Speaking of Art Blog

I took a really valuable pastel workshop this past weekend from Susan Henshaw on learning how to render waves, still water, and everything H2O. It was so much fun.   What I appreciated about Susan’s teaching method is that she not only taught us the technical stuff, but she also talked frequently about her behind-the-scene methodology, like when she nears the finish line of a new creation. Many times art workshop instructors run out of time for that sort of discussion, but it can be very helpful to students. 

I was able to completely identify with one thing Susan emphasized, and that is to let a painting set for a spell once you think you’re done. It’s important to look at it at different times of the day and in different light, back away from it, and pore over every inch, making sure each and every edge and shape and color are exactly the way you want them to be. Time to refine, refine, refine. 

Years ago as I put what I thought was the final stroke in place on a painting or drawing, I used to declare to my husband that I was, “Done”. But then after that point, I’d take it out of my downstairs studio and set it on my china cabinet upstairs, in different light, and inevitably I’d find little things I’d need to tweak. This would go on sometimes for days, with me poking at it, studying it as I walked through the dining room, finding just one more thing that needed fixing, again and again. After a while with watching many, many instances of this happening, my husband coined a new term—either my artwork was “Done” or it was finally “Done Done”, which meant it was REALLY FINALLY finished and ready to go in a frame.

What I came to realize was that, similar to Susan’s experience and advice, the time between the Done stage and the Done Done stage, when it’s setting on my china cabinet, is actually a very valuable time. Because even if I’m not consciously working on it for most of a day, my subconscious IS. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve casually walked past a Done painting setting on my china cabinet, and it’s as if a minor little flaw or necessary tweak leaps out at me and makes itself glaringly apparent to me. And yet a minute before I hadn’t even noticed it and I wasn’t even thinking about my painting at all!

OK, so when that happens, what do I do? Well, it depends. If it’s a minor tweak or stroke that is needed (which is most of the time) I have a very small subset of my pastels setting on a paper towel right at the base of my painting, ready to be used. They are usually the most basic colors I’m using in that painting. If it’s something that needs more art supplies, then I’ll pick up my board and head back downstairs to my easel in my studio. Either way, the little fixes don’t take long, and then I’m back to basically ignoring the piece until something else jumps out at me.

I like to compare that time to making a pot of soup. Even after all the ingredients are in the pot, the really good taste results only when the ingredients are left to simmer on the stove for a while. Same with that in-between time on my china cabinet, between the Done (ingredients are in the pot) and the Done Done (simmering is complete, the flavors have melded, my kitchen smells heavenly, and I’m ready to serve it up).

I found it very reassuring to hear Susan tell all of us in her workshop that she also needs time to study, ponder, and let things simmer in her mind before declaring about her artwork, “It is truly finished now (or Done Done, according to my husband). Time for a frame.”