SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT PAINTING WOODLAND SCENES

Throughout the ages, artists have enjoyed painting woodland scenes.  Today's modern painters' works, however, are a far cry from the woodland scenes of the painters of old.

Here is an example of an "old" woodland scene, painted by George Baret the elder (what a name!), 1723-1784.

I am sure we could not fault those trees...but to my eye, despite its probable accuracy, it is stodgy,  heavy and gloomy.

More modern painters have treated woodland scenes in quite a different way, and I would like to show you a few of my favourites, so that you can see, perhaps, a different "path through the trees" for your own work.

Lawrence Gowing says that he returns time and time again to certain woodland areas to paint.  He loves groves of trees, with branches meeting overhead, like columns of Gothic arches in a "cathedral of trees".  His woodland scenes are often concerned with a ceiling of leaves, making an enclosed space often leading to a further space beyond.  He makes small "sketch" paintings as rehearsals for larger paintings.  He says he tries to "paint the scoop of space without losing the flatness of the painting surface". Sometimes this results in very abstracted images, the motif having been just a starting point.  "Gifords Copse", the oil painting below, is one such image.

Giford's Copse

The painting "Four Trees in a Wood" 1987, below, also has a really contemporary feel to it, and to my mind, it is interesting to consider why.  Is it the colours ?  They are certainly of his own choosing and bear little resemblance to reality.    Is it the brushstrokes?  What makes it look so modern and such a far cry from the woodland scene of Mr Baret above?  If you look at it very carefully and closely, you will see that in fact, although not such an obvious abstraction as "Giford's Copse", the marks he has used are flat and two dimensional, there is little attempt to achieve three-dimensional form;  the tree trunk of the tree on the far right bears no resemblance to photographic reality whatsoever.  Yet, we recognise perfectly that it is a woodland scene and we understand it fully.

Here is another  woodland scene I have long admired:  Roger De Grey, "La Tremblade" 1989.  It is owned by the Royal Academy of Arts in London, and I wish it was mine!  I just love it.

When I first saw this painting, I was fascinated by the fact that there is little or no recession created by the conventional method of tones becoming paler in the distance.  Instead, the recession is created purely by change of scale.  The artist complains that he find trees "baffling things to work with" and difficult to paint, and spends hours, apparently, trying to make the trees in his paintings seem to grow out of the ground properly.  Clearly, those hours are well spent.

I cannot begin to compare to these masters above, but here is one of my own personal favourites, painted within a couple of hours at a demonstration evening for an art club. It was a bit of a departure for me, since I used imaginative colour, and allowed the painting to hover between representation and abstraction.  But, I hope you will feel it is still an interesting woodland scene even if it owes little to photographic reality!

and this one perhaps does have a little more to do with a "real" woodland scene, although again, I did allow myself some artistic licence with the colours chosen, borrowing some of the gorgeous cool turquoise greens that Lawrence Gowing used - they seemed appropriate to the cool early days of Spring.  It is important, I feel, to remember that creating a painting is not just about  faithfully"duplicating"  the real world...it is about creating something special.... a piece of art which connects with personal vision.

"Spring woods"  pastel on card  21x21cm
available, unframed (mounted) price $295

Arguably, it was from Monet and Cezanne that the landscape painting of this century developed.  Gradually, artists began to give themselves even more permission to try different ways of seeing and painting and expressing their relationship with the landscape. They recognised that the recording of every leaf or tiny branch of a tree may well lead to a rather tedious, lifeless image (and anyway, the camera can do it better) - and they knew that the exploitation of shapes, masses, rhythms, colours, textures and movement can produce far more exciting imagery.   The degree to which an artist transforms the landscape, to express his feelings, is entirely personal and can vary dramatically, but one thing is for sure...as a result our own mood and personality will inevitably be revealed in our paintings. 

