Archive for June, 2019

Why paint?

Saturday, June 15th, 2019

The question arises periodically and eludes a simple answer.  “Why paint?”  It may be different for every artist, yet for many there are similarities.  So specifically, why do I paint?  Is it for money, prestige, appreciation, sense of accomplishment, self-satisfaction, recreation, …?  All of those elements may play into my reasoning to some degree—some more than others.  Let’s see if I can explain.

I love a sense of line, the flow and rhythms of fluid line, the gradual blending of colors, transitions from one form to another.  As a child, I recall studying a daffodil to observe how the petals’ curve transitioned into the cylindrical bell, and how a stem transitioned into a seed case and sepals.  My favorite colors then were not red and blue but turquoise and cerise and the curious change their blending rendered.  Even then I was asking questions:  If my skin is “pink,” then why did a “pink” crayon in the coloring book look more like sunburn?  I drew more pictures than took notes in my school notebooks.  I studied the illustrations in my story books, in chapter books, envied the fluency of C.W. Anderson’s and Wesley Dennis’s equine illustrations and began illustrating my own verses.  I drew horses, too.  But, for the sake of accuracy, my father recommended that I try observing real horses rather than drawing from my imagination.  It was good advice.  But I received little artistic guidance or instruction in school.  So I determined that I would become the teacher I had never had.  I would teach art.

In college, my classes taught me about teaching … but not about art.  I gave it up to become a writer and editor instead.  Decades later, my husband retired, and, on a whim, I took a beginning watercolor class.  It captured my imagination, and I determined to pursue it seriously.  You might say I fell in love with it.  The color flowed once again, and I haven’t stopped since.  The medium I choose to  work in now varies—I have worked with not only watercolor, but oils, acrylics, pastels, charcoal, graphite, and watercolor pencils, among others.  But the reason is the same.  I can’t NOT!

I still love a sense of line, the flow and rhythms of fluid line, and the gradual transitions between colors, forms, … and ideas.  And I still love to exchange knowledge with other people who have similar interests—whether they are my colleagues, students, teachers, or simply exploring a variety of possibilities and ideas.

I’m not one who needs continual praise or recognition, though sincere appreciation is, of course, appreciated.  And prestige is attractive, opening additional doors, but it isn’t my goal.  So it isn’t praise that drives me.

Neither am I one who seeks affirmation through financial return; nor do I need to support the family through my painting, though I do like to be able to bring in enough to more than cover my expenses.  So money doesn’t drive my painting.

So why do I paint?

Painting is enlightening.  It encourages me to see differently, more precisely, more deeply.  It helps me evaluate the whys and hows as well as the whats.

Painting keeps me real.  It humbles me as I enter a playing field with more highly developed technicians and alternative approaches, while the opportunity to guide novices reminds me of how far I’ve already come.

Painting challenges me.  I must identify a purpose, a concept to express and find the means to express it effectively.  It challenges me to continually strive for improvement, for accuracy, or for conciseness.  There are always questions to pose, problems to resolve, decisions to justify.

Painting brings a sense of order.  Like that of most of us, my daily life is fragmented—a few minutes at this task, an hour at that, meals to prepare, laundry to do, telephone calls, errands to run, …  Committing a block of time to painting focuses me, providing a restful continuity for part of my day.  I have time to think, to feel, to express myself visually, without interruption—or at least for extended periods with self-selected breaks.

So my motivation to paint appears to be in the challenge, the enlightenment it brings, and the re-creation and re-affirmation of my selfness.  If my work speaks to others as well, I’m blessed.

Scaling the heights

Saturday, June 1st, 2019

As I began planning some studio paintings of our most recent trip to the western U.S., I was drawn repeatedly to a scene from Zion National Park, in Utah.  At the beginning of our riverside walk along the Virgin River, the sun and shadows had crept slowly across the canyon walls towering overhead.  Heavy snows over the past winter led to a heavier-than-normal runoff this spring, resulting in a fine-line waterfall over the precipice, further feeding the swelling river, and rendering the Narrows (a twisting, normally wadable section of the stream) impassable on foot.  So although we were unable to hike the Narrows on this trip, we were treated to this rare view of the falls.  I thought it was worth commemorating in paint.

Hoping to capture the early morning light on the majestic stone walls, my first effort was in oils. I realized how critical it would be to include figures within the composition:  Something was needed to provide a sense of scale to the scene.  Without including any figures in the image, the trees in the foreground might be assumed to be roughly the height of a person, which would minimize the apparent height of the canyon walls.  With the figures in place, however, the viewer realizes how comparatively tall the trees, in fact, are, which in turn provides a more accurate scale for the towering walls of the canyon.

"Springtime Fall, Zion National Park" by Charlotte Mertz, 12"x9" oil on panel.  190501

“Springtime Fall, Zion National Park” by Charlotte Mertz, 12″ x 9″ oil on panel

But despite this preplanning, for several reasons I still wasn’t entirely happy with the resulting composition.  So I rethought the concept and reconsidered how to more effectively express it, ultimately placing more emphasis on the towering height than on the sunlight’s influence on the stone.  This time I chose an elongated format in watercolor to emphasize the verticality of the scene.  Another technique I used was to emphasize the vertical fissures and de-emphasize many of the curving and horizontal cracks, except where they were needed to describe the broken character of the wall and the interrupted fall of water. Once again, it was critical to include figures in the foreground to provide a sense of scale.

"From the Heights," by Charlotte Mertz (12"x6" watercolor, #190502w)

“From the Heights,” by Charlotte Mertz
(12″x6″ watercolor, #190502w)

The resulting composition much more closely approximates the overwhelming sensations I experienced at the site.  Ironically, the sense of light improved in the second composition, as well, due primarily to my choice of a warmer dominant color to describe the hue of the sunlit stone.