Figure Drawing

Since not much is going on at my easel lately, I thought I'd show you a few of my figure drawings. These are from sometime last year when I was still teaching at my old studio downtown.



I have found that figure drawing skills to be invaluable in my painting, and not just painting the figure, either. It translates to drawing and painting trees and rocks and even mechanical things like cars and buildings. It all has to do with seeing form, and analyzing and interpreting three dimensional objects in three dimensional space onto a two dimensional surface.

Many beginning (and also experienced) artists rely heavily on rendering the light and shadow to express form. While this is an effective way to show form, it doesn't necessarily mean that they are seeing and interpreting form. When I was teaching, I insisted that students draw without "shading", and rely only on line to show form. This is really hard to do, and everyone hated it until they learned to really see and feel the form. Once they got the hang of it (thousands of drawings later) they were amazed at what they could do with "shading". "Shading" was no longer a crutch, but a real tool that they can manipulate as they pleased.






Another thing I insisted on was - and this is going to sound sacrilegious to some - that students NOT measure lengths by holding up a pencil or a brush or anything for that matter. Drawing figures six or seven heads tall is a useless idea unless the figure is standing straight up. More often than not, the figure is doing something other than just standing straight, and this twist or that bend gives us all kinds of varied foreshortening, which makes formulas of proportions moot.

In fact, I tell the students to just forget about proportions. You have more important things to worry about, such as gesture and form. Don't waste your time measuring only to end up with a stiff figure. You see, I am convinced that drawing accurate proportions has more to do with seeing the entire figure on your paper (as opposed to just where the tip of the pencil is) than tedious measuring. If you see the whole figure, you are more likely to consider the relationships of the lines you make. How does that mark you made relate to the whole? When there's something wrong with the line, it's immediately obvious. But not if you're only looking at the tip of your pencil. Make sense? Comparing a part to the whole is, in general preferable to comparing a part to another part.




I believe that this is so, and I have my students to prove it. The students who had trouble with proportions were asked to just forget about proportions and focus on seeing the whole figure. As months went by, their figure drawings improved dramatically, the issues with proportions just disappeared, to their great surprise and my delight.

Now, I will add that there is a place for measuring. Portraiture, for example. When you are up close and need absolute accuracy, I think measuring is necessary. Also when you're working large and can't actually see the entire figure without moving your head up and down or stepping back, measuring is necessary. Cars and buildings often need careful measuring to get the drawing correctly, else not only proportions but perspective gets screwed up.

But with the kind of figure drawing that I like to do, measuring just gets in the way.

Porterville

One of my current big projects is a large painting (48 x 84) of the olive grove where my friend Chris grew up in Porterville, Ca. I haven't actually started on the big canvas yet. Still doing studies.

I had a chance to visit the grove this weekend and actually see the grove, and to get a feel for the place. Porterville is a tiny little town located in the heart of California's Central Valley, which you may or may not know, is the core of agriculture in California. It's flat as far as the eye can see, and you see nothing but crops laid out in neat grids that stretch forever.

I arrived early afternoon, and immediately started taking pictures of and around the ranch. I'd been sick all week and was just recovering so I didn't feel like painting. I also had this mysterious stiff neck which allowed me only about 10 degrees of rotation in any direction. I quickly found I couldn't even sketch because that would require moving my head up and down as I looked at the scene and my sketchbook.  A couple of Advils alleviated the pain, but that didn't improve my cervical (of or pertaining to the neck, not the female organ which I don't have!)  mobility, so I resigned myself to taking photos for the afternoon. 

I had a great time doing that, though. Taking in the ranch environment, and acquainting myself with the feeling of being in the grove as opposed to just looking at it. You see, that's the feeling I want to convey in my big painting. A sense of being inside, among the big olives. I knew it wasn't going to happen unless I actually experienced it myself, so this is the main purpose of my trip.  Not that I wouldn't have welcomed getting away for a few days without purpose...

Later on, Chris took me around to the foothills which was just 20 minutes to the East. I said earlier that it was flat forever in all directions, but I was mistaken. To the East, the snow capped Sierras loom high. I just couldn't see them before because of the haze. On a clear day, it must be spectacular! As we climbed up the foothills, the landscape changed dramatically... but that's another day's painting adventure. 

