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Author: Nicholas_Simmons, Contributing Editor
| It’s usually safest, I think, to start with midtones, because you can then adjust the lights and darks accordingly. At any rate, it assures that you can go darker, and lighter. I’ve started similar paintings with what I thought were the lightest values, only to find I had actually gone darker than I meant to, and was in deep trouble in a matter of minutes. I think that is because really light-valued colors look so anemic on the paper, there is a tendency, for me at least, to start enriching them.
I have found this method especially helpful in large paintings, where it’s harder to visualize the “big picture” (working up close to a small piece of paper, you have constant awareness of values in relation to the proportion of the painting). I try to paint using a variety of "safety measures" - that is, painting in a way such that things can be progressively altered if need be, without having to paint opaquely, or change the design. A good reason, also, to go brighter with colors, as you can always make them duller, but you can never make them brighter (transparently). Another thought about "safe painting": I ruined countless pictures by making rash, abrupt decisions (though sometimes incredible things happen by doing that). I have found, particularly with larger work, if I take my time, make gradual changes, and most importantly, look at them for a while (though not so long as to lose objectivity), I have a better chance of not doing anything regrettable or irreversible. I use lots of acrylic watercolor along with regular watercolor, and scraping or lifting after it’s dry isn’t possible. However, I never liked those techniques anyway, because they can make a dry, dull look I don’t care for. |
| This photo is a good example of the kind of thing that used to drive me crazy. When laying down initial washes, I was for a long time annoyed by inconsistencies in the value, amount of pigment, backwashes, crawlbacks, blooms (whatever you want to call them), etc. Many was the painting I agonized over or destroyed for these "flaws.” There are things I don’t like to see in washes and glazes, but that’s for another article. I don’t know quite when it dawned on me that once framed, and under glass, it was these very things that I ended up liking best. Strange, because I already admired these anomalies in other people’s paintings. (Another good subject for an article) I had lots of great teachers, but I wish someone had taught me to more readily embrace this aspect of watercolor. Maybe they did, and I didn’t listen. Or maybe they were wise enough to know that I would have to learn this the hard way. (On the other hand, a determination to create perfect washes improves technique) Now, while a painting is in the "ugly" stage, I take on a very detached attitude, and just blow that stuff off. It's not a bad thing to even occasionally get a little sloppy and careless, just to prove to yourself it's only paper and paint. Keeps you loose.
I don't like most colors straight from the tube, at least committed to large areas. This wash is Payne's grey, raw umber, alizarin crimson, and ultramarine blue - mixed mostly on the paper. Not too precisely, as you can see. This is just an underpainting wash anyway, and I’ve discovered the uneven, disjointed look enhances the final effect. |  |
 | The dress, in a variety of reds, pinks, and oranges. There is some raw sienna in there - one color I have found mixes tremendously with almost anything. I leave bits of white paper open, as another safety measure. If a painting begins to get too dense and “closed in” with color, it’s nice to have those whites available as air holes, or to be filled in with some other color that will add to the sparkle. You can always go back and make them the surrounding color, too, which creates textural interest.
Also started on the fan. Going brighter with the color, as I expect to tone it down later. |
| On the subject of color: I have a sense of warm vs. cool, but I am no color theorist, and wouldn't know a color wheel from a wagon wheel. Everything I do is purely instinctive, and hoping for the best. I feel like a really good artist and a really horrible artist, at the same time. Everything I learn opens up new ideas, mostly about what I can't do, or haven't fully exploited. I like the idea of being right on the edge, learning every second - that's when you can still surprise yourself.
I added little bits of blue to the dress, and some green to the fan. They keep the eye moving, and add a dash of Moorish and Oriental costume flavor; they could be sequins, or simply glints of reflected light. I used the whites mentioned in the previous step, but didn’t fill them all in. I could have waited until later to do this, since it is basically an embellishment, but it’s nice to have some fun while the main work is still in progress. I’ll fill more of them in later, and add some metallic colors in there too. The main objective in this painting, besides the color and highlighting the abstract qualities of the shapes, is to capture the twisting, whirling motion of the dress, juxtaposed against the rigid profile of the dancer. That’s often the posture of flamenco dancers. I spent a lot of time in a grand old Spanish restaurant that had an elaborate floorshow, and was very attracted to that aspect of the art. Of course no painting will ever capture that as vividly and unforgettably as Sargent's "El Jaleo." |  |
 | Here I’ve gone back to the darks, and the red portions of the dress. I stayed away from the face because I’m not exactly sure yet what is going to happen there. Not easy to see in a small photo, but there are a hundred variations of red. I don’t remember all of the colors I used, but some were mixed with raw sienna and raw umber. I'm not happy with the line of the dress on the left edge, next to the dark; I'll change that. |
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