I used.  Maybe when I'm long gone, these will be rare collector items!

Life is full of coincidences.  A dear friend used to say "coincidences are God's way of staying anonymous".  Who knows?!  I continue to be amazed when they pop into my life.  Enjoy reading about this most recent one from a woman who purchased a painting over a year ago.

So nice to chat with you the other day! Here is my story of the beloved painting by you that I found on August 30. 2023 at the Gallery, around the corner from Karen’s at Headliners …


There was a full super blue moon rise on August 30, 2023. This was the day of a memorial celebration in Hawaii for a dear friend, Jeff, who had passed away the end of July. Jeff had many full moon bonfires and potlucks with his friends and neighbors over the years out at Puna Point, and this was one way they all decided to celebrate Jeff's amazing life.

I was not able to attend, but wanted to be “present” here in Flagstaff. So I did some planning for when the moon would rise and where would be a good spot to view it here in Flagstaff (Picture Canyon!)  …and then I would continue from home throughout the evening to honor Jeff’s life as the moon rose up from the ocean three hours later in Pahoa, HI.

I had my haircut that day by Karen at Headliners, who is an excellent connector! She had sent me previously to see some of your lovely oils at the Arizona Handmade Gallery around the corner. 

So I decided to visit your paintings again after my haircut that afternoon. And there, propped in a low corner was your sweet framed moonrise painting … titled “Moonrise Over Marble Plateau”. That was it ! 

Jeff and I had spent a magical summer in 1973 in Colorado, above Marble, CO in the tiny town of Crystal. This was a treasure that needed to come to our home to commemorate this magical evening we were about to have, honoring Jeff’s life, and the full moon rising here, in Hawaii, and over the Marble plateau in your painting. I recognized your Marble plateau landscape from my husband’s frequent trips up to Lee’s Ferry to do his fly fishing… The painting was a lovely connection to past and present, and to joyful adventures in the great outdoors. And to a magical moonrise.

It resides here in our Flagstaff home, and continues to offer peace and grace and a gentle sense of the magic one can find in this beautiful world. Thank you Dawn !

Moonrise over Marble Plateau

Nine days at Grand Canyon went by in a flash.  Here are some highlights of the event.

One of my favorite places to paint is Yaki Point.  That distinctive "pillar" just below the rim catches early morning light.  Here is the resultant painting about an hour later:

Here is another sunrise from the same location a few days later:

Sunsets can be quite spectacular, too  Sometimes the light is a little softer due to smoke and dust in the air

this is a view  of "Battleship" from a favorite perch of mine.

I decided to head out to Yaki Point for a late afternoon paint.  When I arrived, I observed that the clouds on the western horizon looked troubled.  I'd barely set up my gear when I could hear distant thunder.  It was obvious that storms were moving in.  I broke down everything, scurried to my car and waited it out.  Fierce winds and rain whipped through, but as is often the case, these storms clear up closer to sundown.

The air was washed clean, the Canyon was wet with intense colors showing through.

Entropy.  I can start out the week with a well-organized carload of gear and extra supplies, but after a few days, all this stuff settles into a spot it seems to determine for itself.  It all works as long as I know where everything is--and I can easily sit on the bumper and slide into my pack, grab my coffee and hike to my spot to paint.  On this day, I drove nearly 30 miles east toward Desert View and chose a spot known as Apache Point to paint.

Here's the view to the west from the point.

There was a perfectly framed view into the Canyon.  Only problem was the light wasn't too great.

I don't usually set up a chair, but I was pretty tired on this afternoon and along with recovering from a herniated disk, I decided a chair was't a bad idea.

And here's the little 12x6 piece that resulted.  "Invitation".  Vishnu Temple stands in front of Wotan's Throne.

I decided to drive out to Shoshone Point and spend an afternoon.  The day was hot and there was little shade where I wanted to set up.  And the clouds started to build in the west.  I couldn't decide on what to paint when the clouds almost occluded Isis Temple.

And there was my image!  I liked how there was just a stream of light cascading down the contours of the Temple.  I was nearly finished when two young men stopped by to ask a few questions.  Julian and Tom were from Germany and were on their final days of exploring the Southwest.  We had an absolutely delightful conversation.  They offered to carry my gear back to my car and I gladly took them up on their offer.  Did I mention the afternoon was pretty hot, so I invited them to climb in and I would drive them the mile back to the parking area.  The little two track road in to the Point is extremely rough, so it was a bumpy ride.  We exchanged contact information, and wished one other well.

