​I’ve heard that there are two kinds of creativity: the short burst and the long haul. The short burst results in a finished work created very quickly, like The Beatles’ song “Yesterday,” which Paul McCartney wrote in less than a minute after waking up from a dream. He just scribbled down some notes and Whammo! A hit! 

​Then there’s the long haul. This is where the creator reworks and reworks a project to bring it slowly to completion. An example of this is Leonard Cohen’s song, “Hallelujah,” which took him 12 years of reworking, sometimes in agony, before it was finished. His steady work habits brought about his success. It wasn’t dramatic or glamorous, but for him it worked. To me it’s encouraging that with persistence, anyone can succeed in creative work, at least in theory.

I’m not sure that all creators fit neatly into one category or the other, but I’m definitely a long-haul type. I sit there for days, picking away at a little painting, not caring how long it takes. If I feel the need to rush through a painting and compromise the quality of the work, I should find something else to do. 

I read recently that two things are required for successful creative work: a point of view and hard work. Notice that there’s no mention of talent there. Talent is real, but it’s not everything. First come the basic skills, then the building up of good work habits, then you hope you have something worthwhile to say. I could make beautiful, accurate paintings of white cups all day long, but without something original in the painting, it’s just a technical exercise. That original something: that’s point of view. For me, I’m slowly developing mine, or maybe I’m just slowly developing the courage to tell the truth in my paintings. 

I believe in hard work, but I don’t believe it’s necessary to put in 12 hours a day in the studio, or even 8. My modest 4 hours a day is sufficient. First, because I so often struggle with low energy, it’s all I can do. Second, it really doesn’t matter if I create 12 paintings in a year or 40. What matters is that I’m doing my best. I never rush. I never blow off the advice in my critiques. I don’t let myself off the hook, so I don’t have to make excuses for the quality of my work. I believe that one good 8x10 is more valuable than a middling 36x48. 

This definition of success isn’t about selling paintings or being represented by a big-name gallery. I can't totally control those things. This definition of success is about doing my best.
 
One reason I like this unglamorous approach to art making is that it opens the door to anyone who has the time and the desire. It’s not about having a mystical gift. It’s not about wearing a beret and smoking cigarettes. It’s not about being surly. It’s just about work. And where would we be without that?

This painting has a lot of significance for me. The drapery represents inner activity, and the objects represent outward reality.

First the statue: Progress often involves a shedding process, which explains why a crow (which symbolizes death) would have a place in this composition. Certain paths are no longer desirable.

Now the crow's feathers on the right: They have a shape and a function. If you were to pick them up, they would keep their shape, and we know how feathers function as part of a bird. The feathers are part of the visible world. They're like clues. Notice that one of the feathers is lit with a cool light, and one is lit with a warm light. That's a reference to the unconscious (warm color, larger size) working with consciousness (cool color, smaller size).

Now the drapery: If you move it, it won't keep its shape. It’s also much larger and more colorful than the objects. The warm shadow areas on the sides represent the unconscious churning that is hidden by a calm exterior. The calm exterior is driven by the conscious mind; a linear, methodical thought process—reason. Reason is represented by the areas of the drapery that are lit with cool light. The intersection of that area of brightest, coolest light and the crow's beak represents the intersection between inner development and outward results. It's a tiny area of the composition, but it's the focal point.

So ... if you undertake any creative process, the visible part (represented by the objects) is only the result of lengthy, convoluted inner activity, most of which cannot be controlled or directed.

Why, then, did I title the painting “The Slow Pace of Decay,” and not “The Slow Pace of Development”? Because outward decay often accompanies inner development, and after all, the subject of this painting is the crow.

A heavy Italian frame works on this painting for one reason: drama. The painting and the frame both feature a lot of black, and the metallic ornamentation compliments the smooth textures in the painting.

Let me explain: If the painting were heavily ornamented—lots of spiky details, for example—the frame should be simple. If the objects in the painting are smooth and simple—as they are here—the frame should have some ornamentation, which gives the whole piece glamor and finish. In this case, it’s that metallic ornamentation that says “fine art.” It’s like jewelry for a painting.

A few weeks ago I started a cute little painting of a pair of teacups and a teabag. I can't explain why I'm drawn to white ceramic objects and teabags, but these kinds of things make it into my setups every now and then.

As I worked, I copied the objects faithfully, and I invented the background color. I'd been longing to paint with soft lavender and its complement, soft gold. I shared my progress with my Facebook friends, and I asked for help giving the painting a title.

At this stage, I took the little painting to Ruston, Washington, an hour away, to be critiqued by my mentor, master painter Melissa Weinman. She pointed out a number of technical problems in the painting, but called it "a little gem" nonetheless. She has a big heart and a sharp mind.

