Blog

Remarkable: To be worthy of remark. That's my definition.

According to Merriam-Webster: worthy of being or likely to be noticed especially as being uncommon or extraordinary.

I'm reading Purple Cow by Seth Godin and he talks about doing or making something remarkable and being different from the ordinary. The ordinary is when something no longer stands out and gets noticed. It has become, if it once was remarkable, the norm.

I gave this a lot of thought and flipped through my mental rolodex of all the artists I know (of) and whom I believe to be remarkable. The list is long and at the same time, I noticed that every single one of these persons is more remarkable than what they do or make.

It's not only the 'thing' that is remarkable, it's the person that is remarkable. A remarkable person is not able to do something that isn't remarkable when they give it everything they have. They are the kind of people who take risks, face their fears, study study study, fail and try again. They seem to be relentless, tireless people with an endless stream of imagination, innovation and ideas.

I don't know if this remarkabledness is available or within all of us, and some of us are exceptional at some things we do, but overall we're ordinary compared to these people. There's nothing wrong with being ordinary, but if you're unhappy because you believe you are remarkable and no one has taken notice, then maybe you need to tap into that remarkabledness, take a big big leap and commit to living up to your remarkability.

Go for it! You are remarkable!

I read a post by Ingrid Christensen (currently my favourite Canadian artist) who is defining the ideas, rules, and definitions of composition, focal area, and focal point. She explores and analyses paintings by Vuillard and describes how her eye moves through the painting and which part is the focal area for her. It's an interesting read, and it made me go to my website to analyse my own work to see if I have a focal point and a focal area and how my compositions (the plan, blueprint, layout) are working to support my focus. I was doubting my abilities and fearful my paintings were done too quickly without planning in a half-hazard, slapdash kind of way.

But that's not the case. My paintings tend to be simple in composition and more involved in mark-making, brush marks, colour applications, though I don't tend to use a lot of variations within a colour space or shape.  As much as I desire to paint beautiful varieties of colours within a shape, I haven't yet found a way to make this work for me. My attempts result in objects appearing misshapen or they don't read correctly. Other painters have successfully found ways to flatten objects and picture planes, where there is no perspective to speak of and all objects are on the same plane whether they are distant or near. It's quite an accomplishment; one I can't seem to grasp.

In my work, I have both a focal point, which is the main idea for my painting, and a focal area, which is the part of the painting that, to me as an artist, is the most important part. 

The focal point is the idea behind the painting. It's the gesture of a subject, the mood of the scene, the effect of the light overall, the colours, which is often what caught my attention in the first place. The focal area is a place in the painting that captures the point behind the painting. 

In the painting of the campsite above, the focal point is morning light. The focal area is the light in the tent and not the camper sitting in his camp chair sipping a coffee as we imagine he may be doing, though he is an important part of the story. Had the person been more important to me, I would have accentuated the colours in that area and maybe positioned him closer to the centre of the picture plane.  This was painted from a black and white sketch I did from life. I have no photo to refer to for this painting.

I've often been labelled as 'the fast painter‘; however, as for painting "too" quickly without planning, this is also not the case. I observe and assess in my mind to determine certain compositional aspects of the painting to be. I know in advance where my darks will lay, where I want the richest colours, the lightest lights, and my nemesis, colour temperature, an ongoing challenge for me. This is a topic for another time.  

When I know what I want to capture, I get it down quickly without fuss. Where I get into trouble is when I start to think I need to make changes to make it better (ego talk) and carry on for too long. My first draft is often the best version. Leave it alone, I say, and don't look at it for a long time. And there are times when painting after paintings don't work out because I can't figure out what I can't figure out. 

Can you spot the camp sketch above?

I also take the time to make numerous black, white, and grey sketches which are done very quickly before painting. This helps when I'm uncertain how to lay things out. Here's a sampling of these value sketches done with ink pen and Coptic grey-toned markers. It is deeply satisfying for me to capture the essence of a scene in these little drawings. 

