Do The Minimum...

…is something I say alot when I’m talking about my own painting philosophy.

What do I mean by “do the minimum”?

As always when it comes to articulating a concept in art there’s more to it than first meets the eye - I realise that I need to organise my jumbled thoughts into some kind of coherency that I can use to describe in words what I mean.

Words are hard!

I admire those that write well and speak just as well.

Enough with the apologetics and on to the explanation!..

“Do the minimum” doesn’t mean to skimp and not be generous in whatever work I am doing at the time or with the materials I am using. So it doesn’t mean paint sparingly, like put on a little bit of paint and make that go a long way by spreading it thinly over the area with lots of stretching the paint with vigorous brush work. No elbow grease required. Perhaps that could work for a minimalist approach, but here you’re putting in a lot of effort to make a lot of effort look sublime and simple, yet deep and rich and interesting. Minimalistic is the opposite of “do the minimum”.

On the contrary, “do the minimum” means put out a lot of paint and in 1 deft movement apply that paint to wherever it is going, and to do that bit effortlessly. I do have to put effort into solving things (like colour, tone, paint consistency) on the pallet first, I need to know what’s on my brush at the time I load it with paint and have some idea roughly of what it’s going to do when I offload it onto the painting, but not worry about it not doing exactly what I expect it to do when I lay down the paint (there’s always going to be some unexpected deviation from my expectations), and then stopping when it’s done just enough to vaguely express what I was hoping it would, or stopping sooner if it looks completely wrong from the get go. Once that paint mark is down I must let that paint mark sit there as I move onto the next paint mark, I can afford to tweak it gently once or twice, perhaps with another brush or my finger or a rag, but then I must move along to working on the next mark first on my pallet loading the paint onto my brush as closely to what I want to achieve with the next brush mark as possible, then offloading that paint onto my painting with as little effort as possible. Then, with as minimal corrections as possible tweak the mark and accept it for what it is - good or bad, right or wrong I can come back to it later and correct it with a new mark of paint. Later…when it’s dry and the whole painting is full of these kinds of paint marks the chances are that it’ll look better and make more sense with the addition of other paint marks that have been laid down next to it.

Every thing looks different when surrounded by different things. Like a tall person looks tall when surrounded by short people, but not so tall when everyone is tall. Red looks more red when it’s sitting next to green, but less red when it’s sitting next to a brown-red colour, or next to purple. A field of yellow sour sops look pretty from a distance, but not so great when one or two pop up between the paving along with a thistle and some stinging nettle and pigeon poop that’s been blackened with whatever berries they’ve been eating that day.

“Do the minimum” is about minimum time spent applying paint and maximum time spend preparing for that application.

Do the Minimum

is about minimum time spent applying paint and maximum time spent preparing for that application.

It’s about being economical with my brushwork, and how this can be achieved is by being generous with my time spent solving problems on my pallet and sometimes in my sketchbook.

It’s some kind of ironic paradox, or is it an oxymoron, that I spend a lot of time working out how to do the minimum and then practicing doing the minimum so that I can do the minimum.


Lilies and lavender from the garden…note: this philosophy doesn’t seem to work on my garden…

Naming work...

is part of the process of completing and archiving my paintings. I name all of my finished paintings and write the name on the back of the painting along with the year it was painted, and I usually sign and put the year on the front too. I also name the photo file I keep of each painting and use the name in the description when I share it on social media. It might seem trivial and unnecessary, but it’s actually quite useful when, after a time, that work comes up in conversation, or you need to find the photo of it for some reason.

I don’t name my studies or work in my sketchbooks though, but I do date them and occasionally sign them or initial them.

An example of why naming is useful is - I have an album of paintings on FB that started in 2012 and finished in 2018. There’s about…well without counting them, 80 paintings? 12 of them are magpie paintings and they are all different. Because I paint commissions people who are interested in commissioning a work might ask for a painting “like that magpie with the colourful background” and here I wouldn’t know which one it was because so many of them have colourful backgrounds, and this is when names can really help with communication.

below are some of my Magpie paintings from that album and their names:

out on a TECHNICAL limb

2012, 100x75cm

villian of circUmstance

110x110cm, Nov 2012

the bread thIef

Jan 2013, 30x30cm

parable universe accord to pie

April 2013, 30x30cm

the substance in which thought resides

100x100cm, 2013.

