The Gift: Bad Art And Why It Matters

 

Introduction

As artists, we get inordinate pressure to create perfectly, both from external pressures and our own internal pressures. This pressure pot compels us to even twist ourselves up in knots, trying to be create as perfectly as we possibly can. Which isn’t entirely all bad, of course. Hey, it’s propelled our arts to the pinnacle of achievement that it is today! But it’s not entirely good either, coming with a price, and one we perhaps should rethink paying, at least all the time. Because what if I told you that some of the most important works you’ll ever create are the “bad” ones?

I know, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But more times than you think, it’s true! So let’s talk about this curious phenomenon and why it matters for not only our development, but our enjoyment in our arting as well. Let’s go!…

Messy Progress

Our creative progress isn’t a straight line. It has detours, backwards steps, big leaps, loops around, and all manner of skill-building chaos. That’s the nature of learning art. Adding spice to this brew, progress can even come to us completely by accident, through experimentation or even complete failure. How ever it comes to us though, artistic development is a messy business so we need to leave our rigid expectations at the door and stay open to the happenstance lessons each piece presents. 

But here’s the thing: Advancement can only really come if we’re willing to art badly. All breakthroughs come from discovery, intended or not, but that can only happen if we’re courageous enough to to push our skills forward. It’s in the ugly stages, the uncertain, messy phases, and often when we experiment and explore, and especially when we allow ourselves to get it “wrong,” that we stumble upon new possibilities. In short, progress requires risk so we can shove our habits, formulas, expectations, conventions, and perfectionism aside to test the potential of our techniques, media, and aesthetics. As such, we learn far more than method as we come to discover our creative resilience, rekindle our curiosity, and find more confidence in our own Voice. Heck, we may even find our Voice through this process as we lean more into our creative intuition and artistic guts.

So in this role, our bad art is actually the powerhouse that fuels our progress, not the catastrophic flaw that holds us back — but only if we’re paying attention to the lessons. So pay attention! Ask yourself “why?,” “how?,” and “what if?” more often rather than sinking into “I should just quit” despair. Indeed, more times than not, the moment you do quit is the moment you do fail! So unless a piece is a real loss (because sometimes that happens), keep going. Take stock, recalibrate, reassess, and try again. Always try again! Because it’s in the trying again where all our advancements are found so tap into that and you so totally got this!

Unexpected Outcomes

We often set out in our studios to create a piece with the “it” factor, the piece we hope will ignite people’s kudos and sell really well for us. So we may seek to fill empty niches or study market trends, hoping to avoid creating a piece that was a “bad idea” to make. But the funny thing is, the market is the market, collectors are collectors, and everyone is inspired by different things. So the piece that might be a “bad idea” to you may actually be a brilliant one to someone else en masse. That whole beauty and beholder thing. So artist — beware of your predictions! Create instead what original ideas inspire you and then just let the chips fall where they may. That’s more enjoyable for you, and who knows, it may really resonate with a lot of people out there! See, here's the thing: When we create according to our passions rather than a more analytical strategy, we create better and more exciting work that has a better chance at really pinging people's hearts. 

How do I know this? Let me tell you the story of Stormwatch. I created Stormy based on a very powerful inspiration that came to me out of nowhere, complete with narrative backstory to boot. He was fully formed — I just had to make him. But as I sculpted him, I came to believe that he’d never sell. He was just too rugged and rangy, too “out there” in the narrative department. He wasn’t a performance horse and definitely not a conventional halter horse, so I expected people to just consider him ugly and unshowable. But I didn’t care, I created him anyway for my own satisfaction, and I was certainly pleased with how he turned out. However, I wasn’t going to release him as a resin. I was going to keep him as a one-of-a-kind. Why? Because I thought I’d be upside down with his sales and production costs. That I’d just lose too much money even making a mold for him. One thousand dollars for a mold with only a couple sold? Nope! But the Universe spoke through an unexpected conduit: My Mom. Indeed, it was my Mom who advocated for Stormwatch in resin, lobbying hard for his production. She was relentless. She somehow understood what Stormy encapsulated and even offered to pay for his production so I wouldn’t take the loss. I didn’t take her up on that offer, but I did listen to her wisdom, and the rest is history.

