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Praise for Painting the Impressionistic Landscape:

“ … informative, humorous, and lively. [Dustan Knight] understands the

creative process and has a way of encouraging folks to develop their own style
of painting. I appreciate how she inspires her students to get excited about
creating.”
—Kathy Tangney, professional artist, Tong Ren Master

“Dustan Knight uses her poetic language and painting expertise in guiding
readers to take a fresh look at nature and create original, impressionistic
watercolors and acrylics. This is far more than a how-to book, but a window into
the creative mind, exploring new ways of working and seeing.”
—Debbie Hagan, arts writer and critic and former editor-in-chief, Art New
England

Dustan Knight “is a painter who combines artistic skill, knowledge, and
enthusiasm with a flair for explaining the creative process in an easy and
inspiring way. [She] paints from the heart, and this book will encourage every
artist, from novice to experienced.”
—Joni Taube, art consultant and owner, Art 3 Gallery, Manchester, New
Hampshire
 PAINTING the
IMPRESSIONISTIC
LANDSCAPE
Exploring Light & Color in Watercolor & Acrylic

Dustan Knight
Contents
INTRODUCTION
Approaches and Impressions
Tools and Materials

PAINTING THE WOODS

Demonstration: Watercolor
» The Approach
» In the Studio

Special Watercolor Technique: Lifting with a Thirsty Brush

» How to Create the Look of Mist
» Gallery

Demonstration: Acrylic
» In the Studio

PAINTING FLOWERS FROM THE GARDEN

Demonstration: Watercolor
» The Approach
» In the Studio

Special Watercolor Technique: Plastic Wrap

» Creating Texture
» Gallery

Demonstration: Acrylic
» In the Studio
» Gallery

PAINTING THE ROCKS AND SEA

Demonstration: Watercolor
» The Approach
» In the Studio

Special Watercolor Technique: Wax Resist and Scraping for Texture

» Capturing a Moment
» Gallery

Demonstration: Acrylic
» In the Studio
» Gallery
Conclusion
Resources
Acknowledgments
About the Artist and Photographer
Index
Tango Tulips. Acrylic. 40" × 30" (101.5 × 76 cm).
Introduction
One of the best things about being an artist is having an excuse to actually stop
and look around.
Seeing is a rare and luxurious activity these days. My paintings in watercolor
and acrylic are inspired by the things I see and my impressions of them. When I
paint I’m not attempting to replicate what’s in front of me. I’m searching for
subjects that I want to look at and experience deeply, for a long, focused time. I
enjoy the process of translating them into my own vision of the world. I try to
avoid the clichéd scene but I don’t want to deprive myself of possibilities either,
so I try to look deeper than the obvious. I try to experience a subject as closely
and as intimately as possible.
Sometimes it’s the atmospheric effects of mist through the trees that intrigues
me as much as the trees themselves. Sometimes it’s the riot of contrasting color
in the garden more than the actual blooms that I love. Sometimes it’s the sound
of a wave booming under a seaweed covered ledge that makes me want to
capture my impression of the sea on paper. My heightened experience of the
woods, the garden, and the crashing waves involves all my senses: seeing,
hearing, feeling, and even smelling. That’s what I am interested in capturing in
my work.
I like to think my way of working is a continuation of the way the
Impressionists approached painting. I have always felt their influence, both for
the beauty of their work and for their philosophy. Originally the Impressionists
insisted their artwork was based solely on an analytic reaction to a scene. But
ultimately it became clear that their impressions were vastly informed by their
feelings, expectations, and desires—in fact, very romantic. I like that and I like
being part of the continuum of painting impressionistic landscapes.
In this book I am pleased to walk you through my creative steps. I have
chosen three landscape themes—woods, garden flowers, and water—inspired by
the natural features of the granite New Hampshire island where I live. I will
show you several approaches and various ways to think about them. Each theme
is considered separately with images and step-by-step demonstrations. The
demonstrations detail the progress from concept to finished painting. I hope to
share my way of seeing as well as the thought process and continual problem
solving that develops as I paint.
Rebecca’s Flower. Watercolor. 36" × 36" (91.5 × 91.5 cm).
 Approaches and Impressions

Poplars on the Epte, c. 1891. Oil on canvas. Claude Monet, French, 1840–1926. Scottish National Gallery,
Edinburgh. Bridgeman Images.
L’Allée des Alyscamps, 1888. Oil on canvas. Vincent van Gogh, Dutch, 1853–1890. Private Collection.
Bridgeman Images.

It’s hard for me to imagine anyone having fun painting before Monet and
Renoir. Before they tossed a sandwich into a knapsack, packed their tubes of
paint, and headed outdoors to look for something to paint, art was stifling,
jammed with parameters for correctness and tiresome allegories for subjects.
Thank goodness the Impressionists shucked the Royal Academy of Art and
depended on their own eyes to see and their own inner vision to express what
they saw. That’s what I respond to in their landscapes and this is a book about
they saw. That’s what I respond to in their landscapes and this is a book about
what I’ve learned from that relationship—my own impressionistic approach to
teaching and painting landscapes in watercolor and acrylic.

The Red Canoe, 1884. Watercolor on paper. Winslow Homer, American, 1836–1910. Private Collection.
Bridgeman Images.

One of the highlights of teaching, for me, was to take my students on a field
trip to the works-on-paper archives at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. The
curator would arrange watercolors on low easels for the class to discuss. Being
able to see how Sargent scraped white into a shadow with a pen knife or where
Homer dragged a wax candle across his paper as a resist made me feel as though
I was sitting on the grass beside them, watching them paint.
Sargent and Homer painted in a broad, loose style with bouncing color and
visible brushwork capturing the feeling of light. They picked up the color in one
area and used it in another as a detail. They seemed to work from bigger to
smaller, looser to more detailed, light to dark, and sometimes back to light again.
Childe Hassam painted about 10 miles (16 km) off the shore from my own
studio in New Hampshire, and I can tell by looking at his paintings that the air is
similar and the breeze smells the same. The connection is still there. The
conversation continues.

Duck Island, Isles of Shoals, 1906. Watercolor on paper. Childe Hassam, American, 1859–1935. Private
Collection. David Findlay Jr. Fine Art, NYC. Bridgeman Images.
 Tools and Materials

Creative moments in the studio

Paper, canvas, paint, brushes: your art materials are truly a matter of your
personal choice. Choose wisely because stocking your studio or outdoor painting
kit can get expensive. I’ve outlined my personal choices here, as well as a few
suggestions for saving money.

Watercolor Paper
Watercolor paper comes in various thicknesses or pounds—the higher the
number, or poundage, the thicker and more substantial the paper. I recommend
using at least a 140 lb (300 g/m2) paper, which will hold up to being soaked with
water, scratched, and reworked. At the upper range, 300 lb (640 g/m2) paper is
expensive and so heavy it’s almost rigid. At the other end, 90 lb (185 g/m2)
paper buckles as soon as you drop water on it, making painting with it
frustrating. I suggest staying away from it.
You can buy watercolor paper in large sheets, rolls, and blocks. Blocks are
pads that are glued around the edges and are particularly useful for outdoor
painting. The glued edges hold the paper taut when it’s wet, so that it dries flat.
Once your painting is dry, you use a box cutter or craft knife to cut around the
Once your painting is dry, you use a box cutter or craft knife to cut around the
glued edge to remove the sheet from the block.

My first choice for watercolor paper is Arches bright white, in 140 lb (300 g/m2) weight or heavier. There are
several sizes of blocks. You’ll want to take at least two with you when you work outdoors so that you can shift
from one to the other while allowing your paintings to dry.

You can easily fold and tear large, individual sheets of watercolor paper to
your desired dimensions. Good quality paper tears beautifully and leaves a
lovely edge. Use masking tape to attach the edges of a loose sheet of paper to a
sturdy support board before you start painting or applying water. Leave the tape
in place until the paper dries to prevent it from buckling.
There are three paper-surface types: Hot press has a smooth surface. Cold
press has a medium-textured surface. Rough has a highly-textured, bumpy
surface. The surface is important because it determines the look of your
watercolor washes. On smooth paper, the water and color flow freely, allowing
lots of unexpected things to happen. A rough surface catches color and water
unevenly, often creating a dry-brush effect. Cold press is a good paper for
beginners. As you become more advanced, hot-press papers and the newer
synthetic papers are a lot of fun to try.
Canvas for Acrylic
If you’re just starting in acrylic, I suggest purchasing pre-stretched, prepared
canvas in the size that works best for you. You might also try hardwood or
particle-board panels like those made by Ampersand. I don’t recommend canvas
covered cardboard because it warps easily.
Further along, you’ll have time to learn about stretching canvas and preparing
the surface with gesso. But even in choosing pre-stretched canvas, you’ll want to
be aware of the surface quality. Cotton duck canvas has a rough surface. More
expensive linen canvas has a smoother surface that is lovely; painting on it is
like working on paper. But for the money, especially for larger canvases, cotton
duck is just fine.
I like to buy canvases with stretchers that are at least 2" (5 cm) deep. They
stand out on the wall when hung, and if I paint the edges, I don’t need to frame
the painting.

Brushes
There are three basic styles of brushes: flats, rounds, and wash brushes. Flats
carry the most pigment. They are best for filling larger areas, though we usually
let the water do the work in watercolor paintings.
Rounds are the best for drawing strokes. There are all sorts of tip types: long,
thin riggers; big, chubby Goliaths; filberts; and fans. For watercolor, a slightly
chubby round holds water well, and a fine tip allows you to control where you
make contact with the paper.
Watercolorists use a wide-wash brush to get a lot of water on the paper
quickly. This can be important because as soon as the paper begins to dry, the
surface can get streaky: A flat-wash brush allows the water and pigment to blend
across large areas.
For acrylic, synthetic sables are the best for shoveling up paint and putting it
on canvas where you want it. Acrylic painters often use fine-tipped watercolor
brushes for detailed work.
Ultimately, for watercolor and acrylic, you’ll want rounds and flats in various
sizes. Those who work with acrylics will also benefit from having wider, flat
brushes to transfer larger and thinner amounts of paint to the canvas. The size of
brush you use will depend on the size of your paper or canvas. The smaller and
more detailed the painting, the smaller the brush. Your choice of brush size will
also depend on your preference for the size of your brush marks in a painting. I
usually work with larger brushes so the brushstrokes are looser.
usually work with larger brushes so the brushstrokes are looser.
Because acrylic paint has some heft to it, your brushes need to be a little
stiffer than watercolor brushes, though not as stiff as oil brushes. Avoid pig
bristle. In fact, for anyone starting out in watercolor or acrylic, I would
recommend buying one of the wonderful sets with synthetic brushes in various
sizes. These are available in an affordable range and will get you used to
working with round and flat brushes.
Of course, if you are game for it, there are many fancy, niche brushes to try,
but remember, a brush is only as good as its handler. The best and the most
expensive watercolor brushes are the Kolinsky sables. I have a few of these, but
because I work spontaneously and often with various mediums at the same time,
I prefer working with medium-priced brushes that I can be rougher with.
Whatever the quality of your brushes, take good care of them. Never leave them
standing in water, and always clean them before putting them away.
A well-loved ½" (1 cm) flat brush.

Paint
The cost of paint is directly related to the quality of the color. Paint is made up
of color (pigment), medium (water soluble for watercolor, latex for acrylic), and
small amounts of driers.
Bargain paints have weaker colors. Professional grades have brighter, more
 Bargain paints have weaker colors. Professional grades have brighter, more
intense colors created by using more pure pigment and less medium. I usually
suggest that my students buy fewer colors of better grade paint rather than lots of
cheaper tubes. Watercolor paints, in general, cost more than acrylics because
they use more pigment and less medium.
Some of the best paint brands have student-grade lines, such as Cotman
Watercolors by Winsor & Newton. I encourage you to visit the big online art
supply stores when you are shopping for paint. These sources can really help you
to keep your costs down. (See resources.)
I love trying new brands and colors of watercolor paint as long as they are professional grade. My regulars
include Sennelier, Winsor & Newton, Graham, Daniel Smith, Holbein, Maimeri, Turner, and Cheap Joe’s
American Journey.