Somewhere inBeTween instantaneous and perpetual is the duration

60x60cm, 2013.

10001110101 10001110011 01011010101

30x30cm

Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking….

Out from the bush and into the rat race

70x50cm,2013.

Ok, enough of 2013, fast forward a few years…now I’m enjoying looking through my older work and remembering the names and trying to remember why I named them as I did…is there some secret message that one can’t say out loud because…well…

if you cant beat them try beating them with a stick

2016, 150x120cm.

there’s always room for a bit of humour no matter how mad things might get (big laugh emoji).

I’m enjoying seeing the evolution of my magpie paintings, if I do say so myself. I’m noticing that they are getting more refined and realistic, and are telling more of a visual story where originally they started off as quite abstract.

AfterwarDs: The Hub

80x80cm, 2017

There’s more but you get the idea…

Looking back through there’s some funny names that kind of change the way you think about the work. I’m pretty sure that that was my intention, but knowing myself there’s some random coincidences going on too.

Names can add an extra layer of meaning:

Middle pig

100x100cm, 2013

I’m pretty sure I named this Middle Pig so you’d think about the middle pig first where maybe she’s the one that you’d not notice until last - or at least she’s the one that think’s she’s overlooked because…you know… “middle syndrome”…she has to concentrate the most too because she’s not only balancing on the back of the biggest pig, but she’s supporting the little pig who is not only the smallest pig and the most glamorous, but has the longest distance to fall and so could hurt herself the most, especially if she get’s stepped on in all the kerfuffle, so all the responsibility for success rests on the middle pig’s back but the little pig get’s all the accolades for being so brave and agile, cute and a risk taker. and the big pig for being so strong and steadfast.

Sheep.net

90x90cm

in “sheep.net” I wanted to draw attention to the time - here it could be a homestead from the early 1900s, I remember it was somewhere on Yorke Peninsular, maybe around Eidthberg? A homestead that retained it’s original character but with the addition of the satellite for the internet you know it’s a current event - not much has changed externally except for that and so the colourful expression of my painting is like a time warp superposition between the old and the very new.

around the block in 7 seconds

30x30cm, 2014

And that brings me to why I wanted to talk about naming paintings.

My most recentently commissioned painting was modeled off of a painting series I did in 2014, and often what I do when I name paintings that are fashioned from one’s I’ve already painted is I make a small tweak to the name. Like when I did with a small collection of emu portraits, starting with “the one minute mile”, and I tweaked that name with each painting. “The 2 minute mile.” “The 1.5 minute mile” etc.

So now I need to think of a suitable name for my latest commission.

The painting from which the idea sprung is the above and below paintings from 2014:

wild goose chaSe in wonderland

2014, 80x60cm

Here it is on the wall. I like to hang my finished paintings up on the wall to test the hanging mechanism I’ve installed and to check the sides, and how they look in a casual setting, and to look for any mistakes in the painting before I hand them over.

Chasing Wonderland, 130x120

EXCITING things AFOOT…

…this week, …well…apart from the adorable new puppy at the Splashout art studios, and daughter no 2s 17th birthday and looming party… …and that I was informed by email that I’m a finalist in the Gallery One Smallacombe portrait prize for my self portrait “grey integration”

…and that I successfully threw together a small collection of large paintings to install in the old Urban Cow gallery that is now some function rooms for all kinds of gatherings,

Cat About, 90x90cm

Cow Trip 100x100cm

1st Argument from Ignorance amended, 180x120cm

I got a phone call this morning from the esteemed Mr Jack Condos Informing me that he has found a sitter for me and if I agree to the date (which I did) I will be performing a live Portrait painting of said sitter at the Royal Adelaide Show in September. There are a proposed 10 artists and 10 sitters taking part in this ongoing performance, each on a different day (my day is September 8th)

Luckily for me I don’t have to finish the painting on that day, but it must be finished by a set date for presentation to the sitters. On the actual day there’s two 2 hour sessions with a break in between, so 4 hours of painting in total on the day so I should get a good amount done in that time and take a few photos….but I’ll find out more in a meeting scheduled for this Monday.

