Capturing the Colors of Wine Country

Before I discovered the colors of wine country, I had been exclusively painting the stark and abstract landscapes of southern Utah and Red Rock Canyon in Nevada.

Valley of Fire II by Erin Hanson, 2009

My style of Open Impressionism was born out of my experience painting (and climbing) rocks. I was intrigued by the way different planes of rocks came together, forming interesting shapes of contrasting colors, separated by dark cracks between the rock faces.

I had been taught how to paint in oils at age eight, but I thought there must be a better way to capture strong, chunky rock than slowly and patiently building up thin layers of semi-transparent paint over several months.

By day I fought my way up sheer sandstone cliffs in Red Rock Canyon, and by night I struggled to capture their magnificence with brush and paint. I created a new way to paint in oils, a style that captured the boldness of the rocks and the confidence and spontaneity required to climb them: I premixed my entire palette, planning out every single color that would appear in the finished painting. I planned out my composition ahead of time, doing a detailed sketch in ultramarine blue on the canvas. All this preplanning allowed me to be spontaneous when, at last, it was time to paint. With brush in hand, I worked quickly, trying not to overlap my brushstrokes, placing paint strokes side by side in an effort to recapture that sense of grace and confidence I felt when climbing. All this planning before painting felt rather like repeating an ascent on top-rope a dozen times before having the polished certainty to climb it on lead. ("Lead" means the rope is below me instead of supporting me from above.)

This is how Open Impressionism developed.

Now, why am I telling you all about rocks in an article about wine country?

I want to show you the contrast and the personal challenge I had to overcome when I moved back to California and discovered the rolling hills and idyllic landscape of wine country.

Vineyard Shadows by Erin Hanson, 2023

I had been accustomed to painting straight lines and harsh angles. I had been accustomed to painting scraggly desert plants with hardly a leaf on them. I had been accustomed to painting in reds and oranges, raw numbers, and burnt siennas.

Suddenly, I was faced with perfectly rounded hills dotted with spherical oak trees, their rounded contour lines further accented by curving rows of vineyards. How was I going to capture all these curving lines with my thick, squared-off brush strokes? I didn't even own any green paint; how was I going to capture all the apple spring greens, the mellow greens, the bright turquoise greens, and the brownish afternoon greens?

I had already painted a few hundred oil paintings of desert landscapes, and my style was becoming second nature to me. So, I applied what I had learned by painting rocks to painting rolling hills and rounded trees.

Where wine country ends, the coastline begins, and when I saw the swirling waves and aquamarine waters off Highway 1, I was even further challenged—now I was faced with a body of water that was transparent in some light and reflective in other light, the complete opposite of the opaque rocks of Red Rock Canyon.

It took quite a few hundred more paintings before I felt like I had the knack for painting wine country and coastal waters. I loved exploring and experimenting with my oils, and now I can paint any subject matter with confidence, applying my technique of separated brush strokes and strong, confident lines.

Since then, I have painted wildflowers and sunflowers, lily pads and bubbling brooks, portraits and pet cats, barns and old fences, and you can spot any one of them as an "Erin Hanson" from a mile away.

Who knows what my next challenge will be?