I have spoken before about using photos for painting versus real life. Personally, I much prefer working from life—the visual information you get is far superior. However, there are times when a photo reference is necessary. The question then becomes: how do we use photo references without becoming chained to them? How do we avoid feeling as though we have to copy them exactly because we are uncomfortable deviating from the visual source?
Why We Feel the Need to Copy
There have been times in the past when I used photographs as reference and felt a constant struggle with this. I felt as though I had to paint things exactly as they appeared in the photograph. Looking back, I realize much of this came from a place of insecurity. I was not yet comfortable enough with painting to interpret what I saw. Instead, I felt I had to reproduce it.
As my understanding of painting grew, however, something changed. I began to understand the language of painting—the building blocks that make it work. Once I understood those building blocks, I could recreate things on my own terms. I could still use a visual reference, but I no longer felt compelled to follow it exactly. Instead, I could use it as inspiration and information while building a painting according to my own vision.
It is similar to learning how to cook. When you first begin, you feel the need to follow a recipe exactly. Every measurement matters, and any deviation feels risky. But as you gain experience, you begin to understand how ingredients work together. You become comfortable making substitutions, changing proportions, and experimenting. The recipe becomes a guide rather than a set of rigid instructions.
This approach is not only more enjoyable—it is also more artistically satisfying. Rather than creating what is dictated by the image in front of you, you create something according to your own vision. And we get there by understanding the fundamental building blocks of what we are looking at.
Painting is much the same.
Painting with a Photo Reference
Let’s look at an example.
Above is a photograph of a view from Cortona, Italy, taken during a family trip a couple of years ago. If I wanted to use this photograph as inspiration for a painting, the first thing I would establish is which major elements I want to keep. This process begins with a sketch.
I decide what I want to use from the reference and what I want to ignore. I remove the buildings and branches in the immediate foreground on the left, as well as the ledge on the right. My focus is on the rolling hills to the left, the distant hills far beyond them, the expansive panoramic view, and the dramatic sky overhead.
Already, I am no longer copying the photograph. I am making decisions.
And that is really what painting is: a series of decisions. The more confident we become in making those decisions, the less dependent we become on the reference itself. Rather than asking what the photograph wants us to paint, we begin asking what the painting itself needs.
Building the Color Statement
After creating a basic monochrome sketch, I move on to a simple color study. This is very similar to what I might do if I were painting from life. I identify the large color relationships present in the scene, but I make them work for the painting rather than simply reproducing what I see.
In other words, I am not serving the photograph—I am serving the painting.
I look for the major color statements and organize them in a way that strengthens the image. At the same time, I make sure these large color areas maintain clear value relationships so that the painting continues to convey a convincing sense of light.
This stage, when we are dealing with large and simple masses, is where we have the greatest freedom. Because we are working with broad shapes rather than details, it becomes much easier to think like a designer rather than a copyist.
For example, I rearrange portions of the sky so that they better support the composition. I remove elements from the foreground that distract from the panoramic view. None of these decisions are based on accuracy—they are based on what strengthens the painting.
Using the Reference as Information
Once the large color masses are established, I can begin introducing greater specificity. Large shapes are broken down into smaller shapes. Broad color areas become more nuanced. At this point, I continue deciding what to take from the reference and what to leave behind.
The photograph serves as a source of information, but it is no longer in control.
This is often where painters begin to slip back into copying mode. Details have a way of demanding attention, and it becomes tempting to reproduce everything we see. But not every detail contributes equally to a painting. Some details strengthen the image, while others merely describe it.
The challenge is learning to tell the difference.
The Difference Between Copying and Seeing
This is perhaps the biggest difference between copying a photo and truly seeing. When we copy, we attempt to reproduce everything equally. When we truly see, we understand which information matters and which does not. We begin to recognize patterns of value, color, edges, and shape. We understand how these elements contribute to the overall design of the painting.
As artists, our goal is not to recreate a photograph. A camera can already do that far better than we can. Our goal is to interpret what we see and organize it into a compelling visual statement.
The more we understand the fundamentals of painting, the less dependent we become on any particular reference. Whether working from life, from imagination, or from a photograph, we are no longer asking, “How do I copy this?” Instead, we are asking, “How can I use this information to create the strongest painting possible?”
That is the point at which a photograph stops being something to copy and becomes something to learn from.