…and here’s a little oil study I did of a lemon that’s part of a larger painting I’m working on…

Colour match - Australian Yellow Green

I’m running out of Australian Yellow green. I love this colour and wanted to use it in a painting I’m working on, but when I went to order a large tub of it I found that they had sold out at the store. Bum!

So in this blog I’m going to mix some up using various store bought colours I have in my kit.

First, I’m going to try a mix that I’m really confident will work. Cobalt teal + Cad yellow

The warm cad yellow and bright cobalt teal mixes very close to the Australian Yellow green, and with just a touch of red I was able to get it to almost exactly perfect. Fancy that! Didn’t need to add any white either so that was a good choice.

Now I’m going to see if I can get close with an entirely different set of colours… hmmm, this will challenge me.

Cad orange - this has the red and yellow already mixed together, so now I need a blue…hmmm, a colour I use all the time is Aqua green light so lets see how close this mix gets me:

nope! the white in the light aqua looses some of the brightness - it’s close, but it lacks vibrancy. The cad orange mixed with my first choice of cobalt teal would work though….I think…

what!!! no…it’s not much different than the second mix - this means that the cad orange isn’t a good choice, kind of makes it a bit dull.

ok I’m going to try that light aqua with a different yellow - Indian yellow…and a different red - maybe pink just to be difficult (big smile emoji).

Ohh, wow, that works.

and so as not to waste any paint I’ll pop some on the flowers that I’m working on at the moment.

flowers no 16

My brother Michael gave mum a bunch of Proteas so I thought I’d paint them.

Flowers no 15

Started as a demo in class, so I thought I’d better finish it.

Flowers…

…make a lovely gift,  are generally lovely to have around and are also really fun to paint.  Little flower paintings make great gifts too, and painting for a gift a gift of flowers is painting a gift of a gift which creates a lasting memory of the gift of flowers given for whatever occasion or reason.

The first time I painted a gift of flowers was for a friend. She’d received the most gorgeous bunch of flowers from her friend when her beloved dad passed at the grand old age of 90something. Her birthday was coming up so I photographed them while they were fresh and later painted them for her birthday - this created a a lasting memory of the beautiful gift from her friend and a gift for her from me at the same time.

my first painted gift of flowers gift

Since then I’ve taken to painting little flower paintings of flower gifts as they come along. Mostly these are small sketches in my sketchbook that double up as diary entries when I date them and make a note of what occasion they celebrated.

Pat (my youngest) is a circus performer), has received cute little jars of flowers after performances a few times now and I preserve that memory with a little painting of them.

I painted the proteas I got for Christmas’s last year from Mareka, I painted a bunch of lavender cut from the garden (a plant I grew from a cutting given to me by my neighbour who was an excellent gardener - it was my first successful lavender plant and still stands to this day), I’ve painted a lily and large leaf also cut from the garden given to me from my mother-in-law as a bulb before the kids were born - (they come up every year to remind me of her and the laughs we use to share)…a white rose dad cut for mum from his amazing garden and popped it in a vase to decorate the tray of breakfast-in-bed for her on mothers day, the stunning orchids Deb gave me for painting her son, the gorgeous and huge pink rose Kylie gave from her garden, a bunch of flowers I bought from the supermarket just because, the little pot plant Pat got for her birthday from her bestie, dad’s pride and joy peace Lilly…it goes on, I’m up to “flowers no 14”.

flowers no. 14

To keep myself in supply of source material I photograph little gifts of flowers when they present themselves to me in whatever way, make a note of them and pop them in a folder and slowly I’m finding that flowers are becoming part of the body of work that I create, and each one has it’s own story…the only thing I need to remember to do is make a note on the photos of the story of the flowers so I can make a note if it when it comes to painting them…either that or they just get labeled, “flowers no. …”

flowers no. 13

Light Red Ochre...

