Studio progress; concrete is poured!

We've actually begun the first stages of moving my studio. We spent the weekend movingmy office and carving out a temporary setup at home. Next weekend we'll move my painting stuff and set up the temporary studio at another location. So for a while, my office computer and my studio work-space are going to be separated, which means my blogging is going to be (even more) erratic over the next few weeks as we move and I get used to my new temporary setups. Not an ideal situation, but I rather expected this given the tight timeline we put ourselves on to get the new studio built.

Meanwhile, progress has been made on the studio building. Here are a couple of shots of the foundation:

Forms were set, in preparation for pouring the concrete:

After the concrete was poured they took the forms off:

This morning the concrete guys are finishing up their work, including back-filling and grading the ground, and then we'll be ready for the builder. We've gotten word from the builder that they can be ready to start this week, so long as my special order doors come in. Fingers crossed!

Golden Hour on the James River

Miracle of miracles, I actually painted something this week. I decided to stave off the moving insanity by paying a restorative visit to Brown's Island for a little plein air painting on the James River:

"The Golden Hour" Oil on Multimedia ArtBoard, 9x12" ©Jennifer Young

Brown's Island is not too far from my current downtown studio, and painting there the other evening really made me appreciate anew what a uniquely beautifulwildlife refuge we have running right through the heart of our city. Just down stream, cranes and geese were resting and fishing on the rocks, creating an interesting counterpoint to the cars zooming across the nearby Lee Bridge and the train trestles that loomed directly over my head.

Remnants of old pilings and bridge footings (like the ones shown to the right of the foreground trees in my painting) also served to remind me that this location was the industrial heart of Richmond's recent past.  Today Brown's Island is a lovely part of the James River Park system that feels both wild and urban at once. It's also a popular venue for outdoor concerts and festivals like the upcoming Richmond Folk Festival. (Reminder Richmonders--the festival is this weekend! Tents are already being raised and lots of work is being done in preparation, so don't forget to come out and support this event!)

As for the painting, I painted this scene in the late afternoon/early evening time frame. When I started I didn't notice the bits of red that were in the trees. It wasn't until the sun got a little lower and lit up the trees just so that the brilliant burst of autumn reds revealed themselves. That's one of the joys of plein air painting--these kinds of little miracles unfold before your eyes as you witness the evolutionary effects of light in nature. In these days when I seem to be going a mile a minute, I'm all the more appreciative of the experience.

Lean times ahead? Some food for thought (for artists.)

You'd have to live under a rock not to know that economic anxiety is rampant these days. And it looks like what's going down on Wall Street won't leave too many sectors of the economny untouched, including (especially?) those in the arts community. In fact, when the economy and the housing market suffers, the retail outlets and galleries usually follow, and many artists feel the crunch. In my own career I've noticed a slow down for some time. Thankfully my art business hasn't come to a screeching halt, but times are different now than they used to be. And while I realize that there are ebbs and flows in any business, it's easy to look at the news and wonder just how long this current "ebb" will last.  As artists, there is a lot we can do other than wring our hands in worry. On the practical side, we can start by taking a good look at our expenditures, and by streamlining and simplifying, and taking new approaches to creative marketing. It's a positive approach, but it's harder for some people than for others. I, for one, am downsizing by moving my studio. And while this move is also a positive one, it took me a while to feel like it wasn't one of defeat or loss.

Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful and excited about my upcoming new home studio. But fora while during the lead-up to this decision, I had a lot of angst that in doing so, I was somehow retreating. In essence there was a big part of me that felt like I failed. It felt like I was a failure at my business, but the psychological trickle- down effect was that I had also somehow failed as an artist too. 

After all, it was a mere two years ago that I had my shiny new gallery grand opening, and here I am packing it up again. Perhaps I didn't do enough advertising? Perhaps it wasn't the right location? Or perhaps I just didn't allow myself enough time to get established a the location I was in? On the business side there were many "perhapses".   But on the artistic side I also found myself questioning something much more personal. Perhaps the real reason was that I just wasn't a very good artist. Who am I to think I can make a career out of my art? Who do I think I am? I am the worst artist on the planet.

