HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE?

One of the questions I get asked most frequently is ‘How long does it take to do a painting?’

For the most part, I’m almost certain that the question is asked by non-painters (after all, don’t painters know how long it takes to complete a painting?). On my off-days, I almost seeth at the question, and think ‘Why? What does it matter how long the blooming thing takes? Is my answer going to make any difference to whether you buy a painting or not?’ (remember; this is on an off-day!) Almost certainly, my reticence to simply answer the question is tainted by the distinct feeling that what the questioner actually wants to hear is that I’ve slaved over a painting non-stop for the last three-to-six months, barely eating, waking with a brush in my hand and falling asleep, totally exhausted, slumped over the easel at four in the morning, agonising over the work, determined not to even think of washing, shaving or speaking to another living soul until the painting is completed. Might as well cut my ear off and hire meself a grotty, flea-bitten garret to which no self-respecting Dominoes Pizza delivery bloke would ever deliver to.

The rather naff answer I’ve heard some artists use is ‘Forty-six years love!’, referring, of course, to the many years of hard graft and dedication invested in perfecting their technique. I say naff, but of course on one of my off-days I’ve almost certainly employed the exact same answer myself, to which the reply is usually something along the lines of ‘Oh, sorry – only asking!’.

I’ve often said that if I had a pound every time someone asked me how long it took to paint a picture, I’d be quite wealthy – but, hey, that’s just another one of those lazy answers I’m likely to use on one of my off-days.

I rather like what Ryan Church has to say on the matter. Despite the fact that his artwork is predominantly digital, and can be worked and reworked at will, he will say that ‘…a painting is never finished, it’s just abandoned.’

So.

How long does it take to do a painting?

My honest, carefully considered and thoroughly thought-out final answer has to be this: ‘It takes as long as it takes’.

First of all, let’s just acknowledge one of the major properties of watercolour that I personally like, and one of the things that always attracted me to the medium in the first place. It’s fast. Spontaneous. Things happen quickly with watercolour. If the paint were to fall in exactly the right place at the right time, and colour washes merged and combined and dried in exactly the right way, it would be possible to have a painting sewn up in minutes. Five minutes, ten minutes, whatever, however long it took. But this would be an extraordinary painting, because great works of watercolour rarely (perhaps that should be never, but never say never) conform to such tight conditions.

Let us now subtract from the figure what I like to call thinking time. This is not to mention the fact that a painting actually starts somewhere out in the great outdoors where a potential subject has took my eye and I’ve sat down and made a preliminary sketch of it. Not only that, but when I’ve returned to the studio, I will have continued in my exploration of the subject through further sketches, developing the composition until I have a rough idea of where I want to go with it.

No. I’m not including this in the figure, because a potential painting can exist in this virtual-state for anything up to indefinitely.

I’m keen to focus my calculation entirely on the period between that moment when the first brushstroke lands on virgin paper up to the moment the last brushstroke dries, and I can stand back and say ‘Yesssssssss!’.

Built into this period of creation will be lots of thinking time. It’s important, always, to maintain an overview of how the painting is progressing in order to head-off potential problems before they occur. For this reason, also, I rarely paint for periods longer than 20-30 minutes without a break. Cups of tea play an important role in the process – paint for a bit, then go off and make a cup of tea. As the tea is brewing, I’ll continue to glance at the work with as ‘distant’ an eye as possible. Try to see it as others would see it (working solidly, up close, for long periods, I’ve found can blind you to your achievements). Walk away from your work and do something else; if the painting is progressing well, it’ll nag at you to get back to it (‘paint me! paint me!’). I find problems are often solved away from the easel; if something is troubling me, and I’m not sure how to rectify the problem, then removing myself from the culprit is usually the most effective way of finding a solution to it (it nags me!).

So, an average painting might possibly be broken down into the following painting periods:

Period 1: Drawing out (30 mins)
I always plan out the painting on the watercolour paper using a light, weak Burnt Umber. I prefer this to using pencil, which can often seem intrusive to me.

Period 2: Initial wash/washes (30 mins)
Every painting is different, of course, but some form of large, loose wash is often applied at this early stage to establish mood, and provide an ‘underpainting’ upon which to build.

Period 3: Establishing main points of interest (30 mins)
My focal point will already have been decided upon at the earlier, sketching stages. Once the paint starts to flow, however, the priority is to work out how best to retain that centre of interest. It’s a good starting point – begin with your focal point and work outwards.

Period 4: Applying light shadows (30 mins)
I use this stage to establish how a subject is lit, and where the main shadows are most likely to fall (if I’ve not already decided at the sketching stage). I keep the shadows light so they can easily be modified (no sense in painting yourself into a corner too early on).

Periods 5 & 6: enhancing & exaggerating tonal contrasts (60 mins)
I’ve tacked two periods together here because it’s the stage likely to take the longest. Applying ever-increasingly darker tones and creating ‘lost & found’ edges all go to build up the piece bit by bit, gradually strengthening it throughout.

Period 7: Minor adjustments (30 mins)
Are the lighter, less prominent sections complete? Are there any quiet areas that need some action? Maybe something jangles with the overall balance of the piece – now a good time to take it out or move it.

Period 8: Applying stronger, darker shadows & darkest tones (30 mins)
Now I’m on the home run – shadows can be strengthened, and the darkest, richest tones can be applied. I think this is my favourite stage!

Period 9: Glazing (30 mins)
This is mainly to maintain balance. Lighter areas, mainly, may need warming up or altering slightly to match up to neighbouring (dark) areas.

Period 10: Finishing touches (30 mins)

So there you have it! I reckon that adds up to an average 5 hours painting time + however lo