11. Plein Air Hawaii Gear Guide, Part 3: Easels, Pochades, and Tripods
In Hawaii there’s always a view begging to be painted.
Sharing tags: @andrewrosemfa, #andrewrosemfa, #pleinairhawaii, #oilpainting, #artsupplies
Introduction
I have been making artwork from the landscape and teaching Plein Air on location in Hawaii for nearly 15 years and I’m still learning something new every time I head out into the field because not only are conditions always changing - weather, landscape, tools, skills - but also so am I. As, of course, are you. Heraclitus said you never step into the same stream twice; therefore, please use this gear guide more philosophically rather than prescriptively. Some of the gear below you’ll use for certain situations, and others you won’t use at all. Each time you go out will present new challenges and surprises. Ultimately, your Plein Air practice is about artful adaptation.
This gear guide is separated into five parts and will cover the following three related topics in each part:
That means I will be introducing and explaining the types of gear you might wish to have, but not necessarily the exact brands or where to get them. Any links in this article are for informational purposes, and I have no affiliation with them whatsoever.
Please note your use or non-use of any of these products or any of these types of products out in the field in changing, and possibly even dangerous, conditions is at your own risk.
One more thing: first and foremost, this is a guide about fine art painting gear for the tropics. As far as I know, no such other guide currently exists in print or online.
3. Easels, Pochades, and Tripods
TL; DR: When en plein air tropicale, use a purpose-designed system and an extra tripod.
Easels
Fun fact: the word easel comes from the Old Dutch ezel, meaning ass. And by ass, I mean Equus Asinus, or donkey. Romance languages use a derivative of Equus Caballus, i.e. horse. Simply put, your easel has for centuries been thought of as a pack mule for your paintings.
Camille Pissarro had a rolling one built to schlep his artworks into the field and back again. As the zayde of French plein air painting, he inspired Cézanne his whole life to get out and study nature even through to his final years when he hired local sherpas to wheel himself and his supplies up the hills of Aix to paint his beloved Mont Sainte-Victoire despite his declining health.
The modern French easel popularized for plein air painting and traveling artists was developed after World War II from the Impressionists’ earlier designs. New, post-war factories started cranking them out by the thousands for outdoor art enthusiasts the world over. They have several advantages as well as disadvantages. You may choose to use one. I personally don’t.
French easels, usually made from wood, come in various configurations; full-box, half-box, and watercolor are among the most prevalent. Full-box, or the full French easel, contains a storage drawer that sometimes are lined with metal trays to help protect the wood from solvents. Atop the drawer is the lid, with a built-in mast that telescopes and allows the notched topmost paint tray to grip the uppermost edge of your canvas or panel, mirrored by a bottom shuttle attached with adjustable hardware to the lid. Screwed with wingnuts and washers usually of corrosion-prone brass hardware, the trio of telescoping legs with bumpers are affixed at canted angles to the drawer casing. The two front legs and single back leg often have one articulation that allows painters to set it up for fully standing ergonomics, or seated height. Unlike metal camera tripods, which usually have three stages of extension, French easels nowadays are most often limited to two heights.
M.A.B.E.F. Full French Easel
Julian Rexy Watercolor Easel Kit
Cézanne, 1906, Aix. Dapper but dusty.
While half-box and watercolor French easel designs either cut the shape, and weight, down or have cutouts to change certain features, they are essentially the same concept as the original. Watercolor field easels usually stand the painting plane taller while simultaneously creating a flat, desk-like surface to accommodate the particular needs of the medium.
There are plenty of videos on the internet showing how to quickly assemble and set up French easels of all sizes. None of them, however, has solved the two, main, fundamental design problems that are built in to their concept: an all-in-one system is awkward, often forcing the user to ask for assistance, which solo and wild painters often don’t have beyond the beaten path; and when flipping a French easel, any solvents, wet brushes, stacked paintings, etc., can be tossed around creating spills, smudges, and surface damage.
There are plenty of other easel makers out there upgrading and adapting designs of the traditional French easel. Some use the basic easel setup of the three legs and a telescoping mast but change the storage into a removable box system. Or, better yet, a tiered shelving system. Others get so complicated your rig will look like the block and tackle of a tall ship setting out on the high seas for a round-the-world whaling expedition with all the jars, and hanging bits and bobs. Whatever you choose, however, it should be simple, easy, and manageable.
For my money, I prefer pochades.
Pochades
Since we’re playing Dictionary… guess what pochade means.
Did you immediately wonder, “Is it a ‘small color study executed in a few brushstrokes’, Andrew?” Because you’d be right!
Pochade comes from the French word poche, which means pocket. It is related to the croquis, a quick line drawing. Both are understood to be small in size and able to fit in a sketchbook dropped into a dashing coat pocket (with matching Plein Air top hat - see Cézanne above), for example.
Therefore, a pochade box is a contraption that is designed to manage the production of small, pocket-sized, pochade paintings out in the field.
Now, here’s the thing. Modern pochade boxes are a highly-engineered affair. Some outfits have honeycomb-milled their wood down to 16ths of inches and have beautifully mitered corners that are worthy of aircraft mechanics’ tolerances. Designed to be ultra-lightweight, smoothly opened and aerodynamically rigid, the new generation of field easels feature magnets, spring hinges, and more.
