The Big Reveal | Carolyn Hancock Blog

The Big Reveal | Carolyn Hancock Blog

Every painting has a story. Sometimes the story is obvious from the composition or the subject matter. But sometimes behind the scenes is not obvious, and the artist seldom gets to do the big reveal. 

I lived out of the country when I started painting. My preference even then was to paint people, and every one of the paintings originated from a trip to another country, a different culture. And behind every painting was a terrific story that would likely not be communicated.

A couple of weeks ago I was digging through links, tracking things I liked, when a restaurant photo stopped my fingers. What were those little circles, one on each item of food? I let the mouse float over the icon and, Wow! Fun idea. It was like a commercial, "I want one of those."

Old Halo is my first attempt with this new way of telling the story behind the painting. Give it a look and let me know if you like it. Click this link, give it a moment to load, then hover over or touch the icon. 

The Survivor, for at least 1200 years

The Survivor (at Shangri La, Orange, TX), Pastel, 9x12

Bob Rohm - what a great instructor he is. Very generous with his time, he unlocks little mysteries that surround landscape painting. While taking a workshop from him, I purchased his painting, Evening Color. It was an award winner, a landscape with a grouping of trees. The main tree, in the foreground, is rendered so believably that I truly feel I could reach around the tree. Bob used value and color with a mastery that is my gold standard for tree painting.

Landscape painting is a struggle, a constant string of what-if's. I try to make it about shapes, masses, light and shadow. As with any other subject, it takes lots of doing to get it right. So my summer is dedicated to the "lots of" painting landscapes. I love painting the sky: clouds with big color, soft clouds, dramatic ones and subtle ones, receding and directly above ones. I think I paint skies ok - but can I paint a tree I can reach around?

Shangri La in a little Texas town? Yes, it's a beautiful mix of botanical gardens and nature center, with a terrific history, in Orange, Texas. The boat tour down Adams Bayou drifts past a tree aged to perfection during its 1200 years. This tree of unbelievable beauty is the one I dared to paint, hoping to reach the bottom rung of the Rohm gold standard. Track the progress with these photos. In the first photo, small guide marks quarter the paper; this helps with initial drawing. The sun was behind the tree, so most of the beautiful yellow greens were obscured by the foliage.

Does the final painting make me feel the volume of this giant? And the main challenge - can I see AROUND the tree? 

Three money saving tools for pastel artists

I love saving money, especially when it gives me a new convenient tool! Try these inexpensive ideas.

1.  Prop your arm. I'm working close up on a portrait, on the eyes, with a pastel that almost has a point, trying to place one dab of color in just the right spot, and my arm slips. That beautiful lady now has inch thick mascara. Oops. 

With just a slight request, my husband created a perfect arm prop. His creative solution hooks over the back edge of the support - no touching of the pastel surface. The best part? It's cheap (free, if you have one on hand already) and quick to make. Just make a 180 degree curving bend in a flat curtain rod, like in the photo. The rod's surface is smooth against the arm and strong enough not to flex.

Hooked over the back of my support, the center of the easel keeps it from sliding. If I need to reposition it to the left side, I clip the support and nestle the prop against it - no sliding. When not in use, it hooks on the side of the easel frame, out of the way.

2.  Make a point. My new and improved homemade tool for sharpening pastel sticks or pencils, described on my Facebook post

3.  Scratch it out. That dab of soft pastel blobbed on too thickly? Gently touch it with a pushpin to remove excess. Layers of color look too thick to read as grass texture? Scratch lines through it with a pushpin. 

Plein Air First Timer

Painting en plein air. It conjures dread and anticipation at the same time - at least for those of us who are neither experienced nor well equipped. 

Planning for my first ever outing, I read lots of articles on plein air. How to dress (don't forget sunscreen and hat). What to take (keep it lightweight). What size painting (light moves fast so stay small). How to approach the actual painting (simplify and mass the big shapes). Don't forget the bug spray, umbrella and water.

My husband loaded my french easel (no, I don't have the modern, light tripod setup) and a cooler of water and lunch on our old-style metal luggage puller. An old backpack sufficed for holding paper, support, camera, cell phone and other can't-do-withouts. Pastels were snug inside the french easel drawer, and I was ready to go!

One could not ask for everything to be more perfect for a first-timer. The day was beautifully sunny, the wind just breezy enough. Elm Lake at Brazos Bend State Park held beauty in every direction, whether looking toward the water or back to the moss draped trees. I settled on the view overlooking the lake from the observation deck, next to Linda Dellandre (probably hoping some of her talent would flow my way!).

I was surprised how quickly the morning passed and how absorbed I actually was in the painting. And not tired! I don't know if this one trip will make a plein air painter out of this studio-only pastelist. But, surrounded by nature and the wonderful artist friends of Pastel Society of Southeast Texas, I can safely say it won't be the last.

The plein air painting ended with bold color and strong darks, creating an excellent underpainting for the completed studio painting of Elm Lake at Brazos. 

And my old fashioned setup and gear? Worked just fine!  

Before you go - sign up for my monthly newsletter, Scrumble: art, golf and travel, delightfully woven together.

A Year in 60 Seconds

Alter Ego: Grandma Red

Just 2 grandmas per family? Not anymore. I eventually became Grandma Red, named for our special, one-of-a-kind, couldn't ask for better, dog. He's small, handsome, everybody loves him.

So my page, Grandma Red Paints Small, is for small, pretty, everybody-will-love-them, paintings and thoughts. Enjoy.

For our Veterans

Remembrance, Pastel, 24x18

Honoring our veterans and all who serve in the military. Remembrance is a reflection of my personal feeling and those shared by all who visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC.