Watercolor Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium (11 page)

I am a lazy painter—I’m always looking for the easiest way to get the job done. For example, I try to avoid having to “color in” one shape right beside another. If I am not very careful, there will be some places where the two shapes overlap, making a third color, and other places where they don’t quite meet, leaving a tiny white spot. It is much easier to simply paint one color right on top of the other. Look at the cast shadows on the peach wall, for example. It would be foolish to leave them white when I paint the wall, and try to color them in later. It is true that their color is not the same as the wall color, but the two are closely and meaningfully related. In this situation, it is not only easier to paint the shadow as a second layer on top of the wall color; it will also make a more believable shadow. A single brushstroke, applied with confidence, feels like a shadow, while a shape made with many overlapping strokes has too much texture and feels like a tarp tacked onto the wall. Notice the horizontal shadow of the cap of the column in the image below right. It has a patchy look compared to the vertical part, making it seem a little too substantive. I should have applied it wetter, so the strokes would have flowed together.

Add the third layer on top of the second.
The shadows on the door, wall, and column are applied directly on top of the previous layers. Since shadows are usually a darker, more neutral version of the surface on which they fall, it works best to paint the shadow color over the sunlit color. The transparency of the paint allows the previous layer to show through, keeping the two colors related. This creates the illusion of light and shade.

I think of shadows as one-time-only strokes. Going back over them to correct something usually means sacrificing the essential insubstantiality of a shadow for accuracy. This is surely a net loss. I prefer to learn to love the first result. Better still, try them out on practice paper to be sure of the color and value.

Add the finishing touches.
The illusion of light was realized as soon as the shadows were applied in the previous step, but the darkest darks and the calligraphic details of the final layer provide substance and personality to the scene.

TOM HOFFMANN,
THE WAY BACK,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
15 × 11 INCHES (38 × 28 CM)

Everywhere your eye goes, the painting is in similar focus, making it difficult to know where to linger. The patches of foliage in the background insist on coming forward. Too many hard edges distract the viewer’s attention. It might help to connect some of the darks, reducing the number of shapes.

How do I know when to stop?
Knowing when to stand back from your painting involves skills that have very little to do with technical prowess. While finesse and a steady hand are required to paint the fine branches of a winter tree, it takes something else entirely to know enough not to try to include them all. Considering our common tendency to overload our paintings and to become unnecessarily specific, a kind of restraint is what is really needed. Our attempts to anticipate and overcome our bad habits can be strengthened by taking a broader view of the work in progress.

The detachment that lets you keep an eye on the big picture is a habit that can be learned. Just remember to ask:
What role does the part I’m about to paint play in the big picture?
This will keep you from being prematurely drawn into specifics.
The Way Back,
shown opposite, is an example of an image for which I forgot to ask this important question.

When I begin to work on a new area of a painting I tend to give that part of the scene all my attention. I can very quickly be drawn into detail and complexity, noticing individual leaves when the painting only calls for a simple green shape. Before I know it, in my determination to do justice to whatever I am focused on, I have made too many marks. The result is more like a collection of paintings on the same piece of paper than a cohesive whole.

There are warning signs that should tell you when you are approaching a good place to stop, or at least to pause and stand back. Recognizing this moment may be the most important watercolor skill of all. The signs are not the same for everyone, since each of us has a different sense of how much information is enough, but the process of identifying the red flags should work for anyone.

The first step is to find the patterns in your practice. Do you tend to begin overpainting at a particular stage of your paintings? Chances are the first couple of
layers are general enough that you stay out of trouble there, but many painters are seduced by the power of the small, dark strokes that make up the final layer. It is exciting to see how much meaning these strokes can bring to the lights and mid-values, and it is easy to assume that more of them will provide more meaning. But part of the impact of the small darks comes from their scarcity. Even one too many makes all the rest feel too obvious. Better to err on the side of too little information than too much.

STANISLAW ZOLADZ,
VINTER,
2009
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
9⅞ × 15 INCHES (25 × 38 CM)

The layer of darks—just five or six strokes in the foreground tree—provides all the information needed to describe the atmosphere in this scene. Even one dark stroke in any of the background trees would have been a mistake. The artist’s restraint is admirable.

TOM HOFFMANN,
OATMEAL ROCK,
2007
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
13 × 14 INCHES (33 × 36 CM)

I knew the foreground rocks were going to be tricky, but rather than do a study or two, I launched right into the painting, saving the rocks for last. When the first few strokes began to define the rocks nicely I got carried away and made
lots
of them.

On a good day I see the moment approaching before it has passed. I literally jump up and stride away from the painting when I see my strokes starting to bring the subject into full realization. I know, at some level, that I will be tempted to keep making those potent strokes beyond the point where they are needed. The foreground rocks in the image above, for example, would have benefited from fewer strokes.

If you can identify a stage of your paintings when you make more strokes than necessary, you know when to turn on the restraint. In my work I become wary as soon as the subject suggests many small strokes. A history of overpainting has led me to wait and look for a simpler way to symbolize the complex subject. Leaving the subject “too simple” rarely leads to regret. In
Pincelada,
on
this page
, for example, the single stroke of the mountain provides an engaging contrast to the jumble of individual shapes below.

TOM HOFFMANN,
PINCELADA,
2010
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER 15 × 22 INCHES (38 × 56 CM)

The complexity of the foreground in this view from the roof seemed likely to get me bogged down in specifics. I let go of accuracy in favor of an interpretation based on generalization.

It is helpful to take an analytical look at paintings you admire to see how many layers are involved. See if you can tell what was done first, then next, and next again. You may be surprised to find that it seldom takes more than four or five layers to reach a very convincing density and light. Many of John Singer Sargent’s seemingly detailed images are made up of only three layers. Much of his complex and beautifully fluid water—as seen in the image opposite—is realized with only a first layer of vertical washes crossed by a second of horizontal strokes. There will, of course, be some subjects that refuse to resolve into a simple series of layers. However, as a general approach to simplifying your painting process it is an effective place to start.

JOHN SINGER SARGENT,
WHITE SHIPS,
1908
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
13⅞ × 19⅜ INCHES (35 × 49 CM)
COLLECTION OF THE BROOKLYN MUSEUM

What appears at first to be dazzling brushwork turns out to be the result of remarkable awareness. Sargent knew that two simple layers would be enough to realize the complexity of the water in the harbor. There is nothing especially difficult about the execution of either the washes or the strokes. The real accomplishment was his vision.