Painting at the Dallas Heritage Village

The Dallas Heritage Village (which I had never heard of until about a week ago) is a collection of Victorian and pioneer homes, located on the south side of Dallas. This fall, the village will be hosting a plein air painting exhibition and competition, so today I decided to join up with some other painters and check this place out. Entry is free for artists (I guess we make them look good!), so I was able to walk right in, find a spot, and get to work. It would have felt like I was stepping into another time and place, were it not for the Dallas skyline peering over the little village. And with the droves of schoolchildren there, and the muggy post-thunderstorm humity, I wouldn't exactly call the setting "peaceful." Still, I enjoyed every minute of it. We don't have many homes like this anywhere else in the city, so I think I'll be back again as soon as I'm able to.

My subject of choice was the Sullivan House, and the little white fence nearby. Here's my painting after the first hour or so...

Curious schoolchildren came by in packs. One kid, with a very straight face, offered to buy my painting for a dollar. I was tempted to use that opportunity to educate the next generation of future collectors on the value of fine art... but instead, I filled them in on how before the invention of metal paint tubes, artists used to store their paints in pig bladders. That thoroughly grossed out - and delighted - the school kids. :-)

Here's a picture of my painting as it neared completion. The clouds and muggy air hung around long enough for me to work a little longer than usual (almost three hours). I just have a little bit of tweaking to do on it still; will post a final pic soon.

Painting at the Dallas Heritage Village

An Artist's Signature

What's in a signature? I had some interesting discussions over the past couple of months with several different artists, on the topic of signatures. The doctor's signature is stereotypically illegible; the teenage girl might sign all of her 'i's with hearts instead of dots (a running joke from an artist's panel I attended last month), and the size of the signature could have a lot to do with that person's own feelings of importance or self-worth (e.g., "John Hancock"). But what about artists? Why is an artist's signature so important?

Over the years, I've carefully observed how artists sign their paintings. Some of them take care to scratch their name deeply into the wet paint, so that it can never be forged or scraped off. Others line up their letters meticulously, each one at a graceful slant and widely spaced for drama. Some sign their whole name, others just their last. Some only put in their initials and have striven to "brand" their work with a signature that looks like a seal or logo. If you're curious as to why I sign my name, "Anna Rose," I wrote this blog post on it several years ago. I wonder, how much value does a signature have in affirming the artist's identity or style?

I'm still working on figuring this out. I've gotten teased for my "pretty" signature, told that it looks like it was signed by a little old lady. Others have complimented it and said, "It's nice to see a signature I can read!" But when I think about the life experiences that have led up to my current artistic identity, I don't really care what anyone thinks.

When I was very young, my mother took great care to ensure that I learned how to write well. We covered every aspect of writing - not just spelling, form, and grammar - but also, the aesthetic side of writing: calligraphy, cursive, italics. I took every possible visual art form related to writing that I could think of, even playing around with hieroglyphics, Medieval illumination, Greek symbols, and the Hebrew alphabet. I loved the way I could turn a pen to different angles to create subtle changes in the width of a stroke or flourish of a curve. It was all preparation for becoming a painter, of course.

Then, as I grew up, went to art school, and was told that drawings and paintings would be stronger if one worked in angles instead of curves, I bit my lip and did as I was told, but I was still inexplicably attracted to curves. I found them to be softer and more appealing, so I signed my name with them and continued to "fill in" all the gaps in my paintings that were left by the harsh and unfeeling angles. I've since learned a bit more self-control, embracing the power of angles and learning to use them to maintain structure and presence. And, as my friend Matt Taylor has said in this brilliant blog post about curves and angles, "Ambition creates angular shapes. An angle is a challenge to the forces of the universe to break it." I am terribly ambitious, so my nature does not come without its angles. But I still paint with sensitivity, and I hope that never stops. I also like to "hide" my signature at times, within the pattern of a carpet (as you see below, in "Twin Arts") or the texture of a grassy field. It's not about the artist, the "John Hancock" - it's about the work, speaking for itself.

So, could it be true that the style of a signature is related to the very soul of the artist, based on its lines and curves? Food for thought. I'd love to hear your opinions on this!

An Artist's Signature

Staring at the Paintings on the Walls

Still no A/C.