Dinner was great. Chris's family gathered at Rosa's restaurant, which, according to Linda is the only place to go in Porterville (that's how small this town is). Nonetheless, it was a lot of fun. We were a big party of about twelve, and the food was home-style Italian, and Chris's family is just a fun bunch to hang out with, and they made me feel welcome and at home. Bottles of chianti didn't hurt either.

So ok, let's talk about painting. Next morning, I got up early. My stiff neck was gone, and I felt great. I set up my easel and started a sketch of this guesthouse on the property. It's a small sketch (6 x 8) because I haven't painted en plein air in a long time and didn't feel like I could pull off a larger one. Anyway, the messy jumble of branches on the foreground was what interested me. My aim was to paint most of it with just gestural strokes, and add a just a few well defined, sharper edged details to pull it all together. Because these few tiny elements act as visual cues, you can keep everything else very loose and suggestive, and they'll look like what they're supposed to. It never fails to amaze and amuse me how that works. 

Here's my set up. I was in the shade when I started the painting, but twenty minutes into it I was getting full fun. A little annoying, but it's just one of those plein air obstacles. The winter sun isn't all that harsh, so it wasn't too bad. I didn't bother with an umbrella. I hate using an umbrella anyway.

Here's my next sketch, another 6 x 8. I've painted this fountain before from a photo, but painting on site and from direct observation is a completely different experience. My main goal was to try and not make a cut-out shape of this fountain. I wanted to lose edges, and make some areas ambiguous enough to place the fountain in its environment, and not just a thing against a background. There was a lot of light bouncing around, and it was an effort to keep it simple and stick to my original plan - and not try to solve other problems which weren't a part of my original goal. 

My view. As you can see, it has a lot of compositional potential. I chose to just focus on the fountain, because my panel was so small and my original aim had nothing to do with elements other than the fountain. It's all about defining a problem to solve, and sticking to it.

Here's a shot of my palette. Clockwise from bottom left; Ultramarine, Cobalt blue, Titanium White, Cad Lemon, a warm yellow (Cad Lemon + Transparent Oxide Red), Permanent Red, Alizarin, Transparent Oxide Red, and violet (Ultramarine + Permanent Red + White). To this I sometimes add Viridian, but usually only in the springtime when the hills in California turn emerald. By June, Viridian is off the palette.

So that's it for my little trip to Porterville. I have hundreds of new reference photo to go through, and hopefully can get started on the big painting soon. That depends on how soon my studio becomes clear of the flooring material and construction junk. *sigh* Still no light at the end of that tunnel.

The Return of the Lobentruck

Well! I thought I was done. But it's one of those paintings that invites risk-taking. And for me, abstraction is risk-taking. Rendering something true to a photo reference is the easy part. It's safe. When you start deviating from it, you're responsible for every step you take. It can take you right out of your comfort zone, and I don't need to tell you, it can be scary.

In the "previously finished" version, the truck was painted much more tightly, with carefully conforming values (conforming to "rules" of realism) and while it achieved what I set out to do- to express a feeling of hot and dusty Central California - I wasn't entirely satisfied with the way the truck was handled. Too tight and realistic. It was more of a "scene" than an artist's expression of his identity, if you will.


I have been exploring ways to break away from the more traditional depictions of scenes, and have been trying to find ways to break rules. I want to give a louder voice to the paint itself. I feel like I'm floundering in this grey area, but I also feel I'm making progress toward a different, more individual way of looking at and processing visual information. Because I'm the type who thrives under a set of rules, breaking them is counterintuitive, uncomfortable, and difficult. But I'm finding that it's also extremely liberating. I don't really know what to expect so it's like flying without a net. It's kind of addicting.

I'm pretty happy with what I've been able to do with the truck. I still see things I'd like to change, but it's already taught me a lot about abstraction and identity.