Choosing Colors
Start with the three primaries: red, yellow, and blue. Then gradually add to these
by sampling some of the variations. Cadmium red is a warm, yellowish red.
Scarlet or alizarin crimson is a bluer, blood red. Cadmium yellow light is like
Scarlet or alizarin crimson is a bluer, blood red. Cadmium yellow light is like
sunlight in a tube. Lemon yellow is a more transparent, greener yellow.
Ultramarine blue has a touch of purple. Cerulean blue is considered a warmer
blue. Cobalt blue is a beautiful china blue.
For watercolor, I do not recommend using black or white. They can be very
sneaky, turning your beautiful colors opaque and gray.
For acrylics, I stick with Golden and Liquitex paints. Their densities range from heavy body (like paste) and
more fluid (like cream) that are fun to try. Both brands also have a wide range of additive mediums.
PAINTING THE WOODS
I FINISH MOST OF MY PAINTINGS IN THE STUDIO, but I start them outdoors. This is a
personal choice that works well for me. I am not a renderer of what’s in front of
me. I don’t feel the need to match colors or chase changing shadows. I like to get
a deep impression of a subject or scene and then turn away from it so I can do a
new version based on my memory and what I felt, as much as what I saw.
I enjoy the physical distance created by returning to the studio to develop the
image. It’s a process, often leading to a finished watercolor on paper and then to
an acrylic on canvas with many sketches in between. By freeing myself from the
actual location and going to my studio I can work on the aspects of the scene I
really like, such as the softness of light falling through the trees, or the
transparent delicacy of a flower petal. As soft as an impressionistic painting may
appear, there’s structure behind it, and steps to getting there.
The woods are among my favorite subjects. I spend a lot of time wandering
through them looking at things. I particularly enjoy early mornings. Light seems
to have more personality in the morning than at any other time of day. The
presence of light slanting through the trees can be almost mystical in the way it
unites ephemeral and solid nature.
Mornings are wonderful opportunities to notice how light streaks across a flat
stone, intensifying the blue lichen and bedazzling raindrops on the edge of a leaf.
When you begin seeing light and noticing the effect it has on everything, then
your way is open to noticing what usually goes unnoticed.
I work in New Castle, an island on the New Hampshire coast. Most of the
trees here are pines: straight, smooth-skinned white pine and crooked, scaly-
barked pitch pine, with an occasional fir or hemlock, and remnants of the
original hardwood forests of oak and maple.
Woodland Road. Acrylic. 36" × 36" (91.5 × 91.5 cm). The woody hillside rising up and the light in the center
offer a soft passage through the painting. Notice the overglazing of thinned white paint.
Ocean Fog Along the Road. Acrylic on canvas. 10" × 14" (25.5 × 35.5 cm). This was a fast painting, playing
with the drama created by the fog through the trees.

I think what continues to attract me to the woods is that I can move through
the trees with the island’s promise of sea and sky just beyond them. I love the
feeling of the architectural shapes arching up around me like a cathedral.
Colored light filters through the foliage like light through a church window.
Breezes shake the leaves, making the light flit about.
Mornings invite me to step out and open myself to experience the magic of a
fresh day. Maybe the ground is covered by fog that, having thickened in the cool
shadows of night, is quickly disappearing in the morning light. Or maybe the fog
is from the ocean, socked in and settling down like a gray blanket. Sometimes
there is snow, sometimes drifting autumn leaves. The woods may be familiar but
they’re never the same.
When I set out to look around, thinking about my next painting, I take a lot of
phone snaps. Here is the thing, once I’ve taken the pictures, I don’t rely on them
very much. I keep them as reminders of what attracted me: how magical the light
looked on a lichen-covered branch or how it outlined the texture of moss against
granite. I don’t paint from them. Painting from a photo lacks the excitement of
seeing. The snapshot is my reminder of the scene, but it’s not the scene. When I
paint, I want to create from the experience of what excited me about what I saw
in nature, and the impression of what I see in my mind.
Berry Brook. Watercolor. 20" × 16" (51 cm × 40.5 cm). Green light filtering through the trees colors the mossy
rocks and the water in the brook.
 Demonstration: Painting the Woods in
Watercolor

The Approach
Choosing a place you’re deeply familiar with as a subject can make painting
both easier and more complicated. The physical reality of the place is apt to be
layered in memories of things you’ve experienced, good and bad. The challenge
is to try to see your familiar surroundings as if you’ve never been there before.
There’s a narrow dirt road that cuts across the center of this island. When I
was young, it was an overgrown footpath where the boys would dare each other
to bike at night and teenagers would go to do teenager things. Now the road has
been leveled and widened and there are more houses on it. But it’s still a dirt
road and it still has a picturesque mystery. This summer I’ve been walking my
dog there in the early morning. Something keeps drawing me back, so I decide
it’s a good subject for a watercolor demonstration.
PHOTOGRAPHY
Step 1. I begin, as I do every painting, with phone snaps. Every time I click the
shutter I’m making a decision about what I see. When I realize I’ve taken ten
photos of sunlight falling in patterns across the road and the silhouette of an old
pitch pine tree, I know there is something going on there for me. The light is
inviting. Perhaps there’s a story unfolding, with the dirt road disappearing into
the darkness of the woods. Where will it take me?
Finding inspiration

PENCIL SKETCH THE EXPERIENCE

Step 2. The next day I bike back at the same early hour. Here’s my first test.
Does the spot still capture my interest? Is the magic I felt yesterday still there? If
it’s gone, I look for other locations.
To really engage with a painting, I have to know I’ve made the right choice
and put any other choices out of my mind. This helps me keep a clear impression
of what I want to do in my mind.
This step is not just about sketching; it’s about taking notes of what drew me
to the spot. I always bring along a small spiral-bound sketchbook, pencils, and
an eraser, so that I can jot down notes—and not just about what I see. I write
down whatever I notice: what attracts or repels me, what the scene reminds me
of, what I smell, what I hear, what the sun feels like on my neck, whether I’m
hungry, whether I can smell the trees. I try to write down enough details so that I
can re-create those impressions in my mind when I get back to the studio.
I also make quick pencil sketches of the views I liked when I was
photographing, and when I do, I notice more details. Drawing demands more
attention. Even with quick sketches I notice the way the shadows lengthen and
pool across the road, the way that colors lurk and change in the foliage. When I
sketch I’m not trying to replicate the scene, I’m trying to capture my experience
of the road. In many ways these early stages of “seeing” my painting before it’s
begun are my favorite moments of being an artist.
begun are my favorite moments of being an artist.
Back on my bike
Sketching my impressions

WATERCOLOR SKETCHES
Step 3. Next I bring out my tiny outdoor painting kit—this is the minimum I
need to sketch an on-site watercolor. I can carry everything in a small carpet bag
on my bike. I have a pencil, a flat plastic lid with some dabs of dried paint on it
—red, yellow, and blue—a ¼" (6 mm) flat, synthetic sable brush, a spray bottle
filled with water, and a stack of 6" × 6" (15 × 15 cm) watercolor scrap paper, or
a watercolor block.
There’s a freedom in working with such an abbreviated palette. As I begin my
sketches, I’m not trying to match colors with nature; instead, I’m approximating
color families and values. As I look at the scene in front of me, I’m thinking
about the main shapes, but also the transitions at their edges: what makes them
stand out or blur together.
Balancing my outdoor watercolor kit in one hand while I sketch

Step 4. My quick watercolor sketches of the view record only my impressions—

no details. I try different combinations of color to find out which capture the
light and shadows the way I want to remember them when I go back to the
studio. I may use greens and golds or try for a quieter mood with cool purples.
As the sun comes out, I use strong, bright, exciting colors. All three sketches
express different impressions of the same location at different moments. Though
the colors differ in the sketches, similarities begin to appear: the weight of the
trees framing the road, the way the shadows fall at an angle. Without really
thinking about it, the painting I want to do is evolving in my mind. I’m ready to
take the sketches to my studio and get to work.

ABOVE AND BELOW Woods and dirt road color sketches

In the Studio: Research, Dialogue, and Visualizing
In my studio, my relationship with the on-site experience changes. First of all,
there’s a shift from responding directly to the situation in front of me to working
in a more deliberate, thoughtful fashion. But another important change is that
this is where I become more critical of my work.
Sketching on site, I work quickly and don’t stop to evaluate the quality of my
work: I’m only trying to capture my impression of the scene on paper. In the
studio, I slow down and make critical decisions. It’s a necessary transition—the
trick is preventing the deliberateness of thinking from suffocating the immediacy
trick is preventing the deliberateness of thinking from suffocating the immediacy
of the fresh impression.
I put on a Sarah Vaughan CD and sit down to look through my sketches and
photographs and reread my sketchbook notes. I pull out some art books by artists
who’ve explored the same ideas I am interested in and flip through images that
seem to have some relevance to what I’m beginning to develop in my mind. For
instance, I might find Wolf Kahn’s landscapes and Monet’s garden pond images
important in that moment. I’m not thinking about copying what they do, or
expecting their approach to provide solutions for me, not at all. For me, looking
at other artists’ work when I’m getting ready to paint is like a conversation. It
doesn’t matter how many centuries have gone by since they were working.
There’s still a give and take and an exchange of ideas when I look at their work
and think about mine. It can be very energizing.
I look through my on-site sketches again and begin to design the watercolor
in my mind. I like the way the trees in the foreground of my sketches frame the
road as it winds away. I like the way the road curves invitingly and disappears
mysteriously.

Lilly helps me look at sketches.

 I want the design to be simple, clear, and strong. It’s the choices I make about
color, value, and contrasts that will make the painting special. The
Impressionists often painted the most unassuming subjects—a field, an orchard,
the woods—but their compositions are not accidental.
I begin a fresh series of sketches to work out my plan for my painting: design,
value, and color.
I want to begin easily, without concern about process, or materials, or
finishing a great work of art. Sometimes I am unstoppable, but usually I waver
between caution and laziness, exuberance and fuzziness. So I start small.
Tape a grid of smallish squares or rectangles on a large sheet of Arches 140 lb
(300 g/m2) bright white hot press paper using artist tape, which is available in art
supply shops. I do this because it lets me try my ideas in sequence. I like to see
the sequence of the stages all together and the similarity of size and format. It’s a
kind of story board of the painting to be. The tape visually separates the panels
clearly and creates clean edges when I take it off at the end.

Dividing a large sheet of paper into small frames

Step 1. Design. I begin with a design sketch in pencil on paper. This is where I
work out the vertical and horizontal proportions. I’ll try several designs using
light pencil marks, simplifying the shapes until I find the most balanced,
attractive composition.
STEP 1. The first step toward the studio watercolor is creating a design I like in pencil.

Step 2. Value. The value sketch can be in pencil to shade in the design sketch,
establishing lights and darks. Values are the sequential range from white to black
that you see in a black and white photograph. I often darken the shapes along the
edge of a painting and use lighter values in the center. This establishes a center
of interest and pulls the viewer into a light-filled place.
In my second sketch I choose a single color, purple, to work out where the
 In my second sketch I choose a single color, purple, to work out where the
darkest and lightest areas of the painting will be. Then I begin to build and fit in
the middle values.
One universal truth about looking at paintings—all paintings—is that your
eye is attracted first to the areas of highest contrast. It’s like the start of a story.
Think about that when you start a painting—where do you want the viewer’s eye
to focus first? I decide to focus the high contrast in my painting at center front,
where the dark shadows of the trees cross the pale dirt road and lead you in.
STEP 2. Choosing the values—the darks and lights—is an informative step. In this painting, I want to create the
perception of depth. If the background is dark, the road will look like a tunnel into the darkness. If the
foreground is dark, the background will become more atmospheric.

Step 3. Color. Now that I have a good design and feel for the values, I work out
my color scheme. Inspired by the Monet paintings I’ve been looking at, I decide
to use predominately blues, purples, and red. I want the painting to feel like New
England—a cool, shady woods with a warm, sunny road. My dominant woodsy
color will be a combination of French ultramarine blue and pink-red
quinacridone red. For the road through the center, I will add yellow, warm green,
and turquoise.
In many ways, the most difficult part of creating the painting—making all the
decisions in the studio—is now done. Now I can move ahead with my
watercolor painting.

STEP 3. Choosing a color scheme is personal. For me it helps express my feelings about the scene such as the
jostling warms and cools of this location.
jostling warms and cools of this location.

CHOOSING COLORS
A note about choosing colors–for any painting that you do. Your approach to color is a lifelong pursuit.
For me what works best is to choose a dominant color. I think of it as the grandmother color. Then I
support it by surrounding it with analogous colors, like a family at a dining table. My choice of a
dominant color depends on the impression I want to express. Were the woods moist? Did the garden
glow in the sunlight? Was the water icy cold?

Step 4. I tape the edges of a large piece of watercolor paper to a board and divide
the paper into smaller squares and rectangles with tape. Working on several
small paintings at once allows me to try out variations on my basic idea. With
light pencil marks, I sketch the design.
Using a 2" (5 cm) flat brush, I paint the first wash of lightly tinted color to
establish the size and placement of the major shapes. My earlier value sketch
tells me where the whitest areas will be.
When the first wash has dried, I go back in and paint the tree. Leaving the
road as bare, white paper, I stroke rich cobalt blues into the right foreground tree
trunk with a #10 round brush. This tree is an important part of the design
because it places the viewer just outside the scene by its position between us and
the road. It also gives the road a bit of mystery.
STEP 4. I do a watery first wash of the painting with a big wash brush, ghosting in the main shapes. I like the
idea of light pinks shining among the darker trees.

Step 5. I use my big wash brush to paint the tree shadows across the road. The
angled shadows were important to me during the early stages of sketching. They
have become a critical part of the painting, offering a diagonal shape through the
center, with flickering lights and darks to attract the eye.
STEP 5. I build up layers of color, allowing each to dry before applying the next. As I add color and detail, I
work using larger to smaller brushes and painting larger to smaller areas.

