The Oil Painting Blog : Drawing Basics

Seeing Double?

Patricia Watwood — Thu, 16 May 2013 03:34:00 GMT

I just finished a very interesting commission. I've shared my oil painting, Pandora, on Artist Daily before. It was one of the central paintings from my 2012 exhibit at Forbes Gallery. I got a lot of positive feedback on that painting--and then got an inquiry from a collector, "Is Pandora still available?" Happily I had already sold it, but the collector and I started talking about doing a second version, and the historic tradition of multiple versions of successful paintings. We both agreed that a commission of a second version would be a great project.


These two images are so similar, you could do a search and find for small details. I even have to look twice to figure out whether they are the same or different. Pandora by Patricia Watwood, 2011, oil on linen, 30 x 26.

I'd never done an autograph copy of a fine art oil painting before, and I did not want to just make a copy of the first painting. How could I make another one and create the same level of quality and freshness, rather than a technical repeat that wouldn't have the verve of the first? I think we've all seen 2^nd and 3^rd versions of famous works by artists in museum exhibits, and there's often a sense that the first is the best one and the others are derivative. So, my challenge was to make a second version that was every bit as "first rate" as the original.

The collector and I agreed upon some basic working strategies. For one thing, I would not copy the original oil painting, but re-create the painting from life--particularly by doing the figure work again from the live model. I would also re-set the "still-life" objects that create Pandora's seat--the pile of junk around her in the foreground. I recreated the set-up and placed the objects so that the composition would be an improvisation on a theme, rather than a rote repetition of the details. Lastly, I made the picture at a slightly different size--two inches larger in each direction.

To proceed, the first thing I did was make a full-size black and white copy of the original painting (from a photograph of the artwork), and transfer that to the new canvas. I rubbed soft pastel on the back of the paper copy, and scribed the lines on the front with a pencil to transfer the drawing. Next, I did my underpainting (in my usual limited palette) by copying the original painting. After that was mapped out on the new canvas, I set the original aside and began to finish the second painting on it's own, referring to the first only to check general color and value consistency and design.


		Pandora 2012 by Patricia Watwood, 2012, oil on linen, 32 x 28.

In the end, I was very pleased with both the process and the result of the second work. Repeating the composition caused me to reflect on how a personal visual language has been developing through this work, and others I'm making in this vein. I was no longer asking myself: "How should I do this?" and "Where should this hand go?" I could dwell on larger questions like: "What is personal and meaningful about these things I'm painting?" and "How can I give this more deftness and grace?" I'm learning that this is one of the great boons of working on a series--that you can dig deeper into the "why," and explore variations rather than building the machine from scratch each time. I made the figure just a bit bigger--and learned how just a small change in scale can change the impact and technical handling in the figure. There were a few passages that I kept almost exactly the same, and that gave me confidence that "Yes, I did like how I solved that problem last time." Like anything we repeat, practice makes perfect. The second painting went very smoothly, and I felt increased confidence in the execution and result.

I'll leave you with a word of praise for the art collectors out there, who play a crucial role in the development of an artist. I have been lucky enough to work with a few collectors who are deeply committed to cultivating art and talent. When you have a patron who is both setting a high expectation, and trusting you to be your best self, the outcome can be optimal for both parties. Collectors who buy the work of living artists get to go to "Art Heaven," and this direct support of artists makes the world a better place for all of us who strive for the continuance of excellence in the arts. So, thank you, dear collector.

--Patricia

A Simple Productivity Tip from Da Vinci

Will Kemp — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 18:43:00 GMT

Ever wondered where Da Vinci found the time to create all his masterpieces? Alongside his fine art painting he managed to dabble as a scientist, geologist, architect, mathematician, engineer, and anatomist with a bit of aeronautical design thrown in for good measure!

So how can we adopt a little bit of Da Vinci in our own practice? One of the most simple ways is to use a colored ground for our painting art. Or, as Da Vinci favored, an imprimatura.


Self-portrait by Leonardo Da Vinci, red chalk drawing, 1510-1515.

