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Astrid Sheckels: Inspiring Novices        

By Edie Lipp

            Wednesday morning at Artspace has become my favorite time of each week. With Astrid Sheckels as instructor, I began my first watercolor class there three years ago. While some of my classmates were familiar with the medium, I was a complete novice. I didn’t know the difference between 140 lb. watercolor paper and my Strathmore Recycled Sketch Pad. I had no idea that oil painting brushes were long-handled, while watercolor brushes are short. I thought of watercolor paints like the compelling palette of my childhood Crayolas, ready-made colors just waiting for me to dip into and apply with childlike fervor.

The first lesson I learned from Astrid was patience.  Before we could even start a small sketch to paint, we had to create our own color wheel charts. Using only the primary colors, red, yellow, and blue, we mixed the secondary and tertiary colors ourselves. Astrid wouldn’t let us dive willy-nilly into the pre-mixed paint tubes sitting invitingly on the workroom shelves. No, for weeks she limited us to the three primaries, forcing us to achieve some measure of control and confidence in color-mixing. She instilled in us an appreciation for the infinite variation and richness of self-mixed colors.

I don’t think I ever really looked at color before I took Astrid’s class. Sure, I had gardened for years and seen how the sapphire blue Siberian iris popped the color of my reddish-orange poppies. But I had never looked at poppy petals and noticed how each flower transitions from glowing yellow ochre to startling orange to soft, dusty red. So the second lesson I learned from Astrid was to pay attention to color nuances that had previously escaped me. Sometimes Astrid had to force me into that awareness by standing behind my shoulder and asking over and over again, “Is that really the same blue on the left side of that vase as on the right? And what about the color up near the rim?” Often my eyes simply would not see the differences, and then Astrid would grab a brush, mix a new color, and work it into my painting. I’d wonder in panic, “What is she doing!” as the color variations emerged to add depth to my work. Only then could I see.

Astrid taught us to challenge the expected, to question what our eyes think they see. I had never noticed shadows before, for example. To my mind, a shadow was a gray blob bearing the rough shape of an object. I paid little attention to the colors of shadows; nor did I notice how they define a shape. We all know that snow is white - or dirty gray once the plow has had at it. But Astrid made us see that snow mounds are visually molded by the gray of sun shadow, and that snowfields can reflect pale blue under winter skies. She opened our eyes to anomalies that bring character to a painting, like the soft haze of pink on snow where red crabapple berries have fallen and been eaten by birds. Since those early class days, I’ve seen many of Astrid’s own watercolor snowscapes, and I see how in her skilled hands even something as simple as snow is alive.

One day last spring, Astrid brought our class to her studio to see the illustrations for her new children’s book, The Scallop Christmas, right before she sent them off to the publisher. As usual, the class was awed by Astrid’s drawing skills, her attention to detail, and the composition of each picture. As usual also, I was attracted to the purity of Astrid’s colors. While I still overwork my pieces and end up too often with muddy tones, Astrid mixes and applies watercolor quickly, deftly. We’ve often seen her enact this magic in class where the colors she achieves are saturated and bright, sometimes luminous. The richness and variety of color creates texture the mind feels in Astrid’s paintings, a lofty example for those of us just learning.

It is hard to believe that Astrid herself ever makes the painting mistakes so frustrating to beginning watercolorists. Her students see the sureness of Astrid’s color mixing and of her application of paint to paper, we see the easy illusion of an autumn hillside emerging from a few perfectly placed strokes drifting across her paper. But Astrid admits to her own “Oh no!” moments, and she teaches her students to use more water, less water, paper towels – any number of tricks to correct “mistakes” as we go along. Here again Astrid sometimes takes over the brush for a quick fix of a near-disaster. At first I’d cringe inside, thinking “She might make it worse!” or “What are you doing to my work!”  But inevitably I learned something new every time she stepped in to illustrate, rescue, or mix a color I just couldn’t manage myself. Gradually I developed faith that I could fix mistakes myself, that I was learning how.

Why are some of us back for a fourth year under Astrid’s patient tutelage? Why do I enjoy so much those Wednesday mornings filled with meditative quiet, companionable chatter, and satisfying learning? Certainly we’re here in part because Astrid achieves the right classroom balance between pushing new challenges and letting us proceed at a pace that is comfortable to each individual. We gain techniques, skills, and confidence. Sometimes we even produce frame-worthy paintings.

I believe we return too because Astrid provides an inspiring model for us. Her artist’s eye guides us to see beyond the obvious, to practice with diligence, to leave behind hesitations that cripple us, and to trust the sometimes messy but always rewarding creative process. We have long admired Astrid’s painting, but this fall we students are especially proud of her current accomplishments and career milestones!