Step 6. I lay in washes of transparent colors to create dark, rich tones. Placing
pure colors beside and on top of one another makes the trees look denser and the
dirt road more interesting. I use a thirsty brush technique (see here to here) to lift
damp color out from between the trees, and I smudge the surface to look like
mist.
STEP 6. I add layers of color to build up dark, rich tones. I use the thirsty brush technique to lift color out.

Step 7. Now I explore variations on my idea by adding violets and saturated

purples to one painting, creating a glowing, bounced-light effect that adds
vibrancy to the woods. To another, I purposefully leave the center misty and
mysterious. Finally, I add a range of cool blues and sweep pale greens across the
dirt road. The shadows appear cool, wet, and heavy, and the light glows clear
and fragile across the painting’s center.
STEP 7. One version with glowing, bright colors.
STEP 7. Another version stays soft and loose through the center.

Step 8. After deciding which of the variations I like best, I can either complete
my color work by adding the final contrasts and details, or put it aside and start
fresh, knowing exactly where I’m going as I begin a larger exhibition painting.
(Ultimately, I decide to finish up the cooler purple version by adding small, dark
branches and smudging and softening the areas of light on the road.)
These important considerations require me to step outside the creative interior
of my thoughts and plan this painting’s future home. Do I want to exhibit it? Do
of my thoughts and plan this painting’s future home. Do I want to exhibit it? Do
I have the perfect place for it in my own home? Sometimes I’m so involved in
the painting that I brush these thoughts away and plunge ahead. Ultimately,
though, if you exhibit and expect to sell your work, these are practical concerns
you’ll need to think about. Creating an exhibition piece takes time, planning, and
energy.

STEP 8. Morning Woods. Watercolor. 20" × 20" (51 × 51 cm). The finished painting successfully captures my
impression of a cool summer morning, after I add final details.
 Special Watercolor Technique: Lifting with a
Thirsty Brush

How to Create the Look of Mist

The “thirsty brush” technique allows you to lift paint off of your watercolor
painting. You might want to do this to create the effect of mist moving through
woods, or perhaps an area of blinding sunlight in a garden.

Step 1. The most important tools for the thirsty brush technique are clean water
and a clean brush. Choose a round medium size brush, such as a #8 or #10.
I’ll demonstrate this technique on a view much like the watercolor I just
completed, using a similar palette: cobalt and ultramarine blue, quinacridone red,
cobalt violet, and dioxide purple. I tape sheets of watercolor paper onto a support
board and set up my paper as a grid of four, so that I can test the technique
several different ways.
These blues and reds I’ve chosen are staining pigments that will not lift
completely from the paper. That’s what I want. (If I wanted to lift them off
completely, I would use lifting watercolor medium, which you can purchase at
art supply stores or online. Alternatively, I’d start out with Yupo synthetic paper
instead of Arches. Yupo does not absorb color and wipes cleanly back to white.)
STEP 1. I divide my paper into a grid of four with tape so I can test this technique several different ways using
blue, violet, and red staining pigments.

Step 2. I make a thin puddle of clean water on the paper where I want to create
the wooded area and the tall tree. I drop wet violet paint into the puddle and
watch it spread. As it begins to dry, I drop in wet purple and let it spread on top
of the violet.
This is where dividing the paper into grids comes into play. It takes practice
to get the feeling of how wet the paint and paper should be to achieve the effects
that you want in watercolor. One attempt may be too runny, another too uneven,
a third just perfect. Approach the technique with an open mind and see what
happens.
happens.

STEP 2. I drop color into clear, wet areas and then drag and spread colors with my brush.

Step 3. As I get ready to use the thirsty brush technique, I want the paper to be
just damp. You can judge how wet the paper is by gently laying the back of your
hand on the paper surface. If the paper is cool against your hand, it’s damp.
I stroke on the darker blue tree trunks. Now I want to lift off some of the
color so it looks like mist is filtering through the woods.

Step 4. While the tree trunks are still wet, I clean a brush with water, and then
gently squeeze out the moisture by running the bristles between my fingers. The
brush is now “thirsty.” I can brush it across newly painted areas and it will lift up
the wet paint. I can re-wet a dry area, let the paint color loosen for a moment or
two, and use the thirsty brush to lift up the color. The trick is to wipe the lifted
pigment off your thirsty brush between each stroke, otherwise you just smudge
lifted paint back onto the painting.
STEP 4. Squeeze the brush between your fingers to get rid of excess water. The brush is now “thirsty.”

Step 5. Once the diffused color is dry and I’ve lifted the areas of pigment to
create the impression I desire, I can go back and add darker details. To reinforce
the feeling of mist, I keep the foreground richer in color, detail, and shadow.
STEP 5. After lifting the wet color with the thirsty brush, I can go back and add details.
Gallery
I love painting watercolors of the woods—there are so many variations. Here are
a few of my favorites.

Early Spring Morning. Watercolor. 20" × 30" (51 × 76 cm).

Snowy Woods. Watercolor. 24" × 24" (61 × 61 cm).
Island Trail. Watercolor. 40" × 30" (101.5 × 76 cm).
 Demonstration: Painting the Woods in
Acrylic

Switching from Watercolor to Acrylic

When an image looks great in watercolor, I often want to see what it will look
like in acrylic on canvas. I enjoy working with acrylic. Compared to watercolor,
acrylic is easygoing and lazy. The paint lands where you put it and stays there. It
has great versatility, going smoothly from thin to thick and impasto. I remind
myself that it dries quickly and is unmovable once it dries. When you paint with
acrylic, be vigilant about keeping your brushes from drying and hardening.
My technique for using acrylic involves a physical building up of color in a
process similar to the way the French Impressionists used their oil paints.
Textural paint on canvas has a lot of visual weight, and can create a painting
with more physical presence than a watercolor. The size of the canvas, too, of
with more physical presence than a watercolor. The size of the canvas, too, of
course, will contribute to its impact.
GETTING READY
For this painting, with the road disappearing into misty woods, I want the canvas
large enough so that you can feel it pull you into the painting.
I make changes to my studio when I move from watercolor to acrylic. I clean
and put away my sable brushes and take out my synthetic acrylic brushes. I
round up my extra palettes and paper toweling and place my jars of paint within
easy reach.
I like the colors I used in my misty woods watercolor and choose similar
pigments: ultramarine and cobalt for some rich purply blues. Cerulean and
phthalo (phthalocyanine) blue for some greener blues, though I want to keep this
painting on the purple side. I have alizarin crimson, which is similar to
quinacridone red, to mix a range of purples. I also have white, cadmium yellow
light, and burnt umber, a deep, rich brown.

In the Studio

Step 1. I start with a prepared canvas and begin much as I did with the
watercolor, except that I do my sketching directly with paint, rather than starting
with pencil. I use a single 1" (2.5 cm) flat brush or a #12 round, and a single
color to rough in my dominant shapes and dark areas, leaving the curve of the
road untouched for the moment.
With acrylic, I can work from darkest colors to the lightest, which is different
than painting with watercolors. It’s a more logical progression. I build up layers
of color over the entire canvas. As the painting develops, I pause frequently, put
the brush down, and reassess the painting.
Acrylic has great flexibility and I can easily make adjustments to the painting
as I go along by just painting over areas I’m unhappy with. I want this painting
to feel magical and misty, so I will keep the surface smooth and creamy.
STEP 1: I use a bold blue to begin placing design elements.

Step 2. Once my loose, painted drawing is dry, I add more color to the trees and
background. I can be pretty free at this point, experimenting with color. I look
back at the sketches I did for the watercolor to get a feel for light versus dark
comparisons and to see which color variations I like the most. A loose, sketchy
application of rich color adds to the impressionistic feeling.
I want to create the sense of light coming through the trees, the way it does in
 I want to create the sense of light coming through the trees, the way it does in
the morning when the mist is rising. I mix up some light pink and blend it into
the canvas with my hand, almost as a color stain.

STEP 2: I add pink light coming through the trees.

Step 3. And now the mist. Once the pink light has dried, I invite the mist to sift
in from the left side of the image. I visualize it as being lighter in the far back of
the space, darker and richer closer to the front. I add the white paint in layers,
applying it first with a brush, and then blending it with my hand so that it
becomes soft and wispy. The layers become whiter and more opaque as they
cover each other. I remember clearly the caress of the damp sea fog against my
face and how the moisture made the pages of my sketchbook stick together.
STEP 3. I use both my brush and my hands to blend paint into soft mist.

USING YOUR HANDS

Using my hand as a mark maker is a spontaneous pleasure. Artists have been using their fingers and
coat sleeves to move paint around for ages. Oil paint has some unpleasant chemical attributes, which
discourages this practice, but acrylic, being latex, washes easily off your hands with mild soap. Using
my hands, I can cover large areas quickly with a thin coat of paint. I can give the paint the feeling of
movement, and I can blend it smoothly into the canvas with no brushstrokes.
 movement, and I can blend it smoothly into the canvas with no brushstrokes.

Step 4. Acrylic paint allows me to cover an area with mist and then pull out the
tree trunk and then cover it again. I step back to look and I’m pleased with what
is happening on the canvas. The mist gives the impression of moving and
swirling the way it does when it blows in from the sea, blotting out a tree shape
here and then thinning to reveal a branch over there. The purply blues create a
feeling of mystery in the painting, but there is golden light coming through.
Nothing is static. The composition is simple but it’s alive.

STEP 4. I step back to assess my painting. The white mist covers the entire painting and dims the foreground
and the tree trunks to the right.

Step 5. I decide the trees need more detail in the bark, but wisps of mist can still
streak across them. They will be darker and crisper the closer they are to the
viewer. I build up the leaves of the front tree so that it appears three dimensional.
To do that, I make the leaves in front the darkest, then lighter as the road curves
away.
STEP 5. The mist recedes and the trees re-emerge as I add visual interest to the trunks and branches.

Step 6. The progression of this demonstration gives a clear idea of the wonderful
flexibility of the acrylic medium. I love the way I can try different patterns of
brushwork, vary lights and darks, and combine colors. All of these things are
very helpful when I go to add dappled sunlight to the dirt road. As the painting
progresses, I put down some pale cadmium yellows to add color to the white of
the road. I decide to shift the light and lightly wisp on some darker cobalt blue
and then move the light onto the shadow by layering on a delicate rose pink. I
like that when I change my mind there are traces of the previous paint or
brushwork visible. This works really well to suggest the filtering light.
The acrylic layers are softly brushed across each other so that I can see the
layers underneath. I can try different colors and then lessen their intensity with
the additional layers. The process allows me to create the feeling I get when I
walk through the sun-dappled road—soft shifting bits of light and color falling
around me.

Step 7. When I near the end of a painting, I love to sit in the chair in my studio
and just look at it. I don’t force anything I just sit and look. Often the painting
will start “talking” to me and I will see areas that I need to adjust. When the
painting settles down and has nothing more to say, it’s finished. Allowing your
painting to talk to you is an important part of the process.
Woodland Road. Acrylic. 36" × 36" (91.5 × 91.5 cm).
PAINTING FLOWERS FROM THE
GARDEN
WHO DOESN’T LOVE FLOWERS? Despite my training in New York City art schools
in the 1980s where the emphasis was decidedly not floral, I love to paint flowers.
I love their color, their patterns, their structure, their textures, and their design
potential. I love their variations of shapes, edge qualities, and their fleeting ever-
changingness. It’s reassuring to remind myself that flower painting is one of the
great art traditions. The Impressionists share in that tradition.
While some artists consider flowers as unimportant and decorative, the
Impressionists celebrated the very nature of flowers. Van Gogh, Monet, Pissarro,
and Renoir painted fields of them—poppies, irises, dahlias, and sunflowers—as
bright living color, nodding and bending under the sun. They painted orchards in
bloom and single flowering sprigs. They brought armloads of flowers indoors,
piled them in vases—irises, lilacs, roses, and tulips—and painted portraits of
them, over and over again.
The Impressionists didn’t assign symbolic meanings to flowers. They didn’t
try to make their paintings scientifically correct. They painted their impressions,
capturing the fragility, the color, the crooked stems, and fading leaves of
flowers. In doing so, they somehow caught the essence and even the scent of
flowers and made them real. The public has never gotten tired of looking at
Impressionist flower paintings. For many, in fact, flowers are the first thing that
comes to mind when the word “Impressionism” is mentioned.
Dancing Garden. Acrylic. 36" × 36" (91.5 × 91.5 cm).
Floral inspiration in the studio
Nasturtiums from my garden in my favorite yellow pitcher

My inspiration for painting flowers is all around me in the studio, on vintage

fabrics, on postcards, on porcelain vases, and old tea cups. But of course my
greatest inspiration is my own garden. It makes me glad when I read how Monet
was intimately involved in every detail of his garden. I share his passion.
My garden is a lot like my paintings. It’s wild and tangled and creeps
stealthily across the bit of what’s left of my lawn. Nasturtiums are a particular
favorite because they have such a desire to grow, and their stems are so
interesting and unexpected.
As a gardener, I continually edit. I move things if they look unhappy, I pull
things out if I don’t like them, and I add a new plant when a friend gives me one
or I happen by a garden store. This is exactly the way I paint, always in flux.
Always changing.
Every flower has its own character and personality. Some are refined with
excellent posture like the iris with its ruffled evening-wear edges. Some, like
daisies are casual and exude a feeling of confidence. Nasturtiums are more like
teenagers—unpredictable in their size and growth direction. My whimsical
interpretations of flowers make painting them more fun. I like the idea of
capturing the essence of flowers—what I love about them when I see them
capturing the essence of flowers—what I love about them when I see them
blooming. Perhaps it’s their color, or the way they nod in the breeze that attracts
me.
Nasturtium Impression. Watercolor. 14" × 10" (35.5 × 25.5 cm).
On the Trellis. Watercolor. 22" × 10" (56 × 25.5 cm).

