Studying

Mary (after Michelangelo), 8" x 10", oil on panel

Please forgive the poor image.

This grisaille (monochromatic painting in shades of gray) is a study of Michelangelo's Pieta. At this point, it is actually just an underpainting.

I was concerned about fat over lean (paint layers need to go from less oil on the bottom to more oil on the top otherwise they will crack when drying), so I used Underpainting White (Titanium and Zinc Oxides) and Mars Black (Iron Oxide?). I didn't want to use a white with safflower oil (which drys slower than linseed oil), and I didn't want to use Ivory Black because it has a high oil content.

This combination (Underpainting/Mars) however, dries VERY fast. The paint became tacky in 2-3 hours, making wet-into-wet a little challenging. I ended up sectioning my work much like a fresco, although that meant I needed to go back in the end to bring some uniformity to the regions in terms of value.

I've never done much glazing so the next phase should be a learning experience.

Basics

Emma, 14" x 17", charcoal on paper

It's been a while since I've posted. In that time I've managed to screw up my self-portrait royally and vanity prevents me from showing it's horrendous state until I can manage a solution.

In the meantime, I drew this today with some vine charcoal and a copy of George Romney's Emma Hamilton as Circe sketch. It's not a terribly accurate copy, but I thoroughly enjoyed the attempt.

Quick Recovery

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

Having covered my ill fated use of turpentine with a layer of Burnt Umber a few days earlier, I began by using the same turpentine to strip away the now dry layer that masked my mistake. I removed just enough to see the dark landmarks underneath, then let it dry again.

The next day I had intended to paint the lit areas of my face and give the shadows a rest. Starting with the transitional areas between the light and dark, the mixture I made (using Flake White, Yellow Ochre, Cadmium Red Light, Chromium Oxide Green and Cadmium Orange) didn't seem to fit quite as well as I had hoped. I was trying to be a little too fancy I think and despite what I wanted to do, I knew I simply hadn't built enough support for the lit areas yet - and so I went back again.

Using Burnt Sienna, Raw Sienna, Alizarin Crimson and Ultramarine Blue (in different combinations) I began modeling wet into wet (so much for the thin, indirectly painted darks). This is actually how I was trained to paint - wet into wet. Sometimes you just have to fall back on what you know to keep moving forward and this felt like one of those times.

Modeling the darks was not easy given the lighting I have in which to work and the reflection off the wet paint didn't help, but it sure was fun. I'll have to revisit the shadows again as that side of my face looks droopy, but I'm still rather pleased with the (re)turn in the right direction.

Click on the image if you want to see a larger version.

Quick Descent

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

This painting has been a good learning experience for me. Two of the most prominent lessons I have learned are that turpentine, by itself, is not a good medium for glazing and that I'm not very accomplished at predetermining what color will result from glazing.

Last night, this painting spun out of control for me.
In the last few days I had been working to model my face in the shadows using Burnt Umber, part of which is still visible. The farther into the shadows though, the poorer the modeling, however. Part of that I felt was due to the increased area covered by the same pigment (Burnt Umber) causing that side of my face to flatten out. I knew I needed to use something darker to push that side or elements of that side, back farther into the painting.

I started last night by "glazing" the background with Burnt Umber in an attempt to darken and unify it. The effect was marginal. Then I attempted to fill the lit area of the background with color. I started by using Cerulean Blue with Cadmium Orange (to darken) and, of course, turp. After filling the area, I wondered what the heck I just did as it looked like rotting flesh. I then mixed Cerulean Blue with Flake White and a touch of Cadmium Red and covered it over, this time without turp.

I didn't like how things were turning out, so I decided to quit at this point. Before I did however, I thought I'd just darken the shaded side of my face a little while I had some black mixed up. With the brush I had used to "glaze" the background, I began to push that side back. The turp in the mixture quickly dissolved the modeling I had worked so hard to create. I tried to save it, but I was too late. In frustration, I covered the whole area with Burnt Umber, cleaned my brushes, got some Ben & Jerry's and turned on a movie.

It's the Journey

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

Returning to my self-portrait, I began by thinning some Burnt Sienna with turp and covering the shaded portion of my face again. I tried to dissolve the hard edges of the Ultramarine blue comprising the darkest shadows in the process. I like the warmth, but it still needs to be darker.

Using Transparent Gold Ochre (which I've never used before) and turp, I covered the deepest violet areas. My hope was that this complementary hue would deaden the violet, which I believe it did. I then covered the lighter violet areas. In this case the underlying violet served to deaden the overlaid yellow, which just made a med-dark brown. The violet and brown reminded me of that peanut butter with the grape jelly in alternating stripes. This wasn't my hope.