Our air conditioner has been out for almost a week now. And if you've ever been to Texas in late May, you would know just how miserably hot it can get this time of year. We have someone coming on Monday to fix it, but until then, my engineer-husband's temporary solution has been to put a window unit in my studio. He could have put it anywhere else in the house (the heat affects him way more than it does me!), but since I'm the one who spends most of my time at home, he was kind enough to put it in "my room." Still, my legs stick to my office chair, I wear the lightest clothing I can find, I drink iced coffee instead of hot, and it's a relief to go to the grocery store and hang around the refrigerated foods section.

But there's actually been something kind of cool about the A/C quitting on us. Since the bedroom is an inferno, we decided to drag a mattress into my studio and camp out in there last night. I woke up this morning and looked up, and my paintings were everywhere, all around me, lit up beautifully by the morning light that comes in through the east-facing windows.

I laid there for quite some time looking at each painting, stacked high on the walls and easels, remembering things about each one of them from their inception to completion. I realized that, in the five years I've lived here, this space has undergone an enormous transformation. It went from big white empty walls with a tiny, cheap easel in the corner--and a young woman sitting in front of the blank canvas, her head filled with dreams--to a working studio that evolves constantly as paintings are created and sold, or created and kept and cherished on these walls.

I hardly ever take the time to ponder my achievements; I am always moving forward, never looking back. These paintings hang like quiet reminders of how far I've come, holding sweet memories of happy brush strokes, fellowship with other artists, problems resolved, and eureka moments. See that brush stroke? I remember feeling thrilled about saying something simply with that one mark. See that hand? I remember discovering that I didn't have to paint an edge around every finger to show its beauty and form. Notice that background? It wasn't a piece of fabric, it was a scarf. Then there are so many little secrets that no one will ever know but me, or me and my wonderful models. What book was she reading? What song was he playing? What was I thinking about in that exact moment when I painted this or that?

Each painting has a story and a soul of its own. They are pieces of the puzzle of my life as an artist, and each of them has a place of importance.

I am thankful that the A/C went out. It gave me a chance to meditate and step back from the craziness just for a little while, so that I could be truly grateful for where I've been and where I am going. Artist friends, I hope you will do the same. Reflect on your accomplishments, re-affirm your goals, and above all, be thankful that you get to create... this is truly a wonderful life!

Staring at the Paintings on the Walls

All About Blonde

"Self Portrait in Profile" (painted from life using two mirrors)

8 x 8" - oil on linen panel

It has taken me a long time to figure out the nature of hair, particularly, blonde hair. I paint self portraits regularly in an attempt to experiment and learn more about it. Here are some things I've learned so far:

(image source: beautyeditor.ca)

• Hair is transparent, so individual strands do not cast shadows, but locks (masses) of hair do.
• Blonde hair is usually very fine and must be painted delicately.
• There is usually a lot more green in blonde than yellow (unless the model looks like Lady Gaga here! This is no!).
• The shadows in blonde hair are much darker than you think they are. Get the values right and you'll still be able to create the illusion of "blonde", even if it's very dark.
• The fine hairs at the top of the forehead, framing the face (where the hair meets the scalp), are quite often the same value as the skin itself. Paint them SOFTLY.
• Hair responds to light the same way other forms do - everything must be painted in relationship to the light source! That means both value and color temperature are influenced by the surrounding environment!
• Paint colors you will always find on my palette for blonde hair include: titanium white, lemon yellow, yellow ochre pale, transparent oxide red and brown, ultramarine blue, alizarin crimson, ivory black (never straight from the tube, but used as a cool to mix with other colors), and my absolute go-to: viridian green. 

Here is a very short video clip one of my students took while I was doing a portrait demo, during which I discuss blonde hair and blue eyes. Forgive the messy studio and rough footage! I actually have more video of this demo - just need to edit it down. :-) I'll also share a picture of the finished painting in my next blog post, as I continue my discussion of blonde. Remember, blondes are only "dumb" if they are painted badly! 

All About Blonde

Plein Air Workshop with Frank Serrano

In art school I was always told I needed to try and master different subject matter - not just portraits, but also still life and landscape. Studying other genres (and mediums, such as sculpture) will only help an artist excel at whatever they are already good at.

Since I haven't had much actual training in landscape painting, and since I LOVE being outdoors, this spring I decided to take a plein air workshop with Frank Serrano.  The workshop took place in New Harmony, Indiana. Spring was late this year, so all the trees were sprouting that neon green that happens just before they've fully leafed out. The weather was cloudy for most of the 4-day workshop except for one day, so needless to say, it was challenging. Still, I learned a LOT. Frank is an excellent teacher and an amazing painter.