I think of flowers as falling into three basic shapes: the circle, the cup, and the
clump. The circle silhouette can be dynamically shaped with deep cuts and
irregular edges like the field daisy and sunflower, or folded in on itself like a
rose. The cup silhouette is the tulip, magnolia, and lily, with a smooth bottom
and an articulated top edge. The clump is the lilac, the hydrangea, the goldenrod,
or lavender.
or lavender.
Simplifying the flower shapes in my mind prevents me from being sucked
into a botanical daze when I go to paint them. It allows me to focus on creating a
design with the flowers in a painting, rather than focusing on their details.
Foliage is another wonderful design element. I try to use foliage that is a
different shape than the blossom and I try to use it repetitively so the flower
stands out, just as it does in my garden.
Along with design, good color is the foundation to a great flower painting. I
use colors to share my emotional impressions. To create excitement, I surround
hotter reds and yellow with cooler, darker greens and blues. Sometimes I choose
a quieter, softer feeling using a dominant color like golden yellow or pale blue
and the whole picture glows.
Day Lilies. Watercolor. 12" × 10" (30.5 × 25.5 cm).
Joyful Garden. Watercolor. 30" × 20" (76 × 51 cm).
 Demonstration: Painting Flowers in
Watercolor

The Approach
My garden calls to me and I choose it as my subject location throughout the
spring, summer, and fall. It’s the color and shape of my flowers that I like the
best. I like to watch the garden change throughout the day as the light shifts,
affecting the flowers and foliage. I pick the time of day when the color shows
best.
PHOTOGRAPHY
Step 1. The moments when I usually feel that rush of excitement and go
searching for my camera are when the morning sun is coming at an angle across
the foliage and blossoms. Sunny mid-mornings are a fabulous time to be in the
garden. The blossoms are opening wider. There may still be dew in the crook of
a leaf. Often the shadows act as dark cool backgrounds and make the blossoms
appear to jump out.
I like it when there is enough sun to highlight the colors without bleaching
them or tinting them yellow. For New Hampshire, it’s mid morning. I try to
record the light changes with my camera.

My first challenge in approaching a flower is to determine exactly what I like

about it and its foliage. This seems obvious, but I don’t know how many times
I’ve gotten three-quarters of the way through a painting and then realized I was
really only interested in one small part. With the nasturtiums I am interested in
the big circular leaves, the thin turning stems, and the intensity of the color of
the blooms.
STARTING TO PENCIL SKETCH
Step 2. I bring my trusty outdoor sketchbook with the big spiral binding into the
garden and pull up close to the nasturtiums spilling from a planter. I have my
graphite pencil and eraser ready. This is a non-pressure, intimate, getting-to-
know the plants time. I admire their leaves and stems. I marvel at their color and
the tiny veins on their petals. I notice the interplay of leaf shadows, one on top of
another.
I draw blind contour sketches. I put my pencil point on the paper and as my
eyes follow the length of the stem, my pencil point traces it automatically on the
paper. I’m falling in love with their delicate strength and vitality.
I’m definitely an amateur gardener. My garden is a tangle, often more foliage than flowers, but I kind of like
that. For me, finding the bright spots of color tucked into the abundant green just calls attention to how
important each part of the garden is.
I like flowers, such as these nasturtiums, with intense color and interesting silhouettes.
Sketching allows me to really enjoy looking at the beauty of a flower.

ON-SITE WATERCOLOR
Step 3. When my pencil sketching has helped me clarify what I want to capture
in the painting, it’s time for me to transition to color. Much as I did with my on-
site color sketch of the woods, I put together an abbreviated palette of colors,
water, brushes, and an 8" × 10" (20 × 25.5 cm) Arches hot press watercolor
block to work with on site. I often use two or three of these watercolor blocks
when I sketch outdoors. That way I can work on several color sketches at a time,
while I wait for the first ones to dry.

My abbreviated watercolor kit allows me to hold everything and paint at the same time.
Impression of Nasturtiums. Watercolor. 9" × 12" (23 × 30.5 cm).

In the Studio
I take everything back to the studio and spread out my sketches and photographs
on the floor. My dog, Lilly, is glad to get in from the sun and watches me from
her nest under a table. I feel rich with so many choices.
Moving inside quiets my mind. I have more control over the environment. It’s
 Moving inside quiets my mind. I have more control over the environment. It’s
just me and my impressions. The choices I make are my own. There isn’t much
in life that’s like that. It’s an open candy shop of possibilities.
Often each sketch and photo has a different look and feel depending on how
densely the flowers are arranged, how many stems and leaves appear, or whether
the background color is light or dark. Sometimes, when I notice that I have a
slew of photos and sketches of a single image, it dawns on me: I already know
how I want this painting to go.
For this painting, I create two story boards, one with a large sheet of paper
taped into rectangles, and the other with the paper taped into squares. I find this
particularly helpful with flower paintings because I like to play with the
composition of foliage and blossoms. Starting out with two story boards, I can
go back and forth between them, trying out both formats simultaneously. I also
like to have a lot of story board frames for flower paintings because the first
color I put down for each flower is the most intense, delicate, and transparent
that I will achieve. The pigment is pristine on the clean white paper. Every time I
go back into the blossom, even if I use the same color, the surface will become a
tiny bit cloudier and, sometimes, drastically more opaque and gray. The first
color I put down for my blossoms has to be what I want: practice helps me
decide.
A quiet moment

Step 1. Design. I like the feeling of being surrounded by foliage and flowers, as
if my nose is right there next to them, causing the shapes to blur a bit. To create
that feeling, I pick up my pencil and make an all-over design without any
reference to the sky or horizon. Everything is close to the foreground.
Within the close-up space I’ve drawn, I’ve made a complex design of
overlapping shapes. I keep in mind considerations like variations in size and
make a point of varying the sizes of the flower shapes. I create a big round
flower in the center left as a focus. The overall design is a soft curve from the
flower in the center left as a focus. The overall design is a soft curve from the
bottom left up along the right side and back across the top. I put smaller
blossoms at the top and crop the bigger blossom on the lower edge as if I’ve
come in very close to it and can’t see the whole blossom at once.
First studio sketch

Step 2. Value. I’m ready to work on the value sketch just as I did with the
woodland painting, but I’m using the values differently this time. I’m not going
to show the direction of the sunlight in this painting. This time it’s about color
not atmosphere.
I’m already thinking about colors, but first I need to decide where I will keep
the painting lighter and where it will be darker. The light areas will be pure,
the painting lighter and where it will be darker. The light areas will be pure,
bright color, and the darker areas, more opaque mixes. I plan where the paint
will go on in a single layer and where it will be mixed or overlaid.
There’s a saying that values are the cake and color is the frosting of a good
painting. The values are the structure that holds the painting together. The most
important thing for me in this design is to keep the composition light in the
center. I want the center to lift up toward me, fresh and fragrant, as if it will
brush my nose. So I will darken the design around the edges and keep the center
light.
I decide to darken the edges and keep the center light in my value sketch.

Step 3. Color. I use a lot of yellow in all my watercolor paintings. It has a very
light value, so it doesn’t change the value range of the white paper too much. As
an under-painting, it unifies the finished work with a common ancestor. If
glimpses show through, they are all part of the same color family.
I have a large palette with only yellows on it. I put five of one yellow in a
row. As I work on the painting, and return to the five, they pick up other colors
row. As I work on the painting, and return to the five, they pick up other colors
from the paint and become different yellows.
For this painting I’m using the cadmium yellow light as the first color. I mix a
puddle with clear water until the color is light. I also make a puddle of cadmium
orange. I can control the intensity of the colors by adding either more pigment or
more water. I have one water container to rinse off a dirty brush and another of
clean water to dilute clean colors. I am using one brush for the yellow and one
for orange to start. I will put the pure yellows and oranges in first.
When I work out my colors I go for bright warmth: cadmium yellow light, Winsor red, cadmium red, and
cadmium orange for the blossoms. Cobalt turquoise and cobalt blue will mix to give me a good range of
greens.
Several yellows mix together on my palette.

Step 4. First wash. I begin by lightly washing in the background colors,

reminding myself that I want to arrange the darks around the edges and to keep
the center lighter. I use a lot of water and a soft, round brush. The size of the
brush depends on the size of paper. I’m working on a small piece of paper so I
select a #8 brush.
I brush the clear water on first in a simple round shape, a little smaller than I
 I brush the clear water on first in a simple round shape, a little smaller than I
think the flower will be. Then I drop the color into the center and watch as the
color spreads out into the wet shape. This is a wet-on-wet watercolor technique.
In other areas of the painting I will load up a brush with the water and color
I’ve mixed on my palette and paint directly onto the dry paper. This is wet-onto-
dry painting. When you’re painting, use whichever technique you prefer,
wherever you want, both in the same painting if you like, and make up variations
of your own to get the look you want.
My first light wash of pure color is a lemony yellow, reaching toward green. I also use orange, which I’ve
mixed on my palette using the yellows and some cadmium red.

Step 5. Second wash. I let the first wash dry before proceeding. In this round, I
begin establishing the foliage shapes in the center by letting some yellows and
wet turquoise blues blend together on the paper. I stay away from the flowers
and work only with my greens and blues.
I add a range of happy greens.

Step 6. Adding foliage. I continue developing the foliage while avoiding the
drying blossoms. I mix several different greens on my palette. The contrast
between the greens and the oranges should be striking. If I used only one orange
and only one green, the contrasts would look flat. The time spent mixing the
variations of blues and yellows and greens is time very well spent. Watercolor
pigments do not all mix the same. Each pigment, and even each brand, has a
slightly different chemical formula causing it to dilute, granulate, and dissipate
its own way.
I use a yellow green in the center of the painting to connect the blossoms
visually. I use fresh water and brushes to make sure the oranges and reds do not
mix with my greens. If the orange mixes with the green, I will get a brown
green, which can be beautiful, but it’s not what I want here. I mix a bluer green
for foliage around the edges of the painting, always supporting my original idea
of light and warmth in the center of the design.

I give more form to the green foliage by shaping leaves and stems.
Step 7. Adding texture to the flowers. Once the feeling of depth is suggested by
the variations of greens in the foliage, I go back to add richer oranges to my
flowers.
I get clean water, rinse my brushes, and rewet the yellows and oranges on my
palette. I want to begin adding delicate texture to the petals, but I don’t want to
get too fussy. I decide to use plastic wrap to create the feeling of the folds and
veins in the petals. (See here to here for details on the plastic wrap technique.)

I use plastic wrap to add delicate details to the petals.

Step 8. Adding details to the foliage. While I wait for the paint to dry under the
plastic wrap, I make some decisions about the foliage. I’ve already decided I
want it bright and cheerful, but the amount of detail I put into the foliage will
determine the degree of attention it will attract.
Often it’s the background that determines the volume and tempo of a
painting. If I describe every leaf and indicate every stem, the painting will be
visually demanding. If I blur the leaves and indicate only the bits of stems, the
painting will relax and it will feel as though the air is moving through it. I decide
to blur the leaves and suddenly the painting relaxes.

I can go back into the patterns made with the plastic wrap to soften some and darken others.
I can go back into the patterns made with the plastic wrap to soften some and darken others.

Step 9. The reveal. I get fresh water and go back to consider the flowers. I’m
eager to see the effect of the wrap. I gently lift off the plastic. Each blossom is
different. I admire the way the darker reds and oranges make a fluted pattern
across the delicate first washes. I touch the textured paint to make sure it’s
completely dry before moving on.
As I adjust the details of the blossoms, I am careful not to cover the first wash
or lose the crispness of the plastic-wrap imprint. This is not the time for big
gestural brushwork. Using a small brush, such as #1 round, I add a darker area,
never more than a third of the blossom. I can’t stress enough the importance of
using clean water when working with flower colors. Even the slightest amount
of green or blue in the water will mute the orange, and I want the color to stay
bright.
To finish up I add dots of varying sizes and colors to create the center of the
flowers. I place them so that the flowers appear to turn in to face each other.
Adding the final details to the centers of the flowers.