Back in the studio, I had the pleasure of fiddling with the painting until I was happy with it. The final stages of a painting are always fun. I took the still-slightly-wet painting to my favorite frame place, Jayeness Moulding, a wholesale outlet where I have an account. My little dog, Dudley, accompanied me, like usual. The lady in the shop stuffed him full of cookies and love, and offered me a discount on a beautiful moulding, lavender mother-of-pearl, that looked great with the painting. Was it Dudley, or was it the fact that I had put so much effort into this little painting? I'll never know. She had been saving that moulding for herself, but she let me have it.

Feeling happy and grateful, I drove home with my beautiful frame and a few others I couldn't resist from the shop. A week later, I varnished the painting and photographed it. I fitted the painting into its frame, using techniques I learned from a persnickety framer a few years ago, and to which I adhere.

After posting the photo to Facebook, I was surprised and delighted to receive a message from a fellow artist: she wanted the painting. She had offered ideas for a title. We arranged for her to pick it up a week later.

After signing the papers and paying me, she agreed to photograph the painting in its new home. When I got the photo, I felt strangely fulfilled: this little thing that I'd put so much love and work into was now enlivening someone's home. That's a privilege.

I believe other artists will agree: it feels great to see your work in someone's home, a part of their daily life.

3 a.m. 
I woke up suddenly, worried.
"That little rose painting I started yesterday," I thought, "It's going to cost a fortune to frame."
I got out of bed and walked to the studio. I stood in front of the still-wet underpainting and thought.

I had started the rose painting on an 11" X 11" panel. I had two of these panels on hand, and I had been planning to use them for a diptych. I hadn't really thought through the foolishness of making paintings at nonstandard sizes on a tight budget. Crap!

I have a show scheduled for March, and I need to prepare at least four more paintings, including framing. Many artists decline invitations to show their work because of the cost of framing so much work at once. Contemporary artists will show work unframed, but my work is traditional, and I believe it must be framed. I had been reluctant to accept invitations from two neighborhood businesses to show my work, even though my neighbors on Facebook have been pushing me to show. I explained my reasoning every time the subject came up. I didn't think I was ready, artistically or financially, to put together a solo show.

5:30 p.m.
I finished the underpainting. It was better than the previous day's work. The new color worked better too. I'll use the smaller version to make a color study before finishing the larger one. I have no idea what I'll do with the smaller version. Right now, I don't care.


​
​7:30 p.m.
Lying on the couch, exhausted, but pleased that I was so lucky today. Tomorrow I'd prefer to sleep until the normal 5 a.m. ​​​​

Now, by the time I made my fourth trip, I had managed to install two casters before running out of wood screws. I hadn’t bought enough, and I had broken a drill bit. So I schlepped back to Lowe’s — only to misplace my keys. I walked toward the drill-bit section, feeling like I was in a bad dream. The keys finally turned up — in my purse, next to the bag of dog poop. Sigh. In the end, after a lot of forehead slapping, I finished installing the casters. It sure would be nice if easels just came with casters, but they usually don’t. So I swept up the sawdust, put away my tools, and I looked at my new casters and shook my head. Tomorrow the drill will stay in its box, and the brushes will come out to play. 

Artists, both professionals and hobbyists, buy most of their materials at art-supply stores. Art-supply stores sell their products mostly to hobbyists. This creates a problem for professional artists, who need materials that will become works of fine art, meant to last for hundreds of years, sell for thousands or tens of thousands of dollars, and possibly end up in a museum. 

Materials sold in art-supply stores may hold up very well as part of a finished painting, but a great deal of a painting's durability depends on proper handling of those materials, like minimal use of painting mediums and proper varnishing of the finished painting, according to George O'Hanlon, co-founder and technical director of Natural Pigments. O'Hanlon taught a workshop, Painting Best Practices, at Gage Academy of Art in Seattle earlier this month.

This article includes a few highlights from the workshop. A major focus of O'Hanlon's workshop was the use of rigid supports in oil paintings, rather than stretched canvas, which I covered in a separate article. Other topics included grounds, paints, mediums, solvents, and varnishes.

O'Hanlon stressed that an oil painting is a composite, or an object that is made of materials that interact with each other, even after the paint dries. The surface of an oil painting is chemically active for decades. It's unlike any other type of painting, and therefore requires a degree of expertise to use the materials properly.

Grounds
The three most common types of ground for oil paintings are oil, oil-alkyd and acrylic dispersion primers. All are suitable for use in oil paintings, but the primary white pigment for oil and oil-alkyd grounds should be lead white, rather than titanium white and/or zinc white.

