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Paintings

Conductor

"I do not try to dance better than anyone else. I only try to dance better than myself." -Mikhail Baryshnikov

In a nutshell, painting what you see is simply putting the right color in the right place. You might compare it to tossing a ball at a target. Your first efforts are all over the place. But with practice you gradually get better. Same with painting; it's no big mystery.

If painting does nothing else, it makes me more aware of color in the world around me. That awareness comes from constantly mixing and matching colors.

Does painting develop character? I don't know, but I think it's made me more persistent about painting. Lots of my paintings get wiped off, or painted over, and I feel down, disappointed. That's when I want to go back and create a more successful painting, to blot out the frustration. Painting is one of the most fulfilling things I've ever done in my life, but also one of the most difficult. It didn't come easy.

If you're a beginning painter I'd recommend starting with acrylics. If you want to try oil painting I've included brief tips to get you started. If you're an artist and in a creative funk, you may want to read this article.


Studio Paintings

Shown below are recent 5"x7" acrylics.

Country Road
Country Road
Tree Light
Tree Light
Tree Scene
Tree Scene
Clackamas Reflection
Clackamas Reflection
Tree Stand
Tree Stand
Clackamas White Water
Clackamas White Water
Forest Park
Forest Park
Flowered Hedge
Flowered Hedge
Fertile Willamette Valley
Fertile Willamette Valley
Clackamas River Impression
Clackamas River Impression

Sometimes I first sketch quick thumbnails like this one, 2" to 3" wide or larger. Later I painted Union - yes!, a 3" x 5" oil.

I've switched to acrylics lately. I like the fast-drying quality and ease of clean up, no solvents required, just soap and water. Here are more paintings: beach combers... Clackamas River. I looked out the window of a restaurant at dusk, made a quick sketch, then painted this river scene from memory. On a hike to Ramona Falls I snapped several photos of scenes like this. On another hike along the Clackamas River I noticed this scene of light through the woods.

The previous paintings are based on photos or sketch notes of actual scenes. Sometimes I like to paint landscapes from my imagination, such as this acrylic desert scene. I feel more free to alter the composition, color and other elements.

More recently, I've painted very small acrylics -- 3" x 5" and 5" x 7" -- on 14 ply Crescent poster board, a very inexpensive "canvas". These paintings usually take from 20 to 40 minutes to paint; going small works well when I only have a narrow window of time in which to paint. There is something less intimidating about small paintings as well. And if the painting doesn't turn out, I've only invested a relatively short period of time. (See my brief article on painting in acrylics.) Three little paintings: Desert Evening...Eastern Oregon Highway....Christ's self-sacrifice.

Snow is a small (12" x 16") palette knife oil painting taken from a brochure photo. I changed the composition a bit. Here's an enlarged detail showing the buttery quality of the palette knife method up close. From a distance these details pull together for a realistic image.

Big River. Painted with a palette knife from a computer sketch. Here's a close up.

Here are some small oil paintings: a view of a swinging pot on our front porch...evening sunlight on a street corner a block away from my house...another colorful scene from the same street corner...an autumn scene near where I live...a simple walkway in Fall...a farm near Burns, Oregon ...an old shed near the Frenchglen hotel...a big rock mass rising out of the S.E. Oregon desert...Mount Jefferson from Crooked River Canyon...Big Slide Lake in the Mount Hood Wilderness, where I've backpacked with my wife...Silver Falls near Silverton, Oregon...Irvington sunlight a few blocks from where I live...Willamette Valley scene taken from a drive south of Portland...a quiet creek...Emily's place...Flow...Silver Falls, near Silverton, Oregon.

(When painting I often get into a mental mode of viewing the world as a painting, seeing any scene in front of me as a potential painting. That practice helps me paint better. But sometimes it's good to see the world through fresh eyes, as the Creation I believe it really is. Painting is only a two dimensional representation of a living, complex, three dimensional, intricately designed world. And in viewing it there's no cost of admission.)

