How many artists does it take to paint a painting?

A friend once asked me, "How many artists does it take to paint a painting?" The answer, it turned out, was, "Two. One to paint the painting, and the other to yell: STOP!!"

One of the challenges every artist faces is knowing when to call a piece of artwork done. For some, such as Willem de Kooning, perhaps no painting is ever truly done, while others, such as Bob Ross, will confidently know their work is complete as soon as they've included all their formulaic elements. For everyone in between, the concept can be a bit of a moving target, and the real task at hand becomes learning how to play both the role of painter and the role of artist who yells: STOP!!

In my experience, it has become a lot easier with time to know when a painting can be called finished, so experience with one's own evolution as an artist will help. This can mean focusing on developing a certain style, exploring a specific theme, or simply becoming better at using your tools and materials, to give a few examples. I plan and sketch out a lot more of my paintings these days than I did ten years ago, so I'm usually working towards something in particular and I have a much easier time sensing when I have achieved whatever goal is driving the work.

However, I still have my moments of not knowing when to call a work done, particularly if I suspect that I'm not pushing myself to fully explore the piece, in which case I actually have to say, "Paint, Tara, paint!". The first step I take is to step back and observe, think about the painting, and consider what might be missing or causing unwelcome tension. If I come up with something specific that is bothering me, I go back in and work on it.

But, what happens when there is nothing further to address? How do I recognize when I'm adding paint simply for the sake of adding paint? My simplest gauge is this: If I am still putting paint on a canvas but no further value is being added to the essence of the work, then it's time to yell: STOP!!

In the case of the painting seen here (and also here), I knew that I needed to differentiate the male figure a bit more before calling it done, so my final session consisted of applying more quinacridone crimson to the actual figure, and working some titanium white into the background section to the left of the bodies, both with the goal of bring out the contrasts, as seen in the final photo above. After I did this, I stepped back and wondered if I was finished. My first thought was, "I could do more!", but to what aim? I had resolved the problem, so what else could be achieved by continuing to work? It turns out, there was nothing more to say. Adding more paint or refining another area would not have contributed to the composition or the energy of the piece. At this point, I was just being mechanical in the service of anxiety, and the risk of continuing to paint would be to run in circles in the pursuit of a solution to a non-existent problem. So I decided to paint my signature on and call it done, in effect yelling: STOP!!

The Dance. 26 x 20 1/4 inches, acrylic on rag paper.

Lean into the challenge

In art, it often helps to have a problem that needs solving. A challenge to tackle can make your work more interesting, and should be embraced. If you can lean into the challenge and see the problem as an opportunity (to borrow the language of business-speak), take the time to analyze what is and isn't working, and finally roll up your sleeves and fix what's wrong, you will often end up with a much better end product then had the issue never arose to begin with. The complexity of having solved a problem will often translate to the viewer (with no words needed), who can be drawn in by the subtle tensions that appear in the work of art as you stop, stare, consider, and re-approach whatever it is that is bothering you.

Although as artists we should strive to master our craft and execute our skills quickly, we risk falling into a trap of monotony if we are never challenged by the colors, composition, meaning, or technical execution of our work. As someone important once said, the moment your works stops challenging you is the moment you should quit and find something else to do with your life. So although having a problem can feel overwhelming, bring us to tears or anger, or cause us to freeze up if the solution isn't immediately apparent, if we can power through the anxiety and keep working, the outcome will be worth the struggle. And the less of a fight you put up with yourself or your art, the better off you will be. Say to yourself, "This problem is actually an opportunity. I should be excited by this challenge, because it will ultimately make this a stronger piece. Don't panic, Self, just calm down and look at things objectively. What do I need to do to fix this?". It may take a while to come to a conclusion, so give yourself the time you need to do so. Once you have it, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

