by Karen Lynn Ingalls If you look around you, you will never be short of inspiration for your artwork. Interesting buildings in town? Interesting trees in the neighborhood? People sitting and reading the paper in the local coffeehouse? Bring your sketchbook along, and draw what you see. Calistoga City Hall • 5" x 7" • pencil drawing • © Karen Lynn Ingalls Far more often than I'd like to see, new students bring in images of photographs (or paintings) they've found on the internet that they want to copy. Or they tell me about teachers they know who teach students to copy other people's paintings. And then we have the talk about why they should NOT copy someone else's artwork. So, why not just copy? First, there are legal reasons. All visual artists, including photographers, own the copyrights to their own work. They have the choice to license the work for a fee or give permission for their work to be reproduced, if they like. Taking their work is intellectual property theft. And that's not okay. Just because you see it on the internet doesn't mean you can use it without their permission. Artists make a living by selling their work, and copying what they do isn't a compliment — it's taking bread out of their mouths. Apart from the legal issues, there are ethical issues. It's not ethical to copy someone's work and call it yours. If you really, really want to, you can always ask permission. If you're granted permission, ALWAYS credit your original source, and share the results with them. If you want to work from the painting of a long-dead old master, take it in a new direction, but include the artist in the title. You can call it "Homage to Rembrandt" — or whomever. Acknowledge your inspiration. Having had to deal with a violation of my own copyrights, I can tell you from experience it doesn't feel good to find someone has copied your work. It just feels like you've been ripped off. My inspiration (and source) for this painting? Three palm trees on the side of the road in Palm Springs. I set up my easel across the street, in a rocky field, and painted the trees as the sun set. Plein air painting (painting in the open air) is another great way to find images to paint. Three Palms for Gail • 10" x 8" • acrylic painting on panel • © Karen Lynn Ingalls But, finally, there is the basic question about why you want to paint to begin with. What is your reason for painting? Is it to get in touch with your own creativity? To find joy in the act of creation? If that is why you paint — as it is for most people who want to make art— you cannot be truly creative if you are just copying someone else's work. There are so many things to inspire your work, and to provide you with images to draw and paint. You can, for instance:
Beauty and inspiration are everywhere — you need never be at a loss for something to paint or draw. You will be inspired by the work of other artists, of course! Learn from what you see! When you see work you love, ask yourself, "What is it that I truly love about what I see?" Is it the color palette? The handling of the paint? The subject matter? A particular way of framing the composition? Identify it, whatever it is — and try it out in your OWN work. There is only one YOU in all the world. There is no one else who can say what you have to say, in the way that you can say it. As you develop your skills, you will — and should — try many things. Learn from everything you see! Explore! Practice! Fail (it's okay; it's a necessary part of the process)! Discover! Grow! As you grow, you will find your own visual voice, your style, your spirit, your genius. You will discover who you are as a painter. I pulled over on the side of the Highway 101 to take this, and a whole series of other photos. It was just before sunset, and I knew I was going to find something in them that I could work with. The individual photos may not look remarkable in themselves... it's what you do with them. See the photograph below to see what I will be painting from. Photo © 2015 Karen Lynn Ingalls If you work from photographs, working from your own photographs is part of the creative process. Trust me; many of my best paintings have come from amazingly bad or mediocre photographs. It's all about what you DO with it. Someone else's great photograph is already art. What more can you say about it visually that it hasn't already said? Here, you can see the composition I took from the larger photograph above. Saturating the colors a little, so I can see more of what colors are there underneath the drought-dry browns of this California summer, I've arrived at something I'm looking forward to painting. This is all part of my creative process. Photograph © 2015 Karen Lynn Ingalls So here's my advice to my students:
You will find your OWN voice. Allow yourself to be influenced by artwork you love. But your own artwork? Make it truly your own work. And THEN you will be an artist. Trust me: the journey is worth it.
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by Karen Lynn Ingalls Has this ever happened to you? The paint beads up and won't stick to the canvas? (We're talking acrylics here.) When it happens, it's easier to see when you've got more water in your paint. So, what the heck is going wrong, and how do you fix it? The problem isn't with your paints, it's with that sweet little canvas that you got at such a good deal.... Every ready-made canvas you buy comes pre-primed with gesso (pronounced JESS-oh). Gesso is different from plain white paint, in that it has gluey properties. It covers the surface you're going to paint on, and its gluey properties help the paint stick to the surface. (In years and centuries past, gesso was actually made with glue from rabbit skins.) Most often you'll find white pigment in it (though you can also find black and clear gesso for acrylics). In order to cut costs and keep the price low on those value canvases, sometimes manufacturers will thin the gesso down to the point where it just doesn't stick all that much. So although the label may say double-primed or triple-primed, the gesso that was sprayed on the canvas was thinned so much that it just doesn't do what you thought it would. So, the solution? Prime your canvas with a nice coat of gesso. Some people like to apply multiple coats, let each coat dry thoroughly, and then sand it before applying the next coat. Sanding is a nice way of taking out the brush marks left by the gesso when it's thick — if that is important to you. Then, when it's dry, you can get back to painting. Have fun!
