Blog

As people who know me are aware, I've had my own fair share of challenging moments in my life and this year, particularly this summer, has been quite the speed bump. Not so much for me directly, but a crisis for a close artist friend I've kept in touch with for many years who needed some help. More than a few times, the temptation to fold my tent for a while has seemed like the obvious solution, but in truth there really hasn't been anything to prevent me from getting to the easel other than a severe lack of time, energy and/or concentration. Just that! So I have kept at it when I could, and am glad I did. Although the garden is overgrown and unkempt, the cats are totally convinced they've been neglected and the house has had to get by with an occasional scurryfunge*, somehow the moments when I did make it to the easel have at least sometimes been a surprise in a good way. Granted that isn't a high bar right now. I'm never really attempting to reinvent the wheel, so to speak, but rather just trying to beat myself at my own game. Whether anybody else values them or not, those paintings that come out looking believable and accurate, yet also 'blown on in one puff', are the Holy Grail for me. I wouldn't have guessed that anything close to that would have come about during these past chaotic few months but I'll embrace moments of serendipity any time and any place I can find them.  One key I think to getting lucky with my paintbrushes is dropping all expectations of what the outcome might be other than giving my brain a few hours of relief from it's constant chatter. While it definitely helps to have put in decades of practice solving painting puzzles, relying on that alone to carry me through doesn't produce the results I'm after. I'm always still hoping to push the envelope a bit further and uncover a bit of magic.

Stumbling across a silver lining is what I sometimes refer to as 'reframing'. Reframing, in this sense, isn't welcoming the difficulties but rather backing away enough to get a different perspective and allowing for other possibilities and solutions to gain some traction. It works in much the same way as framing/reframing a painting where simply putting the object of one's vision in a different context will bring attention to or emphasize a different area of  the picture plane.

                                                       "Pansies in Amethyst Vase"    oil/linen    12x10 

                                                        This is recent attempt at capturing a favorite subject matter. I was

                                                        pleased with the simple, balanced composition but what was really

                                                        fun was the way I could almost hear the puzzle pieces click into place.

As far as framing actual paintings, I haven't written much on that topic because it's mostly just a personal taste thing. Well, that and a budget sort of thing since frames can be one of the most expensive additions to an artist's expenditures. Although I don't use up much energy trying to push my taste in frames on anybody, I definitely have some objectives I'm going for when considering how to frame my work. Within reason, I've always tried to put as much money into nice frames as I thought I could justify at the time. Many years ago this involved refinishing or building frames from scratch which is more difficult and time consuming than one might imagine, not to mention takes up a lot of room. Just in general, my belief has always been that a lot of gallery owners don't know that much about art beyond what they think they can and cannot sell, but almost all of them can pick out the most expensive frame. Sometimes that is the difference between whether a painting makes it onto the wall or not, so I have always tried to hedge my bets with the best frames I could afford. 

In general I prefer frames that are classic designs and avoid any that are more attention getting than the painting. To my eye, whatever color the frame is tends to bring out or echo that same color in the painting so that is often what dictates my preferences. Since I'm always trying to emphasize the focal point, I usually lean toward whatever color of frame will enhance that area of the painting.

Above are three options I happened to have in my in my frame inventory and all were made by Stephen Barnhill at AUFrames.com. Although any of these would be a solid choice,  I favor the warmer gold and even more so when viewing them in person rather than computer images. I like the way the ochre color brings out the yellow accents in the bouquet and also the subtle notes of purple in the background are more lively when surrounded by the warm notes in the frame.

"Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one." -- Stella Adler

* Scurryfunge -- to do a fast, frantic, and often superficial cleanup of a house when you see or know that guests are on their way. 

More than anything else, this journey of art seems like one of revealing knowledge about one's self. I don't mean that in a really fixed sense, as in 'I am this.' or  'I am that', but more about what sort of path your curiosity will take you on. The various twists and turns my artistic wanderings have followed certainly involved a bit of 'coloring outside the lines' so to speak.

A lot of the conventional wisdom about building a life centered around art is well documented and there's no shortage of books, articles, and courses on how to make it all happen. Probably that advice does pay off for some people but I'll present my experiences as a counterweight to that approach since in many respects the way I embarked on an art career wasn't planned out and wasn't the usual. Nonetheless it's been sufficient for me to do a little better than muddle along and sometimes it was the perfect path to be on, even though many around me might have questioned it.