David has put forth the next "challenge". It's a photo of a bicycle standing against a bunch of junk, submitted by a fellow artist, Milind Mulick (the photo, not the junk) and it looks like a really interesting challenge. Lots of options for the focal point, and the junk provides ample opportunities for abstraction. Mike Bailey is also doing a painting from it, and I don't know who else. Should be a fun "paint-off"! I plan on tackling it also, but at the moment my house is all torn up, and my studio is piled high with flooring material. It's kind of dragging on with no end in sight, so I may not be able to meet the deadline.

In the meantime, I set up my easel in my backyard and pushing paint around when I can. Time is still very limited, but that may change soon~

Workshop Update

This Saturday, I went out to Napa to scope out some painting locations for my upcoming plein air workshop.

If I were painting alone, I could just stop the car on the side of the road, and set up and it wouldn't be a problem. But for a workshop with 12 or 14 participants of all levels, there is a lot to consider when deciding on locations. Obviously, we have to have nice views. This isn't a workshop about making pretty paintings from uninspiring surroundings. No, that's a whole different ball game. People are coming from far away to attend my workshop, so I want to make sure they get their money's worth, both in instruction and in terms of having a good time. Who wants to come spend a weekend painting in a boring, uninspiring Anysuburb USA!? Not I. So we need a beautiful destination where people can enjoy the surroundings even before we start painting.

Luckily, Napa is not far from where I live, and it's beautiful. Lots of good things to paint, to say the least. Other considerations for a group session are safe parking, accessibility ( we don't want to lug 35 lbs of stuff and hike half a mile), availability of restrooms and water, availability of reasonable lodging, restaurants and grocery shops. It would be a huge plus if the location had ample open shade in which to stand. And what about rain? We need a plan B for inclement weather. After all, it is a plein air workshop; we need to be able to paint outdoors even if it rains.

And then there is the social angle to consider, too. In the past, I did workshops where we had dinner parties, wines with critiques, and lunches together. Granted, not everyone wants to spend the entire weekend with strangers albeit with a common purpose. So technically this part will be more or less optional, but I've learned most people really enjoy the "get together" aspect and have given me very positive feedback. Besides, I like to unwind after a hard day's work. So THAT needs to be organized. Needless to say, it's a lot of work.


Finding locations that meet all these requirements is no easy task. Lucky for me, my friends Alan and Leslie, who are helping me put this thing together, live in Napa and know just about everyone. AND when it comes to organizing events, they are seasoned pros. So they've lined up some wineries for me to check out, and we spent a merry day going from winery to winery. (We only tasted at the very last winery. Honest.)



We had a great breakfast at Pete's Pancake House on St. Helena Hwy, and headed over to Mondavi. There we were given a private tour, and saw so many great spots. I've been there for tastings countless times, but never to paint, and never with a workshop in mind, so I saw everything with a fresh eye. We would have access to areas where it would normally be off limits to the general public, and since the winery is built to accomodate rainy-day tours, painting outdoors in bad weather is not a problem. Perfect if you ask me.


Next we went up the hill to Diamond Oaks, a smaller winery but with a spectacular vista of the valley. They also had a nice shadey area with picnic tables, which would be great for lectures and critiques. I particularly loved the dramatic atmospheric perspective. Just my cup o' tea! So far, two great locations.

Then we went to talk to the owner of a great restaurant in Napa to see what he could do for us. It's a really cool little Italian restaurant that Alan and Leslie highly recommends, and looking at their menu made me really hungry. I was browsing through their wines too. You'd expect a great wine selection at a Napa restaurant, and I spotted a few of my favorites. One is Truchard Pinot Noir. This I must have with my dinner. If that's not enough, they have live jazz!

Anyway, we left the restaurant and headed over to Carneros, where we ended up at Etude. From here, we have a great view of the famous eucalyptus windbreaks on hwy 12. The buildings at this winery are French country inspired, and they'll be fun to paint in March when the trees and flowers are in bloom. We also have access to an indoor space here, too. So it looks like we have our bases covered.

We also saw several beautiful roadside spots, but with a large group, we thought it would be logistically easier if we stuck to wineries.

Aside from the location scouting, I am working on new handout material, including a full color booklet - sort of like the Ediza book I made for the Donner Summit workshop I did in September, but this one focuses more on process.