Step 10. Standing out. I squint at the painting, which allows me to see the
overall composition and value relationships. I let my mind slip back to the
feelings I had leaning into the bright glory of the blossoms, hearing the buzz of
the busy honeybee, feeling the sun’s heat on my back. The square watercolor
I’ve been working on (opposite) really captures the impression I am hoping for.
The finished watercolor
 Special Watercolor Technique: Plastic Wrap

Creating Texture
Plastic kitchen wrap is a staple for every watercolorist. I avoided using it for
many years because I thought it was too gimmicky. But I discovered in time that
if you use it properly, it can add a level of delicate detail to even the most expert
watercolors.
You’ll need clingy kitchen wrap, clean water (a spritzer helps), a round brush,
and several colors of paint. I’ve decided to try it on some more nasturtiums and
have chosen cadmium yellow light, pyrrole orange, cadmium orange, and
cadmium red.
In this process, you’ll use plastic wrap to create a crinkled pattern in the paint.
Once it dries, you can then use the thirsty brush technique (Shown here to here)
to add washes and lift out color in the textured pattern.

Step 1. Spritz or brush a thin puddle of water on the paper where you want to
create the flowers. Drop some bright yellow into the water and watch the color
spread. When the yellow dries, make another puddle of clear water over the first
and drop in some orange or red where the center of the blossom will be.
Step 2. While the orange paint is still quite wet, tear a square of plastic wrap
double the size of the blossom. Pinch the center of the plastic square and pull out
the edges so that it is pleated from the center outward.
Step 3. Once the pleats and creases are arranged, place the square of plastic over
the wet orange paint. Press lightly; you will see the orange paint squish into the
creases of the plastic wrap.
Step 4. Allow the paint to dry completely before shifting or removing the plastic
wrap. The best way to tell whether the paint is dry without removing the plastic
is to blow on it. If the plastic slides off the paper, the paint is dry.
Step 5. Now you can go back into your painting and add foliage as well as
details.
Step 6. The drier the paper and pigment, the crisper the pattern will be. Once
your pattern is dry, you can paint over it with darker washes or lift out areas to
create contour in the petals.
Gallery
Flowers are gloriously varied in shape, color, and details. These finished
paintings celebrate the beauty of the flower.
Impressions of Nasturtiums. Watercolor. 22" × 12" (56 × 30.5 cm).
Moonlight on Peonies. Watercolor. 22" × 11" (56 × 28 cm).
Morning Garden in June. Watercolor. 11" × 22" (28 × 56 cm).
Golden Melody. Watercolor. 22" × 12" (56 × 30.5 cm).
 Demonstration: Painting Flowers in Acrylic

When I think of flower paintings on canvas, Monet’s water lilies and fields of
poppies come to mind. Let’s add Van Gogh’s sunflowers and irises and Renoir’s
enormous vases of rust and gold chrysanthemums. These artists knew what it
was like to have their noses right up close to the blossom. That’s my favorite
view, too. I am still intrigued with the idea that I started in watercolor.
Working with acrylic on canvas, however, offers me greater flexibility in the
painting process and a physical presence beyond the watercolors. The color dries
where I put it, and by dragging and scumbling the paint, I can build up tactile
layers, allowing dozens of colors to sit in close proximity. When close up, you
can see all the tiny bits of the individual colors. Step away and the colors blend
into three-dimensional forms. Monet’s water lilies are a perfect example.
As I approach the idea of beginning a painting in acrylic, I’m thinking it
would be great to build up a complex physical surface in one area of the painting
and a smooth, thin surface of a single color in another. I’ll need to pay attention
to the thin layers of paint that provide the transparency of the petals without
making them so thin that I lose the big happy orange color. As in the watercolor
painting, I intend to use the plastic-wrap technique to suggest a pattern of thin
veins on the petals.
Big, Bold and Beautiful. Acrylic on canvas. 36" × 36" (91.5 × 91.5 cm).

Getting Ready
I put away my watercolor gear and bring out my acrylic water buckets, synthetic
brushes, and jars and tubes of acrylic paint. I also gather old plastic lids and
plastic plates to use as palettes, a roll of plastic wrap, and paper towels.
I want to keep the bright, warm reds and oranges that I used in the watercolor,
so for my floral colors, I choose cadmium red light and cadmium red medium.
Cadmium yellow and lemony aureolin yellow will add warmth. I’ll also use
Cadmium yellow and lemony aureolin yellow will add warmth. I’ll also use
titanium white, burnt umber, and a darker red (perhaps a pyrrole red or alizarin
crimson) for the deeper tones. I want this painting to make me cheerful, so I will
contrast the bright orange flowers with green. Choosing turquoise for my greens
will make the reds and oranges pop, but I also want cobalt blue for a cooler
green mixture.

Color inspiration in the studio

In the Studio
Step 1. Setting up an acrylic palette is different than setting up a watercolor
palette. Professional watercolor paints are pigment-intense. They are thinner and
quickly settle into a flat puddle when you squeeze them out. Acrylics have more
filler and binder, giving them a full-body, toothpaste texture.
I squeeze out a generous blob of cadmium yellow and a blob of titanium
white. I won’t put out all the colors I intend to use because they dry so quickly. I
begin with the yellow and white, leaving lots of room on the palette to mix and
move the paints. Acrylic does not flow like watercolor. I have to drag the paints
together. As with watercolor, I use separate brushes, one for oranges and
yellows, and the other for greens. I also use separate water containers for each.
I put the pre-stretched and gessoed canvas on my easel and choose a hefty
#12 synthetic round brush. This is a durable, flexible brush that holds a lot of
paint and allows for a wet application of paint.
I rarely start acrylic paintings with pencil sketches, but instead start directly
with paint. With acrylic, I can always go back over an area to change it. In this
case, with my sketches as models, I have my design clear in my mind.
I brush large circles of bright (but not thick) yellow paint onto the canvas and
let it dry. While it sets, I squirt out cadmium orange and an additional blob of
white on my palette. On another palette, I set out my greens—using yellows,
turquoise, cobalt blue, and white. I add pale orange loosely in areas over the
yellow and sketch in with green where I want important pieces of foliage to be.
Materials include Golden and Liquitex acrylic paints, a plastic water bucket, and acrylic paint brushes.
First loose, bold washes

Step 2. When the paint is dry, I’m ready to use the plastic wrap, in the same way
as I do with watercolors (see here to here). This will be easiest if I lay the canvas
flat on the floor or on a large work surface. I mix a red-orange on a palette and
brush it over the yellow flowers, trying to stay within the flower shape, and
piling the paint thickly at the center. I cut a piece of plastic wrap larger than the
area I want to cover and pinch the center of the wrap to create a pattern of
wrinkles and folds. I place it over the wet paint and gently press down,
encouraging the thick red-orange paint to move into the folds of the wrap, and
then I leave it to dry.
NOTE: To get the clearest, most delicate striations of texture from plastic
wrap, it’s best to use the technique only once for each flower. Later, as the
painting progresses, you can return and repeat the process in smaller areas. You
can do this at any time. Overdoing it with the plastic-wrap technique can cause
the texture to become confusing, losing the feeling of the delicate flower. A
single application is best.

Place the plastic wrap onto the wet acrylic paint and arrange the crinkles and pleats to suggest petal details.

Step 3. While the paint is drying under the plastic wrap, I work on the foliage. In
the earlier watercolor painting, I painted “negatively,” filling in the shapes
around the lighter leaves. With acrylic, that’s not necessary; I can paint the
leaves in front and the foliage in back at the same time.
What I need to keep in mind is that the leaves in front will be lighter and
yellow-green. The leaves behind them will be darker and bluer. I can mix my
greens in an orderly way by thinking in terms of light, medium, and dark, and
moving from warm yellows to cooler blues.
I squeeze cadmium yellow light and turquoise onto my palette, along with
white. For a cooler blue green, I add a squeeze of cobalt. (My palette is covered
with many coin size piles of various greens.) Then I mix, trying different
with many coin size piles of various greens.) Then I mix, trying different
variations, sometimes mixing all the different greens together. I want to capture
the rich variety of greens I see in the garden.
Always mix colors until you like them. Everyone has a slightly different color
taste. It’s what makes your art yours.

Smooth some of the creases to blend the colors.

Step 4. I repeat the plastic-wrap process on the foliage. Building up rich

variations in the color and textures of the foliage is critical for this painting. I can
remove the plastic wrap within minutes of putting it on if the paint is thick, or I
can leave it on all afternoon. I vary my timing to see what I like. The flexibility
of the acrylic allows me to make big and small adjustments throughout the
painting process.
Repeat the plastic-wrap technique on the leaves.
Mix some greens, keeping variations on the palette.

Step 5. As I shape and blend my foliage colors, I simultaneously refine the

flower shapes by bringing the green up to the orange. I think about bringing the
leaves under the flowers. I remember the layers and layers of leaves and stems
under the flowers in my nasturtium garden. I think about the delicate edges of
the flower against the rich, thicker foliage.
I like the tangle of leaves and tendrils. They’ve created the impression I
 I like the tangle of leaves and tendrils. They’ve created the impression I
wanted, but I do need a focus in the painting to draw the eye. I squeeze alizarin
crimson onto the palette and use a smaller brush to dab a darker center on each
flower so the flowers seem to talk to each other—as I did for my in-studio
watercolor painting.

I build up layers of orange, yellow, and deep red.

I lightly tap some orange across the yellow to suggest the thin, delicate impression of the petals.

Step 6. Art is a wonderful process of starting with a loose idea, making decisions
about it, and then refining it until you know it’s done. I have made most of the
big decisions about this painting. The process isn’t over yet, but now I can relax
and have fun refining the blossoms further.
I use smaller brushes—small, synthetic flats. I make a point of using new
brushes now, so I can achieve a tidy edge. My brushstrokes become smaller. I
brushes now, so I can achieve a tidy edge. My brushstrokes become smaller. I
continue to clean up the blossom edges by outlining them with various light,
dark, and yellow greens. Yellow greens are for the foliage tucked around the
petals. The darker blue green is for the small spaces between the lighter leaves
and around the edges of the design.
Detailing reds

Step 7. I take a break to sit in my big studio chair and “listen” to the painting.
What is it saying? Does it need something here? Is it too busy there? Can I feel
the delicate vitality of the petals?
Working in the greens

Step 8. Finishing up this acrylic is a wonderful slow dance of adding glimpses of

detail among the leaves. I add a graceful bending stem of the curve of a
shadowed petal. I also add more dark details to the centers. I look for the most
“talkative” blossom, the one that the others seem to be listening to.
I adjust the flowers’ strengths by varying detail and contrast. The most
important flowers have the darkest, most dramatic centers, and the less important
important flowers have the darkest, most dramatic centers, and the less important
may have just a few spots of body color. The centers of the flowers become less
dramatic as the eye moves away from the center of the painting. I’ve tried to
capture the feeling that I am leaning into these flowers and leaves.
Painting details with a small, round brush

Step 9. I’m happy with the outcome of this painting. It has the bright colors and
interesting design of my earlier watercolor plus the physical texture and presence
of acrylic. It seems to call out “come look at me” when you walk into its space.
That’s what attracted me to the nasturtiums, when I photographed them in the
garden.
As I finish up, I use crisp drawn lines of bright red to refine the shapes.
Gallery
Here are some other acrylic paintings of flowers from my garden.

Geraniums. Acrylic on canvas. 20" × 20" (51 × 51 cm).

Queen Anne’s Lace Evening. Acrylic on canvas. 30" × 30" (76 × 76 cm).
Nasturtiums #5. Acrylic on canvas. 30" × 30" (76 × 76 cm).
Tulip Tango #2. Acrylic on canvas. 30" × 30" (76 × 76 cm).
PAINTING THE ROCKS AND SEA
I AM ATTRACTED TO THE VARIATIONS OF WATER MOVEMENT. Sometimes, in a garden
pool, for instance, the movement is nearly invisible. In contrast, the movement
of a pounding ocean wave is almost overwhelming, happening everywhere at
once with different colors and textures and patterns. It’s easy to compare the
variability of water’s movement to so many different kinds of music, from
lullaby to parade band to full symphony orchestra.
Painting pictures of water is always a good idea. There are so many aspects to
appreciate. I love looking at the light and shadows in the moving water, the flow
of the current splitting around a rock, the shifting reflections of the clouds and
distant shoreline rippling across the surface, and the fish and pebbles beneath it.
Along the shore, our green-ochre seaweed called “rockweed” wraps and swirls
above and below the surface with each breaking wave. For me, it’s mesmerizing.
One of my favorite subjects to paint is New Castle’s ocean shoreline. I have
done it many times. I’ve attempted to capture my impression of the different
aspects of the ocean—sometimes more successfully than other times. My
experience growing up here, searching the rocks and tidal pools for starfish and
sea urchins, made me imagine crevices of hidden treasures. The possibility of a
slip on the rocks and an unceremonious dunking into the very cold, rockweed
camouflaged pools, however shallow, made the experience fraught with hazard.
The Atlantic Ocean off of New England is always cold, even in the summer.
Early Island Morning. Watercolor. 20" × 30" (51 × 76 cm).

