New paintings, hot off the easel, and some thoughts on art and life ...

OK, that title is a little tongue-in-cheek, but it's the conclusion I've come to. I've realized, after years of painting, that I can learn a lot by looking at my work in low light, or in other words, the kind of imperfect light that I have in my studio. I do have a large window for natural light, but unfortunately it faces west, so in the late afternoons it can be blinding. I have another window that faces north - yes, the fabled north light so beloved by artists - but it's not big enough to be the main light. Several years ago I bought three lamps with color-balanced light bulbs and they helped a lot. I turned them on when I painted after dark or when I had to shut out the western exposure, so my imperfect studio was still workable. But I still wished for perfect lighting and total control of that light. I used to dream about how I could achieve it, if money were no object and I could move windows and walls at will.

Then gradually I began to realize that I was seeing my painting mistakes more easily during the off hours when I passed by the studio and caught a glimpse of my work in progress, in low light. After a while I gave up dreaming of perfection. It would still be nice,  but even if I had perfect lighting and total control I'd sometimes dim the lights. It's the same principle as squinting, but less likely to cause wrinkles! So to any artists out there who bemoan their light, I say don't worry - you don't need perfect lighting to paint well.

Above:  "Big Red Primroses"