Sketchbook: Tamara With Waves.

Tamara With Waves (Watercolor and acrylic ink in Moleskine sketchbook, 10x7").

The Allure Of Charm.

Sketch comedy is tough -- making strangers laugh instantaneously with a new premise in a short window of time. It’s often hit or miss. Risks are taken that don’t pan out. Other sketches become part of the national lexicon (think SNL in the late 80s). The difficultly level is high.

I enjoy the sketch TV series, Portlandia. It possesses an earnestness and charm that I find endearing, and these qualities enable me to overlook the occasional flat premise or sketch. It has a tongue-in-cheek sincerity. It comes from a good place. It makes me happy.

I know that “charming” can be an abstract and subjective value, perhaps even trite, but it carries weight with me. It injects a scene with personality and adds color. I engage with the material.

If something is perfect, you rarely speak about its charm. I think that charm accompanies something flawed. You can always pose the question, “Does it have enough charm to overlook the flaws?” That’s the tipping point. This applies to TV shows, pieces of art, and even when choosing who to date. How often has someone ignored a person’s flaws because they found he/she charming? The allure of the charming bad-boy is legendary. The charm-flawed object produces a more interesting riddle than something perfect (and perhaps predictable). How often have we been won over by the charming pet with scraggly fur?

I have never felt engaged by a photo-realistic painting of a fruit basket. Others love it. Not me. Too perfect.

I’m taking a portrait painting class this term and wanted to practice specific disciplines between classes. I’d like to paint looser and thicker, improve my edgework, and grey my colors down more. I’ve developed an innocent crush on the Portlandia lead, Carrie Brownstein, and decided that she would be the subject matter for my Saturday afternoon painting study.

Using a mix of transparent maroon and sap green I sketched an outline. I created my usual flesh tone composed of cadmium red light, yellow ochre, and titanium white. I greyed it down with varying doses of Gamblin’s radiant blue, torrit grey, or sap green. I applied thick tiles of paint. I evaluated edges, trying to soften them where appropriate. I added color to the hair with quick, reactive flicks of the wrist to better judge values on the face.

Then I stopped. Sure, there are a dozen flaws that I could fix, and I could easily add another two-hundred brushstrokes. But the painting has a quality I like. It has charm.

Sketchbook: Tamara With Brown Background.

Tamara With Brown Background (Walnut drawing ink and gouache in Moleskine sketchbook, 5x7").

Sketchbook: Tamara In Green Chair.

Tamara In Green Chair (Gouache in Moleskine sketchbook, 5.5x4.5").

Andrew Wyeth Exhibit In Palm Springs.

Happy New Year, Everyone!

My wife and I took a day trip out to Palm Springs yesterday to visit the Andrew Wyeth exhibit at the Palm Springs Art Museum.  It was an amazing show, filled with 30 of his watercolor and tempera pieces.  I love watercolor and it's rare to find them in a museum setting.  A few observations:

• Wyeth is the master of high contrast.  I was riveted by his ability to create and control shapes of opposing values.  There are snow scenes where the majority of the paper is left white, where the only values are houses and fences composed of black and dark grays.  In concept it would seem jarring -- like a pimple on a model's forehead -- but they read perfectly and powerfully.  Black roofs and roads cut across white exteriors and snow covered fields.  A black coat hangs on a white wall.  A white dog sits in the middle of a dark green field.  This emphasized and calculated contrast results in strong images that never feel heavy-handed.  They almost envelop one another.
• For good reason, we're often told in art school to omit pure black from our palette.  It sits flat on the canvas and isn't interesting on its own.  We're supposed to create black by mixing complementary colors (i.e. ultramarine blue and burnt sienna).  However, it appears that Wyeth used black straight from the tube.  A black created from a complementary mixture often reveals its mixture when thinned or white is added, but I didn't notice any other cools or warms from Wyeth's thinned blacks -- it just grayed down without any warm or cool notes.  But he used straight black so marvelously.  The blacks and resultant grays never appear dead or lifeless.
• In his mostly monochromatic gray watercolor pieces, he added a few random brushstrokes of pure blue.  A snow scene would have the white of the paper and include a few other grayed objects (i.e. houses, fences, and trees).  And then in two spots, there would be a random brushstroke of blue.  The interesting part is that even if you weren't consciously aware of the blues, they had an impact to your perception of the piece.  I held my thumb over the blue brushstroke and it changed the dynamic of the painting dramatically.
• His ability to create texture is incredible.  While he's well known for his dry-brushing technique (ringing out the water from a brush, touching the tip in paint, and lightly scumbling it over the top of the painting), there were so many other textures he created in his watercolors.  And I don't know how he did it.  Perhaps he used a sponge to lift off some paint, but there were other textures he created via some mysterious technique.  Those textures add so much to the quality of the piece.  It makes objects feel real and alive.  They're imbibed with personality.
• His level of observation, and ability to replicate those nuances in paint are astounding.  There is a painting where a glossy table sits in front of a window.  Three chairs sit around the table.  A boat's sail appears in the window.  He captured the resulting shadows and reflections so perfectly -- with everything casting shadows on everything else and recording the smallest subtlety -- it left me mesmerized.  I think he included part of the ceiling just so he could display the reflected light coming off the glossy table.  Show-off.  I mean, who paints the ceiling?
• His palette consisted of neutral and grayed values, but several paintings included a singular object with color.  And this object made all the difference.  He used a desaturated orange pumpkin in two paintings.  The pumpkin does not lauch off the page.  It doesn't scream. It fits.  But if you put your thumb over that pumpkin the painting loses some allure.  I didn't even notice the orange pumpkin until my third pass by the painting.  But I would have noticed had it been missing.