So the takeaway is this: Try not to presume what will trigger the community's delight. Not only can you go off-track with what type of work you create — creating for others rather than for yourself — but you can even deny the community of something amazing for little good reason. Don’t think your piece will be popular enough? By what metric do you measure that? So don’t overlook “bad ideas” because there could be a chance that “bad idea” is really a brilliant one! Indeed, many times, that “bad idea” has ended up being a masterpiece for many artists! So dial back those presumptions. Never forget, as Rick Rubin says, “the audience comes last.” Create for yourself first and let the chips fall where they may, without presumption. Who knows what the Universe has in store for your inspirations!

New Growth

If you're going to grow in your skills or bump yourself off an artistic plateau, you have to try new ideas and new ways of doing things. Doubling down on your same old routines, habits, techniques, and formulas won't help you here. They're what got you stuck in the first place, right? So if you don't like what you're producing, you have to change what you're doing. This usually translates into exploring new media, methods, aesthetics, and ideas to jostle your skills loose of the shackles that hold them back. To do that though, you have to be willing to be terrible at something before you get good at it. That's to say, you have to be willing to make very "bad" art before you make new and better art. 

Now granted, this is often easier said than done! It's not so easy to switch our gears, especially when our old modes garnered us a degree of success. It can be really hard to let go of our comfort zones. It can even be intimidating and scary! But if you really want to advance, you have to be willing to shed what's obsolete or outdated, and actively cultivate new artistic growth with fresh new approaches. And — yes — you're probably going to make a lot of "bad" art again with these new methods,  with a lot of mistakes and missteps as you kinda start over. But this is normal and expected, so muscle through it and absorb the lessons because the prize at the end is a whole new horizon for you! 

For instance, after thirty years of steadfastly (stubbornly?) using acrylics to paint, I took some classes and recently switched to oils. Was it daunting? You bet. Was it overwhelming? At times. Did I make bad mistakes? Oh, absolutely! Was it worth it? Monumentally! In fact, I can't believe it took me so long to switch to oils! Because even more, it's been an absolute blast learning as a newb again! Unquestionably, that newb energy is such a wonderful thing, even if you've been at this gig for decades. It imbues a fresh, exciting, wide-eyed energy which you may have forgotten with all your years of experience, so to feel it again is so artistically invigorating! So I took a big gulp and dedicated myself to making "bad" oil paint jobs with the hopeful promise that improvement would surely come with repetition and problem-solving. But had I not been willing to go back to a new starting point to learn something new from scratch — with all the "bad" art that entailed — I would never be in the happy painting place I am now! 

Pressure Release

I frequent a paint n’ sip simply to get out of my head for two hours while still being creative. It’s not my best art, not by a long shot. It’s full of errors, quick brushstrokes, and wonky touches. But that’s not the point. The point is it acts as both a pressure valve and a means to explore another kind of creativity — in this case flatwork — with zero pressure and zero expectations. It’s just fun! Silly, irreverent, low-key fun! Perfection? Not today! And all that's immensely freeing and recalibrating, which swings back to inform my regular work. Honestly, I’ve gotten better at my equine art because of these paint n’ sip sessions by loosening up my sensibilities, pushing the expectations of myself, appreciating happy accidents and serendipities more, and asking for a greater economy of action and decision. Curiously, my newly found oil painting mania has been particularly benefitted from these sessions because oil paints work very differently than my familiar acrylics, and in ways that are more aligned to the paint ’n sip methods. You have to ping value, color, and brushwork, for example, things absolutely critical for oil paintwork. Honestly, you just never know how one artform will inform another!

In other words, the "bad" art of my paint n’ sip work has improved my work across the board, so again, dial back those presumptions! Arting is arting. So that also means that just about any art class could be an unexpected boon for your equine art. Flatwork, beading, glass blowing, watercolors, knitting, quilting, basketweaving…whatevs! Who knows? Really, you just never know what lessons you'll learn that you can apply in your studio! The important bit then is to follow your curiosities and inspirations — no matter where they lead — and see what pans out. So maybe give it a try just to see what could happen! "Bad" art can improve your good art into great art! 

