The work of Mark Ivan Cole first came to my attention when I saw a pastel painting he’d done of the forest. I was awed both by the complexity and the simplicity. Draw back and you see the big shapes, move in and go into the nooks and crannies of the canopy and forest floor. And….I responded with emotion, sighing with the quiet beauty of it all.
Mark has been on my list as a potential guest for some time and it was a serendipitous first meeting with him at this year’s IAPS Convention which was the catalyst I needed to pose the question to him. And you know the answer because here he is to share some of his wisdom.
Don’t know his work? Here’s a teaser!
Before we get to Mark’s words, here’s a bit about him.
Bio for Mark Ivan Cole
Mark Ivan Cole, PSA, picked up pastels when his now-wife bought a small set for him, and has spent much of the last quarter century learning how to use them. He has lived in South America, North America, and Asia, and has traveled extensively, painting and drawing wherever he goes. Described as a “rocks, trees, and water guy,” Mark finds the natural world endlessly fascinating and challenging. You can read and see more of his work on his website.
And now here’s Mark Ivan Cole!
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Like a lot of us did, I started drawing as soon as I could hold a crayon. My earliest drawings were dynamic, highly expressionistic. At some point in grade school, I started working very hard to “get it right.” I could be so engaged in drawing that I had to be called to the dinner table repeatedly.
I grew up in the Ecuadorian Andes, but I didn’t do much outdoor sketching. Most of my drawing was done from imagination or from pictures in books or magazines.
My parents loved coffee table books, and I remember one with a large photograph of the Black Hills of South Dakota. I liked the spiky bones of the fallen snag in the foreground, and that brooding sense of space with the mountains in the distance so I drew it on a big sheet of paper with a No. 2 pencil. At 15 years old, it was the best landscape I’d ever drawn, but I’d already spent several years studying Norman Rockwell (another coffee table book), so I knew what good drawings looked like! I dreamed of being able to draw like that.
After high school, I moved to the U.S.A. and continued to draw from published pictures but I also started drawing from life and paying more attention to the world around me. Over the next 8 years, I moved from the Midwest to Southern California, then to Washington State, down to Florida, and back to the Pacific Northwest. All of those areas broadened my understanding of the natural world.
It wasn’t until I was in my mid-thirties and started hiking in the North Cascades that I began to really “see” the world. Labouring up a steep trail made me focus on where I was and what I was doing. I could finally be “present!” This changed everything.
No longer was I wistfully admiring beautiful scenes in magazines; I was living in them! I took a lot of pictures but the experience itself inspired me most. I felt the burning in my legs and in my lungs as I climbed high enough to see peak after peak, ridge after ridge, for miles on end. I listened to the whispering trees, and heard them creaking and groaning in the wind. I stood on the craggy summit, looking out from that dizzying height before turning around and working my way back down the trail.
At some point, I’d find a place to rest and just be there. I heard meltwater rushing down from snowfields. I noticed how rockfall formed talus slopes that fanned out under cliffs sheared off by ancient glaciers. I saw where deciduous trees in the valley gave way to fir trees on the foothills, which gave way to scrub which clung to any place the ice and wind couldn’t scrape it off. I watched cloud shadows creep over the foothills, up the escarpment, and across the hanging valley to slip through the pass and out of sight.
All of this changed my art, my writing, even my music.
In the decades since I’ve had the opportunity to travel much of the world. My wife loves to explore, and we’ve spent a lot of time on foot in amazing places. I’ve taken thousands of photos and filled many sketchbooks. For the sake of speed, I’ve often used Derwent’s Inktense Ink Blocks like pan watercolours out in the field. Setup takes two minutes and tearing down takes 60 seconds, so I can use even a short break to paint something. Having limited time to sketch has honed my observational skills.
If I have no time to sketch, I can still observe. For me, conscious observation is a meditative experience. I slow down and become aware of light, temperature, movement, time.
It helps me set aside the running monologue in my head and simply experience where I am. Living in that quiet space, even for a minute, can invoke a profound sense of awe and wonder.