…is an earthy colour that on first appearances looks alot like Burnt Sienna. The main difference is that it’s pinker in colour and it’s fully opaque where burnt Sienna is semi opaque.

I haven’t used this colour much but found I had some in my acrylic kit when I grabbed a few random colours for some abstract play. Vermillion, light red ochre, carbon black and Australian yellow green + white is what I grabbed and thought I’d make the study about vermillion, but it ended up being more about the red ochre.

The opaque quality of this colour gives great coverage and gives a very different effect than semi transparent paints, kind of looks more like a gouache when dried, I think…I need to explore that abit more.

I liked the colour so much I did a little skin study with it using just the red ochre and white, with a touch of pre mixed grey for interest.

What I noticed about the opaqueness is that it gives a great illusion of dark, such that you can’t get with semi transparent and transparent colours.

I thought I’d better check my observations with a quick burnt sienna study…

even though the semi transparent burnt sienna is a darker colour than the opaque light red ochre, the darker values feel to me like they are in the red ochre painting not the burnt sienna, but my eyes are telling me that they look like they are in the burnt sienna painting. Is my pre-concieved bias interfering I wonder…

to test this theory I will convert the image to grey scale…

hmmmm…. the more surprising difference is in the lighter parts - there’s more variation in the light side of the burnt sienna painting than I thought and less in the light side of the red ochre one.

fancy that!

Also, I recorded the process of the dingo dreaming, for the record:

Cropping is…

…something you can’t do if you’re painting onto a pre-stretched canvas. You can, however, easily crop work that is on paper or loose canvas sheet and then frame or mount that cropped work so it can be hung. Doing this makes cropping part of the finishing process of the work of art.

Ofcourse you can always digitally crop images of your work and make prints, and/or post those cropped images on social media which is one of the wonderful things about this new digital platform on which we hang our art work.

For example, below is my latest collection of abstract paintings, these are done with mixed media in my sketchbook. The theme for these is Vermilion.

Exhibit 1

Study in Vermilion

My Vemillion collection is all cropped from the one page in my sketchbook - shown below.

Abstract 1

Study in Vermilion

I can’t physically hang this collection in it’s original form though because I’ve doubled up on some of the areas for the different paintings, but I could re-paint them, even in a larger format if I wanted to.

I’ve been playing with this concept, in-between my other work, all week and it’s been alot of fun.

exhibit 2

Abstract 2

Study in pink

Exhibit 3

Abstract 3

Study in pink and yellow

Where I will go from here is take my favourite crop and see if I can re-create it onto a larger format.

What fun!!

thinking abstract...

is different from the kind of thinking needed when painting something using a reference, (reference meaning a photo or from life, like a still-life vase of flowers, or actual person sitting, kind-of-thing).

I’m mostly interested in painting things, and I always use a reference for them - faces, portraits, animals, people, flowers, jars, even the occasional tree, landscape… and I get a likeness by observing the tones, the light areas and dark areas, of whatever it is I’m looking at.

Although my representational paintings are always semi-abstracted, sometimes even quite unearthly looking, they are still things that I’m representing with as much likeness to the reference that I can create by observing the light and dark shapes of tone in the reference I’m using, but at the same time allowing outrageous freedom to deviate in my colour choices, mark making, and composition.

So, when breaking down the process to just paint marks, colour and composition with no representation of anything, I’ve got one less thing to hold on to and it’s like walking backwards, or walking with eyes closed or… humming a song without words…no…not even that…maybe more like singing words to represent the tune of a music piece that hasn’t got any words - like Beethoven’s famous Fur Elise - try singing that tune using made up words off of the top of your head- and record yourself singing it then write those spontaneous words down in reverse, refine it so it rhymes in places, replace every 10th word with a new word, and put some punctuation in after that word only, and a semi-colon after every 10th word, then sing it to the tune of Fur Elise but in an entirely different key and that’s your painting - conceptually speaking.

