Strokes of Paint

"Falk House"
8 x 9, oil on linen
(c) Maggie Siner 2014

At least in my book, one of the key things that makes a painting come to life is being able to see the painter's hand at work in the finished product. Don't we all love it when we can see the painter making his mark? That said, I must rush to add the following: Bravura strokes alone do not make a great painting. But as a friend of mine once said, "I like to see

the paint having fun on the canvas!"

It is a real thrill to see the paint on a finished painting placed so clearly that you feel as if you have watched the artist's hand putting it down. More than that, it is also a great learning experience. A recent post by Frank Hobbs said this so well. He noted that when you can see these strokes, you can begin to understand how painters think, and how they MOVE. You can see how the painting was put together. And you begin to absorb an entire world of knowledge about making a painting that has been passed down over many centuries, from one painter to another, to another.

Painting by George Bellows (1882-1925)

Importantly, as Hobbs notes, you simply cannot see this stuff from a photo. Not in a book, not on a screen, not in any format. Instead, you must put yourself in front of the painting in person. Only then can you really see and feel the process of creating the painting. Once you are standing before the painting, you need to get up very close to the canvas. Up close, you can see the painter's thoughts and movements in the marks of the paint. To illustrate, compare the overall view of the painting above by George Bellows to the close-up below. Wow! Imagine how much more we could see in person.

I am also reminded of a remark by Maggie Siner. She recounted a conversation in which the question was asked, "How many paintings of the Madonna can you look at without being bored to death?" To which the response was, "I'm not looking at the Madonna---I'm looking at the PAINT!" Here's to looking at the paint...more of Maggie's below.

"Farmhouse with Hedge"
11 x 17, oil on linen
(c) Maggie Siner 2014