"Lead white is the strongest material in oil paintings, bar none," O'Hanlon said. "If you're going to paint in oil, you've got to paint with lead white."

Most commercial grounds are tinted with titanium white or zinc white, which are less expensive than lead and don't raise concerns of toxicity with buyers. Proper handling of paint and grounds containing lead pigment is not complicated. Grounds and paints that contain lead don't create toxic fumes, so if artists take simple precautions, like wearing latex gloves and an apron, not ingesting their paints or drinking from glasses that once contained painting materials, paints and grounds tinted with lead pigment can be used safely. Lead pigment in its dry state is more hazardous, because it can create dust. 

Grounds should be applied in a thick layer, he said. It's an important barrier, especially if painting on a wood panel or panel made from wood fibers, which should also be sealed before the ground is applied. 

Paint
Paint is made up of a binder or vehicle, like linseed oil or another drying oil; a pigment, an example of which is raw umber; and sometimes a solvent or diluent. Commercial oil paint contains these ingredients plus additives to keep the vehicle and the pigment from separating in the tube. The use of additives changes the character of the paint, making it stiffer, and thus encouraging the artist to use mediums, and often overuse mediums, while painting. This results in a dry paint film that may be weaker than it should be for works of art that are intended to last. Evidence of this problem comes from conservators' efforts to preserve paintings that were created in the past. Paintings made in the 15th and 16th Centuries are, in general, holding up the best, and the quality of oil paintings gradually decreased until the 20th Century, a low point. Materials used had too many ingredients, and were not used properly.

"Paintings from the 1950s and '60s with additives are showing problems," he said. 

O'Hanlon's company, Natural Pigments, sells single-pigment paints that contain no solvents or additives. Separation of the oil and the pigment is normal, and the paint can be easily mixed back together with a palette knife, or the oil can be wiped away. O'Hanlon encouraged artists to make their own paint. His wife and business partner, Tatiana Zaytseva, demonstrated the process of making paint at the Painting Best Practices workshop. It involved a simple process of adding drops of oil to a pile of dry pigment, mixing the ingredients into a stiff paste with a palette knife, and then smoothing the paste into soft paint with a glass muller on a piece of lightly textured glass. A slab of smooth stone, like marble, is also suitable. 

My fellow attendees at the workshop remarked later at how simple the paint-making process was -- less involved than making cookie dough. 

Note: if you can't see this slideshow in your blog reader, visit my website to see it.

The dominant mixing white should be lead, O'Hanlon said. It's OK to use titanium white in small amounts to increase opacity of the paint, but because it's brittle when dry, it should be used sparingly. Zinc white should be eliminated altogether, due to its extreme brittleness when dry. Many commercial paints are made with mixtures of pigments, rather than single pigments, and because zinc makes those mixtures look brighter and more appealing, it's commonly used. Some paint companies have recently reduced the amount of zinc in their mixtures as a result of O'Hanlon's advocacy, he said. 

If a paint company doesn't list the ingredients on the label, and they won't tell you if you ask, don't use its products, he said. 

Lead white also has aesthetic benefits, because as it lightens warm colors, it doesn't cool them down the way titanium white does, and it doesn't neutralize them as much as titanium white does. 

Mediums
O'Hanlon urged professional artists to paint without mediums for the most part. There are times when a medium is appropriate, and the choosing the proper type of medium is important. Oil is a useful medium for certain applications, like glazing, and alkyd-resin mediums can be useful to speed drying, but they are best used as only as a small part of the paint film. Mediums are best used in the final layers of the painting. Earth colors, like umbers and ochres, tend to form the weakest part of paint films if the paint is mixed with a medium to form a glaze. Cracking often occurs in older paintings in the darkest areas, for several reasons, such as a deficit of lead white pigment, and the large ratio of oil to pigments.

"When glazing dark areas," O'Hanlon said, "that's the time to use a resin." 

He added that alkyd resin, which is synthetic, is the only resin he recommends for use in oil paintings. Organic resins, like copal, mastic, and damar, should be avoided. Damar and mastic may be used by conservators in museums, but only in special circumstances as a final picture varnish, in spite of the fact that they yellow with age. The artists who used these resins knew this, and made their paintings anticipating the yellowing of the resins in their mediums and varnishes.

He explained why mediums of any type should be used sparingly. Oil paint is chemically and mechanically unlike other types of paint, because no part of the paint evaporates as the paint dries; it polymerizes. The dry paint film contains oil and pigment particles that need to maintain a certain ratio of pigment to oil in order to be strong and stable. 

