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   One of the surprising things when getting questions from artists and students is the sometimes shocking recognition of how my approach to painting has inevitably evolved over the years. No doubt at some point I was asking similar questions of my teachers, but I really can't recall just when some of those 180 degree turns in my thinking might have come about.  Often someone will ask me to list the order in which to paint various objects within a composition and especially in regard to backgrounds. Although it's probably not possible to shift somebody's thought process in a single email reply, I try my best to at least plant a seed in the direction of getting people to approach observing the subject, less in terms of 'things' (i.e. flower, leaves, background) and more in terms of which notes coming together (colors, values, shapes and edges) will be the most useful in building a strong foundation for the rest of the composition.

    When starting a new painting, my priority is establishing the visual signposts that will help me make comparisons easily --lightest light, darkest dark, hardest edge. In an arrangement of flowers, I will focus on a primary flower or group of flowers and then notes of whatever is touching the edges of that flower. This gives me clear parameters as to how the pigments I'm working with will be capable of translating the subject in front of me, and I then have something solid to relate the rest of the painting to. If leaves are behind the flower, I put in a note of the leaves. If background is behind the flower I put in a note of the background. If both are touching the flower then I will paint both. Whatever will help me establish key notes to relate to is what I paint first. My focus is so much on these initial spots of color, the edges they create, and getting them accurate, that I think I've almost disabled the part of my brain that knows or cares whether, for example, a spot of green behind a flower is a stem, a leaf, a vase, a bottle, or part of the background. If it's there in my field of vision I simply try to get the effect of those 2 notes coming together as closely as I am able, given the materials I have to work with. Once I can see clearly how those initial choices will appear on my canvas, then I have something to define specific shapes with. Spots of color first, objects second. Why? Because if I try to paint what my brain thinks is there and I let it go with it's preconceived ideas, the notes of paint won't have the same sparkle of light, depth and overall unity that I'm hoping to achieve. In a typical start, I indicate some notes of the background as I'm establishing the edges of the objects, but will often fill in the rest of the background toward the end when I have a better idea of what will work best to balance or compliment the rest of the painting.

   Learning to think and observe in this way can also be a game changer in the area of composition. When I'm trying to set up an arrangement, a lot of my attention is on making sure things will read well --- defining enough key areas of the silhouettes to make them distinct and recognizable to the viewer but also planning for other areas where the outlines of the objects are obscured and not so distinct. Those areas where things blur together can always be found where the values are closest. I want every object to be a part of the conversation -- readable enough that the viewer has no trouble telling what they are,  yet connected enough to everything else that they become part of the whole.

"Starting with a note of truth in a picture is the important thing -- the first color you put down influences you straight through. Do not put things down approximately -- you will take a wrong thing and unconsciously key everything to it, making it all false." -- Charles Hawthorne

"The artist must never forget that he is dealing with the entire canvas, and not with any one section of it. Regardless of what he sets out to paint, the problem remains one and the same. With his own creative originality, he must fill in his canvas and make of it an organic whole." --- Nicolai Fechin

       Recently I've been drawing my cats, who in the winter are always begging me to sit with them on the studio floor and play kitty games anyway. Just looking in their direction counts as attention it seems, so when they take a break I grab my pen and paper. The goal isn't to create great works of art or develop studies to work into a painting, but the way I go about it is not only a lot of fun, but also a huge help in keeping my vision fluent in the language of shapes.

      What I'm actually practicing is putting down the negative shapes and not the cats themselves. Anytime your brain can't get out of it's own way there is always another approach to solving a puzzle and from a strictly artistic point of view, paying attention to the shapes around an object, rather than the object itself is the best workaround I can think of. This concept can be applied to virtually anything but in a lot of cat poses, one of the most distinctive and easy to see shapes is formed by the space behind their ears. The easiest shapes to see will always be the easiest get on the canvas or paper correctly so that's what I head for right away.For an in depth explanation of negative shapes and why they can be so useful, check out my June 2023 blog Foreshortening and Negative Shapes. 

                                             Getting the initial shape down correctly is the first step and then it's a matter of relating 

                                             all of the other shapes to it -- ideally before the model moves. Keep in mind that both of

                                             these cats are 'tripods' so it's not necessarily my fault if they don't look normal -- one is

                                             missing a front leg and the other a hind leg.

                                                     .      

                                                On this first image you can see several starts with the shape behind the ears before

                                                Callie settled into a pose. Even though working in this way results in little more than

                                                a simple silhouette, I think these quick doodles capture their moods and gestures

                                                as well or better than I might with a more finished out drawing.

                                              Focusing on negative shapes can be invaluable for working with any object in any medium.

                                              This telescope provided an excellent array of shapes to relate to one another. While painting

                                              has more elements than just getting the shapes right, the practice and discipline of observing

                                              relationships between notes of colors and values is exactly the same as it is for shapes.

Here's a few pointers for any of you who would like to try this at home:

1) To get started, grab a pen or pencil and paper and draw one of the first shapes you see. If the object moves a lot or you find yourself starting to invent things, begin again.

