"I never consider these studies as drawings. All I'm doing is thinking with my pencil and brush. ...There would have been a time when I would have made hundreds of close, methodical, even oddly dull drawings of an object when I was learning to catch a subject off balance. And slowly, one learns to know anatomy, to know structure, proportion, perspective, when to modify, when not to, when to exaggerate, when to thin down. These are all things an artist should train himself to do so that at the right moment, the decisive moment, one is there to catch it, whether it's imaginary or graphically right there in front of you."
Andrew Wyeth
1976
I think Andrew Wyeth said it best when he described his sketches and studies as a way of thinking with his pencil and brush.
I remember the first hardcover sketchbook I tried to work with when I was maybe 10 or 12. It was a beautiful book, a piece of art in itās own right. But I was so intimidated with it, thinking that only the finest art creation would be good enough. And being that it was hardcover, any failure would be with me forever. So I chose to rip out pages that didnāt work out and the book eventually slimmed down to essentially a front and back cover. It got put away somewhere and was forgotten or ignored.
That was a long time ago, but I finally came to terms with sketchbooks and began to use them as a way of thinking with pencil and brush and working through ideas. Often, the sheet of paper was a mess, essentially indecipherable to anyone but me, sometimes a few smudges of color and lines with a few penciled notes like a visual shorthand. But other times the sketch or study might have an immediacy, freshness and wholeness that allowed it to stand on its own, sometimes more so than the 'finished painting' following it.
Presently, my āsketchbookā is really an old canvas shoulder bag that is the perfect size for a few sketchbooks, several cut up sheets of cotton watercolor paper, a few pencils, brushes and tubes of watercolors and a container of water.
This sketch was painted on a sheet of bristol plate finish, the type of paper I usually use with my drawings. I was ready to begin with my pencils, when at the last minute I decided to sketch the scene with watercolor. It's a wild picture but one I've grown to like more and more, partly I suppose, because it takes me back to the moment I painted it. Everything about it is in the moment.
What a special place Whatcom Falls Park is.Ā Located in Bellingham, Washington, it is a short walk or drive for most local residents to enjoy. There is enough subject material here to last a lifetime for a landscape painter.
Detail of The Headland 3.5x14.5
Some scenes out on the Puget Sound and Salish Sea. The Headland Face is another rough and wild quick sketch but is one I especially like.
Finding a scene to paint can be a little like fly-fishing for brook trout. It sometimes takes a bit of quiet time before you know if there is anything out there worth pursuing. After a while you might notice a 'hatch' of caddis flies or midges and little whirlpools from the trout feeding at the surface. Or you might notice an idea for a sketch that you missed earlier. That's only half the story. You still might get 'skunked' either way, try as you might.
There is something about the first snow of the season that inspires me to paint. The colors of the scene lie on the snow like colors on a fresh sheet of watercolor paper. I had just returned home from hiking the field and I sat down and painted the scenes from memory, a method of drawing and painting that I enjoy very much. It forces me to observe and remember as best I can,Ā to think about why I like a particular scene, and it frees me from being too literal.
This group of quick sketches is an example where sometimes just putting the brush to paper is what it takes for me to get the ball rolling. The sketches started with a few earth colors like burnt and raw umber and yellow ochre. Then some cerulean blue was added to another sketch for the distant skyline. Then I added a mix of french ultramarine blue and burnt umber along the horizon line for distant trees. Then a few scrapes on the wet foreground to suggest some tall grass.
Eventually, these sketches evolved into the final 'First Snow' sketch with the distant plow furrows and 'First Snow, Crows Over a Winter Field'.
This description might seem as though it was all planned and very methodical. The reality was that, like a kid with a brush and a Prang set of watercolors, I just enjoyed the act of putting a juicy brush full of color onto a big sheet of paper. It's one of the things I like about having a sketchbook or a sketchbook attitude sometimes. It's a personal moment.
The American Cancer Society uses daffodils as a symbol for hope and resilience in the face of cancer. In a way of remembering friends and family lost or still fighting the battle, my wife always brings a few bunches of daffodils home and to her place of work every spring.
It's a welcome sight to see the cheerful flowers brightening up the house after long winter months. There is something about the color yellow that I especially enjoy using that time of the year. A little bit of sunshine on paper.