by Karen Lynn Ingalls One way to start off a mixed media painting (or any painting, if you want) is to create an interesting underpainting. In this case, I used four successive layers of the same color, and I applied the paint with scrunched-up pieces of plastic wrap. (You could use the plastic wrap your canvas or canvas board came in.) Each layer deepens the color and obscures the white of the canvas more. You can try layering over different colors, too, including layering over a solid color underpainting on the surface. Depending on the effect you want under your painting, you can stop at any point. Any of these surfaces would have worked as a good underpainting — it's all a matter of your individual choice. One of the many wonderful features of acrylics is their quick drying time, which allows for layering like this, both to create an interesting underpainting and to create an interesting surface of the developing and finished paintings.
by Karen Lynn Ingalls The last few weeks have been Mixed Media Weeks for me. This really is how I play with paint. When I have a nice stretch of time for this kind of creative work, everything goes into mixed media mode. My living room becomes my mixed media studio, with my painting set-up and drying table in one corner. I set up another table for collage work. And it's lovely to sit on the sofa and comb through my papers and photo images and old magazines and quotation files to find the things I want to incorporate into my paintings. These two paintings include two of my favorite quotations by Nikos Kazantzakis, the author most well known for writing Zorba the Greek.
Long ago, I studied Zakzantzakis's work with Thanasis Maskaleris at San Francisco State, and was able to meet his wife, Eleni Kazantzakis, so I feel a double connection to these quotations (I love what they mean, too, obviously). I've been long wanting them on my walls, and decided that finally this was the time for it. This kind of work is a layering process. You just keep adding things until it feels right — and the layers make the work more and more interesting. I like to think of it as reverse archeology — the discovery process happens as you add layers, rather than as you dig down through them. Because you can't predict how things will look, you learn to go with the flow in a way that is harder for many people when they try to paint realistically. That's why I love teaching this kind of painting — it helps people tap into their deepest creative selves without critical interference. And, after all, that is when you really feel the joy of creativity. by Karen Lynn Ingalls This year I was asked to demonstrate mixed media painting again at the Napa County Fair, on the Fourth of July. To make the experience a little different from last year, I thought I'd have fairgoers contribute to collaborative paintings — a touch of paint here, a bit of paint there — using a little collage, and a little in the way of stencils, but mostly just acrylic paint with various options as to how you apply it. Most, though not all, of my participants turned out to be under thirteen — and a lot of them were six and under. I'd ask them, "What's your favorite color?" and then give them the color, or colors they needed to create their favorite. Then I asked, "Would you like to use a brush, or would you like to do texture?" It was especially fun to see their eyes light up as they tried painting with bubble wrap or plastic wrap or styrofoam, or something else they never would have thought of using. The paintings began as mostly-blank canvases, but progressed throughout the day. Each person contributed a little or a lot, as they chose. The youngest children seemed to enjoy the tactile experience of moving the paint around the most, and experimented with applying it in different ways to the greatest extent. Older children and adults (with the exception of a professional artist who also came by and added her touches) mostly wanted to paint something identifiable — a picture, a word, or a pattern of some kind. It was an opportunity for everyone to just play with the paint, and have fun. At one point, a grandfather brought his little granddaughter over to paint. She couldn't have been much more than two, and had quiet, unflappable concentration as she painted, even though her grandfather tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to get her to smile at his camera as he took photos of her. Later in the evening, they came by as I was cleaning up, and he thanked me. Then, as they walked away, she turned back to me, and in a loud, clear, chipper voice, with a big smile on her face, said,"That was FUN!" That's what doing this is all about. The methods people tried out on these paintings are some of what we'll be doing in my August 8th workshop, Adventures in Mixed Media: Paint, Paper, Stencils, Collage, and Relief Printing. My favorite thing about doing this kind of artwork is that it allows adults to step back in time and get into that child-like creative space — the state of mind that gets into the process, enjoys the experience, and says, "That was FUN!" As we get older, and our critical mind gets stronger, we sometimes forget to play. Or we approach a creative project with expectations — which is the death knell for true creativity. This kind of painting helps get us back in that state of discovery, of beginner's mind. You have no idea how something will evolve and change. But look what comes out of it... and it's FUN.