Perfection

This is the truth of things: Perfection doesn't exist. It's an illusion, a delusion, a myth, and a lie. Nothing ever made ever is perfect because we live in an imperfect reality. No one ever has created perfect work nor will perfect work ever be made. It's impossible. Why is that? Because even if something looks perfect to you, someone else will perceive errors in it, and visa versa. So by this measure of ardent perfectionism, all art is "bad" art, right? All of it's a failure because it's all intrinsically imperfect. "Inevitability, Mr. Anderson," said Agent Smith. But that's a dangerous, destructive, and delusional headspace to create from. Why? Because it'll compel you to spin your wheels and veer into overworking, two ways that'll ruin your work faster than anything else. It'll also stunt your growth so effectively because you're too busy perfecting a piece when you should be finishing it and moving onto new lessons. Indeed, when we quit with the perfectionism to instead adopt the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi, not only does our creative journey become a lot more wonderful, but somehow so does our work. This is largely because in doing so, we open our process up to the happy accident more, we create more with our artistic intuition and guts, and we allow that mysterious channel to remain open to allow our inspiration to truly manifest through our hands unimpeded by our egos, mania, fears, negative self-talk, and wonky ideas about what is "perfect" and what isn't as we go. As such, wabi-sabi is the surest path to our best work and our Voice, and it's through our pure Voice where actual, gleaming perfection is to be found, not in the "perfect" line, contour, tone, or toolstrike. That is to say when we create honestly and authentically, that makes our work perfect by definition as it turns out exactly as it was meant to turn out. But when we muddy that up with perfectionism, we poison our process and compromise our Voice, which is why the work of self-proclaimed perfectionists is so often "dead" and overworked, lacking the liveliness and boldness that only comes with Voiceful work. And, likewise, if we truly want to advance our growth exponentially, we've got to dump perfectionism to become more focused on open-minded intent, risk-taking, problem-solving, perseverance, and a willingness to make mistakes. None of that can come though when perfectionism rules the day. You see, perfectionism is simply too rooted in fear and insecurity. In other words, it's not a position of power or empowerment — it's a position of weakness. And when fear intermixes with our creative efforts, there goes our true potential out the window.

So if you call yourself a perfectionist, what you're really telling the world is that you truly don't have a handle on things, that you really don't understand arting. Be careful with that. What you can do instead is to improve your work by creating the best you can at that moment, stretching your sensibilities and skills for that brass ring and persevering through the setbacks, yet know when to call "done" and move on. Because you'll never create perfectly, that's a sure thing. Don't become a Don Quixote chasing those windmills! "Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence," said Vince Lombardi. Bingo. "Have no fear of perfection, you'll never reach it," said Salvador Dali. Spot on. So the point isn't to create perfectly, the point is to stretch yourself to create more boldly and openly than you did before. Start asking "what if" with each new piece rather than beating yourself up with "I must create this perfectly or I will have failed." Great work is the product of devotion, not delusion.

Our Humanity

Here’s the beautiful thing about art: Every piece of art is a miracle, “good” or “bad.” It showcases a moment when a frail, flawed, inspired human being was courageous enough to become vulnerable to the entire world by pulling out of the ether something that’s never existed before. It’s also a very human need to make a connection with others and to seek expression of the self. As Brené Brown observes, “”Vulnerability is the birthplace of creativity. To create is to make something that has never existed before. There's nothing more vulnerable than that.” This is always a marvel, a pure representation of our humanity whether or not the art is “good.” In fact, in some ways, it’s in the “bad” art where our humanity is most potent because our drives are so strong, they override our fears to try something new or scary. How wonderful is that? Indeed, “bad” art is a noble pursuit! It builds our gumption and character, revealing moments of enlightenment not only in technique but within ourselves as well. Indeed, it’s in the “bad” art where our progress is to be found, personally and artistically, and this is always something to celebrate!

So don’t knock your "bad" art! Don’t trash talk your mistakes! And definitely don’t indulge negative self-talk because of them. These oopsies are exactly the pathways for improvement, so follow them to their kernel of truth. And above all, always remember how human making art actually is, what a beautiful calling! You are doing something miraculous so always hold that close to your heart, giving yourself grace no matter how your art pans out.

Conclusion

Is there really such a thing as “bad art”? Perhaps not. I believe if it was made with love and emotion, our humanity that yearns for connection, there’s just art…it’s neither good nor bad. Art is art. Why? Because everyone interprets any given piece on their own terms so what may be awful to one person may be brilliant to another. Who’s to say? That’s the wondrous thing about art — it’s everything to everyone, all the time! Indeed, as Andy Warhol advised, “Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.” Right on!