I hope you found this interesting and informative, and if you have any questions or ideas to share on this, please reach out to me.

Thanks for reading and viewing my art.

Hugs,

Elsa

Being an artist is the most difficult job I've ever had. Yes, I've had 'real' jobs here and there, howerver, I must tell you, this vocation is more involved than I imagined and a lot more work than I could possibly invent. One of the most time sucking part of the job and not very fun for me, is the pressure-marketing-smart-business-recommendations for artists to share share share our work online, to send newsletters, write blogs, make videos, be vulnerable, be raw, let people see our humanity and failings.

About 14 years ago, I blogged everyday for about a year. I posted good, bad, sub standard and sometimes work I was proud of. I had a following and some nice folks used to comment and engage with me. At some point my situation changed and I changed my habit and was blogging no more. I wish I handn't stopped because it contributed to a disciplined practice and I painted more regularly. Though I paint almost everyday, I only write once in a while. It appears I used to write a bunch and store them as drafts that I recently stumbled upon and read. And I laughed. Some made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt. I can't believe the things that ran through my head and I vaguely remember writing them. Maybe my writing makes people laugh and my ideas don't have to be dated to be funny, but I never realized how funny and odd I used to be, or still am. My husband reminds me regularly. Apparently I'm weird.

It is not uncommon for me to delete old stuff and start again, but this time I've decided to keep these old drafts, some as far back as 2020, and release them on a weekly basis.

I hope you enjoy and find some of them interesting enough to share or at least, I hope you'll have a good laugh.

On Thursday, January 22, my friend SharmaRay passed away.

I last saw her on the 12th. We shared a most lovely visit filled with laughter, stories, and so much love that I swear I turned pink.

Last May, I went to her home and painted her portrait outside while we talked. I also managed a quick sketch of her Pink Palace. I wanted to paint her in all her pinkness and redness, with her pink car and her Pink Palace, a place made for pampering and celebration. I wanted to capture the essence of all that she breathed and exuded. I wanted to turn pink myself. I wanted to gather her up in paint and canvas so I could remember how to be joyous, lovely, gentle, and kind. To care for myself. To celebrate myself and all women and girls and persons.

SharmaRay's wall of Fame

Not long after that day, she shared that she was not well and would be embarking on a journey of alternative healing. I wished with all my heart that the outpouring of love surrounding her would return to her as miraculous healing. I truly believed it could. I believed she would still be with us.

On Wednesday, I painted at her burial.

I painted her surrounded by love flowing back toward her, standing at the threshold of her portal as she returned to the earth. This is how SharmaRay wanted it. Let us celebrate. Let us remember. Let us honor her, her way.

She was carried in wrapped in a deep red shroud and gently laid across the boards that held her until 11:11 a.m., when her partner and close friends lifted her earth body and slowly lowered her into her portal. Everyone was invited to participate in covering her with soil and rose petals. It was a beautiful sending off. So much pink and red. Big red hearts. Bubbles floating everywhere. Incense and smudging. Relics from her palace, costumes, art, photos, memories, all part of the living scene.

Painting during this was challenging. My head and throat felt held in a vice. My heart ached. I watched her close friends grieve. Beautiful and sad.

When I returned to my studio, I was compelled to paint more. I had taken a few discreet photos, just enough to help me remember what I needed to paint. I hope these paintings are received in the way SharmaRay would have. Her last message to me was:

 It is a truly a blessing to have known her.

Rest in peace, my friend.

I will miss you.

Love, Elsa

Here's a beautiful write up from FOLKLIFE magazine: Living In The Pink

I tested a small gouache study on YUPO Medium mounted on aluminum, which is advertised as resisting buckling with wet media and being fully wipeable. The surface held up, but gouache remained very unstable, easily scratched off and completely removable when rewetted.