On a whim, I used the same Transparent Gold Ochre on my face in the transition between the shadow and light. The yellow mixed with the underlying red made a nice orange. I probably should have used Burnt Sienna instead, but this could work out. The light area of the face will actually be opaque and drawn into the transition area. So it all might work out in the end, where the yellow in the flesh, warms and darkens with the orange as it falls into dark warm shadows... or I might just have to paint over it. As I said, whim.

Then I tried to mix the color of the lit wall on the right. I made two different browns, ended up mixing them together, adding violet, then Flake White and came up with what you see. Had I known that's what I was going for when I started, I probably wouldn't have gone the same route, but sometimes it just works out that way. Regardless, I covered the area and drew it into the shadow above my head. It's not a good transition, and the bad photo makes it worse. Ideally I'll make it a gradual transition from the well lit right to the dark center with some indication
of the light even behind the left side of my neck - this should help pull my body forward from the wall while making the wall appear to be one surface driving back into darkness.

Nothing I did here was terribly exciting. Little of it will be readily apparent in the end. I caused a few problems that I'll have to fix and didn't really achieve anything that stands out as a good bit of painting. And despite the fact I don't like how it looks now, I'm pretty happy with how it's all going. Why? I think it's just because I'm painting, and (for me at least) this is what painting is like.

Letting Go

Untitled, 34" x 21", oil on panel (in progress)

While waiting for the latest layers to dry on my self-portrait, I decided to go back to my landscape. The first thing I did was to paint over the small group of trees extending into the water on the right side. I really needed to re-establish the gradual progression of the water, and these trees were in the way. Now, I liked them quite a bit, but I was warned a long time ago about falling in love with a small part of a painting and trying to hold onto it to the detriment of everything else. Besides, I can just paint them in again later.

I also painted over the buildings and roads I had begun in the center. I plan to put the town back in, but instead of building up vegitation around the structures, I'm going to cut the city into the forest. I think this is a better approach, similar to painting trees. Instead of building up to the shape you want, you cut down to the shape you want. Why do I think this works better? I wish I knew. It just seems to be the case. Perhaps it looks less calculated because you're focusing on the negative space (what's not there) and so what remains appears more natural. Regardless, that's my plan. We'll see if it works.

It probably appears that I am backtracking. I think preventing yourself from backing up is a hazard though. Rushing to the finish, in anything, tends to achieve a product that doesn't stand up upon examination. It lacks the proper foundation time would have afforded it. I find painting to be an exercise in patience, among other virtues.

Best Intentions

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

Not much has changed, save for the two darker violet areas. At the top of the inner area, notice how it becomes a brilliant violet? That's an example of a "good" idea gone bad. Those two areas are shadows, as you might have guessed. The inner area will gradually lighten, blending behind the figure into the lit area right of the figure. In an effort to aid this gradual blend, I thought it would be a good idea to place my thin layer of violet down and then draw it to the right with a large bristle brush. Once again, I'm thinning the paint with turpentine.

Now, turp isn't really a glazing medium, it's a solvent. So essentially I put a solvent on my painting and then applied force to it. What happens when I do that to an unprotected painting? I dissolve the previous layer AND the imprimatura right down to the white acrylic ground, and wipe it away. What violet is left over the area becomes beautifully luminescent, and entirely undesired. This was one of those moments I wish I could travel ten minutes back in time to smack myself on the head.

Once it all dries, I'll attempt to darken that area again. How? I'm not sure yet. One of the issues with this method of painting is that it's harder to correct problems when you are dealing with multiple layers of paint, as opposed to just the surface.

Into Shadows

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

I've added shadows to the face in two steps (had I remembered to photograph it in-between you'd have seen them separately). First, I thinned Burnt Sienna with turpentine and blocked in the majority of my face, which resides in the shadows, then I let it dry thoroughly. Second, I thinned Ultramarine Blue and added the darkest areas of shadow. The thin layers of Burnt Sienna and Ultramarine mix to black, optically in this case. Once this layer has dried I will apply another layer of Burnt Sienna to soften the contrast and ease the transitions.

Traditionally (somewhat of a generalization), shadows were painted thinly. Thick paint is simply unneeded in these circumstances. This is not to say that shadows were devoid of subject matter, just that you only need suggest what is there, the mind of the viewer will fill in the rest.

As a result of the warm imprimatura and warm glazes I'm using, the shadows are... warm. Eventually, you will see in this painting that the lit areas are cool. This is also a fairly common occurrence in painting. Typically, the light and shade will be of opposing temperatures.

I suppose I should note that I also glazed my hat and shirt once again with a Burnt Sienna/Ultramarine Blue mixture. (I know, I need to come up with some abbrev. for these pigments, etc.)

Tangent

This deviates a bit from painting, but then so do I. These are a few photos from a sculpture class I took two years ago. One of the best things I ever did to help my painting was to take sculpture. I had the opportunity to do both figure modeling and portraiture. The figure class was particularly intensive and required a great amount of anatomical study as homework - drawing plates from anatomy books.