That’s what it feels like to me creating abstract.

What you come up with, in the spur of the moment, is quite bizarre and often hideous and needs refining and refining until you have something visually pleasing that stands on it’s own as a work of visual poetry, something that’s more about the words themselves than a story they might tell.

It doesn’t make sense at first impression, but there’s method to the process and the method makes sense, so in the end what you see is a description of the method, not the description of a literal thing like a tree or animal…I think.

This first layer of my abstract is hideous, but just chucking something down with whatever’s in reach without thinking is the reference for the next part of the painting, and so on snd so on until it’s completed.

I don’t love it but I don’t mind the completed work - so what did I learn?

It takes layers to get enough variety for an interesting painting.

There’s more interest when things aren’t perfect - like messy edges, and muddled scribbles look good next to cleanly painted shapes.

One abstract isn’t enough, I’ve got 3 more on the go and I played around with this next one on the kitchen table after dinner.

Letting the paint dry between layers is necessary for abstract because without a reference the underpainting layers more often than not need to be drastically changed.

Cropping the abstract and framing it looks pleasing to me, but I’m not confident that it’ll please anyone else. It’s much harder to self critique your own work if there’s no reference to refer to.

It’s so much fun and the possibilities are endless.

Making abstract art you can defy all and every rule, so it gives an opportunity to explore and play with materials, concepts, ideas, and use up any leftover paint and bits and pieces lying around making it a process for recycling.

Try it.

it's 12:53pm and...

I’ve just walked into the studio after what seemed like a busy morning where it seems like I haven’t done anything at all.

what have I done, exactly?

…made daughters lunch - got her to school, gone shopping with husband (had coffee in cafe), cooked, did a few loads of washing, sorted dried washing, cleaned and tidied Pat’s room where I found the dog had vomited on the floor, fed the chickens, printed some stuff for husband…just remembered that I need to pay a bill (I’ll do that now, hang on…)

…paid bill and created a new folder (using a literal folder with metal rings in the middle) for materials purchased 2022/23…like it’s tax time and I’ve been meaning to be more organised, so new tax year begins with a new set of folders and new way of keeping my books in order… …it’s now 1:44pm.

All that stuff that doesn’t get seen in an art business - behind the scene stuff that takes time and has nothing to do with art yet it’s necessary for an art business - if art can even be a business, and maybe when art is a business it’s not art anymore but manufacturing…I’m overthinking this aren’t I!

I turn to my easel…what have I got here..?…a wet mess and a dry mess. Not what I’m suppose to be working on.

What I’m suppose to be working on is a commission which I will do a bit on every day until it’s finished. I ended up working on it for about 40 minutes and then had to pick up Pat from school and drop her at her circus classes…

close up…

of part of the painting I’m working on

later…

10:37am, Friday morning.

I have an idea.

I inherited a lovely music book along with a piano from my Aunty Pat’s estate. I’ve been having fun learning some new tunes from various youtube tutorials, so much easier than trying to work out from the written music, and I’m going to use this lovely 1939 edition, hardcover music book as an art book for abstract ideas - yes I’m going to paint and draw in it over the written notes and transform it into a new work of art.

The first marks are going to be the hardest, because I do feel a bit bad about defacing this beautifully preserved book, but I’m also recycling and repurposing it, so I shouldn’t feel too bad either.

I’m going to choose a page that’s a little in from the first pages so that I can relax and not worry about creating a fabulous first impression when someone opens the book to have a look.

My first entry -

On one page I put down some light grey gesso which I will paint over when it dries and on the other page I used paint, pen, collage and a sponge to make an abstract design. I may add some more to it when it’s dry… but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

While that’s drying I shall get back to my commission…after I make a cup of tea and change out of my walking shoes which are a little damp from the beach walk I did earlier this morning…

…and post this weekly blog.

…a few hours later and I’m feeling pretty chuffed.