 Two people, standing shoulder to shoulder, can photograph the same scene, and their photos will look virtually identical...but no two artists will ever paint the same scene in exactly the same way, even if they are painting side by side.  This is something we artists need to recognise - and capitalise upon.

THOUGHTS ABOUT COMPOSITION

Still Life: Pewter and Silver Vessels and a Crab.  Willem Claesz.  Oil on oak. 54.2x73.8cm

This week, I visited the National Gallery in London, had a wonderful couple of hours sketching kids with their teachers in the room with all the Turners and Constables, and before leaving the gallery, my sketching buddy dragged me up to the Still Life room. I was a bit reluctant, to be honest, because I tend to find old still life paintings rather too contrived for my liking!  I also am a fan of the Impressionists, rather than the Realists of old.

She wanted me to see this picture, a classic Dutch still life which fascinated her because of its excellence.  The limited range of colour, the glow of the objects – even the lemon peel seemed to have a glow of its own -  the AMAZING texture of the draped slk cloth – it was almost photographic, but somehow went far beyond the work of the camera.  It was painted between 1633-7, long before the invention of the camera, so there is no chance that the artist worked from a photo, as so many do today.  It is in the Haarlem tradition of the so-called “monochromatic” still life.

I, rather,  was immediately drawn to the design/composition. The underlying structure of the image unfolded in front of my eyes.  It is a slightly strange sensation, but one I relish.    I believe that an artist needs to be able to divorce himself from the “shopping list” in front of him ….in this case, jug, bowl, crab, plate, lemon, glass, salt cellar etc,  or in the case of a landscape, 1 mountain, 6 trees, 1 path, 5 clouds…and stop concentrating solely on how best to paint every individual object.  When the artist begins to be aware of the design of the image,  the underlying important shapes and rhythms, the connections and movements as well as the colour, the tones, and the individual objects,  then he or she will really begin to grow as an artist.   

Looking at the image upside down – a neat trick to use with your own work from time to time – begins to help us to “see” the painting with fresh eyes.  We stop looking at the texture of the cloth, the clever painting of the peel of the lemon, and instead, we begin to see the main elements of the composition.  We can see how the simple largest tonal areas are massed and carefully placed to balance within the rectangle, and beyond that, we begin to spot how the artist creates rhythms to draw our eye across the composition with clever use of repetition of circular and oval forms - albeit subtly, and as a secondary note if you like, because of the close tones - colour is not a major player in this image.  Underlying geometric ideas take precedence in this painting – one main vertical and one main horizontal, supported by a series of interlinking curves.  We have echoing shapes, not just in the objects, but even in the negative spaces between objects - notice how the curved sides of the salt cellar and glass perfectly echo the curving legs of the crab!  I just love discovering little things like that.


  I realise this explanation is far too brief and is a gross simplification, but it is just a beginning.  If you can see what I can see here, then you have made a start.

The word “composition” means “design”, or the putting of things together.   A painter may know nothing much about composition, yet he is unconsciously composing every image he creates. However, it is quite likely that without any knowledge of, and consideration of some of the possibilities of composition, the artist is likely to be dominated by the bits and bobs within the subject matter - like - how to paint the bricks in the wall,  the tiles on the roof, the shine on the apple, rather than by ideas about placement and design of groups of shapes, of a linear framework, of rhythms and movements, of repetition - and more. This takes a bit of effort to begin with, but then once your awareness is awakened, it becomes second nature.   I hope you agree with me that this subject merits looking at more deeply, folks,  so further blogs on this subject to come, watch this space!  In fact, if you haven't signed up to receive the blog by email, now might be a good time to do so!


Just for fun, and because it is yummy and gorgeous, (you will notice, judging by my reaction, that it is obviously more to my personal taste!) here is a vibrant Gauguin still life:

Still life with Mangoes   Paul Gauguin

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/paul-gauguin-still-life-with-mangoes/*/key-facts

This time, colour is an important factor ...but perhaps you can  "see" some of the underlying structure?