One of the most challenging aspects of painting water is, unsurprisingly, its
movement. There are many ways to paint ocean waves. Some artists seem to
“freeze” the wave in mid-tumble. The French Impressionists were captivated by
patterns of the waves heaving and cresting from a distance. They portrayed them
moving with blurred edges and myriad colors reflecting the sunlight and sky.
Similarly, Winslow Homer, perhaps the best American painter of water and
waves, captured moving power and splattering foam in his Prouts Neck ocean
paintings. He chose to forgo the anatomical rendering of a wave and instead
portrayed the impression of pouring, spilling water and rugged rocks.
When I start thinking about painting the ocean I remind myself to simplify
 When I start thinking about painting the ocean I remind myself to simplify
my impressions. The compositional elements, light and dark relationships, and
color choices become important to expressing the feelings I hope to convey.
Composition is particularly important in creating the mood. Will the picture
seem to tilt and loom or balance evenly and peacefully? The more dramatic the
angles, the more exciting the painting. But perhaps I want an entirely different
feeling, one of relaxation and escape. If I stretch a straight unbroken horizon line
midway through my paper, the feeling is stable and relaxing.
My palette is equally important. Will the colors vary dramatically between
light and dark? Will I choose colors that are saturated and intense, or muted,
softly blended grays?
The way I convey energy in my brushwork will have a big effect. If the
strokes are blended and nearly invisible, the feeling will be calm. If the
brushwork is plainly visible, abrupt, and going in all directions, the image will
be energized and more dramatic.
If I want to share the exciting impression of being practically in the water, I
will leave out the horizon line and fill the images with active diagonals of white
foam and intense color.
Water can express so many emotions, it is no wonder it is such a popular
painting subject. Deciding how dramatic or calm I want a water scape to feel is
the first step in creating a strong painting.
Morning Chop. Watercolor. 22" × 30" (56 × 76 cm).
 Demonstration: Painting the Rocks and Sea
in Watercolor

On the ocean side of the island

Most of our shoreline in coastal New Hampshire is rocky. When I think of

choosing a specific site for a watercolor demonstration, there is one special place
on the island that comes to mind.
A historic fort still stands guard on the southeast side of the island. The rocks
along its shore are huge and rough. They are a chaotic mix of black, rounded
shapes with white, bleached tops, dark red blocks that shatter into rectangles,
and soft gray lumps that seem to melt a bit under each wave. It’s a glorious
place. There are seldom any people there because of the rough walking. I can sit
undisturbed until the tide comes in.
I spend extra time just being there, breathing the salt air. I close my eyes and
try to differentiate between the smell of the ocean and the rafts of drying sea
weed on the higher rocks. I sit listening until I can hear the waves hitting in a
sequence around me: the boom that echoes from a low overhang, the crack of the
breaker just off shore, and the hiss as the wave pulls back across the smaller
rocks. Sometimes I have to make an effort to open my eyes again. Being able to
take the time to not only be there, but to experience being there, is one of the
greatest perks of being an artist.
Eventually sitting on the rough surface of the rocks becomes uncomfortable
enough to pull me from my reveries and push me toward my work.

Sometimes I forget to sketch and just sit, lost in “seeing.”

The Approach
PHOTOGRAPHY
Step 1. I pull out my camera and start snapping photos, looking at different
angles. I crouch to view the white rocks above me, climb high to look down into
a wide crevice, or sit still to snap a panorama of the rocks, breaking waves, and
distant horizon—with or without the obliging lobster boat and lighthouse.
I take photos in series, trying to catch the foam on the rocks at the best
 I take photos in series, trying to catch the foam on the rocks at the best
moment. It’s harder than I thought, and I begin to think that painting it might be
easier than trying to capture it with a camera.

Capturing quick impressions of the rocks and sea

PENCIL SKETCHING
Step 2. I’m glad I brought both my camera and my drawing tools today. I have
my spiral-bound sketchbook, graphite pencil, and eraser. I move about quickly,
sketching in the larger shapes and shading the sides with smudges or
crosshatching. Immediately it becomes clear to me that one of the more
intriguing aspects of the scene is the heavy mass of the rocks and the fluid
transparency of the water. That is what I want to try to capture.
I know from experience that my outlines of the rock shapes need to be clearly
defined so that when I get back to the studio they still retain the quality of being
specific rocks.
Rocks are interesting. They have layers of color and fascinating striation
patterns because of their constant abuse from the waves. I have to remind myself
to resist the temptation to detail the surfaces until I’ve sketched their shapes. It’s
like a fellow wearing a bright pink paisley shirt: I have to sketch the fellow
before I get to the paisley.
before I get to the paisley.
I try to capture the rock’s weight in my drawing. I chant “rock, rock, rock” to
myself as I sketch and try to feel its solidity and size as if I were the rock itself.
It helps. By reminding myself that the rocks are darker on the bottom and lighter
on the top with a boxy mass, my sketches capture the impression I’m looking
for.
Keep the pencil sketch loose and let the moment inspire you.

Step 3. I have to clear my mind and change gears as I start to sketch the waves.
Their nature is the opposite of the rocks. As I sketch quick lines that represent
the current flowing in, I imagine the force of the water sweeping around the far
rock and spilling over the smaller ledges before swirling back on itself.
It’s critical that I understand the nature of that flow; the way it pushes back
against itself. It bursts into a high spray when it hits the farthest rock first and
against itself. It bursts into a high spray when it hits the farthest rock first and
then dies down as it’s dragged from beneath by the shoreline. I catch myself
making sounds like the waves as I sketch them; it’s just as well there are no
other people around.

My outdoor watercolor kit wedged between ocean shore rocks

WATERCOLOR SKETCHING
Step 4. Luckily, the next morning the weather has not changed too much. I try to
get back to the site when the tide is about the same as the day before. I have my
traveling watercolor kit with me: yellow, red, and blue paint dried on a little
plastic palette, my spray bottle and a small round brush. I’ve brought along two
8" × 10" (20 × 25 cm) blocks of Arches hot press 140 lb (300 g/m2) paper. It can
be extremely windy on the shore, so I’ve brought minimal supplies and only
things that can’t blow away. I’ve carried everything in a cross-body painting
satchel; I need my hands free when I move around.
I begin realistically, choosing colors that come close to what is there. The
rocks are so beautiful I have to consciously fight the temptation to focus on their
striations. Maybe someday I will come back and paint just the rocks, but today I
want the broader seascape feeling.
The color of the rockweed as it undulates in the current is a mix of yellow,
red, and blue. It glows against the grayed darkness of the rocks. I try to get a feel
for the color of the water as it breaks over the rocks and swirls in the shallows. I
try to capture the color of the falling edge of foam as the waves break against the
rocks. I head back to the studio inspired.
rocks. I head back to the studio inspired.

Breaking waves
Patterns of rockweed, roiling in from the waves
Inspiration from painters Ed Betts, Joan Mitchell, Helen Frankenthaler, and Wolf Kahn

In the Studio
It takes longer than usual to adjust to being inside, probably because of the rush
of sea air I’ve been breathing. I take my time, in part because I’m a little
overwhelmed by the idea of trying to paint the swirling, crashing energy of the
waves. How did I do it before? How have other artists done it?
I dig into my stacks of books and art magazines and I look through mountains
of my older watercolors, trying to connect with previous ideas. I’m
unconsciously sorting through my impressions of the experience and am
confident that what comes out in the end will be stronger because of this process.
I realize that it’s the simplicity of my desired composition—one that is solely
waves and rocks with no sky or beach—that makes proceeding difficult.
I want the feeling of energy in the waves. I want to feel the sting of the sea
spray on my cheek when I look at my final painting. Can I achieve that?
I tape a grid onto a large sheet of watercolor paper with that goal in mind. I
also assemble plastic wrap, a single-edge razor blade, a white candle stub for
wax resist, an old toothbrush, a small watercolor sponge, a spray bottle of clean
water, and paper towels.
Collecting materials for the in-studio watercolor painting

Step 1. Design. I start with a light pencil sketch, trying to capture the movement
and rhythm of the waves. The placement of the rocks is critical to the design. If
they huddle along the lower half of the composition, they feel tame. If they rise
to the height of the format, they become looming forces.
I decide to start with a big, a medium, and a small shape. I position my rocks
so that they recede in space. The large rock in the foreground gives the viewer a
place to stand. I’ll open one side of the composition for the water to flow
through. The back-and-forth jostling of the water will contrast with the solidness
of the rocks.
Two rocks anchor the corners and squeeze the rushing water toward the
bottom right. The rocks hold the design like thumbtacks holding rippling silk.
The water will command attention as it pours through the center of the design,
bumping into the rocks and erupting into spray. To add to the energy of the
painting, I zoom in close, eliminating the sky completely.
This is just one possible composition. It expresses one level of drama. When
you set out to do a seascape— or any painting for that matter—try all sorts of
compositions and be aware of what intensifies or relaxes the drama of the image.
I’ll be working on several different versions at once, as I did earlier in the book.
I do a quick studio sketch to simplify my impressions into a solid composition. This is my design sketch.

Step 2. Value. One of the interesting things that happens when I look at my
design for this painting is the way my eye goes back and forth from rocks to
water. At first, the rocks are the positive objects and the water runs around them.
At second glance, it’s the water that is the positive force and the rocks are
shadowy elements.
When you come across this kind of back and forth in a design, consider both
aspects to decide which one you want to emphasize. In the value sketch, I look at
the light and the dark. The light of the foaming water is in high contrast to the
dark rocks.
You can subtly make the rocks more important and have the water be the
background around them, or decide the water will be the most interesting part,
with lovely colors and splatters of foam. I scribble a note in the margin to remind
myself that it’s the water that will be my focus.
myself that it’s the water that will be my focus.

The light of the foaming water should be in high contrast against the dark rocks. This is my value sketch.

Step 3. Color. I’ve decided to paint energetic waves and choose a bright
assortment of blues: cobalt, cyan, ultramarine, and cobalt turquoise. To add to
the green of the water, and to highlight the rocks, I choose my favorite cadmium
yellow light, as well as yellow ochre.
For the rocks, I select burnt umber because it is a reddish brown and a bit of
cadmium red. So, in fact, I have a version or two of the three primary colors—
red, yellow, and blue—on hand. My palette becomes almost infinite with these
colors. I also have a tube of Chinese white paint. This is one of the rare times I
include opaque white on my palette. I will use it for the final foamy touches.
For my color sketch, the palette that I choose will determine the mood of this painting. If I use Payne’s gray
and indigo rather than bright turquoises, I will end up with a very different painting. Choosing lively blues that
hover between warm and cool, such as cobalt and cyan, makes the drama more inviting, so that I could almost
feel the spray of the waves.

Step 4. Now that I have the design, value, and color figured out, I begin with the
studio watercolor painting. I start with the plastic-wrap technique (see here to
here) to create a different feeling through the texture. I want the patterns created
by the plastic wrap to suggest the flow of water.
I start with the water. My first light wash of yellow sets the image in place. I
pull off a long strip of plastic wrap and use the one piece to cover the water
flowing from top to bottom. (Because my water will be green, I can start with
bright yellow and overlay washes of blue to produce organic greens.)
When the paint is dry under the plastic wrap, I lift it. Even with this first
 When the paint is dry under the plastic wrap, I lift it. Even with this first
wash, I am thinking about how much foam and splash I will want later on. To
prepare, I center the wash of color between the rocks and leave bare white paper
all around it. I mix some browns and lightly add them where the rocks will be.
Again, I use the plastic-wrap technique on the rocks to create short and ragged
patterns, different from the long, smooth pattern of the flowing waves. I crinkle
up some wrap and press it on the still-wet brown paint.

For the studio watercolor painting, I have chosen a warmer palette. For the first wash, I brush in a light layer
of yellow ochre and add a bit of red for the rocks. Then I brush in pure cadmium yellow light for the water.

Note: Using plastic wrap serves two purposes for me. First, I don’t know exactly what the results will
be when I use it, so it keeps the first steps of a painting looser than if I simply painted in a shape.
Second, the technique dries as mottled color, and when I paint over it in watercolor, the color does not
even out. This adds layered richness and a free, unstructured pattern to the transparent layers.

Step 5. When the first wash is dry and the plastic wrap comes off, I mix a
greenish blue on my palette and brush it lightly across the area that will be the
breaking wave. Again I crinkle plastic wrap and press it down on the wet paint.
This will layer the loose patterns of the flowing water.
 While the green paint is drying under the plastic wrap, I brush a light coat of
burnt umber on the rocks to darken them. While the burnt umber is wet, I texture
the rocks by dragging the flat edge of a razor blade or a credit card through the
paint to suggest striations in the rock. (See “Special Watercolor Technique: Wax
Resist and Scraping for Texture” shown here and here.)

I add a transparent wash of green blue over the water.