I have been brought to tears by a glimpse of sunlight filtering through the trees to land on a rocky outcrop. As the clouds part to reveal a snow-clad summit only to hide it again moments later, I’ve had to remind myself to breathe. I have been mesmerized by water as it flows over a basalt shelf, thunders into a plunge pool, and rambles off down a ravine. These experiences remain with me, years later, and all of them influence my art.
When I first began painting forests and mountains in earnest, they were acquaintances I was just getting to know. I liked them a lot, but I had yet to learn their mannerisms, their quirks, their habits.
After a decade or so, I was more versed in their character, but I realized there was much more to know. They looked different at various times of day, in different seasons, in different weather. I kept watching, paying close attention, especially to places I saw frequently. I became fascinated by the cycle of life on a biological and geological scale. As I grow older, I appreciate the fallen trees and bare snags as much as the towering giants. I admire the sinuous grace of a sapling growing out of a rotting stump. I marvel at the scar of a landslide and see how the stream below has already swept away much of what fell. And I collect such images in my memory.
Illustrator James Gurney calls it the artist’s “internal visual catalog.” I add to mine most effectively when I experience things firsthand.
Deeply observing my surroundings as I walk in the woods gives me a better sense of the forest: the patterns of wind damage, the effects of fire, how the growth of Spring and Summer penetrates, engulfs, and subsumes the decay left by Autumn and Winter; how a massive root system holds back a slope even as successive rains wash it away. Above the treeline, I see how geological forces have uplifted and folded some areas, how magma once melted its way up through the weak points, how different kinds of rocks weather differently as water, wind, snow, and ice carve the features that define a mountain.
The same holds true for human-made objects. Exploring ancient stonework in Europe and Asia has shown me how nature reclaims what we build. Medieval ruins have always fascinated me, and over the last couple of years I’ve explored the remains of castles, abbeys, and fortresses in Ireland and Northern Ireland. As a fantasy novelist, I have set my scenes in such places, but now that I have close personal experience of them, I can “see” them more clearly as I write or illustrate. They’re more “real” now!
I often select a photo as a reference because I want to spend more time in that place. I reach into my memory to feel the physical sensations and emotions again. Painting or drawing keeps me in that space and I love it. Years ago, drawing every leaf and twig was the goal. Now I find that departing from the photo allows more room to express my feelings.
The priority has shifted from accurately copying the photograph to effectively communicating the emotions.
Oil painter Matt Smith said something that has stuck with me: “We don’t paint the landscape; we paint our response to the landscape.”
Painting our response to the landscape frees us to emphasize certain elements and eliminate others. We can move things, change their size, bring them into focus, or blur them into the background, whatever it takes to communicate how this landscape makes us feel.
I call this “Emotional Realism.”
For me, the painting must strike a balance between the factual and the emotional, and that balance depends on what I want to communicate. I find that I can communicate my emotions better when the elements of the painting are believable, even if they are not depicted precisely as they appear in the reference.
Pastel artist Lyn Asselta has said that she departs from her photo reference five minutes into the painting! That is amazingly efficient. She can do that because she has spent countless hours observing the landscapes she loves. She knows how the prevailing winds shape the trees. She knows how waves interact with the rocky edges of the Maine coast. When Lyn paints these things, they feel right.
The marks we make with a pastel, a pen, or a pencil are based on our observations of the world. It’s cumulative. Every experience we’ve ever had informs our internal visual catalog. The more experiences we have, and the more deeply we absorb them, the richer our internal visual catalog becomes. Then, when we move elements into more aesthetic positions, create textures, suggest details, and emphasize the center of focus, the results are believable. The viewer’s eye is not confused, distracted, or fixated on areas that don’t make sense.
And the emotions can come through.
On Painting Trees
Trees make their decisions in their roots, below ground. That’s where they get their minerals, where they communicate with fungi and other trees, where they transfer nutrients. Above ground, we see the results of their responses to the ever-changing environment.
I approach painting a tree much like one approaches painting a person. I ask questions.