An imprimatura is an initial stain of color painted onto a white ground. It is usually created using an earth color such as burnt umber or raw sienna. When painted onto your canvas it provides you with a transparent toned ground to work onto. (For more oil painting terms and definitions, here's my free online Glossary for Oil Painting Terms--An Essential Guide for Beginners.)

Why does it speed up your process as a painting artist? The toned ground acts as your mid tone. You then just have to work on the lights and darks. This means you can quickly establish a feel and mood for the painting with very little effort.

The name Imprimatura comes from the Italian for 'first paint layer' and often, the initial stain is left visible in areas of the finished painting.

You can use this painting technique to prepare a selection of different colored surfaces that can be perfect for quick oil painting sketches and poster studies.

Maybe a burnt sienna imprimatura for an autumnal scene, or a terre-verte for a landscape painting?

By knocking down the white glare of the pre-primed canvas, you can quickly get your ideas down and speed up your painting time in the process.

To get started with an imprimatura try using a raw umber from your painting palette. It is a neutral, semi-transparent tone that is ideal to apply to your surface. It creates a unified layer of neutral tone that dries quickly.

How to Apply an Imprimatura

1 - Place a few small dots of raw umber evenly around the canvas.

2 - Then dip your painting brush into a small amount of turpentine.

3 - Now evenly scrub the turpentine with a coarse bristle painting brush over the small drops of paint into the surface of the canvas until all the white has been eliminated.
You are looking for a translucent, even thin layer of paint, like a stain.

Toning as such creates a clean, strong foundation for subsequent paint layers.

You can now block in your drawing with the raw umber, which is thinned to a fluid, flexible consistency with turpentine and a touch of linseed oil.

If you'd like to learn more oil painting terms I've just published a Glossary of Oil terms for beginners.

--Will

Why Are Brush Sizes as Confusing as a Currency Converter?

Will Kemp — Tue, 04 Dec 2012 04:59:00 GMT

How does brush sizing work and where do you start?

Have you every ordered some new brushes online, feeling pretty confident they'll be the perfect size for your latest oil on canvas creation? After all you spent all afternoon researching them. Only to then be bitterly disappointed when the painting supplies arrive?


		Choosing painting supplies such as a painting brush can be troublesome if you assume each manufacturer sizes their brushes according to the same system.

They were the number you saw in the magazine but have turned out to be either far too small, or far too big. Where did you go wrong?

You aren't alone. Painting artists struggle with this all the time when deciding how to paint and with what brushes. Selecting the right painting brush size can be very tricky as every manufacturer's sizes are different. There is no universal sizing system, so a size 10 in one brand can be completely different from another brand.

Confused? Here is a quick painting brush guide to keep in mind next time you visit the art store:

All brushes increase in size depending on the number, so a size 14 will always be larger than a size 12, whatever the brand.

There are other numbers on the brushes that indicate the series number (often abbreviated to SER). This is usually 4 digits long, for example: SER 6474. This helps to identify a brush correctly when ordering.

Brushes can come in short and long handles. Short handles are best for detailed work or painting on the flat. Longer handles are best if you intend to stand at the easel.

The longer the length of bristle, the more flex there is in the brush. A short length of brush hair will appear to be much stiffer and coarser than a longer length--even if the bristle is the same softness of hair. This length is called the 'length out' and a long length out was favored by the Old Masters.

Pro painting art tip: When you are next in the art store, flick your thumb from left to right over the edge of the brush. This will give you a feel for the 'snap' of the brush. The brush will 'crack' when you first flick it, this is the gum arabic that has been used to set the head. It's advisable to rinse the new brush before use to remove any excess gum arabic.

So the ultimate question is, which size should I buy?

I tend to go by the width of the brush and the length of the bristles, rather than the size or number.

To get started with a small acrylic paintings or oil painting art piece (under A3), I would recommend:

Round brush 6mm - 7mm in width with a 25mm length out.
Filbert brush 10mm in width with a 16mm - 20mm length out.