Step 6. I turn my focus back to the waves, painting in a bit of blue wash through
the water. I vary the blues, using green toward the bottom just as the sea turns
green when it churns, and cooler ultramarine blue farther away. I’m careful not
to cover all of my earlier delicate blue washes or the white areas around the
rocks. I want to keep areas of the initial blue wash as fresh as I can.
I’m pleased by the white areas along the edges of the rocks and the water.
They already look like they are moving with the wave. I’ll turn them into foam
later.
I build layers of texture on the rocks and contrast between the surface of the
rocks and the water. Though they both start with washes and plastic wrap, I
continue to emphasize their differences.

Use the plastic wrap to suggest the flow of choppy water.

Use the plastic wrap to suggest the flow of choppy water.

Step 7. I continue to build up texture on the rocks with wax resist. Using wax as
a resist in watercolor is a technique that was used by the masters John Singer
Sargent and Winslow Homer. The trick is to use it sparingly or it will discolor
the paper in time. Draw with it like a crayon in the areas you want to use it. If
you bear down too hard and the wax goes on too thick, scrape it off with a razor
blade. Then try a color wash over the waxed area and see what happens. (See
here and here for more on this technique.)

Now I begin to add the blues.

Now I begin to add the blues.

Step 8. I have darkened one side of the rock in the foreground so that it feels
weighty. This also gives the rock a three-dimensional look. The dark shadow is
simply a stronger mix of the rock colors I’ve been using. I might add a little
ultramarine blue to the burnt umber for a good, dark color.

Step 9. Now I add loose blue brushstrokes to the water. I move my brush like it
is the churning water, whispering watery sounds to myself without meaning to.
Each brush stroke is clear. The water seems to spill actively and unimpeded from
the top to the bottom.

The rocks feel heavier and more solid when I darken the side.
Step 10. The painting is almost done. I take a walk around the studio, thumb
through my music collection, and put on an Ella Fitzgerald CD. My dog Lilly
gets a biscuit for keeping the studio chair warm. I sit down and ask myself what
exactly is going on in the painting? I try to look at it with fresh eyes. What jumps
into focus? Are the rocks the most important or is the water dominant? What
areas are mushy and uncertain? Are the values balanced? Is there a range from
white to dark? Are my colors clean?
Some artists look at their work in mirrors or upside down. Some use a
“receding lens” which is the opposite of a magnifying lens. I just take off my
glasses. The details disappear and the larger design, values, and color
relationships are all I see.
This is a simple painting. It’s about rushing, churning water and hard-textured
rocks. The water is slightly more interesting than the rocks because of the lovely
blue and green colors. I move on to make tiny adjustments.

Step 11. After some thought, I rewet an area of the water that is too bold a blue.
Using my #10 round brush, I dab a few drops of clear water on the blue, count to
five, and then lift the drop back up with my brush tip. (Using a “thirsty brush”
this way is described in detail shown here to here.)
Getting closer to completion

Step 12. I decide that adding a triangle of darker blue along the top center edge
will lend more of an ocean-like feel. Using a clean brush, I wet the area with
enough clear water to sit on the surface like an oil slick. I put the blue from my
palette into the middle of the wet spot. The idea is that the new wash of darker
blue will spread, darker in the center of the wet area and lighter along the edges,
thereby blending visually into the previous dry layer.
Step 13. I step back to gain a wider perspective on my paintings. The larger the
painting, the farther away I walk back. Distance allows me to assess the overall
composition, values, and colors and determine whether to make any final
adjustments. I use the damp watercolor sponge to blur an edge and a brushstroke
that seem too hard.
As a last touch, I dip the old toothbrush into Chinese white paint. It goops on
the bristles, which I flick my finger across to spritz a fine spray of white where
the rocks meet the water. I like the effect so much, I dip the toothbrush into the
blue and brown puddles on my palette and spray more color across the same
area. It looks better when the spray is uneven.
I am pleased with the energy of these watercolors. It is time to decide whether
to work on a larger watercolor painting for exhibition or move directly into
acrylic on canvas. I have resolved several questions about watercolor technique
and process. I have simplified my experience into a clear, bright impression of
the ocean waves crashing on the shore of New Castle Island.
Finished in-studio watercolor of the rocks and sea. 10" × 10" (25.5 × 25.5 cm).
 Special Watercolor Technique: Wax Resist
and Scraping for Texture

Creating the effect of textures in watercolor invites your imagination. The

advantage to using these techniques is that they create detail easily. After you
gain experience with them individually, you can use them together so they blend
into the watercolor background and no technique shows.
Along with your paints and brushes, you’ll need a white wax candle and a
single-edge razor blade or an old credit card.

Step 1. On our coast, the gray-brown shoreline rocks consist of multiple layers
of rough granite. They have coarse, uneven surfaces and often-distinctive
striations of quartz or darker stone running through them.
In setting up my palette, I choose cobalt blue, cadmium yellow light, and
turquoise for the water, and burnt umber mixed with a touch of red for the rocks.
That gives me all three primary colors.
Three steps demonstrating how to create texture using plastic wrap and razor blades. Notice the progression
from light and loose toward darker and more defined—classic watercolor “light to dark” approach.

Step 2. I mix an under color for the rocks—in this case a lime green, like the
summer seaweed. I block out the shape and position of the rocks and let the
color dry.
Step 3. Next, I hold the candle sideways and I draw with it, making marks across
the rock shapes, following the rough cuts and gouges in the actual rocks. Mixing
my colors into a rich brown puddle on my palette, I wash the paint over the rock
shapes and the wax.
Step 4. While the paint is wet, I drag the razor blade or the edge of the credit
card across the rocks to leave darker lines that suggest the rock is receding from
the foreground. As I drag the blade, I hold it at a slight angle, so that it pulls the
paint like a squeegee. This leaves the rocks lighter at the top and darker toward
the base,as they are in nature.
Step 5. The technique takes practice, but you will become more comfortable
with it each time you try it. Here I have let the first scraped layer dry and
repeated the process. I’ve added soft, wet blues to the water and the side of the
rocks.
Step 6. Once I have the shape and texture of the rocks as I want them, I let the
paint dry. I may go back in and add darker details later. Notice how the scraping
allowed the first wash of green to shimmer through the brown texture, in the
same way that seaweed clings to actual rocks.

Capturing a Moment
There is a familiar truism that the Impressionists were masters at “capturing a
moment” in nature. In a seascape that would certainly be a challenge with each
rising wave following another, smacking individual rocks differently and all at
the same time, spraying this way and that.
But of course the truism isn’t exactly true. The Impressionist painters didn’t
freeze a moment like a camera still or a Japanese woodcut. They encompassed a
moment. They blurred the edges, overlapping many moments into a rich surface.
In impressionism, you can experience the sunlight changing and the water
surface shifting. And in painting in this style you share your impressions of the
time, not just the moment, that you spent feeling the pounding of the waves,
time, not just the moment, that you spent feeling the pounding of the waves,
smelling the aging seaweed, and hearing the slap of the water.

Ocean Surf. Watercolor. 22" × 30" (56 × 76 cm).

Gallery
These paintings show what I like best about working outside along the rocky
seashore.

Wild Island Sea. Watercolor. 22" × 30" (56 × 76 cm).

 Demonstration: Painting the Rocks and Sea
in Acrylic

Foaming up

I decide to start a large canvas to see how the nature of the acrylic enhances the
impression of the water and rocks. I expect it will have a different feeling from
that of watercolor, as the surface textures build up with layers of paint.
I remember hearing that Winslow Homer, one of the greatest American
watercolorists, chose to paint the thundering rocky Maine Coast at Prouts Neck
using heavy oil paint. He was enamored with the collision of two elemental
forces and wanted to express the physical weight of the breaking waves. The
thick impasto brushstrokes he wanted would not be possible to attain with
watercolor paint.

Getting Ready
In getting my supplies ready for acrylic, I add an old toothbrush to my brushes
and a heavy paper card about the size of a credit card for creating texture. I will
use this for scraping acrylic paint, the way I did with a razor blade in my
watercolor.
watercolor.

I’ve collected another old toothbrush for this painting, and have a stack of
plastic lids for palettes. I’m equipped with plastic wrap, paper towels, and an old
kitchen towel. I rinse out some plastic coffee cans and fill them half way with
water and place my jars of paint within easy reach.
I select a 30" × 30" (76 × 76 cm) cotton canvas, already gessoed, and put it on
the easel. The assortment of acrylic brushes, ranging from big synthetic Goliath
rounds to 1" (2.5 cm) and ½" (1.3 cm) flats to small #1 and #00 rounds, is close
at hand.
I will use cadmium yellow light, lemon yellow, titanium white, burnt umber,
cobalt blue, cerulean blue, ultramarine blue, and viridian green. I also have a
little alizarin crimson, which is a transparent red. This red can turn the greens
that I mix on my palette almost black.

NOTE: When my good watercolor brushes become too frayed and tired for use in watercolor, I often
add them to my collection of acrylic brushes. Using watercolor brushes on gessoed canvas with the
coarser acrylic paint definitely hastens their demise, but it gives them a useful purpose in their old age.
In the Studio

Step 1. I go back and look at my on-site sketches of the rocks and water that I
did using watercolor. I am going to paint the same view, making adjustments as I
go along. Acrylic has a great flexibility and I can easily change the painting at
any time.
I lay in a wash of yellows where the wave will be and brush in browns and
blues to establish my rocks. I let them dry. It doesn’t matter how thick the paint
is at this stage, because I will be building up some very thick impasto textures.
By starting with the light color of yellow, I can concentrate on creating a
good design before adding the dramatic values.
I start with bold gestures to establish design.
Next I add light yellow-greens to build up the shapes.

Step 2. I begin to build up the color and texture of the rocks, adding layers of
different browns. While the brown paint is still fresh and wet, I press some
crinkled plastic wrap into it and let it sit for a few minutes. With acrylic it’s not
necessary to leave the plastic wrap on for a long time. (See the plastic-wrap
technique shown here to here.)
Building up bits of color and active brushwork to create impression of rock textures

Step 3. While I let the brown paint set up on the rocks, I turn my thoughts back
to the water. I want to create the feeling of real movement in the water, so I
double load my paintbrush, dipping one corner of the brush into cobalt blue and
the other corner into light cerulean blue. When I stroke the paint onto the canvas,
I press some crinkled bits of plastic wrap over the thick paint. The colors mix
and blend with each other. You can’t go wrong with this technique for painting
water if you stick to blues and greens.
Double loading my paintbrush with various blues

Step 4. Once the second round of paint has partially dried, I remove the plastic
wrap from the rocks and water and prepare to add more texture. Painting back
into semi-wet areas is a wet-on-wet technique. I highlight some areas with fresh
new color, and blend others.
 The acrylic is partially dry on the rocks and still damp on the water. I scrape
the rocks with the edge of the card to create an uneven texture. (See the scraping
for texture technique shown here and here.) Then, deciding the pattern left by the
plastic wrap on the water is too obvious, I smooth it down with my brush.

Step 5. I build up richer layers of color in the water. To paint the waves on a
rocky shore, you need to re-create the movement.
I remember the feeling of being there at the shore, the sound of the waves as
they hit the rocks, the hissing as they slip back into the ocean, and the constant
motion. Each wave is different, the light sparkles and the foam erupts and
dissolves in an instant.
I find that in painting the waves, it helps if I move my hand like the water. I
think about the way the waves push out from the back of the painting space
toward me, and I make them hit rocks and swirl around them. The beauty of
working with acrylic is that you can add those layers of churning movement with
color and brushstrokes. And you wait until the end to add the foaming
highlights.
RESHAPING

Acrylic allows you to change things once you put them down on canvas. Here I sketch a new line to the
edge of the rock.

I fill in the area with blue.

 I fill in the area with blue.

I’ll rework the blue to blend it in with the water.

Step 6. Be sure to clean your water and brushes before using white. First I cover
the areas I don’t want to splatter with scrap paper as a shield. Then, making a
puddle of liquid white paint on my palette, I dip the toothbrush into the paint
and, while holding it about 3" (7.5 cm) from the area along the base of the rocks,
I splatter white. Take your time and have fun. You can splatter white paint
anywhere in this demo and it will help create the impression of ocean waves. Try
making areas of thicker spray and areas of thinner spray.
Getting messy is part of the fun.

Step 7. Acrylic painting is definitely a more physical activity than the gentle
watercolors. Sinking down into the studio chair is a big relief. I remember the
exhilaration of standing on the rocks while the ocean rumbled around me. Every
time a wave crashed I felt both small and vulnerable and brave and wild. I felt
like running back home and yet mesmerized and unable to turn away.
As I sit looking at the painting on the easel, I look to see if there are any
traces of those conflicting heightened impressions. The brightness of the paint
color is joyfully unrestrained. The gestural brushwork and heavy texture is
weighty and yet seething with energy. The image is simplified, balanced, but not
boring. There are wonderful surprises of color in the rocks. The water flows
through the image in infinite, transparent layers.
After a day in the studio, little Lily gets a cuddle.