The simplest, most ordinary scenes can make a painting (Fairfield Porter's paintings, for instance). This street scene is a view right out our front door, where the focus is on the play of light and shadow, and the casual cat at the base of the steps.

Since we rarely get snow in Portland, Oregon, I sometimes paint a snow scene to get myself in the mood for the holidays. After I painted Frosty we got 6" of snow, a nice coincidence (but a mess for city snow crews).

Impossibilities started out as a small palette knife painting of grass and a rock -- pretty simple...and boring. So I added the small figure and let the painting sit for a few weeks. Later I thought about a favorite Bible verse (I'm not a church-goer) and added it in Photoshop. Sometimes paintings or illustrations grow in unexpected ways.

Tree stand is an impressionistic painting based on a photograph that was distorted with Photoshop filters.

I painted Blue Sea from my imagination, after starting and wiping off three earlier paintings. I needed a success, so I painted this "formula" painting.

This cascading Columbia Gorge stream is one of the largest of my paintings at 3' by 4', which I sold through a local gallery.

My wife Char and I walk around the Sylvania Campus track (near where we work) whenever the weather is decent. Some familiar views seem to grow on me. I snapped a photo of the late afternoon sun's effects, and later painted the scene. The sky was blue, so I added clouds for interest.

Dark tree is a small painting I gave away as a wedding present several years ago.

An enlarged detail of an orchestra painting. There seemed to be a lot of restrained energy among these musicians. I painted this impression from my memory and imagination.

Rivulet. My first palette knife painting, it was completed in two and a half hours -- a lot of fun. Not every painting goes so easily. This detail shows the coarse knife work up close.

A Northeast Portland Street (sold) in the fall was taken from a snapshot. It's a small, 9" x 12" palette knife painting. This technique forces me to work on the "big picture" first. And I have only one tool to clean up, with the wipe of a rag.

African was painted from a National Geographic photo. I love to draw and paint faces. I was attracted not only to the color, but also to the intelligent dignity in the gaze of the young man. Here's a detail of the same painting. It's always interesting to see the brushwork up close.

Here's more portrait oil sketches: my late father-in-law, Bill Bolin; and my step-son, Eli Parks.

I painted this Navajo young man from a Wycliffe calendar photo in about 1987. I was attracted to the vibrant color.

I'm a sports fan. So I occasionally like to paint the color and excitement of football , for instance. This is an acrylic painting, taken from a sports magazine photo. I don't sell these "derivative" paintings, since they are painted from commercial photos. Two more sports paintings in oil: lacrosse and baseball pitcher.

I'm no different from many representational artists in having a fascination for light. Shade Tree is from a snapshot taken outside a cabin window near Victoria, B.C.

Spring Tree is a palette knife painting from another photo at the same location.

I almost painted out Wild Falls , but instead repainted it with a palette knife, which gave a better impression of the powerful scene. It's based on a photo my wife Char took. Here's a close up

Parked pickup was painted from a photo of a neighborhood street.

Downtown, Portland was painted with a palette knife.

Pink Trees is an acrylic painting. This painting of a mountain scene was one of my first acrylics, from more than twenty years ago. Rainforest is an acrylic fantasy landscape (purely imaginary), which lacks a center of interest (an animal?).

Ruth Barber recently returned to me one of my earliest oil paintings, from high school (1969). I liked to paint bare winter trees and deserted shacks then; they were relatively easy for me to paint and good practice. Someone else sent me a still life I painted in the same year. I think I've improved a bit since then -- and still have plenty of room for further improvement.

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Outdoor (plein air) paintings

A French name which means "open air ", plein air is a popular term used by artists who are leaving their studios to enjoy the challenge of painting outdoors.

Flower Pots, detail. Painted in my back yard on a warm summer's day. This detail looks better than the complete painting.

These outdoor paintings do not look finished . Usually I don't touch them up once I'm done. I like the raw look; and it's a reminder of the fun and challenge of painting outside!