.

Here are a few other pics from the event week:

Skeleton Point and the S. Kaibab Trail zigzagging it's way to the bottom.

A sweet cluster of flowers clinging to the edge.

A lot of the painting life is hurry up and wait.  On this morning, I rushed out the door, drove to my spot along the rim and found the Canyon filled with blue smoke from the California fires.  Sometimes it clears, so I waited on a comfortable rock with my coffee.  Pretty soon the sun started piercing through producing that eerie pinky-yellow light:

All 23 painters turned in framed, wet paintings on Wednesday of that week.  Volunteers and GCC staff started putting up each painter's display which included studio paintings finished months before.  Here's a look at my wall.  As soon as the show opened, Rhythm of the River received a red dot and will go to a new home in Park City, Utah!

The event is over, but the show remains open until mid January 2025.  I'll be replacing sold work with new pieces from time to time.  Be sure to sop in at Kolb Studio or visit online at Grandcanyon.org. 

An early spring hatch of wood termites was certainly a memorable event. First one, then ten, clouds of tiny little flying insects came pouring out of an old log and flying off into the Canyon. Those of us who were painting along the rim picked dozens of them to of our sky and the blue and white paint on our palettes. The problem was when we picked them out, their tiny wings stayed behind. My entomologist friend advised me that once they've mated, the males easily lose their wings. There must have been a whole lot of lovin' going on in that dead log!

They always go for the sky--even in my studio.  This fellow, unfortunately for both of us, landed sometime during the night on the protective coating I apply to finished paintings.  Next morning, he was permanently stuck to the sky.  I flicked off most of him, but had to mix a little more paint and simply cover over his remains.  

During last year's Celebration of Art, I decided to spend the whole day painting at Shoshone Point.  I set up my gear at the top of the narrow point that allows a broad view into the Canyon.  I painted for a few minutes, then sensed a little movement  to my left.  There he was, leisurely flowing through the grasses, then stopping just three feet behind me.  I knew it wasn't a rattler-far too thin for the chubbier crotalus family, and likely a garter snake.  We both observed one another and silently agreed we would keep a respectful distance.  I don't mind being watched while I paint.  I returned to painting, but cast a glance his way from time to time. I marveled at his great length, and rather came to like his company.  I turned to look again after a few moments, and he was gone!  

There are signs warning everyone at the Canyon to never feed the wildlife--especially the rock squirrels. They are insistent and wily little characters, and cute as a bug's ear!  Here's one I caught stealing something from my pack.  I've caught one inside my pack rummaging for a snack.  Years ago while I was painting near Lookout Studio, I had one keep making forays at the muffin I had balanced on my pochade box.  After waving him off several times, he finally made a last ditch attempt, grabbed the muffin, and ran through my blue paint and leaving little blue footprints all along the wall.  And there is one rock squirrel  out there somewhere sporting a smear of orange paint on his butt.  He kept running around my feet as I was doing a demo at Mather Point.  My friend Terri Cook tried to discourage him and chase him away.  I finally gave him a poke with a loaded brush and he disappeared for good.

I've had a bumble bee land right in my white paint. I flicked him out, but I'm pretty sure it didn't go well for him after that. One winter day, a Stellars jay flew directly onto my palette and nabbed a bite of my burnt sienna. I'm sure it looked like a delicious brown nut. Rude surprise for that bird!

And then there was the little bridled titmouse intent on emptying my bag of almonds.  Probably the dearest little thief I've encountered.  Painting along the west rim at Hermit's Rest, I became aware of a small bird repeatedly landing in a branch over my head, then disappearing behind me.  A moment later, the same bird would return to the branch, then fly away.  It appeared he had something in is bill.   I watched for him to return, and when he did, I turned to see where he was going--and it was right to my pack behind me and an open bag of almonds!  You really can't get angry at such a diligent and determined little creature!  However, he'd nearly cleaned out my supply of nuts!

And finally, there was  the time some years ago when my old painting buddy Bob and I were on the Canyon's east end, each of us about 10 feet on either side of a large rock.  When finished, Bob jumped on top of the rock and there was the unmistakable hissy rattle of a peeved rattler who'd been awakened from his nap.  A very strange feeling to be reminded that we'd been obliviously painting so close to that fellow!  

