Read Watercolor Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium Online
Authors: Tom Hoffmann
If I indulge in passing the blame for my results onto the weather or the brush, I am essentially saying, “What can I do? It’s not my fault.” This attitude makes it hard to see a solution to the problem.
TOM HOFFMANN,
TIDAL RIVER,
CLOUD
(IN PROCESS), 2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
15 × 11 INCHES (38 × 28 CM)
The cloud was what stopped me in my tracks, but the painting did not do it justice. It doesn’t
loom
as it should. At the time, I lacked the detachment to see what could be done. Fortunately, I did nothing.
TOM HOFFMANN,
TIDAL RIVER, CLOUD,
2011
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES COLD PRESS PAPER
15 × 11 INCHES (38 × 28 CM)
One month later, I could see that darkening the sky might give the cloud more presence. Not wanting to overdo it, I changed just the top, knowing I could darken more, if necessary. That little bit seemed enough.
The objectivity that allows me to see my own work clearly is directly related to my willingness to take responsibility for the
painting. If I indulge in passing the blame for my results onto the weather or the brush, I am essentially saying, “What can I do? It’s not my fault.” This attitude makes it hard to see a solution to the problem. But if I really take charge of my own progress, I become the person looking over my shoulder who can see my strengths and weaknesses, and suggest how to use the former to develop the latter.
Whenever I identify a consistent problem in my work, like not getting the darks dark enough on the first try, I suspect that I am avoiding something. Perhaps I am afraid of making the darks
too
dark, and keep leaning away from that danger, for instance. If so, the solution is to push my practice in the opposite direction and try to make those darks too dark deliberately. In the process, I usually find out what the true range of the medium is and create a wider comfort zone for myself.
Painting always involves attention to both process and product. The difference is that letting process dominate has a positive effect on product, while the opposite is not always true.
If you think a lot about how painting fits into your life, it is natural to find yourself asking:
Am I painting or making art?
This is a subject that makes me feel like the cartoon protagonist with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. The inner dialog goes something like this:
Angel: “Real artists paint because it is inherently satisfying. They are not trying to make impressive paintings. Striving for Art is too product-oriented.”
Devil: “Give me a break! Since when is it a crime to want to make good paintings? I’m a painter, after all. It’s what I do. And I’d like to do it sooner rather than later. In fact, today would be good. I’m trying to make a living at this. Besides, aren’t you striving when you try not to strive?”
Angel: “You only do what you know will impress people.”
Devil: “And you only
pretend
not to care whether other people like your work.”
Angel: “Hack!”
Devil: “Phony!”
And so on. Fortunately, it is not necessary to choose which voice to listen to. The two sides are aspects of the same activity. Painting always involves attention to both process and product. The difference is that letting process dominate has a positive effect on product, while the opposite is not always true.
Directing your painting toward clarity and cohesiveness requires staying aware of the big picture, which
is
a kind of product awareness. Painting with no guidelines at all may feel good for a while, but with no element of challenge it becomes pointless. The result we aim for, ideally, is becoming a better painter, rather than producing a prize-winning picture.
When we are inspired, or even just curious, we simply paint. When we lose sight of our inner motivation we tend to look around for some external measure of the worthiness of our output. Before long, we are focused on how to make each piece of paper into an impressive product, which actually slows our progress. Efforts tend to be guided by what we already know will work. Mistakes are disguised as soon as possible, before the lessons they offer can be learned.
To make the most rapid progress, it is necessary to be willing to allow the painting you are working on now to fail. Ironically, most of the decent paintings I have made were the result of being engaged in just painting.
On those inevitable days when nothing calls out to be painted, I recommend simply working on the craft of watercolor. I often set out a single object, like an onion or a teakettle, and paint it several times. After a short time the interpretations become more expressive, and my eyes are awakened to possibilities around me. Sometimes I get to work on a literal translation of a photo, like the image that resulted in the painting that appears on
this page
.
TOM HOFFMANN,
FLOP,
2010
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
9 × 12 INCHES (23 × 30 CM)
What interested me in this scene was the unexpected color of the dory’s reflection. Once I had explored that, I tried to turn the painting into art, squeezing in a background and leaving very little room for the water beyond the boat. I swept a big brush across the page in that section hoping that I would get lucky, and that the result would stand in for what was actually a complex transition. If I had really wanted a good product I should have studied that passage and then painted the scene again. I would at least have learned something.
If you are unsure of part of your subject, or if something you have tried looks wrong, you can either practice it on a separate piece of paper or attempt something on the painting in progress. If your experiments don’t lead to increased confidence, slow down and make sure you understand the problem. Go down the list:
value, wetness,
color, and
composition. Ask yourself:
What is my revised strategy?
When the dust has settled, you should have a plan for what you will do differently. Limit the changes to just a few, so you can see whether you have resolved those issues. Taking on too much at once obscures your progress and increases the odds that you will be overwhelmed.
When I finished painting the image below something did not seem quite right. Even though I thought I was being deliberate in my choices, the painting just wasn’t as peaceful I had intended it to be. Going down the list, I started to assess color first: Are there too many colors? No, that’s not the problem. Is color temperature an issue? Hmm … could be. The mountain may be too closely related to the blue and orange in the buildings, pulling it forward in space. And the big orange building on the right is too insistent. Maybe ease off of the complementary palette. It seems a little harsh.
How about wetness? The big building is all in shadow. Maybe the doorway should have a soft edge. That would make the whole shape less intrusive. I like the soft, blue shadows on the mountain, but maybe soften the profile a bit to make sure it stays back. That’s enough for now. Time for another try.
Make sure you are clear about how you intend to revise a painting before you begin a new version. At some level I seem to believe that I should trust entirely to instinct and not analyze my efforts at all, so I often rush through my assessment. There may be some wisdom in this, since painting is largely done from the gut, but, realistically, there is no danger that I could eliminate instinct, even if I wanted to. Homing in on one or two issues that need to be clarified will not make the next painting a dry, intellectual exercise. As soon as you make the first stroke, the current begins to flow.
Luckily, the process of making the first painting of Barrio Azucenas was quick enough painting that I did not have to think twice about making a new version. If it had taken longer I may have been tempted to try to rescue the first one. Actually, I’m glad I left the study alone. After some time passed, I found that I liked them both.
TOM HOFFMANN, STUDY FOR
BARRIO AZUCENAS, OAXACA,
2010
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)
There is a mountain at the end of every street in Oaxaca. I wanted this one to feel distant, but I also wanted to display the afternoon light. A hard edge for the profile of the mountain but soft edges for the shadows seemed right, as did carrying on the blue/orange palette from the rest of the picture. When it was finished, though, something was not right. The scene did not feel as peaceful as I intended.
TOM HOFFMANN,
BARRIO AZUCENAS, OAXACA,
2010
WATERCOLOR ON ARCHES HOT PRESS PAPER
11 × 15 INCHES (28 × 38 CM)
Softening the blue doorway was definitely a good move. As a separate bit of painting, I liked the orange mountain better than the green one, but it didn’t work as well in the big picture. In all, I’m satisfied, and don’t feel the need for another version. But do you think I should put in the rest of the phone wires?