Of course, to find the perfect brush for each person can take a little while but this should point you in the right direction. Do you agree? Where did you start in terms of painting brushes? Leave a comment and let me know.

--Will

Will Kemp is an award-winning professional artist from the U.K. He teaches classical painting techniques with a modern approach, so you can discover how to paint & draw in the quickest time possible. Will creates weekly videos at Will Kemp Art School about painting, drawing & creativity.

Is the Devil in the Detail?

Will Kemp — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 04:41:00 GMT

How to let go of small brush addiction so your paintings can move on to become more gestural

If you lost all of your brushes, which one would you miss the most?

For me, it's a 12 year old Filbert bristle brush that has lost its shape, has unruly hairs, and is caked in paint. In other words, it's perfect.


Transitioning from a large to small brush in an oil painting can be problematic if you do it too fast, without establishing your big shapes first.

But often, for beginners, their prize possession is a number 000, the smallest, thinnest detail brush.

I can appreciate that there is something so pleasing about a detail brush, it can be hard not to resist. It's a bit like adding whipped cream to your coffee, you know you shouldn't do it but it tastes so damn good!

Getting over 'small brush addiction' can instantly give your oil painting art a boost and help you develop your skills as a painter.

The obsession hits hardest when you're making the switch from drawing or sketching to mastering oil painting techniques. The familiarity of a small, sharp point is comforting, yet unbeknown to you, ultimately damaging to your painting skills.

You start to work in a 'piecemeal' approach. This is where you focus on one small section at a time rather than bringing the painting together as a whole.

But what if you dream of producing work with energy, gestural marks and movement, yet everything you produce looks flat, lacking that certain style you know is in you?

The solution

Take a few words of advice from a master of gestural marks, John Singer Sargent, who is credited with saying,

'Start with a broom & end with a needle'

So find the biggest brush you have, often a 2 inch decorators brush is good, work on a larger scale, 60 x 60 cm is a good starting point, and go for it!
Try to paint as much as you can before changing your brush down a size.

"But, don't I need a small brush for the details?"

No, you need a deft touch.

When studying at the Angel Academy of Art, Florence, Master John Angel would repeatably say, 'The Devil is the detail' to emphasis the importance of establishing your big forms first, rather than diving into the details too early on.

If you establish the general feel of the painting using a big brush first, not only will you work faster with more expression, but your dexterity with the brush will improve.
When you do finally succumb to the charms of your small detail brush the marks will sing, in comparison to the broad, gestural strokes surrounding them.

--Will

How to Let Flashes of Inspiration Come

johnandann@theartistsroad — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 03:41:00 GMT

Swimming in the ocean of life, so to speak, it sometimes feels as though we must use every bit of energy to keep our heads above the waves. Over many years we have developed some techniques that help us to shed the heavy seaweed and barnacles of the daily thoughts that occupy our minds, and step onto the shore where our creative minds can play.

Peace on the River by John Hulsey, oil painting.

I imagine that to most people, artists are able to simply tap into their creativity as one would turn on a tap for water--always available at a moment's notice. Anyone in the creative field knows that artistry must be cultivated, practiced, and exercised regularly if it is to thrive and prosper, much like an athlete must slowly build up ability in order to reach the Olympics. Art needs space and time to grow, and so, many of us have created spaces, little corners in the house or full-fledged studios where we can shut out the traffic of life and give voice to our inner worlds. We have found that these physical spaces, whether large or small, are absolutely essential to the practice of art-making.

Inspiration can come from simply diving into our work--whether pencil sketch drawing, writing or shaping clay. Many times, it is this intensely occupied conscious mind that allows the creative insights of the subconscious to bubble up to the surface. When that happens, it is often described as a "flash" of inspiration, but in reality is the natural result of creating the proper environment, both physically and mentally, for our creative minds to do their job.