Get ready to find out how I manage my website.  Let's start by looking at the homepage:

I can choose to have either a slide show, or an individual  photo.  In this case the slideshow for Cowgirl Up! is active.  I can add or delete photos from the array by going to this page:

And don't forget to hit "Save".   I can spend a huge amount of time making adjustments and adding images, then forget to hit "save" and everything is lost.  

When I want to add new painting, this is the "Artwork" page: 

I click on "Add New Artwork"

And I am taken to this page:

Then I'm taken to this page where I fill out all the details of a painting:

I fill in all the information and hit "save".  When I do that, the painting is not only shown on my Landscape page, but also FASO automatically sends the image to "Artful Alerts" and the image and relevant information go out to the Universe--well, to anyone who has signed on to Artful Alerts and apparently many of you do.  After I release a new painting, I often get responses and inquiries.  Signing on to Artful alerts is one of the best ways to be first to know about new work.  You can do that on my homepage, by the way.

That's all a lot of clicking--something I wasn't accustomed to with my old Apple-supported website.  All I had to do was click and drag, so learning my way around this was a challenge.

Funny story-I learned very quickly to be careful to NOT accidentally upload photos from hikes or other non-art images onto the Artworks page.  It has happened more than I'd like to admit.  Much to my chagrin, a hike image will go out to the Universe in Artful Alerts announcing "Dawn Sutherland has new work", and there's a photo from a trail.  

There are a lot of other features with this web design program.  I can change the overall look and color of my site.  I can dig deep into statistics and analytics, and if I cared to, I could set up to receive PayPal payments.  That would simply take too much work keeping track of what paintings are available and which to take out of circulation. 

Finally, since you're probably reading this because you received my newsletter, here's a look at the template page on which I develop my epistle:

I select the content blocks from the left and drag them to the right. There are infinite choices of background colors I can use.  I quickly learned to create links, and to change the font.  When I feel the newsletter is complete, I can "send a test" to my email address.  That's where my husband Stan comes in.  He is my proofreader.  He'll catch little glitches, sometimes suggest slightly different wording, and fix my comma usage.  Stan says I am apparently comma-disabled.  The truth is, I know the rules, but when I'm in the throes of writing, I just don't pay attention.  

I also can get an idea of the number of hits on my site each day.  As you can see by the spike in the next photo, there is always an increase after my newsletter goes out:

So, now you've had another look into the exciting behind-the-scenes life of a landscape painter!  What will it be next month?!

Keeping a studio well stocked is very much like keeping a kitchen pantry and refrigerator well supplied.  You don't want to get in the middle of a recipe and find you're out of eggs.  It's much the same with studio supplies.  If I have an inspiration that would fit nicely onto an 11x14 canvas I want to be able to go to my shelves and find that very size waiting for me.  I order almost everything from one online company, Jerry's Artarama.  Dick Blick is another company that will occasionally have something that I cannot find at Jerry's.  Prices are almost always equal varying a couple of cents or two.  Some years ago, I found a woodworker here in Flagstaff who did a fantastic job of fashioning a cabinet for me.

The shelves roll out.  I have every size from little 6x8s to 24x36 on the bottom.

And here's the vertical storage. I can easily see when I'm getting low on a particular size.

Good quality brushes are expensive.  Brushes for oils and acrylics come in either synthetic bristles, hog hair, or a combination.  They come in four types of bristle shapes. "Flats"are long bristled with squared off ends. "Brights" are nearly the same, but shorter bristles.  "Filberts" are rounded--like a filbert nut. "Rounds"  are, well, round.  I use almost exclusively flats but turn to brights for some landscape detail that calls for sharp shadows or light.  Here's a screenshot of a page from Jerry's:

This is a fraction of all the brushes and brands that are available.

When I first started painting, I bought only the smaller 37 ml tubes of paint.  I soon found I was going through it pretty quickly, so I started looking at 150 ml tubes, and that's almost all I use.  I counted 15 companies producing oil paint on the Jerry's site.  Let's take a look at what a tube of cobalt blue costs with a few companies:

Charvin's cobalt blue 'genuine' is $105.00 for 150 ml  Their cobalt blue 'hue' or synthetic is $45.99  

Old Holland offers cobalt blue only in 225 ml, so a little more paint in a tube, however, their price is $294.00

Williamsburg offers cobalt blue in 150 ml for only $103.00

Gamblin sells it for $66.75.

Van Gogh comes in 225ml tubes.  In my opinion, these are excellent quality paints, yet the least expensive.  Cobalt Blue is listed at $35.43!

Since I get excellent results from Van Gogh, you can guess which one I'm going to purchase.  

