constantly missing the sight

^ [A Building Is A Ship (work in progress). watercolor on paper. 12x16". September 2011.]

"We are constantly supposing that we see what experience only has shown us, or can show us, to have existence, constantly missing the sight of what we do not know beforehand to be visible : and painters, to the last hours of their lives, are apt to fall in some degree into the error of painting what exists, rather than what they can see."
- John Ruskin, Modern Painters, Vol. I, Ch. II: Truth Not Easily Discerned (1894, 3rd ed.)

An occasional but continuing error of mine in watercolor is a heavy, opaque handling of the paint, which is counter to the transparent nature of the medium in particular and to the subtle, delicate effects atmosphere has on color in particular. I end up painting what I know to be true rather than what I see. A red wall of a building seen at a mile's distance is unlikely to appear as a true saturated red because atmosphere, even on a clear day, is likely to influence the perception of color and shape, softening them if only a little. Adjustments to color, tone (where it falls in relation to light and dark), and shape --- more specifically, the edges of the shape --- are necessary to properly render optical distortions caused by distance and atmosphere.

This watercolor is an attempt to paint larger than I often do. It is of a building visible from the apartment window facing approximately south-west, a subject I keep returning to. I'm always looking at it, this big awkward building that looks very solid and fortress-like, the exterior weathered and stained and ugly. But while I still cannot paint trees, and my depiction of buildings is sometimes clumsy, my continuing efforts to render atmosphere and its effects on distant objects are with some success. Since this painting is now overworked, I'll leave off it and start another of the same subject. It's not a complete loss, though, and is worth posting here, despite it's being incomplete.