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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

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.