Visualize a brick wall, made up of bricks and mortar. The bricks are the strongest part of the wall, and the mortar functions only to hold the bricks together. If there is too much mortar between the bricks, the wall will be weak. Likewise, the pigment particles are the strongest part of the paint film, and if there's too much oil or medium, the paint film will be weak. A sign of a weak paint film is a dry painting that looks glossy before being varnished.

Solvents
The most commonly used solvent today is odorless mineral spirits (OMS). It's OK to mix OMS into paint to make a wipe-out underpainting, also known as an imprimatura, he said, as long as it dries fully before the next layer is applied, at least a day. Try to eliminate its use in the subsequent paint layers, and even in brush cleaning. Vegetable oils from the grocery store (soybean oil, olive oil, corn oil, or canola oil) will clean brushes more safely, as long as the brushes are washed with soap and lukewarm water after rinsing in oil. Avoid drying oils when rinsing brushes. Linseed oil, walnut oil, poppy oil, and safflower oil are all drying oils, and could leave your brushes gummy. 

OMS fumes are harmful to inhale. Use caution and ventilate the studio with an exhaust fan, not just an open window. Better yet, don't use solvents. 

If a solvent is part of an artist's studio practice, the solvents available in an art-supply store are simply higher-priced versions of the products available in hardware stores. Only a few companies manufacture solvents, he said, and they don't alter their formulas for the art market. 

Varnish
Varnish should be applied as a protective coating over dry oil paint, but only when the paint is "hard dry," O'Hanlon said. To test a painting's dryness, stand at arm's length from the painting. Touch your finger to the surface of the painting and rotate your arm, creating a twisting motion on the surface of the painting. Use some pressure against the surface. If the paint moves in response to your twisting motion, the paint is not hard dry. In the event that a painting must be varnished before it's reached the hard-dry stage, its OK to use retouch varnish at the touch-dry stage. Brush-on varnish, both retouch and final, is preferable to spray-on varnish. Final varnish can be applied over dried retouch varnish. Avoid removing varnish with solvent, unless it's necessary, because the solvent will break down the paint, causing the paint film to become more brittle. 

He also advises against using retouch varnishes as layers within the paint film, which will be weakened. Oiling out, while not ideal, is preferable for restoring colors and values of dried paint that has sunken in. Oil out by applying a thin layer of oil, then wipe most of it off with a lint-free cloth, like microfiber. One way to prevent sunken-in paint is to be sure the ground is not absorbent, so the paint layer stays put. 

He recommended finding an old painting that isn't valuable, and testing commercial varnishes in strips on the surface of the painting, then choosing one of them for regular use.

"Modern, commercial varnishes are all very good," he said, "but they do differ." 

Varnishes produce varying levels of gloss on the surface of the painting. Restraint should be used when working with matte varnish. It's best to use only one, thin layer of matte varnish, never more than that. If an artist wants a thick varnish layer, apply a few layers of gloss varnish, then finish with a thin layer of matte varnish. This will prevent a frosty appearance.

Other topics covered in the workshop include paint labeling and studio safety. To stay safe, make sure the studio is well ventilated if or when using solvent, and wear gloves and an apron while painting. 

"I do believe in absolute safety," O'Hanlon said, smiling. "I want you to live a long time and buy a lot of our products." 

If he had to choose one piece of advice for artists, it would be to paint on a rigid support, rather than stretched canvas. Paintings yellow less over time when painted on a rigid support, and the paint film lasts longer. 

Recommended reading
Director's Blog, Natural Pigments website
"The Painter's Handbook," by Mark Gottsegen
"Traditional Oil Painting," by Virgil Elliott
---
The first article in this series, "To Make a Painting Last, Give it a Strong Foundation," about rigid supports for oil paintings, was posted last week. This is the second of two articles in the series. 
---
Author's note: Thanks for Gage Academy of Art for awarding me a scholarship, which made it possible for me to attend the Painting Best Practices workshop.

Oil paintings are meant to last for centuries, but many paintings deteriorate over time. For casual painters, longevity doesn't matter, because they paint just for fun. For professional artists, however, who sell their paintings to collectors or clients, this could be -- or should be -- a serious concern. 

The biggest problems in oil paintings as they age are paint that cracks, paint that forms a cupping pattern over the surface, and paint that loosens or falls off the support. Most of these problems can be traced to the kind of support -- canvas or panel -- the artist chooses before applying paint. 

George O'Hanlon, cofounder and technical director of Natural Pigments, a company that sells historic and natural oil paints, mediums, dry pigments, and other art supplies, taught a workshop, Painting Best Practices, at Gage Academy of Art in Seattle last week. This is the first of two articles summarizing the workshop.  He estimated that 90 percent of problems of deteriorating oil paintings could be prevented by choosing the right support. 