The point though is this: The first person who should love your piece is you. If we fall in love with what we’re working on, even in small part, we’re doing it right. So even if it’s “bad,” we love it all the same. For example, many of my old Vintage Customs could make me cringe, but they don’t. Instead, I recognize them as milestones in my development, made with love and devotion, necessary stepping stones to where I am today. Truly, I love each and every one of them, no matter how wonky some may be. Even better, I know that each of them is loved by someone who enjoys them, that they’ve pinged someone’s heart, and what better reward is there than that? And like the maquettes I make for my oil painting adventures — they’re far from the meticulous customs I made years ago, full of deliberate oversights and little errors. But I don’t care, I love them all the same because I enjoyed their making, their lessons, and the overall result. I created them for myself, for my own enjoyable learning adventures so even though they’re “bad” in comparison to say Orinocco, Trillium, or Sorcha, they’re still good because of what they mean to me. Really, it’s like the macaroni necklace your child made for you — is that not the best thing ever?!

Wrap it all up, and making “bad” art can be very good for you and wholly productive for your ultimate goals. See, the thing is, everything creative you undertake informs you in some way, so the more creative you are — in any direction — the more informed you become and that bodes great things in your studio! But the important bit is to embrace your art — all of it — because each piece is a pure expression of your humanity and deserving of your self-congratulations, even if its a faceplant — especially if it’s a faceplant. Yes, you made that, but that’s just the point — you made something that’s brand new, practicing all the great stuff to make it real in the process. That's such a beautiful, noble endeavor! So just get up, dust yourself off, learn the lesson, and try again, and maybe delightfully surprise yourself along the way! “Bad” art is actually really good magic so don’t knock it! 

So reframe your "bad" art in these new ways and you begin to recognize what a gift it is from the Universe. That being the case, learning to love your “bad” art imbues you with a true freedom and agency available to you no other way, and there are few things that’ll not only bump up your art a notch better than that, but primes you for sustained growth to boot! Truly, you gain a fresh new confidence and courage to pivot, adapt, and stretch that only your “bad” art teaches and that spells one thing in your studio: Better work, increased motivation, and broader horizons! In this way then, your “bad” art is the pathway to great art and greater creative adventures so follow it wherever it leads. Do that and who knows what you’ll find on your journey of discovery, what unexpected gem of insight waits for you! But the only way to find it is through your “bad” art, your surprising gift meant only for you! Open it!

"Art is not made to be received. It is made to be made. There is no bad art, it just is." 

— Unknown

The Gift: Bad Art And Why It Matters

Happy Hoofdom: Painting The Equine Hoof

Introduction

The equine foot is a marvel of bioengineering. Refined through millions of years of relentless evolution, it’s singular in its construction and function. There’s just nothing else like it out there! And when you brass tacks it, they sure are beautiful, aren’t they? So many variations, and all those effects and that lustrous look, they're definitely a wonder of the natural world! Yet when it comes to painting them on our sculptures, they can be a serious challenge in part because of all those colorations and details in a tight space, but also because we have to continuously paint “in the round,” a rather tricky thing to master. For this reason, some folks really dislike painting them, and for good reason. They can be frustrating, tedious, complicated, and seemingly never-ending, trying to get them just so. But in the spirit of making our painting lives more fun, let’s discuss how I paint hooves in the hopes that some of it might help make things easier and faster for you. I think when we share our processes, we all win!

Now the way I paint hooves rests on one thing: Pinging the correct colors and tones so that it reads correctly. In other words, I don't rely on multi-media or different techniques...it's all done in acrylic paint with round brushes (with maybe a filbert thrown in at times). But it's the correct colors that really lean things towards realism, and lemme tell ya...those colors can be surprising when it comes to hooves. So keep an open mind about what colors to use and really pay attention to your references. Dark hooves aren't white and black grey, and pale hooves aren't as simple as they may seem! And every hoof is different, so pay attention to variety. More still, we also have to factor in scale and details, which we'll talk about as we go. So let’s dive right in!…

The Considerations

Okay…hooves are particularly tricky due to their construction. That’s to say, their keratinized layers have a certain look to them, a kind of transparency and “glow” unique to this kind of substance. You know, like how cow horns have a sort of luster to them? Well, so do horse hooves, particularly pale ones. And if we can, our aim is to capture that luster in pigment.

What’s more, any striations or especially stripes within the hoof wall have a kind of “embedded bruise” look to them we need to try and capture, too, because they’re part of the hoof wall, not “painted on top.” This is probably the hardest aspect to duplicate and so far, I’ve found that the careful use of color and tone comes really close. Still not quite a cigar, but close. 

So this is where layering comes in, to better ping that embedded look even more. We’ll be working in successive layers, not all in one go, because we want to capture as much texture and detail as we can, but in an orderly way so we don’t end up with a haphazard, confusing mess. As much detail as hooves have, they do have an organic order to them we should capture.