I'd like to say I remember everything I learned, but it never seems to work that way. Still, any time I paint a figure or a portrait now, I'm always envisioning pushing and pulling the paint forward and back in space on the canvas as I sculpt my way around the form. For me, I think the right mental imagery makes all the difference.

Decisions

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

It took me a few days to decide how I wanted to proceed. Should I do a detailed underpainting using Venetian Red? Should I use Lead White for lighter values or use turpentine to reveal white from beneath the imprimatura? Both of these normally begin an indirect painting process where the paint is applied in translucent layers, allowing the values of the underpainting to remain visible. The opposite would be to begin painting opaquely in which case an underpainting wouldn't provide much utility. For the most part, there is very little going on in this painting other than the face. Underpainting the face might be useful, but everything else I think I can manage during the glazing process.

I just began by thinning a mixture of Ultramarine Blue and Burnt Sienna with turpentine and filling in my shirt and hat. These two pigments mix to black. (Why not use black out of the tube? Maybe I'll write about that another time. I suppose I could have layered each color separately and mixed them optically though.) Then I filled in most of the background with a Dioxazine Violet. Normally, I mix violet. In fact, I've never used this pigment before, but it was just sitting there on my bench and I thought I'd give it a try.

I will go over both these areas again to darken parts of them even further. One of the old school painting rules is to keep darks thin. I believe part of this is just conservation of paint as you don't really need many thin layers of a dark color for it to appear solidly dark. Lights that need a value higher than the underpainting, imprimatura or toned ground, will likely be opaque out of necessity. If you have a value established by an underpainting though, you can just apply a thin glaze.

I still have a few more darks to apply and I haven't decided how to approach the face yet. To those painters that don't struggle deciding which path to take, my hat's off to you.

Probity

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

Ingres said "drawing is the probity of art" (probity means integrity and uprightness; honesty -- yes, I had to look it up). Having allowed the imprimatura to dry, I laid down a small grid and drew the basis for my painting in charcoal. Why the grid? It helped me to quickly transfer my reference image to the panel. This can be accomplished by a number of different methods and this one is hardly my invention (or anyone else's living in the last few centuries). Because of the organic nature of charcoal, drawings such as this can still be detected under layers of paint (when not simply visible) in some masters' paintings... even more fascinating when it doesn't match the final image.

My reference is a digital photo with a grid overlay. Durer used a contraption that would present a grid over whatever he was viewing. This brings up the occaisionally heated topic of painting from photos which I intend to sidestep for the moment. What I really want to convey here is the part of the process where you try to establish a foundation. Ingres is talking about much more in his quote, but I'm choosing to apply it narrowly here. At this stage it's much easier to fix problems in layout and proportion. Case in point, notice the mouth... I originally placed it too high despite using a grid to "cheat." A little bit of effort now can save a lot of time and frustration later. This won't be the last time drawing comes into play however in the course of this painting.

Diversion

self portrait, 20" x 16", oil on panel (in progress)

This is the start of a new painting - a self portrait. I've begun with a Venetian Red imprimatura on a white ground. The Venetian Red, which is essentially rust in linseed oil, was thinned using turpentine, painted thinly over the white ground panel, and then wiped off (that's the imprimatura). There are a few reasons for this, but most foremost it will give the painting a unifying warmth and provide a mid tone from which to begin drawing. This method is very Italian.

I think it looks a little dark, but I understand that a mid to dark tone was commonly used for paintings that intended to employ chiaroscuro, so I suppose it all works out. Chiaroscuro refers to the dramatic effect of light coming out of darkness (think Rembrandt). I was actually trying not to use too much turp in thinning the paint, because if the paint is thinned too much it's not structurally sound.

Meandering

untitled, 34" x 21", oil on panel (in progress)

Last summer, I stood on a cliff overlooking a lock and damn on the Mississippi and thought "I should paint this." Almost one year later, I'm not even close to finishing. As this has been my only "active" painting, the question that immediately springs to mind is "What is taking so long!?!" I wish I had a good answer for that... which is to say, I wish I had an answer I liked, because the truth of the matter is I think I'm just lazy.

I could produce an itemized list of excuses, but when it comes down to it, a painting such as this should not require a year (or more at this rate) to complete. It's not that I don't think about it. I think of it constantly. However, as my mentor has pointed out to me repeatedly, "That's not painting." If only it were. I'd be surrounded by paintings.

I had this same difficultly in college. The number of paintings I "completed" in comparison to the students around me, was paltry. The ironic thing is that I have this idea in my head that I want to be a painter. How exactly does one become a painter without painting?

Whining aside, it's my hope that somehow this blog will motivate me to paint more in order to have something to discuss. Will it work? (cue cliche) Only time will tell.