When publishing regular blog posts, I often write about the various basic skills and techniques that I incorporate in my work practice. Though these are presented as insights into my own art practice rather than teaching aids, I do believe that sharing such knowledge and experience, even in a short and simple way, might be of help to those learning about making art and also help me with articulating my own artistic approach.

One such example for me is the importance of having an organised palette of colours when painting. (A tutor in my art college days once remarked that my palette “resembled the ‘Battle of the Somme!”)

As mentioned in a previous blog post, I often use a limited palette of colours, a practice that I’ve retained with my acrylic paints since college. The pigments I use have evolved slightly, as well as the brands, but I have always been keen to keep things to a minimum. I have always enjoyed how each colour contains a part of each of the others in the painting scheme, creating an understated harmony. With oil paints I also often a close knit palette, being the traditional earthy colours of Burnt Sienna, Yellow Ochre, Lemon Yellow, Titanium White and Black.

Using a carefully selected set of colours is a solid base to work from and is also a good discipline as it often forces one to make decisions.

An artist I admire for his disciplined approach is Wayne Thiebaud (now one hundred years old), which is apparent in his diligent approach to drawing and image construction, where he often created a stylised yet essential quality of every day objects such as food stuffs (such as Pie Slice, image 1), often by simply working from imagination. Much of this is due to his formative years as an animator for Walt Disney, where the discipline of drawing in-between cells had to be consistently flawless. Thiebaud was also an art teacher, which allowed him to teach what he practised and practised what he preached. His philosophy was one of discipline… “it prepares an artists to choose their own limitations” (Karen Tjujimoto, Wayne Thiebaud, University of Washington Press).

Each artist has their own unique strengths such as realistic immediacy (e.g. Gareth Lush), composition (Frank Auerbach), incredible attention to detail (John Pearce), observational simplicity (Danny Markey), abstracted reality (Richard Diebenkorn) and the whimsical (Andrew Tozer).

Of Andrew Tozer, his superlative and highly animated painting is possible in no small part by his immediate and cursive drawing ability. His small study piece of racing boats in Cornwall (image 2) not only has a confident air but also a depth formed by using both pen and pencil to varying different marks and line pressure. I believe that this approach and style underpins his painting work. It was Andrew who once encouraged me to work to my strengths.

Much of my own artwork has varied in size over the years but I often feel most comfortable with a smaller scale, again this is probably due to my younger days sitting outdoors and working with a sketchpad in solitude.

In an increasingly post modern art world where opinion and iconoclasm are often elevated above everything else, it is quite easy to lose sight of the core skills and the ‘shoulders of giants’ of past great artists who paved the way for us to practice our own work.