And so, in spite of all the good that I know is inherent in this move, it hasn't been without a good deal of internal struggle. Logically I know that there are many reasons for the change I'm making, and that the move is more aligned with who I am and who I want to become. Logically I know also that while financially I was not becoming the next Warren Buffett, I was able to pay my bills from my art business, and could foresee no immediate reason why I couldn't continue to do so. And logically I also know that while I can always, always improve my skills, I am probably not the "worst artist on the planet" either. But perhaps the best bit of logic was something my friend Robin said to me over lunch when I was in the throes of my angst-filled decision making process: 

 "Don't be a prisoner of your pride. Sometimes what appears to be backwardmovement is actually the way forward. Do what's right for you."

Of course, I believe she was right. And as I observe all of this financial uncertainty on the world stage, I do think that this move will help me to better weather the storm. 

But in addition to physically streamlining my work environment, I've also come to another realization. Works of quality withstand even the harshest times. Artist Robert Genn has made this very point in his most recent post on his inspirational site for artists, The Painter's Keys:

 "Recessions are blessings. Historically, recessions and depressions have been times when "important" work gets made. Realistically, our financial outlay for equipment and art materials (unless your medium is gold) is relatively minor. In hard times artists need to get themselves as debt free as possible and invest in the joy of their vision."

Haven't you noticed that even in the toughest of times there are still those who thrive? And its the artists who have made the wise investments in their craft, their vision, and their voice who set themselves apart in the good times and especially in the bad. So while there's nothing I can do about what's unfolding on Wall Street, I can take advantage of the relative quiet in the art market by focusing even harder on my own craft and vision. Now is the time to experiment and to learn anew, and maybe even come out of all of this as a better artist than I would have been otherwise.

Studio building updates; plus a sale

Well, it looks like the moving schedule madness is now taking hold, so I make no promises of posting many new paintings over the next several days. I have a lot of work ahead of me and a lot of decisions to make as I move out of my current studio space. The new studio will be less than half the size of my current one. This isn't a complaint, mind you (after all the space will be my very own.) But I will have to make the most of the space I have. So in between the packing, I'm prepping for a Studio Moving Sale this coming Friday and Saturday at the gallery.  I'm being pretty ruthless about what I'm allowing myself to hold onto (believe me, no easy task but it must be done.) As a result I'll be offering some great sale prices on selected works from my inventory (mostly older landscapes and plein air studies); plus sale prices on prints,  some picture frames (new, used, and 'scratch and dent') and a few art supplies. If you're in the vicinity come on by and check out the sale. 

As for our garage/studio building project, rainy weather has slowed our progress a little, but progress is still being made. As I write this, the plumber is making a racket outside the door, trying to get things lined up for the first of several plumbing inspections. I don't have a lot of new "progress" shots to show, but the foundation guys have built the forms (currently protected from the rain by a big tarp.) So once the plumbing passes inspection #1, they can set about pouring the concrete. 

Meanwhile here are some pictures of the plans that have been drawn up by the builder:

Side elevation:

 I actually think of this as the front, but the builder calls it the side elevation. It's the long part of the building, facing out to our side street. The left end has a little portico/porch that faces the back of the house. At some point I'd like to have a little courtyard patio join the two structures of the house and studio. This side faces roughly east, so I only have windows on the left part. The painting area will be on the right, and I'll probably put some kind of trellis or other tall feature on the exterior to balance the windows at the other end.

Left end elevation:

This is the end with the portico that faces the house. Probably this will be the main door I use to come in and out, though the French doors shown above will be good for loading/unloading from the nearby alley. The portico allows for a loft area on the inside above my office for storage, so that upper window over the porch is just for looks and light.

