An idea I hear tossed around fairly often about color is that while the morning and evening are great times to paint, during the middle of the day color “flattens out” or “dies.” I would like to suggest something entirely different: the color does not go gray, it merely changes. The middle of the day has beautiful color just like any other time of the day, though it may be more subtle than a sunset. Same with an overcast day (see Dan Pinkham’s painting below). We can still see the relationships (and hence forms) in nature nonetheless, and since we as humans experience the world in full color (there is no such thing as a gray or neutral in nature’s color spectrum, only in your paint tubes and color theory classes) I think it is a greater struggle to attempt to find these subtleties of color. Every plane change is a color change.
The issue I have with using terms like “gray,” “brown,” “neutral,” “washed out,” etc. is that it starts to get the brain thinking along those lines. Akin to shooting yourself in the foot before starting a race, you need your brain to make a painting – it makes it even harder to find, say, a quiet violet tone (like the top plane of the wrist in Bongart’s painting above) if you’re thinking of grays. Also, I think this is perpetuated by color being taught too literally, trying to “match” one’s paint colors to that of the landscape or your model (see Delacroix quote below).
Here are a few other ideas about color:
- Every color note that is gray, muddy or chalky is a missed opportunity, and
- Every missed opportunity detracts or weakens the overall color of a painting (think of an orchestra or band playing – what if the trumpet or guitar player hit just one sour note!);
- When you put the final spots of color onto a piece, it should all come together and create the sensation of light.
The general conception of color seems to imply a high saturation or intensity; i.e., when I say “red,” you automatically think of an incredibly bright red, like a sports car. But “red” could also mean a pale violet, made to feel like red by placing it next to a colder color. Look at that warmth in the shadow above in Hensche’s still life (and how different it is from the red flower). Painting with color doesn’t mean intensity at all – it means painting good relationships. Sorolla used a yellowish-orange to paint that little girl’s back – but it relates to all the other colors and reads like sunlight. I think color painting in particular highlights how deficient language can be with describing our experiences. Another note about the images here, check out all the color used to convey “white” – they really aren’t white at all, but every color under the sun.
Here are a couple of quotes that may help with the idea too:
“Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty. It expands through successive stages of the beautiful to values as yet uncaptured by language.” – Aldo Leopold
“Art begins where nature leaves off.” – Oscar Wilde
“Nature serves the artist as a dictionary only, and ‘Realism’ should be defined as the antithesis of art.” – Eugene Delacroix