"Painting on canvas is really the worst choice you can make as an artist," O'Hanlon said. He was referring only to canvas that is stretched over stretcher bars, not canvas that is affixed to a panel. Painting on panels results in a more durable painting than painting on stretched canvas, but not all panels are equal. 

In this article, I will not attempt to explain the chemical reactions of paint combined with various panels or stretched canvas, or the mechanical changes paintings undergo over time and under changing atmospheric conditions. I will offer only practical advice with some supporting evidence, intended for artists who aren't especially interested in the science behind the materials, but who care about the longevity of their works. For more detailed information, see O'Hanlon's technical articles. 

Below is a list of panel materials, from least durable to most durable, along with a few of their distinguishing characteristics:

Solid wood expands and contracts much more than the dry oil-paint film in response to changes in temperature and relative humidity. It also expands at different rates in different directions, unlike the paint film. This can contribute to delamination, or paint layers separating from the panel over time. Solid wood panels are better than stretched canvas, but there are better choices.

Plywood is made with urea formaldehyde, which is an excellent adhesive between layers of wood, but it creates fumes that are bad for oil paint. Plywood is also highly absorbent, so it must be treated with an impermeable "size" or barrier. Then the ground (often called gesso) can be applied. The paint layer must be protected from the panel's tendency to absorb other substances. Also, plywood's inner layers contain knots, which create uneven tension and mechanical stress for paintings. 

Fiberboard: This popular support also contains urea formaldehyde resins to keep the fibers together. It's strong and hard, but needs to be protected from getting wet, which causes the fibers to lift. It also can be damaged. If, for example, the panel is dropped, a corner could shatter. Imagine that an ordinary household object, like a shelf made of fiberboard, is dropped. It isn't catastrophic. If a family heirloom painted on fiberboard is dropped, it is catastrophic. An example of fiberboard is medium-density fiberboard, also known as MDF. 

Hardboard is similar to fiberboard, but denser. It shares the same characteristics as fiberboard. Examples of these panels, available in art-supply stores, include Gessobord and Claybord. The manufacturer, Ampersand, says on its website that its boards are made without formaldehyde.

Plastic is rigid and lightweight, and doesn't absorb much moisture. That's the good news. The bad news is that it's susceptible to damage by ultraviolet rays. Plastic also doesn't welcome paint to its surface without some kind of adhesive ground. Many artists will recoil when faced with the possibility of using traditional paint and painting techniques on plastic panels, but such materials, including polyvinyl chlorine (PVC) and polyethylene, do show promise for durability.

Metal and metal composite: This category includes copper, aluminum composite material, and aluminum honeycomb panels. This category offers the most durability for oil paintings. The panels are strong and lightweight, and they don't expand or contract with normal changes in temperature or relative humidity, and some of them are easy to fabricate. Aluminum honeycomb panels, the very best type of panel, are expensive and hard to find. This makes copper and aluminum composite material the most practical choice for artists and art students who care about durability but need to procure their panels easily and get back to work at their easels.

"Oil paint has an affinity to copper," O'Hanlon said. "You can paint right on it." The bright gleam of new copper is alluring to artists who like to paint with transparent colors over a reflective surface, but the gleam doesn't last. Copper oxidizes, turning dull brown over time, through exposure to oxygen. Coating the copper with lacquer will slow oxidation, and scuffing the surface will aid with paint adhesion. 

The panel that combines the most practicality, affordability, and durability is aluminum composite material (ACM). It's composed of thin sheets of aluminum around a polyethylene core. It's lightweight, rigid, and stable. Standard-size panels aren't sold in most art-supply stores, but they are sold by Natural Pigments. (I also bought a 4-foot-by-8-foot sheet of ACM at a plastics supply outlet, which I cut myself. To learn more about the process of purchasing ACM, cutting it without power tools, and priming it, watch my video.)
---
O'Hanlon was trained as a fine artist, and he developed an interest in professional-grade art materials over time, consulting with scientists, scientific writings, conservators, and conservation writings to learn how materials interact with each other, with air and moisture, and with time. He and his wife, Tatiana Zaytseva, co-founded Natural Pigments in 2003 in their garage. The company has expanded into a 10,000-square-foot building with five employees, and the owners anticipate expanding again next year. Natural Pigments is located in Willits, California.

Other topics in the Painting Best Practices workshop included grounds, paint, mediums, and varnishes. Next week I'll post an article about these topics. 

Author's note: Thanks to Gage Academy of Art for awarding me a scholarship, which made it possible for me to attend the Painting Best Practices workshop.