Logan Hudson

Written by Logan Hudson

Winter Issue '24 - Online Shop

My Start

Creativity has directed my life since I was a young kid. I drew obsessively. Eventually, I discovered oil painting in high school. Later, at Northwestern Michigan College, my professors, Glenn Wolff and Rufus Snoddy, worked with me in developing the fundamentals of painting while refining my drawing skills. Those fundamentals and that push from them to dive deeper, has led me to pursuing art professionally. 

Winter Season

In Northern Michigan, the seasons are a big part of our lives. As they change, we change. The busy, hectic, social summer becomes fall and soon follows winter, a time of rest, solitude, and reflection. I am drawn to this idea, and perhaps it is why Winter is my favorite season to paint (given the act of painting is inherently solitary). 

This region is known for its beauty, but winter transforms the landscape into something entirely unique. The rolling hills blanketed in snow, the icy blue tones of the bay, and the warm trees laid against the cool sky create a mood that is hard to put into words. The interplay of warms and cools becomes more pronounced in winter as the low sun casts long, dramatic shadows across the snow. What I find particularly fascinating is the way winter simplifies the landscape. The snow acts as a natural drapery, stripping away distractions and revealing the essential structure of the land. The absence of foliage means the shapes of trees, hills, buildings, and water become more distinct, giving a raw perspective of the landscape.

Plein Air Painting

Plein air painting, derived from the French term for “open air,” is the practice of painting outdoors, on location, rather than in the studio. For me, plein air painting is an essential part of my artistic process. There is something deeply meditative about being outside, fully immersed in the landscape. It forces me to be present and attentive to my surroundings, to observe the play of light and shadow, and to respond to the constantly changing conditions. When I paint outdoors in winter, I’m not just an observer, I’m a participant in the landscape. The cold air on my face, the sound of snow crunching underfoot, the smell of pine trees and smoke coming from chimneys. All of these sensory experiences influence my work and infuse it with a sense of place that I wouldn’t be able to capture solely in the studio.

One of the greatest rewards of plein air painting is the ability to capture the fleeting moments of light and shadow the way our eyes first perceive it. The light in a winter landscape can change dramatically in a matter of minutes, and being able to respond to these changes as they’re occurring gives the painting a sense of spontaneity and vitality. I love the challenge of trying to capture the soft, warm light of the late afternoon or the cool, bluish tones of a snow covered field at dusk. These subtle variations in light and color are what make winter landscapes so emotive, and plein air painting allows me to capture them in a way that studio work simply can’t replicate.

Plein air painting in the winter does come with its own set of challenges. The cold can be intense, especially here in Northern Michigan. I’ve had to learn to dress for the conditions, layering up with snow gear and thick gloves. Oil paint is less prone to freezing than water-based media, but it can still stiffen in the cold, so I’ve learned to work more quickly and decisively when painting outdoors in winter. I believe that gives the work a more gestural appearance. 

Studio Practice

Although plein air paintings often have a very spontaneous and lively appearance they do have some limitations. That’s where a solid studio practice comes in. I see the two as wildly different experiences, both informing the other. Studio work allows for more planning. There’s no longer this short window of consistent light. There’s suddenly endless time and endless ideas. I feel much like a documentarian with my plein air work, but the studio work allows me to go into myself trying to recall the feelings I had when I was out in the field. I find that the studio pieces become almost a collage of my time spent outside studying. All those moments, all those feelings meshed into one often larger work. It’s helpful for me to step away from the subject, letting my memory of it manifest in the work. This can really help create a sense of wonder, a dreamlike quality. It’s something Glenn and Rufus helped me to understand. This idea that what you leave out is as vitally important as what you put in. Lead people to the answer but don’t give it to them! I believe the most powerful artistic work has this quality. The viewer becomes a participant in it. The viewer gets to finish the story.

The Nature of Oil Paint

Oil paint is the perfect medium for capturing the winter landscape. Its slow drying time allows me to work passages of paint into subsequent layers, creating depth and complexity in the work. I can use thick brushstrokes to depict the texture of snow or thin, transparent glazes to suggest the subtle colors of a winter sky. One of the things I love most about oil paint is its ability to mimic the effects of light. Winter light, in particular, has a quality that is both crisp and diffuse, and oil paint allows me to experiment with the way light interacts in the landscape.

If We All Were to Paint, Our Paintings Would All Look Different

We all share this strange, beautiful existence, but all of us have different personalities and experiences that make us who we are. These things shape our perspective of the world. Painting is just one way to share that perspective and perhaps enhance the perspective of another. 

In 1st grade, I drew monsters on every scrap piece of paper I could find. Pretty soon I had five of my closest friends drawing monsters any chance they got, each one excited to show what they had created at the end of the day. We continued to draw monsters over the span of several years. I now, at the age of 25, have a bin full of monster drawings. What am I supposed to do with that, I still don’t know. 

Creativity seems to be instinctual. If you look at many kids' drawings, they’re full of life and emotion with little to no skill. The struggle of an artist is to maintain that lively appearance in their work, when they’ve finally acquired the skills to make “art.” As children, we long to be grown ups. As artists, we long to be children. 

As a little kid I drew lines until they became something. One day, I was sitting at the kitchen table scribbling away when my mom heard me say “Woah, it’s a person!” My process to this day is not too far from that. Creating a piece of art is often a process of searching and curiosity. It seems so easy as a kid, because all we have then is curiosity. Painting for me is a way of exploring those curiosities I still have. It’s a medium I can use to try to understand the world around me and the feelings inside me. 

Although my paintings become essentially a product, to me they are more like a box in which my memories are held. This is especially true for studio work. If you remove the technical aspects of art making, something must remain. For me, it’s the feelings I have while creating the piece, the fond memories I reach for as I'm working. It’s the exploration of these emotions and memories, along with the slim chance that they might come through in the paint, that keeps me working. 

The Emotional Impact of Winter

There’s a sense of peacefulness in the frozen landscape, but there’s also a feeling of melancholy, a reminder of the passage of time and the brevity of life. At the same time, winter has a certain stark beauty that I find deeply inspiring. There’s something almost poetic about the way the snow blankets the landscape, softening the edges and creating a sense of timelessness. The contrast between the warmth of the earth and the coldness of the air, between light and shadow, creates a dynamic tension that gives the landscape a sense of drama and mystery. This tension is what I strive to capture in my paintings, to convey the duality of winter as both a time of quiet rest and a season of intense beauty. All that being said, talking about art is like dancing about architecture. After all, you only learn how to make your work by making your work!

I hope as we enter this winter season, we can all stop and acknowledge the beauty around us, slow down and really take it in. Be receptive. Really look. See how the light is different each day. Watch the sky cut through the trees. Feel the insulating warmth of the forest and the intense cold on the frozen lakes. 

In every scene I see, there is a story; a story of the land, the season, and the ever changing light. It is this narrative that keeps me returning to the snow covered hills and icy shores, eager to capture yet another fleeting moment of beauty before it slips away.

BIO

Logan Hudson is a representational artist working in Northern Michigan. His work consists primarily of oil paintings and drawings of the Midwestern landscape and people. Hudson finds beauty in the simple and seemingly ever-evolving elements of this region. His work can be viewed at loganhudson.org

Winter Issue '24 - Online Shop