I can feel it already; it's going to be a great workshop! Can't wait!!

Heads No.5, No.6

Head Study No. 5, No.6

In formal portraiture we often see the shadow side of the head lose its countour and melt completely into a dark background. I'm not interested in doing portraiture, but losing edges is enormously interesting to me. We do this to simplify shapes, especially in the shadow areas. If there is very little relevant information in the shadows, linking them together and simplifying the design really helps to show off the more important elements in the light.



But! obviously, these studies are not about melting the dark side of the head into a dark background.

In paintings where important information does  reside in the shadows, in order for this focal element to be visible, it needs to be illuminated somehow (can't see nuffin' in the dark). If it's illuminated, it's lighter in value. If the shadow areas become lighter in value, the lit side must be lighter still. Consequently, the lit areas become very high key, and can be treated as one big linked shape, devoid of detail.

If you look at photographs where exposure is set to somewhere in the shadows, the light areas get washed out. It's the same idea. (Although the camera doesn't have ideas. But you know what I mean.)



If I were to look at picture making a little bit more abstractly, which is what I'm trying to do here, I might approach it by thinking in terms of linking like-values, rather than shadows-to-shadows or lit-areas-to-lit areas. I'm merely looking at values, and trying to disregard what they are (head, background, whatever). Whether the focal point resides in the shadow or in the light becomes less relevant. I do want some kind of a focal point, but I'm not so interested in "popping" these elements. It works just as well to "unpop" or subdue, or quieten, the non focal areas. And that's what linking like-value areas and losing edges can accomplish.

I arrived at this idea when I thought I might be able to apply my color-mixing logic to other formal issues in picture-making, and I realized that it's not a new idea at all. We see it in great paintings everywhere, and in music and writing and pretty much in all forms of art. All it is this; if you want to emphasize something, you can either make it louder, or you can make everything else quiet. Manipulate the context, not the thing itself. More often than not, I find I arrive at more satisfying results this way.

Remind me to talk about how this applies to color mixing at a later date!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! 

I keep writing about goals and resolutions and deleting them because inevitably it becomes long winded and boring.  The short version is that I didn't meet all my goals in 2008. I met some of them. I blame circumstances beyond my control, but only partially. The rest is mostly my underestimating the effort it takes to achieve the goals I set for myself. It's not for lack of trying, I assure you, but looking back, it appears my efforts were misguided a bit. I'll have to fix that in 2009.

One goal I did achieve in 2008 was to get back into cityscapes, and establish a clear path for me to follow -not just "paint more cityscapes", but some big commitment which forces me to be accountable. To that end, I've committed myself to doing a solo cityscape show next fall at the Thomas Reynolds Gallery in San Francisco.  

So my main goal in 2009 is to make this my best show ever. And since it's a tangible goal, I can break it down to smaller goals which I need to achieve in order to make the show a success. For one thing, I need to produce two medium to large paintings every month, and perhaps two smaller ones also. Considering my inability to find time to work right now, that's going to be a huge challenge in itself. I can already envision many a sleepless night ahead.  But I'm excited about this show. It marks my official return to cityscapes, (before I started painting landscapes, I painted cityscapes and architectural themes exclusively) and I am eager to see how differently  they come out this time around. After years of studying how light and color work in nature, I expect the new city paintings to have a subtler, more abstract feel. I expect them to be more about me, the artist, than the structure I'm painting, even if I'm faithfully depicting a landmark building.

I have two paintings in progress right now, one of which is the Louvre you saw in a couple of earlier posts. I'll post that when it's done, and the other piece too. I'm hoping to share my progress with each painting, all the way up to the exhibition in the fall.  Should be interesting!

I'm not abandoning landscapes, however. Because I love doing them and I keep learning from them. I've just scratched the surface of this art, and I feel like there's a whole lot more to dig. I'm not going to do as many plein air events this year though. I really need to be at home this year, so unless it's just a weekend thing, I can't do them. I didn't even apply to any shows and the deadlines are already past, so I guess there's not much can be done about that even if things change for me. 

Anyway, here's to an artful new year!