And then there is the non-painting stuff like wire, screws, off0set clips, D-rings, and did I mention purchasing boxes?  I usually order packs of 20 from the Uline company.  They come flat and each one has four flaps that are scored so boxes can be adjusted to hold a variety of painting sizes.  Recently, I needed to have some sturdier boxes to transport paintings to a show and ordered five pretty fancy ones from Airfloat:

The ones I ordered were $51.00/box, so I definitely want to be sure to get these back when the show is over!

Sometimes, the painting muse takes a sick day and I'm left with time to paint but nothing is happening on the easel.  That's when I usually decide to make the time productive and catch up on framing. If I have everything gathered and organized, I can wire a standard frame in less than five minutes.  Yes, I've timed myself.  

Here are the tools I use:

I measure about 1/3 down from the top of a frame and determine where I'll drill the holes for the screws and D-rings.  If it's an oak frame, I'll rub a little bar of soap over the holes so screws go in easier.  My screwdriver has a forward and reverse feature.  I purchase D-rings and screws in bulk along with that big spool of wire.  The needlenose pliers both cuts the wire, and assists working the wire through the D-rings. Finally, that yellow thing is a point driver.  Similar to a stapler, I load a cartridge of little metal points in the thing, position it over the back of a canvas panel, pull the trigger and it drives a point right into the frame.  It's an expensive tool, but well worth it!

When I paint in an event where I'll need to do some framing, I bring along a whole toolkit: 

The wire, screwdriver, and needle nose pliers are in the bottom compartment.

Finally, I usually place a sticker on the back of paintings.  

This has the painting's title, the type of paint (which is always oil) my signature, and the year I painted it.

I also write a bit about the location from which the inspiration came.  

Making a color chart is the most tedious, and yet best way I know to understand what pigments will do for a painter.  I credit artist and teacher John Poon who made us do this exercise in a class I took with him in 2008. I have been hoarding Daniel Smith's Quinacridone Burnt Scarlet ever since I learned the company is no longer making it. I've been hoping to find another pigment that will have the same effect.

Here, you see my line-up of paints that I hope will get that luminous deep red:

Burnt Sienna, Quinacridone Burnt Scarlet, M.Graham's Transparent Red Iron Oxide, Michael Harding's Tranparent Oxide Red, Van Gogh Transparent Oxide Red, M. Graham's Terra Rosa, Michael Harding Indian Red, and Rembrandt's Orange Ochre.

A note about "transparent" vs "opaque" which might seem pretty obvious--you can see through transparent and not so much through opaques.  You'll see what I mean in the last photo.

On the bottom line, I mixed each one with a near-equal amount of ultramarine blue.  There is no utter black in nature, so if you want something close to black, find the two darkest colors on your palette and mix them.  This becomes important when painting fissures in rock. Going up, the next line is the pure color from the tube.  Third line up is that color mixed with white in an approximately 50/50 amount.  Finally, the top row is that same pigment mixed with a favorite of mine "pale ochre".  I use that pigment to avoid the chalkiness often found when using  white.  Let's see what happens when laid out onto a white canvas:

The first five, all in the same order as mentioned above, are "transparents".  Using a paper towel, I wiped off the right side of each block to show how you can see through a transparent pigment.  It will tint, but not throughly cover an area.  That becomes important when glazing, or getting that light-in-the-shadows appearance. The three on the right are opaque.  The right side of each block has also been wiped, but you really cannot see the canvas underneath.  

After doing this exercise, I find that most, when combined with the deep blue on the bottom row, reveal too much yellow content (blue+yellow=green) especially the one on the far right.  I still remain in love with quinacridone burnt scarlet (second column) and although combining it with blue this time makes it look purple, a little more of it would balance and bend it toward a neutral dark.  All the others take me too far afield from that rich reddish color I'm looking for. 

So, yes, I am a hoarder.  There may come a day when there are no more tubes of quinacridone burnt scarlet left in the world.  I hope my supply lasts me a lifetime!

I am often asked how artists choose paint colors and what brands of paint do I use.  I thought I’d give you a little insight to those questions in this month’s Wet Paint blog.

 A very basic palette consists of three primaries: a warm and a cool blue, a warm and a cool red, and a warm and cool yellow along with white.  From those seven pigments, a painter can supposedly derive every color one would need to do a painting.  Then there are painters like me, who follow that design to some extent, but have landed on other pigments that give me exactly the results I want.  That all comes from novice experimentation; looking for that perfect tube of paint that will get the results desired.  Artists tend to narrow down that variety as they build experience and confidence mixing pigments.  I have a rather wide variety of colors I use and some of the oddball pigments help me get exactly the results I need..  