My first question is whether this is a portrait or a figure painting. How much of the tree do I paint to communicate the character that I observe in this being? Do I paint the full ramification of its branches, from base to crown, or do I choose only this small section where the light hits it?
I look at the stance of the tree, how it has grown to find the sun, and how it has dealt with the inevitable shedding of branches that happens over time. Perhaps it was struck by lightning, or a windstorm snapped off the trunk where beetles had weakened it, but some section of it has survived and continues to thrive.
I consider the texture and colours in the bark, how the moss grows on it or hangs off of it, and how the old layers peel or crack. I notice how the leaves are shaped and how they group together. Trees are fractal: each twig is a small branch, each branch a small trunk, and each trunk a whole tree.
Back in the day, I fussed over every leaf, but I’ve learned that general indications are often enough to suggest branches and foliage. I’ve learned to “float” the leaves in front of the trunk and heavy branches. The depth that this implies adds that third dimension to the painting. Remembering that branches that go over my head are darker than branches that are going away from me also helps me create a sense of depth.
It’s taken a lot of study for me to get to where I can paint a tree with confidence. Once again, deep observation is the starting point.
Expanding Your Internal Visual Catalog
There are three keys to expanding your internal visual catalog:
- Intention
- Attention
- Time
Intention is the motivation for the mind to store the memory. Without attention, there is no observation. And everything takes time.
Here are some recommendations to help expand that catalog.
Prime your intention
Have some idea of what you want to internalize. Recently, I’ve had “check out the bark” in the back of my mind while we’re hiking, so when I see a big Douglas fir, a mossy alder, or a thin vine maple, I’ll actually notice them and observe differences in the texture, colour, density, thickness, and composition of their bark.
Pause
A second or two may be enough. The clearer my intention and the more focused my attention, the less time I may need to internalize a visual. On the other hand, the longer I spend observing, the more visual information I can internalize and the more deeply seated that image becomes. Whenever possible, take your time.
Be present
This is intentional attention. Focusing on what’s here now is the best way to get it into my system. In a way, expanding my internal visual catalog is a meditative act. It’s not effortful; it’s about awareness, curiosity, openness, and a willingness to accept what’s in front of me “as is.”
Involve as many senses as possible
Immersing myself in my environment makes it easier to recall everything about that space later. I pay attention to sight, sound, smells, temperature, texture, even taste. If I’ve been eating trail-side huckleberries on a hot day in the altitude where my lungs beg for more oxygen and I can hear the wind in the upper canopy, I can more easily pull up the visual images that go with all that.
That last sentence reminded me of standing on the broken basalt on top of a mountain four years ago, where we could see both Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson, and how the smoke from the wildfire looked different from the clouds at the same distance. When I think about it some more, I can hear and feel the boulders shifting under my feet.
Draw or paint it on site
I work mostly in the studio, but I agree with the plein air gurus: there is no substitute for drawing or painting on site. Even if I’m just scratching out a few lines, I have to observe closely enough to translate what I see into marks on a surface. There’s a balance, and it’s often a matter of available time. If I have only a few minutes, they might best be spent observing rather than trying to draw. Still, nothing fully encapsulates an experience like drawing or painting it on the spot. Plein air work always translates to better studio work. I relish every chance I get.
Involve your intellect, but save it for last
For me, the internal visual catalog is more about body and soul than it is about the mind. When I let the heart lead, I see clearly, I feel keenly, and it all sinks in. Then I can engage my cognitive side, which helps me either identify the mystery (“How is this even possible??”) or understand the conditions that cause what I’m observing. Figuring out how something works – or even just musing about how it might work – helps me draw or paint it believably later.
Practise, practise, practise!
Building the internal visual catalog becomes a natural part of being in the world. I’m always observing how light lands on a surface, how different materials reflect or absorb that light, and how the eye interprets the inner shadows. I notice how a fir tree splits lengthwise when it falls across a ravine, and how alders snap in half under the same conditions. I do this all the time and it really helps.