 When I first started dipping my toes into the gallery business, I watched how other artists handled things and wondered in awe, how in the world I could ever get myself to model that same behavior. At the time I assumed those artists were the epitome of self-confidence but at this point I would probably say it was more like bluster. I'd hear stories of artists pointing to a wall of another person's work and telling the gallery owner they should take that artist's paintings down and put theirs up instead. Others would stop by a gallery where they were represented and go ballistic if they spotted any of their artwork on the floor. Those tactics seemed to achieve the effect they were hoping for...for a while anyway. It all seemed way past assertive in my book, yet still in the realm of what many people think of as being a savvy business person. Thinking that was the path to success in the art world filled me with angst. I loved painting, but the thought of playing nonstop hardball with the powers that be in the art world felt like it would require a total personality makeover.

Here's how I ended up handling those sorts of gallery interactions ... I didn't. It wasn't in my nature to aggressively confront anybody and it wouldn't have been a good fit for me. What I did all along instead was to paint the best paintings I could and frame them as well as I could afford to. I tried to be on time, easy to work with and have good boundaries --- common sense sort of stuff.  My motto was 'If you don't tell me how to paint, I won't tell you how to run your gallery'. If somebody did anything questionable when it came to dividing up a commission or paying on time, I packed up my paintings and went elsewhere, but that was seldom necessary because I was always pretty careful to do my homework about any gallery I was considering consigning my work with. I wasn't pushy but neither was I a pushover. As it turned out, being reasonable to work with wasn't such a bad strategy after all, since I've had comfortable relationships with the same galleries now for many decades. Eventually I also discovered that quite a lot of art sells off the floor. One gallery I was in for many years conducted business in their home and never displayed work for sale any other way. Paintings were either propped up on the seat of the couch or sitting on the floor and they made it work quite well. At the time I wasn't at all sure I was on the right path though, and if I had always measured my progress on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis, I would have likely given up early on.

Trusting yourself applies in the same way to learning to paint. If you don't have some idea of what your tastes are and the discipline to acquire the skills needed to follow your own creative instincts, then you are likely to get caught in the undertow of conflicting advice on how to become a better painter. While it's important to be humble enough to learn, there's also a certain amount of tenacity and self-awareness necessary to make that knowledge your own and say what you need to say. What a good teacher does for a student is teach them how to teach themselves, with the caveat that a skillful instructor can help speed up the process quite a bit. 

It can seem like a contradiction to keep pushing for more skills as a painter and yet to also hang onto that that childlike sense of creative adventure, but that is the challenge most of us accept. Speaking for myself, all of it is scrambled in there together --- leaning first one direction , then the other, and the balance seems to be different for each one of us. Some people just want to get their paints and go, while others need more intellectual challenge to stay entertained. Although I push students to keep building on their seeing skills, it's more a matter of wanting to give people their money's worth than any judgement on my part about what they do with those skills or how far they go once they acquire them. As long as somebody is putting in the effort and trying to follow their own voice then I'm all for it. By the way, that's how my teachers were with me. They pushed me to go as far as I could as long a I was studying with them, (and to the point of tears sometimes), but never said a whole lot about my paintings one way or the other after I went off and started experimenting on my own. Fifty plus years of painting later, I still very much feel like a student, and am always fidgeting to figure out the way forward.

"We are not here to do what has already been done." -- Robert Henri  The Art Spirit

"The more you learn, the more you realize how little you know." -- Socrates

       Usually the most favorable mindset for doing paintings I'm happy with will involve having no expectations whatsoever. Once I've created an arrangement that is visually inspiring and I can't wait to pick up my brushes, my next priority is to try my best not to get attached to any results. It's counterintuitive and not easy to stay in that place, especially as I accumulate more areas I'm satisfied with. I end up having to let go of the results over and over again in the sure knowledge that the best way to bomb out is holding on too tightly. Thankfully, most of the time painting isn't like sports or theater where it's all done out in public with a crowd watching. More often than not, what goes on in the studio is more like the proverbial sausage making that it's really better not to see. Scraping and repainting, removing or adding objects, pacing, staring and a fair amount of recreational eating can all be part of getting to a finished product. To me, every painting is a puzzle I'm trying to solve and even when it's a subject I've painted many times before, only rarely do the pieces all fit together in a seamless fashion. It's exhilarating when that happens, but outside of practicing a lot I don't know of a way to nurture totally spontaneous outcomes that I'm consistently pleased with. As the saying goes --the more you practice, the luckier you get.