I had several challenges arise while working on this painting. The biggest challenge is the actual support: rag paper. There are different absorbencies on this painting due to the way I prepped the paper, which made it challenging to layer paint on later. I almost panicked while working on the right butt cheek of the female figure (the paint wouldn't move the way I wanted it to!), but caught myself and said, "Lean into the challenge", took a deep breath, and was honest with myself about what was wrong. I knew the paper and the layers of supports were working against me, but that I had to be strong and apply the acrylic paint boldly and with confidence, in order to make the figures pop. I had to work quickly, so as to not tear a hole in the surface. I also knew I was committed to the colors [the quinacridone crimson and the phthalo blue (green shade) are high staining and once you've applied them to the support, you can't really turn back], so the only way to go was forward. This approach allowed me to get through the stressful pause, and I'm now quite happy with how the painting is turning out. It's not quite done, but it's almost there.

Working title: "The Dance of Love". 26 x 20 1/4 inches, mixed media (India ink and acrylic) on rag paper.

Lots of art being made lately... here's one sketch!

Here's a sketch I did tonight titled Getting to Know Each Other. It's 7 x 10 inches on sketch paper, drawn with a 9B Koh-I-Noor Progresso woodless graphite pencil.

The mini sold like a hot cake!

I love how this turned out! Reference tiny painting.

Mini painting!

I painted an itty bitty painting! This is a color sketch for my third painting in the tulip series. I've already had a couple of people express an interest in buying, which I find amusing. It is well executed, but it's painted on a blank CD sleeve! The actual size of the painted area is 3 1/8 x 2 1/4 inches.

Color detail for the sky is 50% phthalo blue mixed with 50% N6 neutral gray; the ground is 50% magenta + 50% N6 neutral gray. More color detail to come. I need to go paint...

I sketched out a painting...

And then painted a test version on paper (400 Series Strathmore Drawing Medium paper; 13 3/16 x 11 inches, to be specific) using various small brushes (including #6 Utrecht 239-FIL mixed synthetic, #8 Utrecht 239-B mixed synthetic, #16 Utrecht 239-A mixed synthetic, and #1 Connoisseur 267 white taklon round brushes)...

The sky is roughly 50% N6 neutral gray + 50% phthalo blue, the grass is roughly 50% chromium oxide green + 50% titanium white, the leaves are phthalo green (yellow shade), the horizon line is naphthol red medium, and the flowers are primary magenta, cadmium yellow medium hue, and c.p. cadmium orange with phthalo blue as the highlight. I got a little too much phthalo mixed in with the flower heads because I didn't have the patience to wait a few seconds for the paint to dry!

The intent of the painting was to play with flower and sexual imagery. Unfortunately, I only captured the play in the pen sketches, not in the test painting! They pretty much just look like flowers...

SOLD!! Jewels

It's too bad I never took a proper photo of this! I had her framed with a black cherry matte (?? I'll have to check my records on that, actually) so that I could hang her in my 2012 Radina's show, despite the fact that I hadn't actually finished the painting. Many discussions later, I decided that I could call it "done" and stop worrying about whether to work it more or not. I had various interested parties, and she went to the buyer who put a tight deadline on purchasing it... "Oh, by the way, I'm moving next week and would love to own one of your paintings." SOLD!

For the curious, "Jewels" refers to the name of the dancer, not any kind of "family jewels"; although I suppose if you look into it hard enough, you might see a pair...

SOLD! Werbowy IV

Here's a painting I did a few years back. I love it, but never thought anyone else would connect with it. How wrong I was! I sold this back in December, had it framed, and delivered it at the beginning of this month (I usually deliver a painting when I'm paid in full...)! I'm behind on blogging...

Mini #4

12 11/16 x 17 5/16 x 0 inches (acrylic on watercolor paper). I need to strengthen one of the dark lines and then this one just needs to be signed and framed...

Only one layer of gesso used here.

Spider Playing Cello Framed

The matte color is called "black forest".

I'm really not sure how I feel about this...

I have no idea if this is worth framing!

Update: I have received feedback that this is worth framing! I still may have to add some final touches, though...