Materials
I love all of the wonderful STUFF we use to make art! When my wife gave me my first Alphacolor pastels, I felt like I was “painting with jazz!” Every mark was immediately impactful! She gave me a small set of Rembrandts, and that was a game changer. When she got me a set of Sennelier half sticks, it opened a whole new world! Every brand of pastels and every surface offers different opportunities and possibilities. Decades later, I’m still trying new things. Lucky me!
Here’s most of what I use now:
Pastels (from hard to soft)
- NuPastel
- Rembrandt
- Faber-Castell
- Mungyo
- Blick
- Mount Vision*
- Great American
- Sennelier*
- Jack Richeson*
- Terry Ludwig*
Papers – Sanded (listed alphabetically)
- Art Spectrum Colourfix
- Canson Mi-Teintes Touch
- Maimaoufin (formerly MingART)*
- UART (especially the 400 Dark!)*
- Sennelier LaCarte
Papers – Non-Sanded (listed alphabetically)
- Canson Mi-Teintes
- Fabriano Vice Versa (marketed as card stock)*
- Hahnemühle Collection Sketch (replaces their Sketch/Pastel)* **
- Hahnemühle Ingres Pastel (currently experimenting with this one) **
- Hahnemühle Velour (I’m just getting started with this!) **
- Strathmore Artagain (marketed as colored pencil paper)
- Strathmore Artagain Black*
(* = my current “go-to” materials)
(** I’m an ambassador for Hahnemühle – they supply my paper in exchange for me promoting their surfaces. It’s a great relationship because I love their stuff and I’m happy to use it!)
For non-sanded surfaces, the order in which you lay down different types of pastels can make a difference. I usually use the “dustier” pastels (e.g. Mount Vision) before going on to the softer and “creamier” pastels (e.g. Jack Richeson, Terry Ludwig). The creamier pastels can clump on top of the paper texture, leaving blank paper deeper in the tooth, which is sometimes good but not always. If I fill the tooth completely, things can get muddy.
To manage this, I often do a “dry underpainting,” which is basically an alcohol or water wash without the alcohol or water. I lay down marks to define the composition, loosely add a few colours over the whole surface, and then brush it in/wipe it off with a brush, sock, or paper towel. This creates a ghost image which I then refine with an eraser. If I’m using a dark surface (e.g., UART Dark, Strathmore Artagain Dark), the erasures reveal shadows and darker tree trunks or rocks. On white (e.g., Hahnemühle Collection Sketch), the erasures become highlights. This maintains the tooth while eliminating most of the speckles.
If the first version of a painting doesn’t work, I can wipe it off and use that as my next underpainting!
Subsequent layers can be applied in any order with any technique. I’ll smear, scrape, wipe, spray, etc. Brian Bailey said it well: “Whatever gets the look you want, do that!” The effects he achieves are amazing!
One Last Thing
I paint what excites me, and it’s fascinating to see the wandering path of my preferred subject matter over time. One constant theme is the landscape. I’ve worked extensively on forest interiors, grand trees, waterways, craggy summits, and massive glaciers. I’ve recently become interested in portraiture and figures. Why not? Anything goes, really!
The world is a beautiful, moody, stark, massive, intimate, ominous, amusing, startling, baffling, glorious place. Let’s paint our response to all that!
*****
Sigh. Doesn’t Mark’s guest post make you want to get out into nature? If you love trees and want to paint them, you have much to pick up here. The same goes for rocks, mountains, and water!!
Soooo what do you have to say to Mark Ivan Cole? Do you have questions? And favs? Do share your thoughts in a comment below! This all deepens our understanding.
And that’s it until next time!
~ Gail
PS. I love this early fantasy-type image from the young Mark Ivan Cole and really wanted to include it so here it is!
34 thoughts on “ Mark Ivan Cole – Deep Observation and Emotional Realism”
Thank you, Gail, for posting this wonderful blog of Mark’s. I am so impressed with his work.
And, yes, you are right; there is an immediate emotional response to the paintings.