Complicating all this though are life relics like dirt, dust, mud, manure, and grass or nail staining. They lend their own colorations and effects, as well as being situational details that can speak to the narrative of the piece. So pay them special attention because they can provide just the right detailing to forward the story of the piece. For instance, show-polished hooves make little sense on a pasture broodmare whereas pasture hooves don’t really fit a halter show horse. So we also need to keep the situational context of the narrative in mind as we paint.

On that note, we have to consider grooming practices, even breed-specific grooming conventions, when we paint our hooves. Like some breeds still black-out dark hooves with black hoof polish and then use clear polish on pale hooves. In the past, many breeds blacked out all the hooves, even pale ones. But generally speaking, most show horses, especially for halter classes, have their hooves scrubbed, even sanded, then polished in some fashion, so pay attention to that in references and at horse shows.

Speaking of which, perhaps the piece’s narrative or sculpting includes cracks, breaks, rounded toes, and other wear and tear on the hoof wall we have to detail out as well. Horses don’t live in a reality vacuum! And so at some point, we’ll be painting a piece with hooves that show wear that needs our attention, too.

Along with all this, we also have the periople to deal with, that flakey pale substance underneath the coronet on both dark and pale hooves. Sometimes this is scrubbed or sanded off a show hoof, sometimes not. And sometimes it’s quite pronounced or extensive on some horses and on others, it’s rudimentary and more subtle. Either way with all this, just look for it in your references in order to give it its due attention in your paintwork.

What’s more, the equine hoof isn’t just the hoof wall, but also the posterior portion of the foot proper, such as the back of the frog and the heel, both made of cornified material with its own texture and colorations. So we have to paint this portion as well which has its own approach, too.

And lastly, shoes and nails are another feature we might have to contend with, but for the scope of this discussion, I’m omitting them so we can focus more on the hoof painting itself. Likewise, we won’t be dealing with painting the bottom of the foot like the sole and frog and whatnot, but focus instead just on the hoof wall and posterior foot. That’s plenty to deal with in one go and we can attend to the distal foot in another tutorial.

But put all this together then and it’s easy to see how painting hooves can get really complicated really fast, and all in a small area! No wonder so many folks struggle painting them — it’s a lot to juggle in a tight space and "in the round"!

Lean Into References

You’re going to need some really good, clear, large references of the specific hoof you wish to paint in order to come anywhere near success. So when you take your reference photos or mine them, look for plenty of hoof ones, too, of pale, dark, and striped hooves (and shod, muddy, dusty, pasture, cracked, barefoot, and all manner of hooves). But to prevent yourself from getting overwhelmed with all the options — because there are a lot of options — work from one or two good photos of either a dark hoof, striped hoof, or pale hoof as per your needs, and build variation off those. What you want are ideas and guidance, not necessarily a 1:1 translation. Why? Because if you use too many references for one hoof, you’re just going to get overwhelmed and confused, so keep it clear and on point by sticking to just a couple solid images per foot.

Also, each horse or pony has a unique set of hoofies so don’t always apply the same type of hoof on all the feet or on all your paintjobs. Mix it up! Besides, this makes it more fun by being able to explore more options and challenges.

The Media and Tools

The media you use is ultimately up to you. Like some folks paint hooves entirely in oils, which works great, some paint them with inks, which works great, while still others paint them completely in pastels, which works great. Color pencils can even be used. It all works as there are many ways to tackle this! For this tutorial though, I'll be working in acrylic paint thinned with water for simplicity, working mostly in washes and "wet." It's a bit tricky, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes really quite fun! So follow along and maybe you’ll pick out an idea or two you can integrate into your existing method.

For that then, here’s the media I’ll be using for these tutorials:

• Acrylic paint (Liquitex Soft Body and Golden Fluid Acrylics)
• Liquitex Gloss Medium
• Sealant (Dullcote)

For paint colors, I tend to lean into these hues:

• Blacks (either warm Mars Black, cool Ivory Black, or neutral Carbon Black)
• Titanium White
• Burnt Umber
• Raw Umber
• Van Dyke Brown Hue
• Burnt Sienna
• Raw Sienna
• Payne's Grey
• Yellow Oxide
• French Grey
• Parchment
• Burgundy
• French Ultramarine Blue
• Prussian Blue
• Brilliant Blue

For tools, I’ll be using: 

• A small 10/0 round with a perfect point and longish belly to hold a good reservoir of paint.
• A #2 round to paint on the basecoat onto the hoof.
• A #2 or #4 filbert on occasion.

