More Maui

These are two others I did close to the beach, one of them inside the car for lack of a proper place to sit. Neither of these views had a dramatic element, so I settled on the mountains as the focal point for both. The beach was wonderful that afternoon, meaning there was very little wind and very few people. Crabs crawled out of their burrows, looking for food close to my bare feet. Behind me was the road and our parked rental car.

Painting inside a car is the pits, unless it's freezing. There's no place to set your water container, and the dashboard will block the lower part of your picture. I balanced the watercolor paper block on my knees to give myself some distance, and worked as quickly as possible. Even with the doors open, it gets hot and the vinyl sticks to your body. Ugh.

Painting in Maui

Sorry about the previous rant. I just had to get it off my chest so I could talk about the more pleasant aspects of painting while vacationing. For this five day trip I took:

• a pocket box (I fill it with my own colors)



• plastic mixing pan about 7" x 10"



• foldable water "bucket"



• three brushes in their own case



• 12" x 16" block of paper



• mechanical pencil (never needs sharpening)



• plastic container with my paint tubes



• small natural sponge



• one bottle of water for each painting



• kneadable eraser



• paper towels



• hat, shades, sunscreen

My partner Sarah, is very supportive. She usually takes a novel and reads while I work. Sometimes she also keeps tourists or gawkers at a reasonable distance. All are very polite, but they are all so curious they will start conversations if given a chance. I also try not to work alone in remote places for safety reasons. When I am working, I am so focused I cannot pay attention to my surroundings.

I did six paintings. The Haleakala crater was the most demanding. Temperature up there at 10,000 feet drops 30 degrees and my hands froze despite the anorak I was wearing. There were tourists all around, trying to get the best picture. A woman sat next to me and proceeded to interrogate me about the origins of my accent. And the Arches paper was getting on my nerves.

The beach, by contrast, was easy. I was sitting in the shade, on a mat, and there were very few people around. The light changed fast, but I've gotten used to this. The water was an incredible turquoise blue, and the vocanic rock was so black I used Payne's Gray as the first layer. By then I had been in Maui for almost 48 hours and felt ready to tackle the colors.

Good Quality

The first rule: Don't try out anything new on a combination painting/traveling trip. Let me now tell you how I broke this most cardinal of principles. A day before our five day trip, I went to the art store and bought two very important items, a round brush and a block of watercolor paper. I figured I'd be safe with Arches, but with the brush I took a risk.

The salesperson at Flax had been at that department for what seemed like the last two decades, so when he said, "that's a good brush," I listened. I shouldn't have, but I bought the brush anyway based on a simple trial with a bit of water they keep for that purpose. This Princeton brush had a big belly, a short point, and an absurdly big ferrule for its size. I also didn't like the length of its handle. But I bought it anyway, because I was going on a trip and wanted the thrill of something new.

As it turns out, both the brush and the paper failed miserably. The heavy sizing in this smooth-surfaced paper caused washes to look uneven no matter what I did, and a second layer of color lifted whatever I had laid first. Dark colors did not look dark enough, and very quickly I saw the 140 lb. Arches block would not take much manipulation either: I refrained from erasing my very light pencil marks.

The brush was another story. It didn't keep a stiff point. Even after shaking excess water off, I had the distinct feeling I was working with squirrel hair (even though it was supposed to be Kolinsky). I ended up using a smaller Windsor and Newton brush for details and leaving the Princeton for washes and scumbling. Worst of all, have you ever painted while swearing?

The lesson: Keep the tried and true, specially if you anticipate exciting views or dramatic subjects on your trip. Beginners, there is nothing worse than working with watercolor paper that betrays you. In the end, you can overcome a bad brush but not bad paper. At an art store in Berkeley the other day, the manager asked me if I knew "what the best watercolor paint" was. "I just want to get whatever the best is." "You can start with a good paper," I said. She asked me why. After all, she explained, she was a beginner. Bad papers, I replied, "can sabotage your best efforts. You'll never know what you're capable of if you keep using bad paper. Buy the best you can afford, then forget it's so expensive." We both laughed at the absurdity of this advice.