That’s what I am trying to work into mine. This blog is really enlightening and very helpful to me personally .
I am enjoying your newsletters very much!
Regards,Carla
How wonderful to hear from you Carla! I’m so glad to hear you too are emotionally moved by Mark’s work.
And thank you so much for your warm words of appreciation 😊
I loved the article on Mark Ivan Cole-Deep Observation and Emotional Realism, but was so disappointed that only the first 3 or 4 of his works showed up on my screen. The ones I did get to see, I really loved, and was very impressed. Would have loved to see them all.
Thanks for the post though.
Hi Suzanne, I’m sorry you’re only seeing the first couple of images in the blog – there are a lot more! What I suggest is to empty your browser cache/history and start again. Hopefully that will work!
I have been fascinated and drawn to Mark’s paintings since they first started showing up online and have seen (should I say experienced!) the transformations in his style and use of color so subtly – He has lured me into his pieces with awe and wonder. So I was delighted and struck with his post here. He certainly shared his evolution and growth in ways to deepen my appreciation of his work. I will without a doubt come back to rereading this posting!
Thank you Gayle and definitely, Thank you Mark.
Ahhh Jeanne, thank you for sharing your own experiences when viewing Mark’s work. Love that you have watched his evolution as an artist online!
And delighted that his guest post resonated so muych that you’ll be back for a reread!!
How wonderful to hear this response, Jeanne! I’m glad you enjoy the work and the article! I’m honored. –Mark
As I head to Norway and Ireland over the next four weeks, this article, that I consider more a meditation, is a guide for entering the natural world and to take notice of the beauty I will encounter. Thank you from a place of wonder and appreciation.
Yes yes yes Leslie! And I love that you have called it a meditation because yes, that’s what it feels like. A perfect start to your time in Norway and Ireland (sounds wonderful!) and a good reminder to pause and inhale and observe.
That’s a good description, Leslie! I think I experience it as a meditation, too. Wow: Norway is on my list, and I’m stoked that you get to be there and in Ireland (a place I love!) for four weeks!!
Thanks so much, Gail, for having brought Mark and his work back onto my radar!! I can’t remember how I first came across him — I saw him (online) do a demo of a tree on Hahnemuhle Collection Sketch paper, and was fascinated by his techniques of applying, subtracting with eraser, blending, etc….I was so impressed that I had bought some of that paper. Of course, given my art supply hoarding habit, it ended up in a pile with MANY other papers I was going to try someday — and forgot about it! Then when I found the paper again, I’d forgotten the name of the artist and WHY I was so moved to buy this paper and try it. AND NOW YOU’VE SAVED ME!! Thanks to Mark for such a wonderful journey in this blog — and now I need Mark (or you, Gail) to please remind me WHERE to find an online demo of HOW Mark uses the Hahnemuhle paper! Thanks in advance….Paula
Hah ha – Thanks for sharing your story Paula – and I hear ya regarding buying art supplies…..😬
I’ll let Mark answer your question!
Hi, Paula! I’m glad you got some of the Hahnemühle Collection Sketch paper! It’s still my go-to paper for pastels. I have a 9:35 time lapse on my YouTube channel that shows the entire process of painting “All Along the Watchtower,” including the blending and erasing techniques I often use.
You can find it here
I’ll be doing more as time goes on. And yeah: so hard to keep up with the supplies! I’m lucky that I collaborate with Hahnemühle, or I’d be forever running out of paper!!
Awe inspiring! I love his paintings and his story.
Yay! Thanks for chiming in Eddie!
Thanks so much, Eddie! Happy painting!
Thanks so much, Eddie! It’s been an amazing journey!
I live in the same city, geography, as him. I know the deep dark dense forests, foliage, waters, rocks. I haven’t seen any other artist capture them so accurately. I can step right onto the path through his forest scenes. I did one of his online sessions a year or so ago and was instantly captivated by how he first laid in the trees because they were the bones of the composition. They held the entire painting together.