For the acrylic paint, you can use a drying retardant if you wish, it’s up to you. I don’t because I’m impatient. Doh! So I use water to thin the paint for washes and working wet. As such, I’ll be approaching the coloration of each hoof with handpainting, too, and not with an airbrush, making these techniques accessible to everyone. But know that you can use an airbrush if you wish for certain buffed and blended effects if you have sufficient control of it. Also consider drybrushing for some glow-y, buffed coloration as that can also amplify that luster we want to capture.

Now for this tutorial, I’ll be painting a basic dark hoof, a basic pale hoof, and basic striping for simplicity's sake. They’ll just be a good baseline for you to develop variations and more advanced details and degrees of realism as needed. I just want to provide a beginner springboard for you. Plus adding in dusty, stained, or muddy effects are their own tutorial which I’ll leave for another time. Let’s just deal with the basic techniques and ideas for a common clean hoof then we can build off of that later.

How To Paint Dark Hooves

Just because they’re dark doesn’t make them any easier to paint! In some ways, they can be harder because their luster is that much more difficult to capture in dark pigment. Many dark hooves also have some variegation that can complicate matters, but if we nail it, it produces such a cool result! So here’s where color use and layering will be particularly handy, so painting a dark hoof is just as much a process as painting a pale hoof. So, to do that, consider this sequence:

• Colors used: Liquitex Soft Body Parchment, Raw Sienna, Burnt Umber and Golden Fluid Acrylics Carbon Black.
• Pick the medium color your reference indicates and paint the entire hoof wall that color. Let dry. (Figure 1)
• Pick the darkest color your reference indicates and smear that onto where it needs to be (usually along ground level). Then pick the lightest color your reference indicates (not the periople) and apply that where it needs to be (sometimes towards the coronet). (Figure 2)
• Make a pale greenish greige and add in some light vertical striations around the hoof wall, making sure they parallel the hoof wall angle at the toe. (Figure 3)
• Do the same, but with some dark greenish greige. (Figure 4)
• Then mix up more light greige and paint on some horizontal striations. It's about building layers to create complexity, depth, and luster. (Figure 5)
• Add in some tan, brown, golden grey, or whatever additional color your reference indicates to mix up the tones, in horizontal and vertical striations, (Figure 6)
• Now paint on the periople under the coronet in a light grey. (Figure 7)
• Then add some darker shadings along the hoof rim to add dimension. (Figure 8) 
• Don't forget to paint in the back of the frog and heels. And whoo hoo...you're done! (Figure 9)
• If you want to gloss the hoof, use the Liquitex Gloss Medium in a light layer to polish the hoof. Let dry. Add another coat if you want it more glossy. (Figure 10)
• Work from good references as dark hooves have a lot of variety.

How To Paint Pale Hooves

Now pale hooves definitely have a very clear luster to them and also they tend to have a lot of variation from being super detailed with striations to being more monochromatic, so pay attention to references. The one thing you do want to avoid though are discreet rust-colored smears as that indicates bruising. Bruising is pretty common in the domestic population, so be mindful of that in your references and so in your paintwork. 

Now the convention in the past had us all painting the palest tones along the coronet to darken towards the ground, but the truth is there’s a whole lot more to it than that as any pile of pale hoof references shows us. So dump convention and lean into your reference and paint more what you see rather than what you think you’re supposed to paint. Conventions are meant to be baselines anyway, a place to start rather than an end unto itself. So forget about what you’ve heard — just paint what you see in your reference.

But as a starting point for your own explorations, here's a basic process to paint a pale hoof:

• Colors used: Liquitex Soft Body Parchment, Burnt Sienna, Raw Sienna, Burnt Umber, and Golden Fluid Acrylics Titanium White.
• Pick the medium tone of your pale hoof and paint the entire hoof that color. Let dry. (Figure 11)
• Make a rusty-golden color and make horizontal striations along the lower portion of the hoof wall. (Figure 12)
• Add rustier vertical striations around the hoof wall. (Figure 13)
• Darken that rusty color to make it more brownish then paint some horizontal and vertical striations. (Figure 14)
• Then go back over that with some pale shell color in vertical and horizontal striations to lend dimension and complexity. (Figure 15)
• Then lighten the rim of the hoof with some lighter striations while amplifying the rusty color in the middle of the hoof wall. (Figure 16)
• Make all your adjustments then add the periople along the coronet. (Figure 17)
• Be sure to paint the back of the foot, and done! (Figure 18)
• Use good references for pale hooves because they have a lot of variety in how they look.