So, here is an example of a warm and a cool blue-Ultramarine Blue on the left and Cobalt blue on the right.  You can see what they look like straight out of the tube and also mixed with a little white.

In the second photo, you’ll see three yellows—Indian Yellow to be exact. 

 

 Look at the difference in color!  I’ve mixed equal parts of each with white in the first row and in the upper row, equal parts with a magical pigment I use all the time called Pale Ochre ($12.00/37ml tube) from the Sennelier company.  I landed on that one some years ago just out of curiosity.  It is expensive, but well worth the price.   It has the effect of enriching any color mixed into it rather than diluting color as white would.  My go-to Indian Yellow is the one of the right by M.Graham.  It's pure, bright, and concentrated, so a little goes a long way..  

And that brings me to what brands I use.  Again, by experimentation, I’ve landed mostly on reliable pigments by a variety of companies.  I love Charvin’a Provence Blue ($25.00/150 ml tube)  and use a lot of it in afternoon skies, distant cliffs, and reflections on water.  I cannot use Charvin’s Cobalt Blue simply because it is so stiff that I can barely squoosh it out of the tube.  The Gamblin company produces “safe” low volatility paint.  I use a lot of Gamblin, not necessarily because of that, but more so because I like its texture, ease of mixing, and their line of “Radiant” colors ($22.80/150 ml tube).  That company makes a “warm white” which I used exclusively in the sky along with radiant turquoise and a few other pigments to jazz things up.  

Some years ago, I attended a plein air convention in San Diego and swooned over the Michael Harding line of paint from England.  The rep was persuasive, I was feeling indulgent, I bought a bunch,  and within a year, I found that I’d fallen out of love with most all of them except King’s Blue Light ($74.00/225 ml tube) and King’s Blue Deep.  The rest of them are languishing in my paint drawer.  Occasionally, I’ll decide to either use one up or throw it out.  It’s hard to throw out an old half-used $40.00 tube of paint, however.  

So here's my palette with blobs of paint and their corresponding tubes:

And down the left side, I have some of my oddball pigments:

The large tubes are typically 150 ml and the smaller ones are 37 ml.  If I go through a lot of one color, I'll order the larger tubes.  Smaller ones like "Brilliant Pink" from the Michael Harding company, I order in smaller sizes because I use it in only specific circumstances like getting the just-right reflection of light on red rock.  

Notice the crimps in some of the tubes?  That's done by a tube wringer.  That thing has been the handiest device in my array of tools.  Next time, I'll tell you about the tools used in the studio!

Apparently when Dry Beaver Creek is running one can get in a lot of trouble trying to cross it.

It's definitely dry today, so we'll have no trouble once we get to the spot where we'll paint.

The trees are so pretty in the early morning sunlight!  To get this shot, one has to pick their way through some small dry tumbleweeds.  We'll spend a little time pulling the pickers out of our socks once we're back to the car.

Just a little farther down the road is the Yavapai County materials grounds.  Park in the shade of a mesquite and we're ready to go.

Here's my pack.  Snacks and water are inside along with all the painting gear.  Don't forget your coffee mug.

It's just a short walk down a gravel path, through the gate (don't forget to close it) and--

--down into a side creek bed.  

It's a short walk to the place where I'll paint at the confluence.  And it's good so see that there will be plenty of color once we get there!

Every time I've been  here to paint, the creek bed is always different due to whatever water flow came through.  This time there's evidence that there must have been a huge flow earlier in the year.  there are large sandy hollows around the perimeter and a lot of fairly large rocks down the middle.  We're right where the creek makes a turn and most of the trees have grass and plant debris caught in their lower branches.This view upstream is tempting me to paint it.

And along comes Karen, the organizer of this group.  She carries what's known as a French half-easel.

I'll paint this scene first and if there's time, I'll paint the upstream scene later.  I like how the trees are backlit and shadows rake across the sand.

An hour later, I have a decent little painting.  The morning is warming up and I DO have time and energy to start another one.

One of the basic rules of painting is find a scene that has 2/3 light and 1/3 shadow or vice versa.  This one will definitely be 2/3 light.  Some of the trees have no color or much structure.  A painter can always invent that.

The focus for me in this one was the bright yellow leaves against the deep blue sky.  I also exaggerated the rusty red of the sycamores. 

