Knowing when to Quit (sometimes & someplaces)

Some of the most interesting pieces of art are the ones that fall into your lap.  When you are painting or sketching and you get an effect that is arresting; half real and half abstract.  Like the watercolor portrait above, interrupted after a couple of washes.

Or this nude, which seemed to work without going into any serious detail.

Or this elevation with some simple shadow casting.

Of course you don't always feel like just stopping.  But if you have a little confidence and experience you can quit on certain areas, and continue on in others.  The above washes already have an interesting feel, but I wanted to get into some Ultramarine Blue to balance the warmth.

Even at this point I wanted to add higher contrast and detail, so I moved on, but limited the work to the broken pediment area.

There is a magic in seeing the concrete reality of the sculptural ornamentation, while seeing areas of stained paper.  It is an effect that I strive for, but it will never be at the level of masters like John Singer Sargent, as shown in his watercolor sketch below (called Bedouins).  In this detail the brisk brushwork and brash colors sit side by side with what must have been careful modeling of the faces.  (image from Wikimedia)

Knowing when to Quit

...It is one of the hardest things to learn.

Children often get tired or bored, and quit at just the right time to leave a fresh "take" on what they see, or are trying to express.  Having raised two kids I can state that children are simply lucky in knowing when to quit. More often then not a drawing would turn into mush from overworking and revision.  Once or twice a year (after dozens of recycling bins filled with "keep-em-busy" sheets) a beautiful scribble turns up.

The inexperienced artist usually feels a need to work to some sort of perfection.  This is just as well since the novice needs the experience of working more then the she needs the perfect masterpiece.  The skills will come with experience; and mastery will lead to masterpieces.  Just as the novelist needs to learn spelling, grammar, and sentence structure before telling a story, the artist needs to feel natural and comfortable with his tools before expecting perfection.

Unfortunately, the modern world seems to encourage an impatience in people.  If I can photograph my house, or model and render a design in no time, why can't I create perfect beauty instantaneously.  Life is short: meaning that we expect to experience everything in the world right now!  I guess I'm more a stick-in-the-mud then I thought.  In reality life is longer and better then at any time 'til now.

The mature artist, having mastered the tools and techniques, can return to the visceral reaction of a child. Although composition and proportion can be taught, beauty tends to happen when you least expect it.  Letting your skills race along, while your mind's eye stays awake to the possibilities that are developing, seems the best way to get to the right place.