it in your painting. Where the long diagonal shadow crosses the doorway, I forgot to darken the red frame. I would definitely want that in the proper painting. And ( ahem ), the shadow of the awning has slid way off to the right. But, basically, the shapes work, and the sun is shining.
T HINKING ABOUT S TOPPING
Both of the previous exercises encourage intentionally leaving out all but the most basic information. Most of the time, you will want to include more. It is unusual to be content with just one color, or with shapes that have no texture. But the benefit of seeing the image in its minimal form is that you can move back toward your comfort zone by increments, stopping as soon as the essential information is present. This greatly increases the odds that you won’t overpaint the picture.
When I am convinced that part of the picture needs more information, I practice a minimalist approach, asking: What is the smallest change I can make that will move the picture in the right direction? In the early stages of getting to know a new subject I want to err on the side of too little information, since I am better at adding than taking away. From this point of view, it bears repeating that there is a hierarchy of the marks I might make, based on the impact they can have. A pale stroke, for example, is less insistent than a dark one, and a soft edge is gentler than a hard one. Using colors that are similar in hue and intensity to what is already there is less obtrusive than introducing new ones. The idea is to leave the door open for adding more only if necessary.
Once you understand your subject well in terms of the language of watercolor, it is not necessary to be so cautious. A thoughtful approach to painting may seem very cerebral at first, but over time it becomes instinctive.
I sometimes wish that a detached observer could come along and present me with this sign at just the right moment. It frequently takes just such an intrusion to get us to detach from our agenda. I have often regretted not stopping sooner in a painting, but I’ve never looked at a finished painting with regrets that I stopped too soon.
ALVARO CASTAGNET, BOULEVARD SAINT MICHEL, 2008
WATERCOLOR ON PAPER
22 × 30 INCHES (56 × 76 CM)
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This scene of intense light and shadow is so thoroughly convincing that the simplicity of execution is not immediately apparent. In any given shape, how many layers do you see? Even in the most complex areas, I count no more than three.
Looking more closely at this section of Alvaro Castagnet’s street scene, it becomes clear that he has taken what could have been a very complex passage and made it into a single shape. Several buildings, cars, and figures are suggested with a varied wash and a few reserved lights. The artist knew this was just enough information to prompt us to supply the details.
C REATING A T HREE -L AYER T HUMBNAIL S KETCH
When does thepainting become specific? By now it must be obvious that when I am trying to learn which elements of an image are essential and which are optional, I am especially suspicious of the specific bits. Developing the skills that allow me to look right through detail to see the general visual information greatly expands the range of images that seem “paintable.”
The elaborate carvings on the façade of the cathedral at right, for example, make it seem a daunting subject. So much information makes it difficult to imagine where to begin. Proceeding fromlight to dark and fromgeneral to specific should help me find a simple way to interpret a complex subject.
Evaluate the subject.
When I squint hard at thephotograph of the cathedral, the complex carvings lose specificity, becoming simpler, more general shapes. I can begin to see them as alayer of middle-value forms laid on top of a lighter layer.
With a progression of layers in mind, I can “look through” the distracting detail to see the underlying structure of the lights. In the image at right, the first