       I'm sure I wasn't as fond of the adventurous side of art when I was first learning to paint, although at 16 I'm not sure I had any thoughts at all about what direction I wanted to go. All I knew was that I had found teachers who gave me some concrete steps I could take to achieve the realistic results I aspired to. That isn't to say the outcomes I hoped for came easy, but just that there was some knowledge that put them within reach. The schools I attended followed a controlled and academic approach developed by an illustrator named Frank J. Reilly. You can find more about Reilly and his teaching methods at this link -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_J._Reilly. My first teachers had both studied directly with him but the school he had established was no longer around by the time I began studying painting. In retrospect, it was very fortunate to have stumbled across a method which provided an ideal structure for learning how to observe, and a system for understanding the various properties of pigments.

     In other areas of my life like cooking or traveling, I've always been comfortable with a looser approach so perhaps it was inevitable that I eventually gravitated to a way of painting that left space for more adventurous outcomes. At any rate, looking back on it it feels like the changes in my painting over the years followed a natural progression. Always I've been fascinated with capturing light and form as well as interesting surface textures , and doing all of that in a way that appears effortless. While this was hardly the easiest thing to aspire to, looking back on the way painting evolved for me over the years, I'm grateful I managed to continue listening to my inner voice.

     This brings up an issue I think most people don't anticipate when it comes to the art business or even the non-art related areas of life.It's not the simplest thing to jump into a competitive arena and still keep listening to that inner voice.  As far as I'm concerned, the fun stuff all happens in these unscripted moments of serendipity so the challenge is to maintain a balance between the various demands on one's time and those things that keep painting an adventure. More people involved in the outcome translates into more pressure, so it takes a strong will on the part of the artist to guard whatever creative time and space they need to ultimately achieve the results they are hoping for. Sometimes that effort can seem like, at best, a self-indulgent luxury -- especially when the work isn't going well or feeling very productive.

      While there's a lot of luck involved finding a path and sticking to it, certainly I had my share of detours along the way. Still, what I ended up doing more or less follows the general advice I would give to any student; Find a teacher, or several teachers (preferably one at a time) who can help you become fluent in 'seeing' skills. Some people manage to figure out a way to teach these skills to themselves but a good teacher can often help speed up the process. It's also nice to just have the moral support from somebody who understands the difficulty of what you are trying to accomplish. Once the habit of trusting the visual information and making comparisons becomes established, that is when you can begin the journey of listening to yourself and figuring out how you want to go about expressing yourself using that knowledge. 

"Your style is the way you talk in paint." --- Robert Henri 

"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." -- Oscar Wilde

        February being the short month that it is, I decided to repost a blog first published about a year and a half ago. It echoes many of the the thoughts I've had recently though, and hopefully others can find some helpful reminders as well. Looking to examples of artists who came before me is one way I've found to help keep things in perspective when uncertainty becomes more than a bit too much. Many of the artists from the past had lives that were far from ideal, yet they managed to find moments of respite within their creativity. This post  features one of my all time favorite painters -- John Singer Sargent. At the bottom of this page I've added a listing for several exhibitions of his work that will be coming up in 2025. 

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 ART AND EQUANIMITY

(April 27-August 3, 2025) 

https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/sargent-and-paris://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/sargent-and-paris

A catalogue for this show is available now for preorder, to be shipped April 29,2025.

https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9781588397959/sargent-and-paris/://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9781588397959/sargent-and-paris/

Sargent The Paris Years (1874-1884) (Same exhibit as above in a different location)

  Musée d’Orsay , Paris

(September 22, 2025-January 11,2026)

https://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/whats-on/exhibitions/sargent-paris-years-1874-1884

Heiress: Sargent's American Portraits

Kenwood in Hampstead, London

(May 16 -- October 5, 2025)

https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/about/search-news/pr-english-heritage-announces-john-singer-sargent-exhibition-for-2025-at-kenwood/

       At some point, maybe a few decades ago, I decided the potential for publicly making a boo-boo is probably less harmful to the creative process than being hyper-focused on what others might think. There was a time I wouldn't have even considered putting out artwork without first getting someone's opinion, and yet today almost nobody sees my paintings until I drop them off at a gallery or post them on my website. For better or worse, they are my creations and if I'm pleased with the results it feels important to stand by that. It's not that I don't stop and question all the way through the painting process but too much second-guessing or too many voices chiming in can certainly spoil a promising start.