How To Paint Stripes

Now the thing to understand about hoof stripes is that they’re made of pigmented hoof tubules embedded in the hoof wall. In other words, they are the hoof wall, inside the hoof wall, not sitting on top. But the problem is that when we paint, we paint them “on top” by the very nature of the painting method, right? Doh! So to mimic the look of being embedded, we use color and tone to make it all look like they're in the hoof wall more. In this, I use muted colors and layering to capture what I can. Indeed, the hue you choose is critical for the right effect! Even so, this method isn't perfect — but our work will never be perfect — but it gets the point across pretty well.

Even more importantly though, hoof striping needs to follow the angle of the hoof wall at the toe in all situations otherwise that could indicate a pathological foot with crunched hoof tubules. For example, collapsed heels, a common fault in domestic hooves, will have heel tubules projecting more forwards than those at the toe, and we need to avoid that. In other words, striping can’t be applied all willy-nilly but has to fit inside a very specific parameter to be correct. This just takes practice and a refined Eye in order to paint with the hoof angle, so be sure to practice on a junker to master it. This also goes for any variegations in the hoof, as they have to parallel the hoof wall angle at the toe as well.

Another thing to account for with striping is rasping insofar as this practice can make the stripe end before it hits ground level, about one-quarter up the way of the hoof wall, which is a nifty detail to add if appropriate for the narrative like if the sculpture has shoes. Likewise, barefoot often have stripes that end about one-quarter inch above the ground due to wear and tear, like the rounding of the toe and hoof rim, another nice realistic detail to add if the sculpture has barefeet. 

Stripes also aren't always perfect, discreet bands of dark pigment, but can be jagged, notched, sheared, or buffed, so really lean into those references. Indeed, hoof striping is a lot more organic and chaotic than our painting conventions recognize.

Stripes also come in a variety of colors from blueish grey to charcoal to brown to chocolate to greige and everything in-between, even on the same hoof. So approach striping individually and really refer to your references, making each hoof different to max out realism. Some stripes even have a brownish halo on either side of them as they blend out into the pale portion, so look for those tonal differences, too.

As for actually painting the stripes, I find that painting them after I've painted the pale hoof works best for me. I just find it easier focusing on one job at a time when working in acrylics. Nevertheless, it's still a real challenge to add convincing stripes, so brace yourself! To start then, think about painting a stripe this way:

• Paint your pale hoof as you like. Let dry.
• Make a bluish-charcoal-greige wash and block in the stripe lightly, diffusing away from ground level to denote wear and tear. (Figure 19)
• Make a pale bluish grey wash and use that to paint in horizontal and vertical striations within the stripe. (Figure 20)
• Go back in with bluish charcoals and bluish greiges and make adjustments between the darks and lights until you're happy with the result...then done! (Figure 21)
• Gloss with Liquitex Gloss Medium. (Figure 22)

How To Paint The Posterior Foot

The back of the frog and heel are important features for hoof painting, too — don’t ignore them! They need precision and coloration as well to really read properly, so to that end, think about painting them thusly:

• Paint the entire area a dark tannish-charcoal. Let dry.
• Paint in the back of the heel in the corresponding tones indicated by your reference, usually in tans, light greys, browns, and even greens for grass or manure staining. Let dry.
• Use the small round to paint in dark triangles for the clefts and a light color for highlights as needed. (Figure 9 and Figure 18, above)

Tips

There are some little insights that help us achieve a better result, such as the following:

• Think about using washes to tint and set features “back into the hoof” more to add dimension and luster. It can be a highly effective way to achieve the luster and dimensionality hooves have.
• Drybrushing can also be very useful for smudging colors on and helping to create luster and glow, especially on pale hooves.
• Consider using a color sampler tool in a photo editing program to color sample your references before painting to get a better grasp of the color families you’ll be working with. It can be surprising! Indeed, greenish-greys and browns can factor into dark hooves a lot more than you may realize. Dark hooves aren’t necessarily black and white! To help that along, for example, I like to use the Liquitex Parchment which is a greenish-greige white and also mix Raw Sienna and Carbon Black together for a green tone.
• Layer layer layer! That really helps to add complexity, glow, embedded-ness, and luster to your hooves.
• Consider scale when painting hooves because most of the time, the more the scale shrinks, the less detail we can pack in there or things spin out-of-scale pretty quickly. In this case of smaller scales, mimicking the look of things rather than painting them literally can be the real trick to realism.
• Your hoof-painting brush should have a hyper-fine perfect point with enough bristle to hold a good well of paint so you don’t have to stop and re-dip often and break your line or momentum.
• Actively avoid too much regimentation and seek “organic chaos” with your hoof painting. Yes, there is a kind of pattern, but break it up strategically to look more grown than painted. This is especially so with discolorations, striations, and striping.
• When it comes to striping, be sure you’re working from the same coat color and marking as your reference. That’s to say, striping can be very conditional when it comes to color and markings, so make sure you’re being accurate with them. For instance, on many colors the presence of an ermine spot creates a stripe, but on others like some appaloosas and silver dapples, stripes just happen. And stripes don’t have to match up perfectly with ermine spots either. Indeed, a small ermine spot can create an enormous stripe! So study lots of references to develop a mental library of the possibilities.
• The striations are one of the hardest things to get on there without going out of scale or without picking the wrong color, so play close attention to them with a fine-pointed brush and target the right hues.
• The vertical striations must follow the angle of the hoof wall at the toe, around the entirety of the hoof otherwise you'll be painting randomized hoof tubules, which is a serious fault.
• Detailing doesn’t necessarily have to be in the same family of color as the hoof color. That’s to say that pale hooves don’t always have rusty brown striations, but they can also be griege, charcoal, copper, or chocolate, for example. Likewise, dark hooves can have tan, golden, griege, even greenish striations rather than always grey. So think outside of the box of your own expectations and really study your reference with a more objective Eye.
• Study a lot of real hooves in photos and in person to develop a better idea of all the variations and options you can paint.

Conclusion

Painting a great set of hooves takes a lot of practice, patience, time, and diligence. So take your time and don’t skimp! And take plenty of breaks because — trust me — it can get tedious.  And practice, practice, practice! It’s a numbers game so the more hooves you paint up, the easier it gets. You also develop more of a mental library you can mine but just be sure to really rely on good references to guide you most of all. And remember, use references that are specific to the type of hoof you need to paint, and use different references for each piece to avoid formula and homogeneity. 

Another big priority is to stay in scale with all the detailing such as striations and whatnot. Keep things as skinny and little as possible. Remember, those hoof tubules are tiny! And never forget to keep those stripes and variegations parallel to the angle of the hoof wall — that’s super important.

Hooves are certainly a major challenge, yes, so most of all, don’t be so hard on yourself. Above all else, be patient with yourself! Even the very skilled among us still struggle with hooves even after decades of skill-building. The good news is though, once you get a knack for it, it actually becomes a lot of fun in its way, especially if you explore the fuller expression of hoofdom by using different references for each piece rather than falling back into habit all the time. There really is so much variety with hooves, so seek to explore it! Each hoof is different, so don’t be afraid to break with convention, especially your own. Lean into those references and try to paint what you See, not what you’re told to see, especially by yourself. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” wrote Shakespeare. So true, especially when it comes to Nature’s multitude of biological and situational options.

Now it should be mentioned that the painted examples in this tutorial were just the basic, most conventional hooves to paint. They're our stereotypical hooves. However, Nature is rarely stereotypical! Each set of hooves is different and even each hoof is different, so avoid habit and formula, and really lean into your references. So don't think your painted hooves have to look like those I painted in this post. Instead, they should resemble life and your references. I simply presented techniques and ideas about details to look for, nothing more. Indeed, Nature is a wonder to behold when it comes to hoof variation, effects, and details, so explore it!

Any which way, with a bit of gumption, perseverance, skill-building, and improved Sight, you too can be popping beautiful hooves onto your pieces in pigment in no time! Painting the hoof doesn’t have to be a dreadful chore, but a challenging and compelling exploration of variety and effect, potentially pushing your creative boundaries into new methods and media and ways of Seeing. The truth is, once you unlock the skills to paint happy hoofdom nicely, you’ll have essentially tapped into a huge well of potential to paint just about anything else well, too. So give it its due, show yourself some grace, and get in that studio and literally put your best foot forward! You got this, hooves down!

“The artist is not a different kind of person, but every person is a different kind of artist.”

— Eric Gill

Happy Hoofdom: Painting The Equine Hoof