The Wyeth exhibit runs until January 22nd.  I highly recommend a visit to check it out.  A walk along El Paseo to check out the galleries is also a fun side trip.

Sketchbook: Coffee Shop Chairs.

Before work, I spend my mornings drawing in a nearby coffee shop. I often bring photos and reference of things I want to draw, but sometimes I’m in a hurry and don’t have time to prepare reference, or I’m bored with what I brought. When that happens, I turn to a favorite object: a chair.

I’ve been going to the same coffee shop since I first moved to San Diego ten years ago. It occupies a wonderful, open space. High ceilings. Great light. It has a welcoming vibe with friendly staff. It also has those large, over-stuffed chairs and couches that appear charming until you sit in one and realize that its charm abandoned it long ago when you disappear completely into its old, unsupportive cushions.

But they sure are fun to draw. Couches and chairs possess a certain gravity for me. I enjoy trying to render them. They have a personality that I want to capture. A story they want to tell.

A little side note… despite the abundance of seating options available in this coffee shop, if I start drawing a chair there’s a 90% chance someone will sit down in it.

Here are some of the quick drawings I’ve done while sitting in the coffee shop. The drawings are various combinations of pencil, pen, watercolor, and marker -- all done in a Moleskine sketchbook. I experiment with each drawing, trying to figure out a new way to render shapes and edges.

Tamara Sitting In Chair (Markers).

I wouldn't say that I have a love/hate relationship with markers.  It's probably closer to a mild-amusement/hate relationship.  They have a quickness and immediacy to them that I admire, but I dislike almost all of their other qualities.  They apply unevenly.  They don't layer well so you're left with the raw marker colors (like oil paint straight from the tube) and hard edges.  This leaves odd value steps and disparate colors.  It's rare when I see a piece of artwork rendered in marker that I like.  It resembles either graffiti or a coloring book.

But it's Christmas time so I'm able to open my heart a little bit.  I bought Adam Hughes' fantastic book, Cover Run, a few weeks ago.  I love his design and draftsmanship, but I find myself charmed by his skin tones -- they have this wonderfully grayed-down, pink/purple hue.  I knew that he drew and inked his artwork via traditional means, and then colored it with Photoshop, but what I didn't know was how extensively he used markers.  I conducted research and found online video lessons where he demonstrated how he used the markers.  His results were fantastic.  I became intrigued.

For Christmas I asked for marker sets.  Santa must have received my letter in time because sitting at the base of the tree on the 25th were my requested markers.  I got a 24 color set and a 12 (warm) gray set.... and voila... one of my first marker pieces....

I was impressed with the markers.  I could work wet-into-wet and create soft edges.  The gray set contained 10 markers of different gradient values with each marker set at a 10% value interval from light to dark (there are two additional blacks for a total of 12 markers).  This made some of the decisions easier since I only had to determine whether an adjacent shape was lighter or darker than the previous and by how much.  Taking Adam Hughes' advice, I reduced the number of skin values to the four lowest available markers.  This made for a more attractive looking person and gives the background more values to play with (if I were to do a background).  It was an interesting exercise, made easier by the monochromatic nature of the gray set.  I played around with the multi-color set and well.... let's just say it's going to take some time for me to not hate them.

Tamara Sitting In Chair (Marker on Bristol board, 5x7").

[UPDATE: 12/28/11]  Can't... stop... tinkering.... A little more marker in addition to colored pencils and gouache (for the buttons on the chair).  I only wish I could get a reproduction that shows the subtleties better.  It's all much softer than it appears.

Sketchbook: Alligator Snapping Turtle Skull.