Step 8. Everything looks good. I feel like dozing for a moment, but then I see a
little something that should really be changed and jump up to do it. Just as with
the watercolor, the final step is adding details wherever you want to draw your
audience’s attention.
I use a small round brush and add gray-black squiggles to the front rock. I use
a little rock color to suggest a glimpse of a rock deep under the froth of the
a little rock color to suggest a glimpse of a rock deep under the froth of the
breaking wave. It adds more transparency to the water. Yes that’s exactly the
impression of the ocean and rocks I felt that morning I rode my bike out to New
Castle Island’s ocean edge.

Almost finished acrylic on canvas, 36" × 36" (91.5 × 91.5 cm).

Gallery
Here is another view of the ocean painted in acrylic.

Surf Explosion. Acrylic on prepared paper. 22" × 30" (56 × 76 cm).

 Conclusion

A friend of mine who loves to read biographies once told me that Renoir said if
painting wasn’t fun, he wouldn’t do it. A lot us feel that way. That doesn’t mean
it has to be easy or obvious or come out the same every time. In fact, that’s what
we don’t want. It’s fun to paint. It’s work, but it’s fun.
The artistic necessity of lingering in the garden to listen to the bees after
everyone else has gone in for tea, or walking farther out on a breakwater than
you ought to just to feel the ocean’s spray is a rich way of living. Setting up your
palette and paper and containers of water and assorted brushes is a glorious
prelude to the manifestation of creating something.
Losing yourself in making a brushstroke and watching as it thickens and
thins, drips and stutters, or as colors mix and squabble and merge, is a level of
sensual awareness that’s difficult to beat.
The painting won’t always turn out great. The process is an attempt to make
whatever you have put down better. It will get better. I think I have exhausted
practically every wrong turn and missed so many shots that I just automatically
improve.
If every time you make art you celebrate the experience of seeing and
creating, the end result becomes a step on the way to becoming better. With that
in mind, I hope the demonstrations in this book encourage you to paint—and,
like Renoir, to have fun with it.
A peaceful ending to an island day
 Resources

If I have a few moments over coffee, I peruse the catalogues for the following
companies and compare prices, but they are very competitively priced and the
deliveries are fast. I recommend them all. The service departments at Dick Blick
and Cheap Joe’s are outstanding. There is always a knowledgeable person—live
—on the phone, who usually knows the packing and the delivery guys by name.
It feels real.

Cheap Joe’s is especially good for watercolor products and extra watercolor tips.
It now offers Daniel Smith Watercolors (gorgeous) as well as its own brand
(American Journey), which is good and dependable. It offers an important
directory of watercolor workshops and helps keep the watercolor community
connected.
CHEAP JOE’S ART STUFF
374 Industrial Park Drive Boone, NC 28607
888.583.2312
cheapjoes.com

I tend to use Dick Blick Art Supplies a lot, and it has never let me down. It
provides a wide range of materials for a lot of arts education programs: studio
fundamentals, paints, brushes, canvases, its own brand of paper, and inventive
student art project ideas. These often inspire new ideas for me and may lead to
trying a series of monoprints or gold leafing, keeping the creative fires hot.
DICK BLICK ART MATERIALS
P.O. Box 1769
Galesburg, IL 61402-1267
800.828.4548
dickblick.com

Jerry’s is a great all-around art supply store with specials and active online deals.
It is competitive and presents new items not offered by other companies. Just
recently, it came out with a new panel product by Da Vinci that I am
experimenting with in the studio as I write these pages! Fun, fun, fun!
experimenting with in the studio as I write these pages! Fun, fun, fun!
JERRY’S ARTARAMA
6104 Maddry Oaks Court Raleigh, NC 27616-9997
800.827.8478
jerrysartarama.com

Special Brands I Love

AMPERSAND—ARTIST PANELS
I was purchasing my panels from this Texas company when it was very small
and now it actually has more than three folks on the payroll! It’s earned every bit
of the success it’s achieved. Staff are always available for questions, special
orders, and just plain encouragement. Plus, Ampersand products are the absolute
best I have found.

DA VINCI has just came out with a panel with a built-in wood rim called a liquid
art panel. Every time Da Vinci presents something new, it’s like an electric
charge of inspiration!
GOLDEN ARTIST COLORS—ACRYLIC PAINTS AND MEDIUMS
This company has a great acrylic product line and fantastic technical department.
It also has inventive new products with a geeky newsletter. It’s recently
introduced a watercolor paint line called “QoR.” The staff are always so
gracious when I call with questions. It feels like I am a part of something bigger
and grander when I chat with them.
LIQUITEX—ACRYLIC PAINTS AND MEDIUMS
This company’s acrylic products are my old faithfuls—smooth, steady, and
always there. Liquitex is expanding its range of acrylic products from mediums
to acrylic pens and spray paints. It emphasizes the compatibility of its materials.
WATERCOLOR BRANDS I USE THE MOST
• Daniel Smith
• MaimeriBlu
• Sennelier
• Winsor & Newton
• Holbein
• M. Graham
• QoR
WATERCOLOR PAPER
Arches is my rock-steady paper. I prefer 140 lb (300 g/m2) bright white hot press
paper, which I purchase in pads, blocks, and rolls.
 Acknowledgments

I was thrilled to be able to write this book and I’m grateful to everyone who
picks it up, thumbs through it, and finds a picture or a page that causes them to
pause and read more closely. Thank you. Perhaps the reason I even thought I
could write a book like this is the encouragement of my husband and daughters,
who stick with me through every artistic up and down.
When my editor, Judith Cressy, called me about beginning this book, I could
hardly believe it. I so appreciate her guidance and patience throughout the
process. Her good humor and keen eye made the experience a fun one. She made
it happen. I was also fortunate to have Regina Grenier as my art editor; I admire
the energy and artistic sensibility she brings to her projects.
One of the most important participants in this book has been my close friend,
internationally known photographer Karen Hill. We have been friends since
attending Pratt Institute in the eighties. She has documented my life with
astounding photographs. I am so grateful that she took time to help me make this
book more than just a “how to” project. Thanks to Karen, it’s an inspirational
photographic document of my creative lifestyle.
I would also like to acknowledge the support and encouragement of all my
students. I love teaching because of them. I have a special group, the Merrimack
River Painters, who have helped me develop and verbalize my ideas with a
clarity I could not have achieved on my own. I am so grateful for every student,
of every experience level, who crosses my path and renews my faith in our
desire to create.
Thanks to everyone. This has been great!
Great Island Beauty. Watercolor. 22" × 33" (56 × 84 cm).
 About the Artist

Dustan Knight is a professional artist, educator, and art writer. She earned her
MFA from Pratt Institute in New York and her MA in Art History from Boston
University. She was a recipient of a New Hampshire State Fellowship for the
Arts, a MacDowell Colony residency, and a Cummington Artist Colony
residency. Dustan is represented by galleries across the United States, including
Art Three in Manchester, New Hampshire, the Ogunquit Art Association in
Maine, and Alpers Fine Art in Andover, Massachusetts. Corporate collections
include Macy’s, Oracle, and Coveris. (DustanKnight.com)
Photo credit: Karen Hill

About the Photographer

Karen Hill is a fine art and wedding photographer and the director, with her
husband Frank, of Karen Hill Photography in New York City. She graduated
with a BFA from Pratt Institute and an MFA from the Yale School of Art, both
in photography, and has been shooting ever since. Her work has been seen in
publications and online wedding sites, such as Martha Stewart Weddings, the
Knot, and Top Knots, Style Me Pretty, Snippet and Ink, Carats + Cake, Once
Wed, and Junebug. (KarenHill.com)
Photo credit: Dustan Knight
 Index

Italicized page numbers indicate an illustration, photo, or its caption.

acrylic painting
canvases for, 15, 136–137
Demonstrations, 44–51, 82–91, 122–131
Galleries, 92–95, 132–133
paints for, 18–19, 136–137
Ampersand (company), 137
Arches watercolor paper, 15, 60

Berry Brook (Knight), 23

Big, Bold and Beautiful (Knight), 83
brushes, 16–17, 123

canvases, for acrylic painting, 15, 136–137

Cheap Joe’s Art Stuff, 18, 136
cold press paper, 15
color schemes, 33
color sketching. See watercolor sketching
cotton duck canvas, 15

Dancing Garden (Knight), 52

Daniel Smith watercolor paint, 18, 137
Da Vinci (brand), 137
Day Lilies (Knight), 56
Demonstrations
in acrylic, 44–51, 82–91, 122–131
in watercolor, 24–37, 58–73, 100–119
design sketching, 32, 63, 108
Dick Blick Art Materials, 136
Duck Island, Isles of Shoals (Hassam), 13

Early Island Morning (Knight), 96

Early Spring Morning (Knight), 42
flowers, painting
about, 53–57
in acrylic, 82–91
acrylic gallery of, 92–95
in watercolor, 58–73
watercolor gallery of, 78–81

Galleries
acrylic, 92–95, 132–133
watercolor, 42–43, 78–81, 120–121
garden flowers. See flowers, painting
Geraniums (Knight), 92
Golden acrylic paint, 18, 85, 137
Golden Melody (Knight), 81
Great Island Beauty (Knight), 138

hands, as tools, 49
Hassam, Childe, 13
Holbein watercolor paint, 18, 137
Homer, Winslow, 12–13, 98, 122
hot press paper, 15, 137

Impression of Nasturtiums (Knight), 61

Impressions of Nasturtiums (Knight), 78
indoor studio work. See studio work, indoor
Island Trails (Knight), 42

Jerry’s Artarama, 136

Joyful Garden (Knight), 57

L’Allée des Alyscamps (van Gogh), 11

linen canvas, 15
Liquitex acrylic paint, 18, 85, 137
“listening” to your painting, 90, 114, 116, 130

MaimeriBlu watercolor paint, 18, 137

materials and tools, 14–19, 136–137
M. Graham watercolor paint, 18, 137
Monet, Claude, 10–11
Moonlight on Peonies (Knight), 79
Morning Chop (Knight), 6, 99
Morning Garden in June (Knight), 80
Morning Woods (Knight), 37

Nasturtium Impression (Knight), 55

Nasturtiums #5 (Knight), 94

Ocean Fog Along the Road (Knight), 22

Ocean Surf (Knight), 121

paints, 18–19, 136–137

paper, watercolor, 14–15, 136–137
pencil sketching, 26–27, 32, 58–59, 102–103, 108
photography, 22, 25, 58, 101
plastic wrap technique, 70–72, 74–77, 86–89, 111–112, 126
Poplars on the Epte (Monet), 10–11

QoR watercolor paint, 137

Queen Anne’s Lace Evening (Knight), 93

Rebecca’s Flower (Knight), 9

The Red Canoe (Homer), 12
rocks and sea, painting
about, 97–99
in acrylic, 122–131
acrylic gallery of, 132–133
in watercolor, 100–119
watercolor gallery of, 120–121
rough press paper, 15

Sennelier watercolor paint, 18, 137

site selection, 25, 54, 58, 100
sketching
design, 32, 63, 108
pencil, 26–27, 32, 58–59, 102–103, 108
value, 32, 64, 109
watercolor, 28–29, 60, 104, 110
Snowy Woods (Knight), 43, 141
studio work, indoor
studio work, indoor
acrylic, 46–51
watercolor, 30–37, 62–73, 107–119
Surf Explosion (Knight), 132

Tango Tulip (Knight), 2

Techniques, Special Watercolor
plastic wrap, 70–72, 74–77, 111–112
thirsty brush, 34–35, 38–41, 42–43, 114
wax resist and scraping for texture, 112–113, 118–119
texture technique, 112–113, 118–119, 128
thirsty brush technique, 34–35, 38–41, 42–43, 114
tools and materials, 14–19, 136–137
On the Trellis (Knight), 55
Tulip Tango #2 (Knight), 95
Turner watercolor paint, 18

value sketching, 32, 64, 109

van Gogh, Vincent, 11

watercolor painting
Demonstrations, 24–37, 58–73, 100–119
Galleries, 42–43, 78–81, 120–121
paint for, 18–19, 136–137
paper for, 26–27, 32
techniques, 38–41, 66, 74–77, 118–119
watercolor sketching, 28–29, 60, 104, 110
wax resist and scraping for texture technique, 112–113, 118–119, 128
Wild Island Sea (Knight), 120
Winsor & Newton watercolor paint, 18, 19, 137
Woodland Road (Knight), 20, 51
woods, painting the
about, 21–22
in acrylic, 44–51
in watercolor, 24–41
watercolor gallery of, 42–43
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ISBN: 978-1-59253-768-6
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ISBN: 978-1-59253-857-7

Paint Lab: 52 Exercises Inspired by Artists, Materials, Time, Place, and Method
ISBN: 978-1-59253-782-2
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ISBN: 978-1-59253-655-9
I dedicate this book
to my Mom,
who was the artist
I try to be.
Morning Chop. Watercolor. 22" × 33" (56 × 84 cm).