Paint Like a Child

I belong to an artist's group, a plein-air virtual group whose majority lives on the East Coast. I live in North Idaho, more or less isolated from the culture of museums and art galleries except those dedicated more or less to Western Art. I envy the fact that on the East Coast, one can drive up to Baltimore or Philadelphia and visit a true art museum.

One of my inspiring friends in this small group wrote recently, "[I] sometimes get heavy handed when I do skies, especially sunsets, and end up scraping off the paint to start again. I think I will do a few sunsets with my new technique to see if I can restrain myself so that my clouds are not actually too heavy to float." She presented, as an example, one of the better renditions of a spring sky I've seen in a small plein-air painting.

Meanwhile I have paints and a white empty canvas sitting on an easel next to my desk. It's ready, but I'm not.

Another thoughtful of our group replied that, "Something that might be helpful, if you worry about flatness, is contrast - variety. Although our work differs greatly, we both, and everyone, can benefit from this manipulation of opposites. It is an aspect I am trying to improve right now to give life to my paintings. From subtle to startling, side-by-side extremes, light/dark, warm/cold, bright, dull, are great depth enhancers."

I'm not sure, by the painted example, that the first member was having the difficulty expressed by the second. I realized that everyone comes at art from their own point of view. If only I could find my point of view. I want to paint, but as yet haven't. Like a writer with writer's block. How did I get past that, so long ago? I have no sense of fear attacking a blank piece of paper with words. Why should I fear the canvas?

I commented how much I like the March sky I saw in the example painting, how she had caught somehow the essence of a mid-March sunset. I could even tell it was a sunset, not a sunrise. It was full of life, see for yourself. This particular painter, because she freely shares her plodding insights and art critic's eye as she visits the museums of my envy, has taught me more about approach than anyone else thus far. I appreciate that; but still my canvas remains empty.

Painter's block, I guess. When will it happen? What will I paint? How do I start?

Three of us banter back and forth over the internet, discussing contrast, scraping, and muddled paint. I feel muddled. Then over the pixel sky comes a virtual message with a mighty hint embedded. Aware that I might be struggling, the first painter writes saying, "I know you're in touch with your inner child [, Dwayne]. You should see my 5 year old great-niece attack a canvas. I try to learn as much as I can when I'm around her. She's worth more than a 1,000 stuffy rule books or boring pedantic formulas."

Suddenly the winter sky of grey opens up to a ray of light. I write back enthusiastically to share the insight handed to me in this child's image, "[the image] of your 5-year old grand-niece is picture perfect for the way in which I should approach my canvas, which is like a map of the North Pole in the middle of a summer storm. I can see myself going about it like this little girl. You're right, a rose may be a rose, but a line is intimidating. Picasso must have been nuts.

"Will I have fun painting? Of course I will. I haven't gone there precisely because I couldn't imagine how to approach the line. I did paint on the canvas, but I primed it...with all white primer! Amazing, huh?

"But you have just shown me how I must go about it. The risk isn't what shall I paint; it is what will become of the paint I put on the canvas? It could be anything. Anything I want it to be! And that's what your grand-niece does. She isn't bound by rules--we must break every rule--free up the spirit like [this woman's] grand-niece!

"That's when we catch the sky which is also free. Who can bind the sky? Who can put rules to the sky and say to this cloud or that cloud, 'you must be like this because all clouds are like this.'?"

Not one cloud is like another except by the fact that they float on currents of air. Ah, applaudir! (we play at French in this group) I am happy...[she has] given me a picture of what I couldn't find in all my desire!

I must approach it like a child.

###Dwayne K. Parsons