      The advice to place such an emphasis on one's own judgement probably sounds contradictory coming from somebody who has done as much teaching as I have, but to me, to believe otherwise would reflect a misguided notion of what teaching is all about. It was my good fortune to have found instructors who understood the goal for me as a student was not to memorize a bunch of rules and techniques but rather to learn how to teach myself.  That was the only real path to finding the answers I needed if I had hopes of doing anything original. At the time I would have been happy to just be told how to imitate what my teachers were able to do with paint but in the long run, a focus on that alone would have been a disservice to both me and them. As painful as it was, questioning and a willingness to make mistakes was an essential part of the process of learning to paint in my own voice. I'm grateful to have stumbled across instructors who had a clear understanding of this and who were patient with my growing pains. 

      Overall, artists are nice and sensitive people but the business can be pretty competitive and egos do get in the way, so over the years I've just learned to be cautious about who I solicit feedback from. I'm also reluctant about giving feedback aside from classroom situations where that's clearly what people have signed up for. Gallery owners, collectors, family, friends, neighbors and even random strangers can be very free with advice on what other people are creating. Cats probably have an opinion too, but mercifully they keep it to themselves. With my own work I typically place more value on input from non-artists because they're less focused on technique or whatever and seem better able to spot errors like unplanned figures, faces or animals. However, in my effort to get into the kind of 'zone' where I do my best and most focused work, painting by committee just has never been a good fit for me. Accordingly, commission aren't something I do either. A lot of artists thrive on feedback and commissions though, so my intention isn't to discourage someone from what's working for them but merely to point out that everybody is different and that's OK. This is more about giving a word of support to those who sometimes feel out of the loop and assure them they're not as alone as they might assume. In reading about some of my favorite painters throughout history, I've noticed there's there's really no shortage of those who were blessed with a quirky independent streak , so I can't think this is a totally bad thing. 

    In conclusion I would just say that feedback can go either way, depending on the artist and how it affects them or the motivations of the person who is offering their opinion. There are times I've suggested to people that they go get their own set of paints and follow the advice they're so certain about on their own painting. Other times I've been grateful I checked with somebody who had a fresh eye and could see something I hadn't spotted. Either way, it's important to acknowledge that pleasing everyone isn't an option and that any creative efforts , no matter how carefully vetted, will involve missteps. In the midst of all the noise out there, it's not always easy finding the right balance, but checking in with my state of mind and whatever it is that keeps me painting has given me the perspective to, above all else, listen to and follow my own path.

"Many things that come into the world are not looked into. The individual says 'My crowd doesn't run that way.'

I say, don't run with crowds."  --- Robert Henri  The Art Spirit

"It's time you realized that you have something in you more powerful and miraculous than the things that affect you and make you dance like a puppet."  -- Marcus Aurelius

This topic is something that's been on my mind a lot lately but the words haven't come easy. The question comes up often  --- How does a person acknowledge the suffering and sadness going on in the world without becoming completely overwhelmed? It's a temptation when seeing something horrific and no solutions in sight to totally turn away and yet that can be counter-productive as well. So, what is the answer?

I'm not sure artists, regardless of how well they paint, should be looked up to as life coaches. As a group they are often just as clueless about life as everyone else. That having been said, I can share my experiences with the healing power of creativity. While there are a number of things I credit for helping me navigate life's rough patches, painting has certainly been an anchor I've returned to again and again. I'm always painting of course, but sometimes the pause in the noise it provides takes on a new urgency. There are so many times when concentration seems elusive if not impossible, yet when I can overcome the resistance to getting started, nothing is ever better for realigning my brain cells in some sort of working order.

During these moments of feeling untethered, I'm reminded of the artists who, in spite of the circumstances around them, kept on working as best they could. John Singer Sargent painted throughout WWI and in addition to his other work, produced some amazing commissions for the Imperial War Museum. You can see some of those paintings and read more about his experiences during those years at  https://www.artinsociety.com/rose-marie-ormond-sargentrsquos-muse-and-ldquothe-most-charming-girl-that-ever-livedrdquo.html . Winston Churchill was famous for discovering painting as a way to cope with the pressures of serving as the Prime Minister to the United Kingdom during the second world war. No doubt most artists throughout history have had their moments of hopelessness and fear and yet in their drive to perhaps simply make it through the day, somehow still managed to create some of the world's most treasured works of art. 