I currently have two plein air pochades. The first is my decidedly old-school (and built-like-a-Mack-truck) Guerrilla Painter pochade box. Weighing in at 48 metric tonnes, the thing is a beast and has softened square edges and corners all around. Boxy is the operating principle here. Practically weatherproof (minus the leather lashed snaps and aluminum pitting/corrosion), I’ve used it in the demanding conditions of salt-sprayed Oahu with it behaving the exact same year in and year out - sturdy, tight, and stable. My only major complaint of the model I bought is that it is, in fact, overbuilt. One minor complaint - although working superbly as intended, it doesn’t handle oversized canvases and panels well (even with the optional, shifty, sash adapters that Russian-doll-like nestle inside and hold your various small pochade paintings, as well as leave room for carrying paintings within the lid of the box - a decidedly capital-e Excellent feature). Compared to the finely-milled New Wave, it’s downright clunky. But, again, it’s solid, so I assume I’ll have it until after the Apocalypse. Seriously, I think you’d have to employ power tools, nay - a sledgehammer, to it if you wanted to damage any part of the Guerrilla.
As far as my NewWave UGo, I can’t say enough good things about it. Expertly designed by a family of forward-thinking rocket scientists in Philly, they basically solved everything, starting with their plywood sandwich design that’s been dremelled out everywhere possible to reduce weight. I’ve connected students with Guerrillas and uGos over the years, and no question about it - the uGo is the future. Laser-cut magnetic alloy sliding/telescoping/extending sawtooth pochade grips, fancy magnet closures (some meteor metal or the like), and tension-sprung hinges, the box looks and feels like a pochade Apple would design, if they made objects for analog painters. It also has wings: trays that attach sideways for brushes, etc.; a built-in, flush tripod mount; and edges chamfered for an overall softer feel. The other accessories like slide-in palettes and silicone doo-dads are also top-notch, and varied enough to kit out anyone’s needs. Do yourself a favor, try the medium one. It’s simply perfect.
Tripods
You may have heard me in class talk about the Rule of Three. Basically… art loves threes. Fore, middle, and background. Highlights, Mid-tones, Darks, etc.
Well, tripods are no different.
Historically speaking, three-leg designs have a seen near-ubiquitous implementation across all cultures and periods. Whether its for heating food, storing grains, or creating furniture (see the famous Strozzi Chair from the Renaissance below), pyramidal footing is one of the most efficient and stable designs.
Except when it isn’t. Like for painting en plein aire tropicale…
As it happens, tradewinds love to blow painting set-ups with tripod architecture right over into the sand, especially light-weight, wooden French easels and studio tripods. In fact, the trades treat them much like they would a sail boat which is, in fact, actually designed to efficiently scoop wind within a featherweight frame to speed along the water. When you affix a rigid support - for example, a canvas of sufficient size to form a windbreak - to a lightweight wooden structure what happens is physics takes over and an unstoppable force (wind) meets an immovable object (canvas on easel/tripod). Chaos ensues, and usually, with trades averaging 10 knots year round, the tropical artist loses.
Enter tripods. And by tripods I mean a metal, photography-style one like those by Manfrotto below. They add weight, sturdiness, and engineering to what was traditionally designed for a less blustery location. By switching to a system that can lower its center of gravity (either by weighted bags or different leg articulation angles) along with having a heftiness to the materials themselves, you get a still-portable, separate tool with much more flexibility. Plus, you only have to buy one system whether you choose to paint or photograph nature, since whereas a French easel is an all-in-one affair, the pochade + tripod equation equals flexibility + modularity: you’re neither limited to size, weight or stability as the major components can be selected separately, and accessories to the tripod (as well as the pochade) can be added as needed. Generally, French easels have a more limited kit than photography-style tripods and modern pochades.
I prefer Manfrotto because the price-quality ratio is so favorable. You just get more with them. I’ve had all kinds of tripods. From the old-school 1950s tubular steel one my grandfather passed down, to Sony’s remote swing-arm controller set-up, to ultralight (and disposably cheap) Amazon knock-offs, you name it, I’ve used it. And I can say that for the non-Hollywood-movie-making artist professional, all you need is a solid, well-made photography-style tripod to handle all your painting gear needs and more.
Eventually, you will find the one model and manufacturer that fits your needs best through use, trial, and error. For example, I always now look for tripods with built-in or attachable hanging hooks from the center post for extra weighting (even with Manfrotto’s solidity, you will need down-force across the islands). Moreover, I prefer telescoping legs that have metal tabs or twisting sockets, rather than easily breakable and ever-more-common plastic hardware. Speaking of legs, aluminum ones are always welcome for being lightweight when you’re carrying to your location, but can feel spindly once there, so looking for a thicker aluminum build, heavier alloy, or even lightweight steel can be a choice you make. In any event, being by salt water will, no question, affect the life of any plein-air tripod that isn't a portable, ocean-grade, spar-varnished, hollow-bore teak (which isn’t an option as far as I’ve found anywhere). Therefore, it’s important to evaluate the priorities of each environment you’re working in to see what is the best tool. And, yes, you guessed it, that’s why I have a half-dozen different tripods banging around. I usually bring three to my locations: one to paint with, another for photography of the process, and a backup, as you saw in the lead image above.
Italian Tripod “Strozzi” Chair c. 1490
Manfrotto’s Mini Pixi Pocket Tripod
Generic Manfrotto All-purpose Tripod
And there you have “Plein Air Hawaii Gear Guide, Part 3: Easels, Pochades, and Tripods”! Feel free to share this #artsupplies #gear guide to your favorite social channels using the links below with the tags @andrewrosemfa and #andrewrose and also link back from your sites. For permission to publish in whole or part, please contact me in advance.
Next up: Carriage, Bags, and Seating.