Painting backlit clothing hanging on a line, drying and moving in the breeze, is one of my favourite things to paint. I love how colour changes when light passes through fabric. In bright light the colours wash out. In shade they look muted. But when the sun shines through a translucent piece of cloth, the colour becomes so intense it can look almost unreal. If you’ve ever looked closely at something backlit, you know that glow really does happen.

I haven’t painted a clothesline since summer, and coming back to this subject feels really comforting. This is also the first time I painted one from a photograph. Because I’ve painted so many from life, I found I could still capture the same feeling and the same excitement, even while working in a new medium. This piece is a gouache painting on Claybord, and trying it on this surface made the whole process feel fresh again.

For this painting, I started by toning the surface with a mix of Azo Yellow and Ochre. Once that dried, I blocked in the darks, then painted the closest average colour of each area. I let those layers dry before adding little dabs of colour to suggest foliage, flowers, and the patterns in the swimsuit and towels.

The most important part of creating the feeling of strong light is the light on the swimsuit. It’s actually toned down quite a bit, which helps the bright orange glow from the backlighting really stand out. Even though the light on the ground is technically lighter in value, it doesn’t pull the attention away.

For this piece, I’m sharing four steps from my oil painting process on clayboard. While the subjects happen to be a mom and child, my focus was really on capturing the warmth of late-summer light and the baby’s quiet curiosity.

I began with a very light, loose graphite gesture sketch on a dry toned Ampersand clayboard. I laid in thin, but not diluted darks to anchor the composition. From there, I introduced mid warm tones and skin tones, gradually building form. I finished by moving back and forth between lights and darks, adding thicker passages in the illuminated areas and scratching in texture for variation. Clayboard has a way of creating a luminous effect in person, and it’s truly lovely to work with.

This quick study explores the effects of indoor fluorescent light using a complementary palette of violets and ochres. I was drawn to the young woman’s pose and the generous bulk of her clothing. In hindsight, I wish I’d kept the background looser and suggested the library only through hints of colour, another reminder that there’s always something to learn.

Still, it was a joy to paint.

I love to paint the figure, and when I paint large, the face can sometimes be a real challenge, capturing it without making it look like a specific person, yet still creating a presence the viewer can relate to.

I recently signed up for a portrait-drawing course with Kenzo at Love Life Drawing, and it’s helping tremendously. The idea is to work from large to small: first get the big shapes right, then methodically build in the smaller planes, and finally the nuances of light and dark. There’s no jumping straight into drawing noses, lips, and eyes. It’s a great course, and if you want to learn to draw heads, faces, or even figures, I highly recommend it. You can get more info about it here. Lovelifedrawing.

I’m currently working on a 24×26” figure painting, and this is a detail of the head and face I painted using the methods I’ve been learning. The reclined head, slightly turned away at the chin, is one of the hardest angles to draw and paint. I’m happier with the rendering than the paint application, but that’s something to keep working on with the next painting.

I’m also sharing a few exercises from the course to show you the process. You start by drawing a simple sphere. Then you identify the angle of the head and add a line around the sphere where the eyebrows wrap across the face. Next, you place a centerline to capture the tilt and direction of the head. From there, you indicate where the major “bulges” live: the mouth, eye sockets, base of the nose, and chin. The methods are a concise combination of the Loomis and Riley approaches.

I’ve been practicing every day, and the time invested has been absolutely worth it.

If this intrigues you and you’d like more information, or if you have other ideas, send me a note or comment below. I’d love to chat.

I’m sharing a new piece today, painted in oil on clayboard. I was really drawn to the mood, the colours, the quiet moment of this subject and asked if I could take a few reference shots. Something about the atmosphere around her just felt right.

What I find interesting about this surface is how the oils behave on it. The final effect almost emulates gouache: that opaque, water-based paint known for its velvety matte finish. Even by mixing a medium with linseed oil into my paints, the oil paint dried quickly and the result was similarly matte. I’m enjoying this surface and plan to explore more.

Let me know what you think, or if you have any questions about my process. I'm happy to share ideas with you.