A Landscape Painter’s Guide to – Painting More and Caring Less – Easel Talk #50
Many aspiring painters fall into the same trap: they believe masterpieces simply emerge from natural talent. This misconception paralyzes them. They sketch grand visions, a 4×6 painting of hedgehogs at an amusement park, meticulously planned, worked on for years, but never finish because the scope is too ambitious.
Here’s the reality: you can’t lift 500 pounds if you haven’t worked out in 20 years. You start with 25 pounds, progress to 50, and eventually build to 500. Masterpieces work the same way. You have to condition yourself.
If you want to paint something massive, a two-meter by six-meter lion in the desert with a flaming chariot, start small. Sketch rough ideas. Do small versions. Work your way up. Otherwise, it falls apart.
Much of what you learn in painting comes through experience, not theory. Videos and books help, but unless you practice these principles, it’s water off a duck’s back. The better approach: do 20 smaller paintings, each exploring one aspect of your masterpiece vision, then bring them together later. Build it bit by bit.
What “Care Less” Actually Means
When I say “paint more and care less,” I don’t mean you don’t care. Obviously you do. But you need to dial it back.
Approach painting the way you approach having coffee, talking with a friend, or taking a nap. It should be that casual. That’s why you should paint every day, painting needs to become reflexive.
Here’s the distinction: painting involves both your conscious mind (the thinking, directing, rational part) and your subconscious mind (the inspired, intuitive engine that creates anything good). The rational mind is essential, but alone it can’t do much. Both working together, that’s when real painting happens.
Don’t mythologize it. Don’t make it a precious, rarefied activity that exists only in the stratosphere of human endeavor. That mental hiccup will impede your work. Instead, do it constantly. If paintings are bad, throw them away. Work on cheap materials until you build a repertoire of good ones.
Volume Changes Your Averages
Creating a lot of work gives you perspective on both the good and the bad. Maybe you think a painting is fantastic until you’ve done five or six better ones. Suddenly that painting is just okay.
Here’s what I tell students: if you’re doing two or three paintings a year, perhaps one is good and two are bad. Your averages show you’re just bad. If you increase volume, your averages shift. More good paintings emerge. You throw away the bad ones. Everyone thinks you were great all the time.
Those bad paintings serve their purpose, they build your muscles. You need to get them out of your system. I’ve told countless students: “Go home and do a bad painting.” They resist. “I don’t like bad paintings. All I do is bad paintings.” I say, “Go do one anyway. Maybe it’ll be good. If it’s bad, that’s great, you need to do bad paintings.”
The paradox resolves itself: caring less doesn’t mean you don’t care about your work. It means you’re not turning painting into some mythological activity. Working artists become good because they paint all the time. Some of it’s good, some is bad, and it averages out toward improvement.
The Small Painting Strategy
Why small works? Because you can do them quickly, they don’t require much room, and every scene presents fresh challenges, new colors, contrasts, compositions.
I favor small paintings because I can get in, do the painting, and be done. I want the artifact, but I don’t have room for giant paintings. More importantly, giant bad paintings are a millstone. If they’re small and good, they fit in boxes.
Board sizes I recommend:
5×7 is my favorite. It’s big enough to get in and solve pictorial problems, but small enough it doesn’t consume space. Pre-made frames are readily available. You can paint one in a day and still experience solving all those painting problems. Then paint the scene again larger if you want.
You can get packs of 25 panels on Amazon, 5×7, 8×10, 8×12, 9×12, 11×14. I use 3-mil MDF with three coats of house paint for priming. Don’t skimp on priming, it’s a protective layer that keeps the painting from absorbing into the board.
Have boards prepped and ready. Have references ready. Then every day, dedicate time to painting. Can’t find an hour? Do it after dinner. Have an audiobook or podcast on in the background. Paint while you relax.
Small paintings stand on their own. People buy them. Tourists appreciate them because they fit in luggage and are affordable. You can give them away as gifts. A successful small painting can become a study for something larger down the road.
The Routine Is Your Friend
Routine is essential. If you work full time with a family, after dinner is perfect. Set up a dedicated area in your home, doesn’t matter if you’re renting a room. This is where you paint and only paint.
Sit down. Turn on your light. Put your board on the easel. Get your paints and reference. Make a painting that takes an hour. That’s one value of small works: you can do many small paintings, then occasionally do a large one. Don’t develop a syndrome where you’re uncomfortable painting large.
Make it reflexive. When it’s time, you just sit down and paint. Like I said, have an audiobook going, have YouTube on, put one of my live painting sessions in the background. You don’t need to watch every brushstroke. Think of it as a studio partner, a studio friend keeping you company while you work.
Every failed painting is a valuable component of your education. You must do it. You must make paintings, and some will be bad. That is good for you.
The Professional Mindset
What separates professionals from everyone else? They sell their work. But it’s also a mindset.
I worked as a graphics professional for 13 years, mostly illustration, some design. I know what it means to show up, work every day, and get paid. That mindset is about producing constantly. You can’t get precious about things because work is a constant flow through the studio.
If you do a bad painting, the best thing is to get back on the horse and ride. Don’t chase the challenge that defeated you. If you tried a complex forest interior scene and failed, retreat to something simple, a field with a path and trees. Build yourself back up. Supporting yourself as an artist means knowing when to push and when to consolidate.
A professional painter thinks like this: “I did four paintings this week. One isn’t great. Who cares? Throw it away or put it in a box. Maybe I’ll fix it later.”
The Mastery Effect
Much of the meaning in this process comes from the painter being masterful, having something emotional and intellectual to communicate. That comes from exercising your ability to express yourself repeatedly. That is the key to mastery.
You cannot be a master without exercising your craft repeatedly and reflectively. That’s just how it works.
The Practical Application
Stop mythologizing. Yes, painting on Mount Olympus was amazing. You don’t need that mythology. Paint where you are. Lose the precious attitude.
The critics who admire your work will write your mythology. The assistants can mythologize you. Let them do it. Your job is to stop making painting into a special, precious activity and treat it like something you do in an offhand manner every single day.
Here’s the secret that works: if you made one small painting every day, that’s 365 paintings in a year. A good chunk will be amazing, maybe 40, maybe more. Think of how much greater you’d be at the end of that year than at the beginning.
You’d start your own channel. You’d be teaching everyone else. And you’d have the secret: make more paintings and care less.
Take good care of yourself. Stay out of trouble. And fight the power.
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