A collection of stories, thoughts and good vibes from my back porch

Recently, a friend of mine, David Caton, talked about the challenges of going from a small canvas to a larger one. Since there is more space, that space must be filled. It's necessary to put more in a larger canvas, as space on a small one can be easily filled with a few strokes to indicate a cloud, or things in the foreground. Since I tend to be impressionistic in my approach, especially with smaller plein air works, I can usually finish a work quickly with just a few strokes with a brush or a palette knife. I had done a nice painting of the gulf seashore on a 5" x 7" surface, and someone saw at and wanted a larger 24" x 36 of the same scene. Here is the original 5" x 7" - 

I love the light and shadows in this early morning seashore, and it was accomplished in less than an hour with a very loose approach done mainly with a palette knife. While I like the painting and composition, there was just a little bit of space to work with, and even with a limited palette, I could make it look good. I see a lot of little things I would do differently, and had to do differently on a larger canvas. For instance, there are 4 dunes that are exactly the same shape, and have the same color value, so there is not a lot of depth to this.

So to paint a larger canvas, I had to modify the composition some. Here is the original layout - after toning the canvas and drawing it out.

Kinda the same dunes....

I then put in the sky.

Then the ocean...

After giving this a second look, I decided I didn't like the composition. The horizon line is too high, and the dunes look too dorky. So, I took out a rag with some mineral spirits, and erased... I then lowered the horizon about 3" and re-drew the dunes. 

I then completed the sky and the ocean, and re-sketched the dunes. I used a few pencil sketches to lay it out, and create the dunes and the bird.

Added some shadows and highlights, and the bird...

I had to decide where the sun was, and figuring it low in the horizon, I then painted the sand and shadows, using some cool blues in the shadows, added the grasses and vegetation, and highlighted where the light would hit the sand.

I then painted in the seagull, and added some light to the vegetation. I decided to only use one bird.

Added the final details - backlighting the grass on the left, and on the front of the tall dune on the right. Here is the completed work, signed. Now it's time to dry, and frame it after thanksgiving. 

The completed work is 24" x 36" on canvas. This was painted on commission, as was the smaller 5" x 7". I had a lot of space to fill, and painting the foreground was a blast. The bird was a bit of a challenge, but it came out fine. I'll post another picture of the painting taken with a camera (not my phone) in better light.  

I don't cry much. I used to, but since my dad died in 2004, it's a really rare thing. That being said, there is one big exception to that rule. 

Art.

I believe artists see things a little differently than most people. When I look at a tree, for example, I don't see leaves and branches. I see shapes, color, and different values of those colors. A leaf on the front part of a tree is the same color as a leaf on the back of the tree, but when you look at them in relation to each other, they have different shades, or values, of that color. One may be dark, and the other one light, but they are nevertheless the same color if you were to put them side by side. If you look at the branches, those branches against a dark background appear lighter, and those against a light background (like the sky) appear as dark. The branches would be pretty much the same color if side-by-side.

I say all that because sometimes when I look at a landscape, I can be overwhelmed with emotion. I imagine what I would do to make my impression of the scene, how it would be composed, how I would want it to look. I think about the colors I would use - how they would be mixed, and how they would work with each other. Many times, I've been moved to tears just looking at a scene. And there have  been times I have  finished a painting, and it has brought me to tears realizing I have just created my own impression, and that work like that is inside of me. 

I remember one of my first experiences looking at an original painting by Salvador Dali at the museum in St.Petersburg, FL. I remember looking at "The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus," which is about 13 feet high, and standing there, frozen, moved with emotion. It went deep and I felt a little embarrassed standing there in the middle of a museum crying. I remember feeling like I was part of the painting, part of the time, and as if I was experiencing the moment Dali captured on canvas. I was experiencing Dali at that moment. I experienced his emotion, his essence, his hands at work. It was a powerful experience.

My friend, Johny Rosa always says art is emotional. And it is. I've felt it and experienced it in many ways. When I paint, it is a spiritual experience, and it evokes emotion that makes its way onto a canvas through my hands. Emotion. Love. Peace. Frustration. Joy. It's all there in the artist's hands. People experience that when they see a scene that is familiar, and reminds them of a place, a time, or an experience. 

Art. It can evoke strong emotion. I am glad to share that with you.