Today, I’d like to talk about the secret to stunning landscapes.
One of the biggest challenges facing any artist is creating artwork that grabs and holds the viewer’s attention. There are lots of rules and guidelines for composing pleasing artwork, but the method I use most of the time is the rule of thirds. It’s simple and easy to use and almost never fails.
But that’s not what I want to talk about today.
What I want to discuss today is a method of composing scenes that isn’t so easy to define. That’s because it’s different for every artist.
What is it?
The Secret to Stunning Landscapes
It’s your emotional response to the scene you’re looking at.
What do I mean by that?
Let me first tell you a bit of backstory on my personal drawing history.
When I first started out, I was a horse artist. That’s all I was interested in. There was something about the way horses look and move that made me want to try to capture them in art. There was a visceral, emotional response to seeing horses that had to be translated into artwork. I didn’t stop to think about why; I just made artwork.
The same is now true for landscapes. The scenes that move me in some way have certain things in common. It could be lighting, contrast, power or majesty, or even the sheer vastness of the scene.
That visceral response should be the main guideline for composing artwork.
Why do I say that? Let’s look at three ideas.
Why Create the Artwork in the First Place
This is my biggest struggle. I am drawn to pretty scenes. But is that enough reason to try to create artwork?
In my case, it doesn’t seem to be. Those pretty scenes don’t always produce finished artwork. If that works for you, great!
What you should really look for, however, is your personal response to the scene. Are you filled with wonder? Does the scene make you want to sit down and enjoy the peace and quiet, or is there something taking place (like towering clouds or a thunderstorm)?
Those things are visceral responses; responses that happen without you’re having to think about them. Not all scenes or subjects produce those kinds of responses. Even pretty scenes can fail to produce anything beyond appreciation. Those are the scenes and subjects that you probably want to avoid.
When I chose to draw this piece, the thing I wanted most to capture was the look of a hazy, late morning. It was August and haze doesn’t usually happen in Kansas in August. It’s just too dry most of the time. So the scene in the reference photo produced more than just immediate appeal.
When you do have visceral responses to a scene or subject, there are better chances for topnotch artwork based on that scene.
So understanding how you responded to a scene is the first step in deciding whether or not to create artwork.
That response is most likely also the real subject of your artwork, and that response is going to influence how you compose the scene.
And that brings me to what to put into the artwork.
What to Put into the Artwork
In order to convey that visceral response to the people who see your artwork, it’s important to include the things that convey the visceral response you want to share with viewers.
For example, I love weather, and I also love bright landscapes against dark skies. That’s one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed drawing so many versions of Spring Storm.
That contrast creates a lot of drama in the landscape no matter how I compose it. So in reality, the real center of interest is the contrast: The thing that prompts a visceral response in me.
Yes, each of the compositions I’ve created have a different part of the landscape as the center of interest. But that part of the landscape always emphasizes the contrast with strong shadows next to strong light.
Everything else that I include in each drawing helps support that “story” and show it to whoever sees the artwork.
Whatever your response to a scene, that’s the feeling or emotion you want to convey in your artwork.
You may also find it necessary to bring in elements from other images or locations to strengthen the composition. That’s one of the best ways to create stunning and moving artwork.
What to Leave out of the Artwork
I confess. When I consider a landscape, I always try to put in as much of what I see as I can. After all, the thought is that it was there in real life and it contributed to my response to the scene. It should, therefore, be included in the artwork. Right?
Wrong!
Remember what I said above: That the primary thing to consider in your landscape is recreating that visceral response. When it comes to making art, not every detail will help you recreate that response for yourself or for the viewer.
Also remember that I said you need to focus on the details and elements that most contributed to your emotional response. That means that everything else is probably not necessary to your artwork.
Let me show you what I mean. Here is the reference photo I used for Spring Storm. Immediately below it is the original artwork.
I cropped the reference photo to narrow the focus. But then I went a step further and removed many of the things that appear in the reference photo. In short, the only man-made thing I left in was the barn. Why did I do that?
First because the things I left out did not contribute to the story of the storm that I wanted to tell. Second, a lot of the things I left out were distractions.
When you compose your landscape, it’s important to leave out everything that doesn’t support your main idea. Knowing what to leave out is just as important as knowing what to leave in.
