Non Materialistic Landscape Painting

I wrote this quite a few years ago: it still reflects some of my thoughts about landscape painting -  it will be my first entry on this new blog.  

In Rilke’s famous Letters to a Young Poet, he suggests that his student focus on simple themes from daily life. Anticipating the response that themes from daily life might lack interest he also says “If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it, blame yourself. Tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth it’s riches.” I often think of this statement as a plein air painter who tires of dragging art supplies around in search of the “right” view, yet does not want to work from photographs. There is so much that is intriguing in the art process itself. I don’t want to limit myself to the easily picturesque or to the materialistic satisfaction of creating my very own copy of a mountain.

Circumstances have limited my choices of a “view”. I think more in terms of composition and color than view. This began when I realized that as a teacher of plein air painting, I needed to keep doing my own work and remain available to my students at the same time. How to do this evolved out of necessity. I did not want to take our time outside by searching for the perfect spot for myself and all my gear, so I would usually plunk myself down in a convenient location near to where we parked our cars. From there I would demonstrate technical aspects of the assignment for the day. I have gotten better at this but it was always hard for me to bring a picture to completion in front of my students. It is such a personal process and it doesn’t often go in a predictable direction that leads to a timely demonstration.

Once my students were started on their own work, I would begin again on my own. Because I was where I had more or less just ended up, it took a search to find an arrangement of shapes and colors and space that captured my interest and imagination. I began to focus more and more on these abstract elements

and less and less on the mountain or the tree of the sky. Even in the dullest of views, the patterns that the darks of the shadows make in conjunction with the negative shapes can thrill.

Then it would be time to go off to my students’ easels; the teacher needs to look at what the student is looking at and give them feedback or ask questions.

Then back to my own easel. Some of my best pieces have come in a rush at the end of day when the light is low, dramatic and changing fast. I learned a lot about loosening up through teaching. No time to ponder; encountering a vivid aspect of the landscape and working with an intensity of focus to grab it before it was gone or before I was needed again led me towards a boldness I have begun develop with total commitment. The aspect that intrigues me, the dark silhouette of the primitive tree, next to the gleaming triangle of light on the water became the whole. No need to explain it further. Some of these pieces have been turning points for me and my students have caught some of the fire from witnessing the process. Forget about trying to capture the mountain as it is - you’ll never do it anyway and why should you? Look out the corner of your eye to what is really calling you!