I may add a little more to these paintings, in their evolved state — including quotations I'd originally attached to each one. Or not. We'll see. But the finished pieces will be up for auction at the Calistoga Art Center's big fundraiser, The Soup-er Bowl, this autumn. Stay tuned! by Karen Lynn Ingalls Every now and then, I get ideas for new workshops... new approaches to painting, new media, revisiting techniques for media I've taught before, new approaches to the material I've taught before and new ways of understanding it.
If I'm in a busy time, as I have been the last few months — with shows, workshops already scheduled, and private workshops — all an absolute pleasure for me, the ideas have to wait. They kind of pile up like schoolchildren at a door waiting for recess. They're ready... they're just waiting for the door to open.... And when that door opens, oh the joy! That's what things feel like right now. I've had a whole lot of ideas percolating, and this week and next are my time to test the new ideas out, create samples, and work out the bugs. The November workshop I've scheduled, Create Your Own Mixed Media Holiday Cards, is one of the ideas bursting out to play. I can hardly wait to begin sharing the images that come out of this time... it is my work, but it's recess, too, and time to play! by Karen Lynn Ingalls My thanks to my students who came for this last weekend's Acrylic Painting 101 workshop at the Calistoga Art Center! They were delightful. And it is my idea of fun to spend a weekend sharing the joys of painting with acrylics, to start with. I didn't take any photos during the workshop, but these photos will give you a little idea of some of what we did, from working with colors and color mixing, to trying all kinds of ways of applying paint to a surface, to abstract painting, to the painting of a simple still life. Here's the demonstration painting I did during the workshop, from a little apple. We had such lovely and cooperative models! (Apples and pears.) We wound up only spending a little time on creating watercolor-like effects with acrylics, since everyone wanted to spend more time on their still life paintings (on which, by the way, they did a great job).
That was a good lesson for me... I always want to pack a lot into the time, maybe more than there is really time to take in. I knew that a second day would allow people to process what they'd been learning more thoroughly, and apply it, and it worked well. The next time I teach this, I'll keep the final watercolor-like technique as an option. I learned that it may not be an option my students need or want to take. by Karen Lynn Ingalls Do you have to use "The Rule of Thirds" to make a good painting? Heck, no! In talking to a couple of friends recently about composition, each of them (in separate conversations) said something like, "Oh, I know... The Rule of Thirds and all that...." And one added, "There are just too many rules. I want to break the rules!" With the latter, I agree. And no, composition is not all about The Rule of Thirds. It's about what works in a painting. It's a much more practical matter. The Rule of Thirds is generally understood to mean that, if you divide your painting into equal thirds, both vertically and horizontally, the image that is your center of focus should fall along one of the intersections of the grid you've established. In the painting above, though, notice that the tree that is the center of interest doesn't quite line up right. It's off to the right of the right vertical line, and the horizon pretty much bisects the middle of the painting, horizontally. Hmmm. Does that mean it doesn't work as a painting? Look at the original painting below to compare. According the The Rule, this painting shouldn't work. But it works just fine. The Rule is used to teach people not to plop subjects into the middle of their paintings, which can be helpful. It kind-of-approximates the Golden Mean (more about that in another post one of these days), though its dimensions are not exactly the same as that of the Golden Mean. But it isn't the only way — or necessarily the best way — to create a composition, and it can be a straitjacket. If this painting were cropped to align nicely along one-third lines, one way of doing it might look something like this, below. Notice how the center of the tree lines up nicely along the line on the right, and its base, and the horizon line, is centered around the bottom horizontal line now. The lines intersect as the tree begins to branch out. It fits The Rule. But is it as interesting a painting? Or does it kind of miss the point? The intention of this painter (me) was to create a painting of an oak tree in a meadow at sunset. This composition takes out the "Sunset Meadow" part of it. So The Rule really doesn't work here. Not that the cropped version isn't interesting... it just kind of misses the point. Now, let's say we wanted to line up the upper right lines of the grid through the center of the tree, in its upper part, and recropped the painting's image accordingly. The tree is, after all, the center of interest of the painting. Now the upper left lines cross in the upper part of the tree — or, technically, square in the middle of the tree as a whole. If the tree is the center of interest, this is where the Rule of Thirds tells us we would need to line it up. But now it misses another part of the point of the painting — which is the sunset. It's not a bad composition — but it misses the intention of the painter (in this case, me). And here's another example. (Note: although these are landscape paintings, it applies to every other genre as well.) The painting doesn't fit The Rule. Its horizon does line up roughly along the bottom third line. But painting is about the two trees, and the relationship between them (and the heavenly color of the dusk sky), and none of that lines up on an intersection of the grid. But the painting works! So, what can you take away from this? Rules can be helpful, up to a point. But using them as absolutes can keep you from really seeing — and art is all about seeing. In this case, The Rule of Thirds is an artificial structure — and stricture — that just isn't necessarily the best thing to go by.