2) Envision a square (box) around the object and make a note of where the farthest points would be touching the sides. (for an illustration of this concept, see the March 2022 archived blog post On Painting Lilies and scroll to the bottom of the page.)

3) Look for areas of contrast that are easy to see and strong geometric shapes like triangles. Anything clear and easy to see will help you get a good foundation to build on. 

4) I can't speak for everyone, but if your brain keeps blathering away about what a dumb thing it is to spend time looking at negative shapes then you are probably on the right track. Just keep going and try not to worry about the results.

As someone who loves logic, I will admit that it doesn't make sense to focus on one shape over another when the line between them is exactly the same. Apparently the reason the negative shapes are easier to see accurately is due to the way we store information. Our brains will usually have some sort of picture image attached to any name or verbal description --like 'cat' for example. Often this visual symbol isn't all that sophisticated and maybe more like a cartoon cat you might have drawn in kindergarten, but it's there nonetheless. Your eye and hand want to do one thing and your brain wants to stick with it's archived image. When focusing on an abstract shape without any name attached to it, there is no preconceived idea in your head of what that shape will be, which makes it easier to see as an artist does and put down the visual information that is actually in front of you. 

"Get your spots in their right place and your lines precisely at their relative angles."  -- John Singer Sargent

       So many lessons --both in art and in life! It feels like I'm a slow learner because most of the things I 'know' came about through lots of repetition, and just catching myself over and over and over again. I can remember hearing my teachers explain something and thinking 'Aha! Now I've got it!!' But much to my dismay, those revelations would all too often get shoehorned out of the way by some other bit of knowledge I was trying to grasp. With enough persistence I could eventually absorb the lessons of that particular concept and move on, but at its best, learning for me has always been two steps forward and one back. 

         In art school I recognized that some people had knowledge I didn't possess but I had no idea how in the world to acquire it. One student in particular, who I thought to be very good, would come up behind me and say "You're just not seeing it." and I wanted to scream ---- I know.... but, I'm not seeing WHAT!?  This was before I learned that some people stumble across seeing skills when they're fairly young and although they can do it, they can't or perhaps don't even want to articulate how they got there. Those people get labeled as 'talented' and for all I know they are, but the basic steps of what they are doing can definitely be taught and learned. This is why, in my teaching I try my best to point out specific examples in helping people retrain their eyes, but it's still a slow, deliberate process. Not easy, but doable. 

        Somewhere along the way I discovered that it wasn't just my teachers who were talking about the need to develop seeing skills. Without exception when I've been able find quotes about learning or teaching from artists I admire, there's been this familiar refrain emphasizing the importance of seeing skills. From Chardin to Sargent, lots of incredible artists in-between and since, the advice has been consistent-- seeing, seeing, seeing. 

       What's really the biggest advantage in learning to see is that along with it, you can discover paths to grow in ways that make sense for your unique voice. Rather than your art education being a series of lessons to memorize on how to paint mountains, how to paint tulips, how to paint owls or lighthouses, it is all simplified into how to observe what is actually there and then how best to use your materials in capturing that vision. Once you crack the code you can study the work of anyone you admire and at least have an understanding of what they did to achieve those effects. That's not to say a good teacher can't still inspire and help speed up the learning process but you have the tools to figure it out on your own and that's a far better feeling than being totally in the weeds and hoping against hope that the secret to painting lies in the most recent handful of brushes you splurged on. You can also learn from paintings you don't like and that can give you insight into your own tastes. Instead of looking at a painting and just saying, 'Well, I don't like that.', I try to look past the surface and determine exactly what I don't like about it-- stopping to study for a moment and noting  'Oh yeah, I don't especially care for that color combination' or 'That object leaning to the side feels like it's about to fall over.' It's easier to spot these things in somebody else's work and analyzing in depth can give you insights into things to avoid or directions you might want explore in your own work.

       Seeing isn't something you either do or not, but rather a sensitivity to nuances and big relationships that for the most part the average person isn't aware of. There are other things that go into painting such as design and technique but in my opinion, people give more weight to those things than they should. Focusing on acquiring the difficult seeing skills that many want to skip over can set one's work apart from the crowd. From there, developing a sense of technique and composition can flow from a natural curiosity and exploration of one's own personal preferences. 

       If I could give any student just one gift, it would be the ability to see within the context of how an artist processes visual information. In terms of building blocks, seeing skills are the foundation. Always evolving ---seeing more clearly is a discipline that can go as far as the artist is willing to take it. Literally, a lifetime of entertainment. That skill  -- to be able to analyze what is really in front of us unclouded by what we think or assume is there, is really the key to being able to teach ourselves. And that one key has been invaluable to me in opening the door to better self-expression, not to mention a much greater appreciation of the beauty in the world around me.

"Your ability to see is your tools of the trade; nothing else matters. Beautiful seeing is the desideratum. Remember, when you hear people say they can see a thing but not do it that they cannot really see it. If they did, they could do it even if they put the paint on with their fingers." --- Charles Hawthorne, Hawthorne on Painting