I painted this late evening scene of a profusely flowered front yard in mid July. It took 2 hours. A few days later I painted this sidewalk scene in less time. I keep track of my time because I want to get more efficient and skillful at painting. If I can complete the painting without reworking areas, and get it right with the first brushstroke, I'm satisfied.

Another small (12 x 16 inches) painting I made in my back yard, Heavenly Bamboo was painted in 2 hours, after work on a weekday evening, in August of 1998. An ordinary bush became extraordinary when western sunlight created a transparent, leafy halo.

I wasn't too satisfied with Streetside trees at the time, and painted over it, but saved the scan.

I painted this white house several blocks from our house. I strap my easel box onto the back of my bicycle with bungee cords. It takes me about 10 minutes to set up at the site. For a viewfinder I use a small rectangular cut-out made from thin cardboard. The compliment I got on this painting from a teenage boy was "tight"...at least he didn't say " like tight."

The last outdoor painting I made in 1998 (late September) -- on a sidewalk corner . It was busier than anticipated, but everyone was friendly; people are curious to see someone painting in their neighborhood. Four young girls (about 8 or 9) watched me paint this scene, and asked a lot of intelligent questions.

A painting of a large Catalpa tree, from my driveway. Another view of the same tree, at close range.

When I painted this picture of Grant Park, a small boy kept wandering over to watch me paint. I appreciated the interest.

The strong contrast of the Red Car and green foliage attracted me to this scene.

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How do I paint outdoors?

I'm always curious about artists' methods, so I'm including my own:

First, my equipment and materials: I use a portable French easel; a 12" x 16" masonite gessoed panel, lightly toned with raw umber; four or five brushes and a palette knife; oil colors: titantium white; alizarin crimson; cadmium red; cadmium yellow; lemon yellow; yellow ochre; burnt umber; ultramarine blue; cerulean blue; and viridian. Turpentine is my medium, but sometimes I add a fast drying gel from a tube (Weber Res'n'gel). An empty can serves as a brush holder, which I clip onto the edge of the paint box tray. I use a strip palette (a 12" x 16" tablet of waxy sheets of paper), so I can throw away each sheet of paper when I'm done. I use paper towels, some cloth rags and a small cleaning jar, filled with paint thinner, to clean my brushes. I keep some hand cleaner in a plastic film container. To isolate the scene in front of me I use a rectangular 3" x 4" viewfinder that I cut from a piece of cardboard or thin plastic.

Almost everything fits neatly in the easel box, which I strap onto the back of my bike. Water and a snack go into a bicycle saddle bag. I try to take along only what I need and avoid clutter. Last, I wear old clothes and shoes that I don't mind getting paint on.

I usually bike around my neighborhood ahead of time and look for interesting scenes to paint. I try to paint in the early morning or late afternoon when the shadows are long and the light is more dramatic. The paintings usually take 2 to 3 hours.

After setting up on a sidewalk I use a dark pencil to roughly and simply sketch the scene that I've found through my viewfinder. I take a few moments to study the scene and mentally break it down into darks, mid tones and lights; it's important to me to simplify and edit what's before me. Then I thinly paint the dark areas and shapes, keeping the drawing intact. Next I fill in the middle values. Last, I fill in the lightest areas, which are usually patches of sunlight.

After the initial "lay in" I work all over, going from big areas to smaller areas, saving the details for last. I start with thinned colors using turpentine medium; these areas set up quickly, so I can come back later with more buttery, thicker color. This method is called "fat over lean". All during the painting I try to keep in mind the 3 values: dark, middle, and light.

I don't like to work on a stark white surface, so I use a rag, turpentine and raw umber to tone a supply of 12" x 16" masonite panels (1/8" thickness) ahead of time.

When I'm done I leave the wet painting face up on the easel, clean my brushes and carefully fold up the easel box (I'm also careful not to make a mess around the homeowner's property). Then I strap it back onto the bike support and slowly ride home.

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All art work Copyright © Harlan Simantel
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