Inherent and evolving
Many beginning artists wonder how to "find" their style. In my opinion, each artist carries "his or her own style" within themselves. It is a personal and evolving form of expression. It develops through our experiences and our learnings.
We can learn by painting in the manner of another artist, by being inspired by our contemporaries, or by copying master paintings. Exploring different approaches and techniques opens new avenues. However, by working with authenticity, who we are comes through despite ourselves.
This does not mean that our style is stagnant.
It will certainly evolve and even transform over time.
By taking inspiration from artists that we admire, by allowing ourselves to take new paths or by breaking away from certain reflexes, we allow ourselves to progress. One only has to leaf through art history books or sites like Wikiart to appreciate this.
For example, Van Gogh's works are very personal. He is well known for his vibrant colors. However, his first paintings represent dark scenes in which he testifies to the harsh reality he lived with, as in The Potato Eaters (1885). In only two years, his style metamorphosed when moving to Paris and rubbing shoulders with the Impressionists and Pointillists. The portrait Le Père Tanguy (1887), painted in dark blues and browns on warm shades of yellow, orange and red dominated background, is a clear demonstration of a style he is known for.
In 1896, Picasso painted The Altar Boy in the very conventional, academic style that his father had taught him. Five years later, having learned from brilliant colorists like Monet and Renoir, he created Dwarf Dancer (1901) with a totally different, more impressionistic approach. In the same year, he painted Harlequin in cool shades of blue. One feels the influence of Gauguin and Van Gogh, while recognizing his own personality. Then, in 1907, he shocked his entourage by presenting Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, considered by many to be the "first" painting of the 20th century, breaking with the academic art of the Renaissance.
Mimi Parent, a Quebec artist whom I consider too little known in her own country, took her first painting classes with Alfred Pellan in 1944. She discovered the works of Matisse, Picasso, Bonnard, among others. This stimulated her interest in color and light. Promenade-au-soleil (1946), acquired by the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal (MACM), bears witness to this learning. Over the years, she has developed a singular style. Her key works are “object paintings” in which she adds a third dimension to her colored canvases. They are composed of objects assembled in black glass boxes: J'habite au choc (1955), Le passage du mervillon (1975) and Adieu vieux monde (1991) are some examples.
My own years of initiation
I have no academic art training. Like all young girls of my time, I took art classes in high school. I must pay tribute here to Mr. Montal and Margo Desjardins, from Pierre-Laporte high school, who inspired me to develop my creativity.
As a teenager, for fun, I taught myself to draw, trying to capture the kitchen glasses' reflections or by tracing the shape of my fingers on paper. I scribbled, with pencil or ink, illustrations from my imagination in notebooks now lost. Sometimes it was an outlet for my emotional overflow.
The exercise carried me into a world of serenity.
My first attempt at painting was not conclusive! My mother's childhood friend, Claudette, had lent me her old equipment in a small easel box. Working from memory, I covered the canvas board with the colors of a country landscape with a farm building. I found the result disappointing, flat and characterless. It was probably a good starting point, but I had no idea what to do to take it further. So, I gave up.
In my art classes in college, I had the opportunity to learn how to draw with Chinese ink. I adopted this medium for several years, creating semi-abstract works on paper. Over time, I carried the experiment by adding touches of colored ink. Évanaissance is one of the few ink drawings I have recovered from this period.
From there, the idea came to try watercolor.
The first attempts were all as dull as the small oil painting done years earlier. I would say today that they were "monotone" studies, mostly done in different shades of the same color. However, it did give volume to my drawings.
In my thirties, I started painting in watercolor again when my children were in bed and my husband was busy at work. It was then that I decided to sign up for workshops at the community center. There, I learned many techniques that I had not been able to perfect despite all the specialized magazines I was collecting at the time. This was an important turning point. I became friends with the artist who was teaching us. And for a few years thereafter, I would go to her house to paint once a week. We had agreed on an exchange: I would teach her English, while she continued to guide me in my learning.
Enriched by this experience, the quality of my watercolors improved. This encouraged me to persevere in my spare time.
From paper to canvas
Around 2015, I dared to venture elsewhere. Armed with a few tubes of acrylic paint and three brushes, I experimented with the pleasure of handling a more consistent medium. Odorless and easy to clean, acrylics allowed me to work on the kitchen table without worry.
After painting on a few canvas boards, and spending a few hours watching demonstrations on YouTube, I bought some wood-framed canvases. Inspired by my own photos, I reproduced scenes in a style often borrowed from other artists I had discovered online. It's not like painting in the manner of the "masters". Nevertheless, it accelerated my learning.
As an amateur photographer since my teens, I already had some sense of composition. However, I found it difficult to reproduce the subtlety of the tints and tones I wanted. Learning to mix colors is an art in itself! Not to mention the frustration of seeing the acrylic paint get darker as it dries, moving away from the effect I was trying to create.
Being able to be self-critical is essential to progress.
Being able to receive feedback from others is also essential.
During these years of learning, my family and friends encouraged me with their constructive comments and invited me to create paintings for them. It allowed me to believe in the minimum of talent I thought I had.
I wrote above that sometimes one must break certain reflexes. Working with Chinese ink pen had taught me the patience of details. To create my first acrylic paintings, I used small brushes, even very small brushes. This is obvious in Arbres d’octobre (October trees). It took me a few years to get out of that habit. I am still working on it!
Having gained confidence while painting with acrylics, I decided to try my hand at oil painting in 2018. With my adult children out of the house, I converted one of their bedrooms into a studio and office. As I had done with acrylics, I made my first oil painting on canvas board, Maison de Grande-Grave (2018). What a great discovery! All my fears dissipated from the first brush stroke. It was love at first sight!
In the length of two years, my learning took giant steps. I had more time to devote to my art and I was gaining more and more confidence in my abilities. I began to assert myself as a "representational" painter. Always tempted by the smallest detail, it could take me over forty hours to complete a painting. Pont du lac Monroe (Lake Monroe Bridge) (2020) is a good example.
The year 2020 was a pivotal year for me. The planned retirement from my professional career in communication and change management was accelerated by a few weeks due to the Covid19 pandemic. As well, our plans to travel across Canada and the United States in our RV that year had to be cancelled.
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