While perusing various skulls at the Museum of Natural History's Skulls exhibit, I encountered some where I quizzically wondered what animal it was.  Others left absolutely no doubt....

Alligator Snapping Turtle Skull (Watercolor in Moleskine sketchbook, 5x4").

[UPDATE: 12/23/2011] As with most of my work, I tend to tinker with it after it's been posted.  I made some of the values darker using pen and a watercolor wash.  I also added the gray surface with acrylic.

Sketchbook: Lottey.

Lottey (Watercolor and colored pencil in Moleskine A4 sketchbook.  Solid blue background added with Photoshop, 8x11).

Art School: Jeff In Progress.

Jeff (Conte on newsprint, 20x16").  This picture was taken 2/3 though the 2 hour live drawing session.  Jeff stands 6' 5" tall and is very lean so it's always a challenge to draw him, and not make him appear like he's 8 feet tall.

Art School: Plein Air Painting.

Ah... plein air painting.  It's been an adventure.  When I leave for plein air painting class in the morning, it feels like I brought enough equipment to invade a small country.  It was easier to pack for a month long European backpack trip than a 3 hour stint of painting outdoors.

The good parts...

• After drawing portraits, figures, architecture, and animal skulls -- all subjects that require strong draftsmanship -- it's nice to relax on drawing accuracy.  I can draw a rock any way I want as long as it looks cool.
• I enjoy being outside.  There is an energy when you draw from life that you can never replicate in the studio.
• I've been exploring parts of the city I never knew existed.  For those areas I'm familiar with, I'm able to appreciate them in a new way.

The interesting parts....

• Selecting and composing the scene can be tough.  The natural inclination is to include everything, especially those objects that are grand.  I see the enormous mountain range and want to incorporate it all, but realize that the more interesting scene may be a small path to the right, flanked by a few trees.
• It's difficult to edit.  I have to know when to include an adjacent tree and when to omit it.  If I remove it from the scene because it doesn't add anything, what do I put in its place?  I have to manufacture the background.
• Time is an issue since many things change.  Yes, time is an issue when painting a portrait in 3 hours from a live model.  But when outdoors, the light changes quickly.  The wind often goes from tame in the morning to blustery in the afternoon.  A fellow painter commented that all sailors know to head out at noon because that's when the wind picks up.
• Something will always go wrong.  You have to persevere.  When I went to set up my French easel I discovered that a nut had fallen off a bolt, leaving me unable to securely fasten the canvas.  I had to McGyver it using metal clips.
• Design is important.  Nature does not place tress in the optimal locations.  Limbs do not grow at the most beautiful angles.  You have to draw things so they look attractive, not because they exist.
• Color mixing is challenging.  I have to mix colors to match hues and values that are new to me.  I have to determine which two, three, four, or five paints combine to form a specific shade of sand, and in which proportions.
• Living on the coast we frequently paint the ocean.  Waves don't hold still.
• Simplify, simplify, simplify.

Here are the last two paintings I've done.  Many thanks to my instructor, Bob Watts, for all of his help.

Tourmaline, San Diego (Oil on canvas board, 12x9").  Tourmaline is a world famous longboard surf spot.  It was so beautiful this morning -- the previous day's rain had left the sky perfectly clear.

Balboa Park, San Diego (Oil on canvas board, 12x9").

Art School: Wendy, Session 1 of 3.

I'm taking a portrait painting class this term that spans three 3-hour sessions.  Here are the results I made during the first 3-hour session, with process shots included.  Each photo represents a 20-minute interval of time (with a few intervals missing).  Many thanks to my instructor, Lucas Graciano, for his help.

Wendy After First Session (Oil on canvas board, 9 x 12").  At this point, I like how it's looking.  It reminds me of a Robert Henri painting.

Initial lay-in.  I used a mixture of transparent maroon, sap green, and ultramarine blue for the contour lines.

Spawned partially from the pace of my plein air painting sessions over the past few weeks, I decided to work faster and more intuitively.  I created a pot of flesh tone using yellow ochre, cad red light, and titanium white and then just added various colors to that to create different values and temperatures.  Since this was the first week, I didn't want too much variation -- I wanted to keep it simple.  I tried to react quickly from what I saw looking at the model.

Sketchbook: Geisha After Frazetta.

Geisha, After Frazetta (Watercolor in Moleskine sketchbook, 4x6").  Frazetta is one of my favorite artists.  This is a watercolor sketch based on one of his obscure paintings.  She's standing in a pond (which I didn't paint).

Sketchbook: Tamara Holding Onto Chair.

Tamara Holding Onto Chair (Gouache in Moleskine sketchbook. 5x4.5").