Critique Notes - No. 18/Sept. 2007

IN THIS EDITION:
:: The panoramic landscape
:: When is a painting done?
:: Plein air vs. studio painting

The panoramic landscape

The design of a landscape space that stretches outside the standard landscape proportions poses some interesting challenges. With lots of extra east-west real estate, how can integration be maintained? How can you make sure that what's happening all the way to the left looks related to what's happening all the way to the right? Urban landscape painter Michael Stasinos, who has devoted considerable time to panoramas, says that he tries to divide the panorama into a diptych or triptych, making sure that each segment can stand on its own. This doesn't mean that the canvas has to literally be divided in half or in thirds, but that the implied divisions create compositions that could theoretically stand alone. In the example below, the superimposed white lines imply the tritych divisions. You can see Michael's panoramas at his web site.

Michael Stasinos

Michael Stasinos, Pine & Boren, 2006, oil on board, 12 x72 in.

There is also a book called Landscape Illusion by Daniel Chard, who discusses and diagrams many panoramic landscapes.

When is a painting done?

It's great to be emotionally attached to your goal, but not so in love with the painting that you become unwilling to make changes. Michael Stasinos says, "If you're in love with it, you're done." One wants to be satisfied with their progress, but not so much that it inhibits continued exploration. And that is the key point.

The willingness to change and correct, albeit more difficult in the later stages, should be present througout the process. One of the reasons some of my paintings take a long time is because of my willingness to give it an overhaul in the eleventh hour. If the painting asks for something, I give it to it! In addition to being satisfied with the outcome, another clue that I'm approaching the finish line is that whatever changes I make seem to make less and less difference. The new strokes don't make the painting any better.

Plein air vs. studio painting

The differences between plein air painting and studio painting are a perennial topic of conversation among landscape painters. Should you try to capture the same expressive qualities in your studio work as your plein air sketches? Is it realistic to expect your plein air sketches to resolves subtle issues of color and composition in the same way a multiple-session studio painting might?

Mural Landscape painters divide their time between the outdoor and indoor studios in different ways. Some work exclusively outdoors. For them, the direct response to nature and the sense of immediacy they capture is the very definition of landscape painting. Their plein air works are their studio paintings. Other painters develop their landscapes almost exclusively in the studio, yet often return to nature to keep their translation skills limber and to gather inspiration and source material. Most landscape painters, though, work in both indoor and outdoor studios. They know from experience that indoor and outdoor works are different dialects of a single language, each suited for a particular type of poetry.

Outdoor work is typically infused with a spontaneity and fluid brushwork that is less common in larger studio works. But in larger works we are capable of accomplishing feats we cannot achieve in small, quick plein air studies. Although both approaches are informed by a direct observation of nature, there are conceptual and practical differences between them. Regardless of your preference, there is no denying that the study of landscape painting necessarily involves a direct experience of nature. Under the sun, in the caress of a cool breeze with clouds cascading overhead, and wide open spaces stretching out in every direction is the only place we can draw our initial inspiration and take our foundation lessons.

Recently, one of my students, who up to that time had only worked outdoors, told me he was making his first attempts at larger paintings based on his outdoor studies. He said, "I’m trying to keep the same level of spontaneity as in the small studies." His tone suggested he was having trouble. My reply: "Don’t try to make them do the same thing."

True, there are some artistic personalities who are naturally able to transpose the innate spontaneity and painterly style of small work into larger studio pieces, but for most, this isn’t something that comes naturally. In my experience, larger, more time consuming studio paintings and plein air work are sub-genres of the landscape motif. The small work does things the large painting cannot, and the large painting achieves things not possible in the small. They are different dialects of the same visual language and should be respected and honored for their differences.