Composition in landscape painting

Now I have to say that this blog was, in part, inspired by a visit to the newly opened exhibition at the National Gallery in London. 'Corot to Monet: a fresh look at landscape from the collection' started on July 8th and runs through to the 20th of September. It's an examination of the development of landscape painting in France from the later part of the 18th through to towards the end of the 19th century. It's free to get in and well worth a look if you're around that part of London. It helps to show that impressionism was, in many respects, just the next step along a gradual line of progression and not the great revolution that it is often portrayed as. But it also got me thinking about something which has annoyed me for a while and that is the subject of basic composition.

There are many, many books available in any large bookshop or art suppliers, that are intended to help those who are learning to paint (that's all of us). Some are better than others and all serve the very useful purpose of allowing the writer to earn a bit of money. When it comes to books on landscape painting, the question of composition soon comes to the fore. Now they nearly all follow the same pattern of suggesting that the canvas be split into 3rds, both vertically and horizontally and that the focal point of the picture is then placed at one of the intersections. It's good advice and helps to simplify things.




My bugbear is that somewhere along the line this 'advice' seems to have become a 'rule' and that to deviate from it is something close to a mortal sin. It was therefore with some pleasure that my tour around the exhibition revealed picture after picture which simply did not conform with this 'rule'. The division between land and sky can be at any point. It is perfectly possible to paint a landscape painting which splits the canvas into 2 equal parts of land and sky, with the focal point in the middle of the canvas. It's not the best idea to try it with your very first painting, but it's there to be done. Corot manages it very nicely with a picture of Avignon, almost to show how easy it can be.

So just to conclude by saying, there's good advice out there to be had, but there are no rules.

Enjoy!

PS As we're all fallible, there's a lovely painting by Corot in the last room which has the most wonderfully wonky water. Made me feel so much better about my own work.

Landscape series painting

Series painting (a group of paintings of the same subject) is undoubtedly most closely associated with the work of Claude Monet. From the late 1880's onwards it became the central theme of his artistic output and he produced many groups of works around different motifs. From the haystacks that lay behind his house at Giverny, through to the front facade of Rouen Cathedral and finally back to the lily ponds of his own garden, he closely observed and recorded the effects of the constantly changing light that fell upon his chosen subjects.

But series painting is not the exclusive domain of this one great man. His friend and fellow impressionist, Alfred Sisley, explored similar territory with his views of the Church of Notre Dame at Moret in the mid 1890's and Cezanne's continued interest around Mont Sainte Victoire can also be viewed as an exploration of a single theme. Artists less well known to the public have also found fascination in painting around a narrow subject base. The English artist, Sir George Clausen painted his own series of brilliant observed pictures around haystacks in the late 19th and early 20th century.


Now I have to say that I'd never really contemplated the idea of painting in series. This may be in part because I hadn't until recently found a suitable subject. But in January of this year I moved to Henley-On-Thames - a place with no shortage of interest for a landscape painter - and on my walks along the Thames tow path, I gradually found myself taking a liking to a particular stand of trees. They stand some ten metres from the river, just the other side of a small fence, in an area of traditional meadow. Perhaps because of their relative isolation it is easier to pick out the changes that they undergo as the sun moves around them. I eventually settled on two of the trees which, from the angle that I have painted them, makes it almost appear to be a single specimen. I've done 3 pictures so far and expect to expand this over the next couple of months to six and then perhaps nine. I am finding it interesting to paint the same basic scene over and over; the more that I do so, the more able I am to concentrate on the differences that occur and I suspect that the pictures may become more subtle as I go along. My abilities as an artist are limited and this is a new challenge but if I wish to understand and progress I need to push myself in new ways. I've included the three that I've done so far here; as usual please feel free to ask any questions...