Floorplan:

This image is a bit hard to read, but here I've overlaid my proposed "room" plan (the furniture/interior wall) on top of the builder's drawing so that I could see how much of my crap I could cram in there ;-)  . Since I seem to have a 2-D brain, it's really hard for me to imagine the actual space until I'm in there. So aside from the painting area (and utility sink) being on the right side and my office being to the left, the particulars of the furniture arrangements may change. Therefore, we've opted not to have the builder install the interior wall. If I find I can fit a wallor room divider (and right now I think I'd really like to have more wall space) we would have to come up with an after-the-fact solution, space and budget allowing. Not shown (but planned) are ceiling fans--one on each end of the building. We're addressing the other considerations (hvac, insulation, drywall, lighting, picture rails, flooring, etc.) in due time, though right now we're just focusing on getting the structure up and the roof on.

Right end elevation (interior view):

This shows the interior wall on the right end of the building. This is my studio side and the wall faces roughly north. But there is an another building just across an alley on this side, so I have high windows here. They will let in some light, though unfortunately the neighboring building will block it somewhat. I wanted fancy shaped arched or triangular architectural windows here....until I saw the price. So we quickly opted for more standard windows. They all open, and the two smaller windows are awning windows.

The builder we've been working is a company called Bradley Buildings out of the Atlanta area. They've been great to work with so far, and very patient-- especially since this is the one zillionth version of these drawings they've come up with. We started out with something very different, but changes were made based on our lot restrictions. I also made a decision even after that point to further reduce the overall size so that the structure would be more in proportion to our house and lot.

Well, enough of this building stuff. Guess I'm pretty excited about all of this, but it may be a little too much information for a painting blog. It's time to get back to packing any way.

On painting that ever changing light

This post is inspired by a comment Molly left for me yesterday on the challenge of painting sunsets en plein air. As I've noted before, this golden hour of the day is my favorite time to be out painting-- but it's also one of the most challenging because the light changes incredibly fast. Since I've made my share of stinkers (and had a few successes too) I thought I'd offer a few tips from what I've observed along the way.

• At first, try keeping it small! This will ensure that you can cover the entire canvas within the time limitations you have.
• Broadly tackle first the overall light and shadow pattern and don't give into the temptation to lose yourself in details in the early stages.
• For as long as you can, try thinking in terms of light and dark, shapes and patterns instead of objects and things.
• Simplify.
• Squint.
• Develop what you know is going to change the fastest. In the recent harbor paintings I did in Annapolis, those clouds were such an important element in the paintings and I knew they'd change quickly as the sun was breaking through them across the sky. So I set about developing the sky and clouds first, even though I'd merely blocked in the dark shape of the boats.
• Make a commitment. Try not to change your entire painting with each change of the sky (or light). This will drive you crazy and it will quickly start to causeyour painting to look confused. At some point you have to decide on the statement you want to make with your painting and commit to it. Learn to develop those memory muscles so that when the light changes you can recall the moment you were trying to capture. This is why blocking in the overall light and shadow pattern is so very important at the beginning.
• At the same time (and this is going to sound like a contradiction to the previous statement,) if you want to capture that elusive golden moment you almost have to try and anticipate what's going to happen next and be ready for it. The best way to do this is to observe, observe, observe. Paint at different times of the day often enough and you will really begin to notice and observe what happens to the quality of the light. I find myself doing this mentally now, even when I'm not painting.
• Color is seductive, and it's understandable to want to change and tweak it as the sky gets more and more beautiful with that rosy/golden evening glow. Sometimes it is necessary to add that flourish of color at just the right momentin your process to get the feeling you want. If you feel you really must change the color, I'd first try changing the color without changing the value.   Those sunset colors can be pretty intense. Too much white will kill the intensity. Too much change can shift the value (and/or color temperature) to the point that it throws off your whole design. It really is a dance.
• Don't be stingy with your paint. Many don't put enough paint out on their palette, and/or mix smaller piles of color than they'll really need. While I usually keep my shadow areas relatively thin, I can really load it on in the highlight areas.
• Be grateful for the stinkers. (I am still working on this one.) Nowadays, while I still indulge in a brief tantrum, I am more and more appreciating the duds, and how well they teach me. Each one gives fuel to the fire and helps to inform a future masterpiece :-)
• Time is of the essence, but remember, this is a process of both measured intent and spontaneous response. These two approaches may seem to be at odds, but really they can work in tandem. For me, they are easiest to apply if I can relax, have fun, and enjoy the moment.