So What is The Secret to Stunning Landscapes?
And as I’ve already mentioned, what you put in and leave out can vary from one composition to the next even when you use the same reference photo. It all depends on the main subject, and the way you want to present it.
The secret to stunning landscapes is first understanding your visceral response to the landscape.
Second but just as important is deciding how best to tell that story by what you put into your composition and what you leave out.
Once you do those two things, then use colors and tools that help tell the story you’ve decided to tell in the artwork. Pay close attention to that story, too, and stick with it to the very end.
Even doing all this, be prepared for possibly disappointing results. Not every piece you finish will be stunning or live up to your expectations.
But the more attention you pay to the things I’ve described above, the more often you will produce the stunning landscapes you long to draw!
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Carrie, this really triggered an “aw hah” moment for me. That is why certain pieces of art or certain artists draw me back again and again. There was something in their art that appealed to my inner self. I remember in college a picture hung on a wall in one of the office buildings and I loved it! It was a realistic scene of a hiking trail that led off into the hills with fog at the end of the visible trail. I kept wondering where that trail led. Later I had that experience with many of the paintings by Thomas Kinkaid, the painter of light. I love light and shadow in scenery or botanicals! I also love reflections in water too. So, for me, the awesome picture is the one with some kind of light. That is why I loved your stormy skies one. Thank you again for your fantastic articles. Many times, they help me figure out more about myself.
Gail,
Thank you for your comment.
I’m delighted to discover that my “discoveries” on this subject are helping you, too.
I’ve never given much thought to story telling in art, but I’m beginning to see how it does apply. It’s amazing that it took me over 50 years of drawing and painting to realize this, although I also realize it was working for me though I wasn’t aware of it.
Thank you again for your comment.
Thank you I found this article on the storm landscape really interesting.
Here are some personal thoughts I had after reading it.
1. I would have probably left in the telegraph pole in the midfield. I am not averse to “industry” in landscapes, it timestamps an image, and it would have provided another needed (in my view) non-natural vertical element to keep the grain silo in the back ground company.
2. I might have kept the road (not the branch to the right) but a branch to the left leading behind the hedge, because it tells a story. Although the farm is way off in the background the road promises me a way to get to it. The hedge means mystery and the road doesnt go to the edge and lead the eye off the painting (to the next painting hanging on the on the wall)
3. I might have gone for a wider format, but I immediately agree that might have sacrificed the storm somewhat, the leading role of the image.
4. A more general point: I quite like including any “current machines” because it only takes a few decades for the antiquity of the object becomes of interest in its own right. Say, that dirty old steam train painted mid 60’s becomes an iconic image, and and firmly puts the painting in an historic setting. Given the passage of time “blots on the landscape” become welcome features: cooling towers, windmills, viaducts, pylons, and now even windfarms (?). Those hiddeous northern Victorian monstrosities, as they were seen in the 50’s, have become treasured civic buildings (it helps that they are no longer covered with all the industrial soot). It will be interesting how we view brutalist architecture in another 50 years, sadly I wont be there :-)
Thank you for all your articles and clearly this one go me thinking
Mike xxx
Michael,
Thank you for your comments on the composition of Spring Storm. I’m always interested in how other artists think.
1. The telephone pole. I understand your comments about keeping the telephone pole as a repetition of the vertical of the silo.
2. The road. It’s interesting that you suggested this because I did do one version with a bit of a road in it, and I like roads in artwork because of the visual path they provide. However, I left the road out in this one because it was horizontal in the composition and didn’t seem to fit my goals for the drawing.
3. A wider format would have been interesting. To be honest, I didn’t think of that when I was working out this composition. Panoramas are great for landscape art. I think of this format more often in connection with Kansas landscapes (where there’s a lot of wide open spaces) than for Michigan landscapes, where there are a lot more trees. I suppose that had something to do with the format, at least on a subconscious level.
4. I agree with you on including things that date an image. I happen to be a rail fan, but I am NOT a technical artist, so it’s unlikely I would include trains or any other machinery in any landscapes I do. (Although I confess that one of my favorite scenes shows a train bridge over a highway. All it needs is a train on it!).
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this topic. It certainly got me to thinking (I am still thinking about it), so I’m glad to hear that it got you thinking, too!
Thak you for your reply – Very best wishes – Mike xxx