Mark does have a way with showing us the depth and feeling of being in nature. As you say Marsha, we can step right into those forest scenes and depending how it strikes us, hear the silence of the rustling of different animals going about their lives.
Hi, Marsha! It’s a high compliment that you find my paintings clearly capture the area you know so well. Thank you!
This is another good read, thank you Gail for sharing this one.
I really enjoyed the quote from Oil painter Matt Smith “We don’t paint the landscape; we paint our response to the landscape.” And then Mark’s response to this is called Emotional Realism. That resonated with me as I enjoy the Plein air experience. It is more memorable when I do a drawing outside and bring it into the studio. Because there is an attachment to the drawing when it is initially done, and not only that the experience of painting/drawing outside. You remember the day you did it, the people that stop by and talk to you, and the experience of the silence of the hot sun and bugs. Both insect and people – lolololol. I remember this dog that came up to me and sat beside me as I was drawing a boulder. Then the conversation that ensued from the owner when he found his dog.
Which leads to the next quote from Mark: Intention is the motivation for the mind to store the memory. Without attention, there is no observation. And everything takes time.
This is so true.
Thank you for this enjoyable and inspiring read.
You are so welcome Abby! Thank you for sharing what struck you and then your own experiences and stories that came from working en plein air. All you say is so true and I think those of us who’ve painted/sketched on location have many stories to tell!!
Thanks, Abby! Yes: the insects, too! Seriously, some of the most memorable experiences are because of the bugs! Glad the quotes stuck with you.
Loved this blog. His work is definitely emotional. I would love to see how he would interpret the Adirondack Mountains (my mountains). They are not as big but infinitely beautiful in my eyes. I think I may do a better job of interpreting them myself after reading this. Thanks.
So love hearing this Anne. It’s amazing how we can take the visual inspiration of an artist’s work and reinterpret our surroundings with that lens. Let us know how it goes!
Oh, that would be the best possible outcome, Anne: that you would interpret them yourself more to your satisfaction! I couldn’t ask for better. The Adirondacks are calling. I’ve been drawing graphite illustrations for a series of books by author David Hazard, and they’re all based in the Adirondacks. We’re on Book 5, and I hope to get there and see them for myself before the series ends!! I love the ravines, cliffs and river cuts. So beautiful! Paint them for us, please!
Wow!! I was really amazed as I viewed Mark’s pastel paintings of forest, streams and mountains. It is mesmerizing to view quiet streams, trickling down mountain sides. I live within nine miles of the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. His work inspires me to get out and try more Plein Air paintings. Thanks for posting his work. And I thank you for your inspirational art and articles you post.
Whoo hoo Janet!! I do hope you keep the energy of Mark’s inspo and get out to paint. Sometimes it’s easier to get out there with a buddy. Let us know how it goes!
And thank you 😊
Wonderful, inspirational article! It validated my crazy habit of imagining I smell the exposed low tide mud of the delta when I’m painting it, even if the tide is high. Sitting, looking, touching, and smelling – often with my eyes closed – are my favorite things to do in nature.
Thank you for this article Gail. In a recent 2 color painting of a tree I did for an IGNITE! exercise, your critique pointed out that a darker frame would have help the tree pop out more. When I saw Mark’s painting “The Opening” (2020) of the Columbia Gorge, I saw how the darker frame worked. Now I can’t wait to go back and begin my four seasons series of that tree using a more definite frame. I definitely have learned the lighter frame I created did not center the focus of the painting onto the tree.
That’s wonderful to hear Jane. This is why spending time with the work we admire by others can be so beneficial. Exploring why something works and coming up with the answer helps us take that knowledge into our own creations.
And thank you for sharing your fav thing to do in nature – YES!!!!
Thank you, Jane! I appreciate hearing how you also experience the other senses while painting. Glad to hear the article and the artwork are giving you ideas you can work with!
Very inspiring blog. Thank you Gail and Mark. Mark has a great way of helping you learn from both his emotional experiences and his writing of them.
That’s so great to hear Hyrum!
Wonderful to hear that, Hyrum! Thank you!