Thaw Malin 3rd produces five paintings a week. He does this in part because he has found a new way to sell his artwork by harnessing the powers of the Internet.

It is a clever idea: he goes out every day and starts a painting while the light is good, finishes it that night in his apartment, then posts it for auction on ebay.com starting at $100. At the same time, he sends an e-mail to 372 fans and collectors about the painting of the day and a few thoughts of his own about whatever he likes. He posts something similar on Facebook. Since he started, he has sold two-thirds of the paintings that have been put online.

“To me these are kind of like little starter homes. They’re sort of my gift to the world,” said Mr. Malin, referring to the paintings. The paintings are generally six by eight inches in size; in a gallery they would be priced at about $675. Online, the highest price he has fetched so far for one painting is $425.

“It hasn’t kept me from having one or two part-time jobs to support myself,” the artist said. “But it has kept me from having a full-time job.”

An Island painter for nearly 40 years, Mr. Malin lives simply. He makes his own schedule: a big decision is which lighthouse, beach or bucolic scene he wants to paint today. And unlike some people of his generation who disdain technology, he thoroughly embraces it, sporting an iPhone, which he uses for weather reports, text messaging, and photographing his work.

His work has taken a leap forward since last year. The change came when he started painting every day, he said, which challenged him to limit the paints that he works with.

“For a long time I would just mix two colors and it wasn’t until somebody said hey, your greens are all acidic green, you’ve got to add some red to it, that I said, red! I never would have added red to it. And they go, or some orange. And I said, orange!”

Many who follow his work on the Internet noticed the difference and asked him about it.

“I’ve just been really focused on what I’m doing and I feel like I’ve got my vocabulary down,” Mr. Malin said. “I don’t stick with one subject and I’m constantly looking for something different to do,” he added.

On a recent morning he chose the East Chop Light as his subject for the day. The painting took form quickly thanks to his large-brush style. He said many of his students will try to do an entire painting with a tiny brush, but he tells them if they can get the hang of a bigger brush it makes a big difference in time spent. It’s a key issue if you are trying to catch the hues of the fading sunset.

Once the sun is down, Mr. Malin returns to his apartment and painting studio for a bite to eat before the final push of the evening. Sometimes he does not change anything, but more often he does touch-up work.

“Even if I’ve done nothing I’ve at least looked at it, you know, to see if the contrasts are right and if everything is working under [indoor light],” he said.

Sometimes he works into the wee hours of the morning. The discipline of his work is to get the painting posted and his blog e-mail sent before his followers wake up and log on.

Mr. Malin has been painting the Island since he moved here in 1974. Although he was an avid watercolorist for over 25 years, in 1993 he began to shift to oils.

“When I switched to oils I was like, why didn’t I do this to begin with?” he said. “I’ve been in training to do oils for 25 years by doing these watercolors. Now I can do these oils like you wouldn’t believe.”

In the last decade, Mr. Malin spent some time in Texas, where his parents and brothers were living.

“I loved being down there. It was such a unique place. The environment was so opposite here,” he said.

But Texas presented challenges to him as a painter because people were far less open allowing him on their land.

The same trend has begun to take hold on the Vineyard as well, he said.

“Some of the people who live here in the summer or retire here are kind of formal. They don’t understand the relaxed lifestyle of the Vineyard. I mean they do after awhile, but in the beginning it’s . . .” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “That might be what brings them [to the Island] but they haven’t relaxed to that level yet,” he said with a smile.

As the East Chop Lighthouse began to take form on his canvas, a group of tourists came up to him, cameras in hand.

“Are you painting the lighthouse?” one of them asked.

“Here let me show you,” said Mr. Malin, thoroughly in his element.