I knew Karen had gone upstream to paint a huge old sycamore.  Let's go find her.

And there's her tree.  I'm standing at its base for scale.  Just imagine all the history, both human and natural this huge old sycamore has seen!

Walking back to the confluence, you can see, if you look carefully, my gear which is still set up.  I'll probably find a few gnats stuck in the blue paint.  They always go for the blue and white!

Almost there.  On the way back, let's stop at Wet Beaver Creek and see what's happening there.

Heading back north on I-17, we'll take the exit to Sedona, but head the opposite direction down FR 618.  After a few miles, we'll reach the little one-lane bridge over Wet Beaver Creek.  

Not disappointed!  We'll skitter down a steep trail to the water's edge,  get a few reference photos, then head back home.  This one will definitely become a painting back in the studio!

This is our first morning out and we'll head to Pipe Creek Overlook.  There's the typical arrangement of gear in my Forester.  Supply organizer on the right has solvent, extra canvases, and because I can be just a little OCD, even an extra pochade box and tripod. I've seen an unexpected gust of wind send painting gear flying over the edge of the Rim.   If I somehow lose mine over the edge, I'd be sunk.  The tool box in the middle has my extra tubes of paint.  The back pack contains all my gear I need once away from my car.  It weighs about 20 lbs with the tripod strapped on.  I'll sit on the bumper and simply wriggle into it, buckle it, and off we go.

Litton's Legacy, comes as a two-part story.  The first is all about the painting.  The second is how the title came about.  

I snapped this photo on a 2017 river trip through Grand Canyon.  It was morning and our raft of 15 floated past another river party from the O.A.R.S. company out of Flagstaff.  Four graceful dories and three supply rafts waiting for their passengers to gather and set off on another day of adventure on the Colorado River.  

Over the last three years, that photo had been whispering, "paint me".  It was easy to ignore for a while, but soon the voice became more strident.  "Paint me".  I countered with the argument that the scene was too complicated.  I've never painted boats before.  How would I handle all those ripples and reflections in the water?  Finally one day when two commissions were finished  and I had nothing else on deck to paint, I'd run out of reasons to not give it a try.  With all my arguments depleted, I started hearing the voices in my head advising You won't know if you don't try.  What do you have to lose?  It's oil paint; if you screw up, just wipe it off.  

I started by cropping off most of the upper portion of the photo leaving all of the water, boats and a small strip of the shoreline.  I chose a 12" x 24" canvas.  I decided to prime it nearly black and paint over that undertone.  That should really make the colors of the rafts, boats, and equipment onshore pop.  I primed the canvas and set it aside to dry. 

The next afternoon, I sat and stared at that dark, blank canvas.  Still afraid I'd screw up the boats, I began by painting all the negative space around them.  When I had that space shaped just right, I began to work on the dories and rafts.  It was one of those all-too-rare experiences when the painter disappears into the right brain, losing contact with real time, and becomes one with the paint and canvas.  When I came up for air, the painting was essentially finished!

There were a few details about the dories, however, that I simply couldn't discern from my reference photo.  It occurred to me that perhaps I could head over to Grand Canyon Dories and ask to take a closer look.  And that's what I did the next day.  And that's what starts Part II of the story.

Grand Canyon Dories is just a short drive from my home.  I found an employee in the warehouse and asked if I could come in and take a look at some of the dories.  I explained I needed to get some of the detail correct in a painting.  

There they were, the very dories that were in my painting.  All bore names of beautiful and natural places that had fallen to human-caused destruction--Music Temple, Black Mesa, and perhaps most revered of all, the Emerald Mile. 

I'll pause here and advise reading Kevin Fedarko's remarkable book, The Emerald Mile, to understand the history of Grand Canyon, development of the dams on either end, and until recently, the fastest run down the Colorado River through Grand Canyon. 

Martin Litton was a lifelong environmentalist and devoted activist.  He was the 185th person to float through Grand Canyon and set a record at age 87  as the oldest person to row through the Canyon.  He founded Grand Canyon Dories and introduced countless people to the wonders and adventure of floating through Grand Canyon.  He passed away in 2014, but left a legacy of reverence and preservation not only for Grand Canyon, but all wild places.  The dories in the painting belonged to Martin Litton.  It felt right to title this painting Litton's Legacy.

I have another reference photo.  I feel much more confident to take on another dory painting.  Watch for it in weeks to come on my landscape page.