                                                 "Nonchaloir" ("Repose") painted in 1911 by John Singer Sargent 

                                                 The model for this painting was Rose-Marie Ormond, the daughter of Sargent's sister Violet.

                                                  Rose-Marie, (as well as this cashmere shawl) can be identified in many of his other paintings.

                                                  In 1918, toward the end of WWI, Rose-Marie was killed when a bomb fell on the Church of St.

                                                  Gervais in Paris where she had gone to attend a concert.

      I came to the conclusion some time ago that art is supposed to be connected to my life and my emotions, the good and the bad,  so I try to aim for some sort of equanimity. That doesn't mean I've started doing paintings depicting the things I'd prefer to turn away from but I'm not trying to pretend they aren't there either. Putting life on hold waiting for conditions to improve is tempting too, but not really much of an option. While art has been a wonderful way to keep myself entertained and has also functioned to pay the bills most of the time, far and away the greatest benefit I get from painting is simply staying sane, or what more or less passes for sanity at my house. No miracles, but as a coping device it's one of the best I've found. Looking around, I can't help but think more people would be better off if they had something in their life that functioned in this way for them. The key thing I believe, is to make sure it's enough of an adventure or challenge to really get lost in the process.  Depending on the circumstances, it may be best to set aside the results for the time being and to use whatever medium is the easiest to pick up and get started with. I've known of people who found working with adult coloring books to be a real benefit and I think that's great. Whatever works. Getting lost in the world of shapes and color and practicing eye/hand coordination doesn't necessarily require a lot of expense or uninterrupted blocks of time. Engaging your curiosity and making room for play is the important thing  ---just you and your art.  

"Like a sea-beast fished up from the depths, or a diver too suddenly hoisted, my veins threatened to burst from the fall in pressure. I had great anxiety and no means of relieving it....And then it was that the Muse of Painting came to my rescue ---out of charity and out of chivalry.... --- and said, "Are these toys of any good to you? They amuse some people."   -- Winston Churchill  Painting as a Pastime

"If men had postponed the search for knowledge and beauty until they were secure, the search would never have begun."  --- C.S. Lewis

    In my recent newsletter I mentioned a few of the obstacles to concentration that have popped up in my life recently. That seemed to hit a chord with some readers and indeed I think it's a fairly universal issue. Sometimes these bumps in the road get resolved quickly but other times, when they drag on for a while or too many plates start to fall at the same time, it can definitely be a challenge to pick up where you left off even when getting back to the easel is your fondest wish. Speaking for myself, nothing realigns my brain cells in their proper order quite like painting but that doesn't mean I won't drag my feet at the daunting prospect of getting myself back up to speed.

         The solutions are probably as varied as the motivations people have for why they create art to begin with, so keep this in mind when I talk how I deal with these situations. Also, whatever has benefitted me in the past doesn't necessarily work today so this is definitely not a one size fits all type of advice. First of all, I should explain that I consider myself to be a recovering perfectionist and I think a lot of other artists struggle with this as well. That one characteristic explains a lot of the resistance I have to getting back to painting after an extended interruption. I'm afraid I won't be able to please myself, hate the idea that I might get interrupted again, feel like I should make up for lost time, have lots of other chores to do, etc., etc. What I've learned after dealing with this so many times is that the volume of all of that chatter will drop quickly once I switch off the judge-y, perfectionist mindset and reengage my creative, adventurous side.  To do that, my go-to technique is to trick myself. I lower the bar of expectations to as close to zero as I can get it and tell myself I'm just going to go in the studio to do whatever --- make some shapes or get some brushes wet. Sometimes I just start stretching canvas. When I can relax my mind and start fiddling around with all of my art stuff,  I will almost invariably notice a group of objects creating a visual interest or spot an old study I had given up on. The ideas start trickling in. I think of it as just listening but it's pretty similar to the mindset I had when I set out to make mud pies as a kid. (If you weren't allowed to make mud pies as a kid, by all means, work toward giving yourself permission now!) That's when curiosity and a spark of adventurousness takes over. At that point it can still be easy to slip back into a dialog in my head about the things I'm expecting of myself , the things I hope to accomplish or things I imagine other people are expecting of me but the discipline is to not bite the hook and indulge those tangents that will lead me back away from the creative, playful space I'm trying to gain access to. Sometimes this can involve a lot of fits and starts but once I'm really in that 'zone' or whatever you want to call it, it's never a problem staying there for the day so I focus all of my attention on just getting started.  Everything flows from that and most of the creative or break-though ideas I've ever had have come from being in that space of curiosity. In my experience, inspiration follows the effort rather than the other way around.