(Above) Doing a demo with his back turned to the scene (to avoid direct sunlight on the canvas). This requires an excellent short-term memory! :-)

Above: Showing us how to paint realistic reflections in the water.

I came home with probably 8 or 9 paintings, but these two (above and below) were the only ones I was mildly satisfied with.

Frank doing a fast cloud demo. I've decided to adopt his limited palette for plein air (white, ultramarine blue, thalo green, cadmium yellow light, alizarin crimson, cadmium red, cadmium orange, burnt sienna), since pretty much every color is possible with this combination.

Above: my attempt at atmosphere on the one sunny day we were given. Just trying my hand at simpler brushwork, and beautiful greys. Then, there was Frank's AMAZING demo (below), which all of us in the class were drooling over. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm excited to get outside and implement it all.  :-) Last year at this time, I had a cast on my painting hand, so I'm grateful for every second I get to paint!

A big thanks to Frank Serrano for being so generous with his knowledge. I am inspired.

Plein Air Workshop with Frank Serrano

New Self Portrait - "To Paint or to Play"

As promised, I thought I'd share some more about the process of painting what turned out to be a very challenging new self portrait.

The idea for this painting has been brewing in my head for almost a year and a half now. I've only seen a handful of artist self portraits that incorporate other figures or elements, but those are usually the most fascinating to me. The one I felt most inspired by for this project was a self portrait by Gustav Osterman, "Self Portrait with His Dog". If you take a closer look at the dog, you can just make out one crazed eye which, for me, completely makes this painting!

For my own interpretation, I wanted to depict my dog the way she is when she's impatiently waiting to go for our walk. Whether I'm at my computer or my easel, she frequently comes up to me and places her head on my lap, looking up with those sad puppy eyes. I originally considered doing something where she had her leash dangling from her collar, but when I sat down on my studio couch one day, and looked over at the full-length mirror that I had stuffed in the corner of the room, the idea for this composition occurred to me and I decided I had to give it a try.

I painted essentially what I saw in the mirror. A 28x12" canvas worked perfectly for the long, rectangular composition. I completed my head and much of the block-in during the first sitting, which took several hours (maybe... I don't really keep track of the time when I'm painting self portraits, nor do I give myself many breaks--a very bad habit).

This was day 1. Bella was finished in a matter of minutes. I posed her on my lap by placing a cracker on my leg, and awarded it to her after quickly blocking in her form. I had to finish some of the details from a photo I shot on my phone, but she did a very good job of staying put for as long as could be expected of a hyper Springer Spaniel.

The tricky part arrived when it was time to paint the hands. Since my left hand was always moving as I worked on the painting, I wasn't sure what to do with it. At first I thought it would be important to be holding a brush, so that's what I tried to do. But after hours and hours of frustrating work on it, I started to hate it and wondered if I'd made a terrible mistake. At that point, it was time to put the painting aside for a few days - completely out of sight - and give myself some time away from it. That was the best decision I made. Below is the painting with a very sad looking arm and hand...

After coming back to it two days later, I realized that as humbling as it would be, I needed to repaint the entire arm and hand. I got back into position in front of the mirror, and carefully posed my arm in a way that was simpler and also better for the composition - something that would lead the eye into the painting instead of causing a visual stopping point. I had to scrape and sand some of the paint off to smooth the surface, but after completing that, and going over the whole arm with a fresh coat of middle-value flesh tone, I was able to repaint the whole thing in a fraction of the time it took on my first attempt. I was infinitely happier with it this time around, and was so glad I had decided to risk it!

"To Paint or to Play" (finshed) - 28 x 12" - oil on linen 

I've already gotten a number of insightful interpretations of this portrait. While I can't always help what happens with my own expression (the focused look and parted lips always happen), this painting somehow ended up a little different than all of my previous self portraits. It has a feeling of openness and vulnerability that I've never shown before. Am I really that transparent? That insecure? I suppose the bare feet betray me. The dog, too, represents more than a literal image of my precious Bella. She is, in essence, everything that competes with my work, for better or for worse. She is the laundry, the grocery shopping, the phone calls, the social life. She represents the balance I must find in my life in order to make great art. One can't just work. There should be room for play. :-)

New Self Portrait - "To Paint or to Play"

My New Portfolio is Here!

Portraits and Figures by Anna Rose Bain | Make Your Own Book

My New Portfolio is Here!