True Confessions--I am a Cranky Plein Air Painter.

I started painting by going outside.   I thought everyone did this.   Imagine my surprise when I discovered that a lot of people don’t paint in the open air but stay in their studios.

I still think going outside to paint is the best place to learn.  It is harder.  You have to become focused.  There is so much in your field of vision.  You need to decide what the painting is about.  What should you put in, leave out or place emphasis on?    It engages you to hone good art habits.

I’ve been painting outside for over forty years.   Yes, the wind and mosquitos are annoying.  And I use acrylics and they dry really fast. But you get used to that. 

What I can’t get used to are people.

There was a time when I was a lot nicer and would talk to people. 

Even when they interrupted my deepest thoughts, I would answer questions like, “So, are you painting?”  

  I nodded my head when they told me their grandmas, mothers, children, or aunties painted.    I answered questions about why I was painting that certain scene.

I smiled as they commentated to their children,   “So, she is painting. She is looking at that tree and then she is dipping her brush into brown and then….”  

I justified why I use acrylic paint.  I explained my colour choices. 

I took criticism from those who had never lifted a brush.  I explained what methods I was using. 

I thought it was my duty to teach a bit of art education. This was to make up for the appalling lack of support fine arts receive in our school system. 

But now I must admit I’m cranky.

Partly this is due to the weird encounters of my past.

I like to paint by myself.  I am deep in thought when I engrossed in a composition.  It’s like an internal fight I have with myself each and every painting.    There was a time when I was interrupted by two rafts populated entirely by drunk men.   They saw me and so they landed on the riverbank.   The thing is if you are the only one sober at the party it’s not so entertaining.  They were rude and red-necked.    In addition, as the only woman there, I felt threatened.  I mean there were a lot of them, and they were really drunk.

I once had a guy yell at me, “Red, where is there red?  Show me where there is red out there!”  I was using a master’s technique of underpainting. I don’t know why he was so bothered by my colour choices.

Another time I was painting the back alley.   “Why would you paint that?” The man just shook his head when I told them my job as an artist is to show beauty where others might not see it.  “ I don’t understand why you would waste your time painting that,”  was his retort.

Countless times I've been given unsolicited advice on how to “fix” a painting.

I once had a kid walk past my easel and steal a tube of Ultramarine Paint.  I chased after him to demand it back.  His parents didn’t reprimand him.

Another time when painting in my neighbourhood a gentleman approached me.  He told me that Hitler loved art and that is why he didn’t advance on St. Petersburg. 

Something snapped in me that day.   I’ve worked for over 20 years at a Jewish day school.  I have Jewish friends and relatives.   Let’s just say we had a discussion. 

And I think all painters have been told, “You’ve missed a spot”. 

Once while attending a Plein Air Convention in Monterey the artist next to me flicked his oil-filled brush behind him.  It made people back up and scatter.  He just looked at me and smiled.  I wondered if it was on purpose.  Years later, when talking to someone who knew him well, she said he often did this when people invaded his space.

I often try to keep that bubble when I am painting.  I don’t feel that I need to be your entertainment.  I don’t need to answer questions or give you art advice.  I am not looking for your advice.  I try to step off the path so that I am not in your way.   My earphones are on and so many people realize I don’t really want to be engaged, that I am working.  Mind you the more persistent ones just speak louder. 

Perhaps this is the perception that when you see someone creating art they are not really working.  How could art be work? But trust me I am working. 

So please look upon this blog as a sort of apology.   If you meet me painting, I will not stop and chat with you.   I am dealing with fast-drying paint, bugs, weather, and the uncertainties of my soul.

There are other times you can engage me for art talks. You can attend one of my classes. You can send me a message down below. You can sign up for my newsletter. But when I am painting I am concentrating and in my own little world. It’s what I need to do to get the work done.

 Really usually I am generous by nature—but just not while I am in the zone.    Don’t take it personally.  It’s not you, it’s me. Or maybe it really is both of us.