It's good to learn what IS necessary to make a painting work — and the proof is in what works. If you stick to what actually works, no matter the "rules," you'll be okay. And you just might have more interesting paintings. Let me amend that — you will have more interesting paintings. And here's to more of those! by Karen Lynn Ingalls So... just what is it that makes one painting work, and another one fall flat on its face (so to speak)? You know what I mean about that, don't you? You have the best of intentions, and it seemed like a good idea when you started, but the painting just isn't coming together, and you can't figure out why the heck not. Feels pretty frustrating, doesn't it? Chances are the painting has got a problem with its composition. And if a painting's composition isn't working, it doesn't matter how beautifully parts of it are painted. Those parts are like lipstick on a pig... no matter how nice the lipstick, underneath it's still a pig. (No offense meant to pigs. Really. Especially the little cute babies....) So here's one example of a composition study that isn't working. Can you see why? And, if you were to sum up its issues, could you sum it up in one word? Is it easier to identify why it isn't working when you look at it upside down? There are so many variables to take into consideration when you paint — there's line, there's color (although the study above isn't a color study), there's value, there are the relationships between the shapes in the painting, there are questions about drawing and whether the drawing works, and more.... Composition incorporates all of them. That's what we'll be focusing on in the workshop I'm teaching on October 25th and 26th, Create Compositions That Work, at the Calistoga Art Center, in Calistoga, California. Because if the composition ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.... And that's why we'll be looking at — to start with — the painter's intention; the two kinds of paintings, compositionally speaking, no matter what the subject matter, and how to identify and manage the elements of both kinds of paintings, and make them work. The same principles apply, whether you're looking at landscape paintings, still lifes, portraits, abstract work, or work in pretty much any other kind of genre. If you come, you'll go home with specific, practical tools and know-how that you can use to get out of, and avoid, those painting predicaments from here on out. Join us, and learn how to create compositions that work!
Here's the link to the workshop info: Create Compositions That Work. So, how would you sum up what isn't working in the composition study above — or why it's not working, if you only had one word to do it in? Here's the word I would choose to explain why it doesn't work: confusion. The painter hasn't decided what's important about the painting-to-be. Is it the sheep? The trees on the hill? The pattern of the rows? The painter hasn't decided. It's a decision that is absolutely foundational for the painting, and determines how the painter needs to handle everything as a result. Its lack causes confusion. Does that make sense? We'll talk more about it at the workshop. by Karen Lynn Ingalls "Does anyone worry about not being excellent?" I came across the question tonight on an online art forum. It's a question that generally comes up for people who make art, at some point, usually earlier on, maybe a few years into really working at it, and it's a worry that can be devastating. Many understanding artists (because, yes, we've all had to deal with this) responded with encouragement and great advice. Here's a slightly edited excerpt of what I wrote.... The tricky thing is to get out of judgement-mode (or critical-mode). It does NOT help you. Your inner critic will chip away and chip away until you stop drawing and painting altogether, because you find yourself in the middle of a creative block. (Ask me how I know.) So, in order to keep making art, you have to learn how to get out of critical-mode. When I was in school, my art teachers would say, "You have to do a thousand bad drawings before you can expect to do one good one." The wonderful thing about this was that it got us working, and we didn't lay those awful expectations on every darn thing we worked on. We were students. We were learning. We hadn't done 1,000 drawings yet, so no problem.... If you can get into that mindset — what you do is learn as much as you can about making good art, and then you just work at it. Consider it research & development. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Outliers, said it takes about 10,000 hours of practice before people become really good at something. So if your inner critic pops up, ask yourself, "Have I done my 10,000 hours yet?" If the answer is no, tell your critical voice you're still learning, and it can come back after you've done your 10,000 hours of practice.
Then you have 10,000 (or however many) hours to learn how to make art without your critical voice popping up. Make the most of it! Working from your creative side, rather than your critical side, will become a wonderful habit, and you will be able to make art. And the more you do, the better you get. It's like the old joke about how you get to Carnegie Hall... practice, practice, practice.... |
Karen Lynn IngallsI am a working artist in Napa and Sonoma Counties, in northern California. I paint colorist landscapes of rural California, teach art classes, workshops, and private lessons, live in Calistoga, and have my art studio in Santa Rosa, California. Archives
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