    While I'm always very appreciative to be one of the lucky ones who have been able to make painting a profession, it can be sort of a double-edged sword when it comes to motivation. Too much pressure isn't great and neither is too little, but rarely is it evenly balanced. When my goal is, as Hawthorne would say, to be 'humble before nature', the noise generated by the ups and downs of the art business and just the art scene in general, can be overwhelming -- more like a deafening roar. Urging myself to 'hurry up and be spontaneous' is a contradiction hard to wrap my head around. While having commitments off in the distance can be a nudge in getting myself to move past creative blocks, if I let that timeline get too short it's the very opposite. That's just me though. I've seen many artists who seem to adore the adrenaline rush of missing a deadline. At any rate, I try to keep business and creativity as separate as I can and not confuse the two.

      What I've settled into for myself isn't a confidence boosting pep talk nor a stern drill sergeant lecture on willpower. Those might work in the short run but don't have a lot of staying power because they aren't very fun, involve elements that are beyond my control and seldom produce the kind of results I'm hoping for. Instead, when sanity beckons I go to the studio and it's more like that old saying ---just get in there and do something even if it's wrong. No waiting for a grand idea. No talent test I have to pass. No need to justify what I'm doing. If I'm creating with a curious state of mind then I'm adding my 2 cents to this age old practice we call art. At the same time I'm minding my own business and not bothering anybody else, which in my opinion the world could use a lot more of. With practice and some awareness of intrusive and unhelpful thought patterns, it becomes easier to make the leap to that creative space. From there, it might be bliss, tear-my-hair out frustrating, or anything in-between, but I always feel better for having made the effort and it's never boring.

      The technique I've outlined above is all about maneuvering myself toward facing a blank canvas but I have a slightly different twist when working on a piece that needs correction or some finishing touches. I always tell myself to never make any one painting too precious, but still, a lot of time, energy and materials will have gone into a piece that I'm in the process of completing, which can make the prospect of investing more time and energy even more intimidating. This is never my favorite part of the painting process, but again, once I get going and my curiosity kicks in, it's pretty easy to stay with it. What I always do is concentrate first on the areas that I'm certain I want to make changes on. If an object needs more definition or looks wonky, that gets dealt with first. If several areas need tweaking I tackle them in the order of their proximity to the center of interest. At this point, the paint is usually dry and I take it one stroke at a time. If a stroke doesn't feel right I'll put some medium on a cloth or paper towel and carefully blot or wipe it back off. Painstaking work to be sure, but if instead I started out diving head first into a relatively unimportant area because that seemed safer somehow, I could easily disrupt the balance of relationships and end up more or less repainting the entire canvas. Usually that doesn't work well for me and isn't a good look. On the other hand, by going first for the areas I'm certain I want to adjust, some of the less prominent areas of the painting I was on the fence about often end up needing a lot less attention or possibly none at all. In practice all of this is less organized and messier than it probably sounds as I'm trying to explain it but basically, when in doubt, I return to the center of interest and retrace my steps relating everything from there. I try to stop at the minimum changes necessary to call it a finished piece and put it away to look at again later with a fresh eye. Alternatively, I might hang the piece up somewhere that it can catch my peripheral vision so rather than staring at it until my eyes cross, in a sense I try to recreate the effect of of first impressions. If something repeatedly jumps out when the painting pops into my range of vision then I'll make further adjustments, but I don't attempt to force the process all at once unless there's an immediate deadline coming up. 

      One further suggestion for anyone feeling stuck is to pick up a copy of Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland. It's a small paperback that can be stashed in your paint box. The classics Hawthorne on Painting  and The Art Spirit are also great to keep nearby for moral support --- the type of books where artists can turn to almost any page and find something they need to hear.

     Above all, pay attention to what actually works for you. Not what you think should work, but what actually ignites that spark and makes you to want to keep following it. 

              "The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable."

                                                                          --- Robert Henri , The Art Spirit