So how does one make the mind quit worrying about bills or family and turn to peaceful, creative thoughts, just like that? Much like the practice of meditation, it takes a disciplined regular schedule and lots of practice. There are so many distractions and details of living to attend to that the mind can get overwhelmed by the clamoring thoughts that can easily drown out the quiet messages from deep within. We must develop a positive mental attitude towards ourselves and our work, and shut out those nagging thoughts of inadequacy or public indifference, maintaining at the same time, the ability to see our work clearly and objectively in order to grow as artists. As in all good things, balance seems to be the key.

Please join us on The Artist's Road for more interesting articles, interviews and step-by-step painting demonstrations.

--John and Ann

When Less Is More: Dying Dog Edition

Austin R. Williams — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 03:03:00 GMT

I'm fascinated by the concept of "less is more," especially as it applies to representational painting. It's hardly intuitive that having less detail makes a painting more realistic, but that's often the case. We've all been warned by our art teachers about the dangers of adding too many details; creating a mess with oil on canvas; confusing the eye of the viewer.


The Dog by Francisco Goya, ca. 1819, oil on canvas from plaster transfer to canvas, 51 x 31. Collection the Prado, Madrid, Spain.

Recently I was fortunate enough to visit the Prado, in Madrid, where I saw a stunning example of the less-is-more principle. Goya's painting of a dog (alternately called The Dog, The Half-Submurged Dog, or The Drowning Dog) offers very little definite information--this is so much the case that some historians think it is unfinished.

We see the head of a dog; we also see large planes of earth tones. That's it. Is the dog in danger? Drowning? Caught in quicksand? Perhaps, although I also think it looks surprisingly at peace--perhaps resigned to its fate, whatever that is. Either way, by providing just enough information to grab our attention, Goya gets us thinking, and he doesn't let go.

Goya's painting is hardly uplifting. As in many of his late artworks, the overall outlook seems to be grim, as the artist began to focus more and more on the inevitability of death.

But there is a heartening message to be learned here: Don't get discouraged trying to paint everything. Describe just enough with your paint--even focusing only on one small area of the picture--and you can create a scene of tremendous mystery and power.

--Austin

Austin Williams is the editor of Drawing magazine.

Do I Have to Be a Fulltime Artist to Be a Real Artist?

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 24 Jul 2012 03:36:00 GMT

Given what we've discussed in the last two articles, Am I an Artist? and Am I a Real Artist? Not to mention Part-Time Artists Are Artists, Too--you probably have a pretty good idea of what my answer to this one will be, but let's talk about it.

It takes a long time to make a mountain, and piling a few rocks on top of one another just doesn't cut it. In the same way, becoming an artist involves time, patience, and effort--but not necessarily making lots of money. Chief Joseph Mountain by Steve Henderson, oil on canvas, of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

For some reason, people have the idea that if we do something part-time, or if we don't make a killing selling our oil painting work or charcoal drawings, then we're not really whatever it is that we're doing. By this definition, the volunteer firefighters in many rural communities who put their lives on the line protecting people and property aren't really firefighters.

Or substitute teachers--what would school systems do without these people?--aren't really teachers. Our nuclear physicist--who works part-time because of family obligations--isn't a real nuclear physicist.

A bit absurd, isn't it? But it's understandable, since an artist doesn't depend upon a degree, certification, title, or job description to be an artist. He or she can have those things, or not; and having them doesn't ensure that they are artists.

Artists make art. They don't talk about making art; they don't emote about making art; they don't wax eloquent about making art--people who do that, and stop there, are artistes not artists.

True artists spend a lot of time creating. My own Norwegian Artist paints; others sculpt, work with wood, brass, clay, and beyond the visual arts we have dancers, writers, actors...if I miss one please don't yell at me. But what they all have in common is that they create new things from whatever materials they have on hand, and they're pretty serious about doing it well.

The sign of being a real artist has less to do with how much money you make at it than it has with how much time and effort you spend getting better at it. At least that is where I stand. What about you? Leave a comment and let me know.

--Carolyn

Words of a Winner

Austin R. Williams — Thu, 12 Jul 2012 05:06:00 GMT

The winners of our Self-Portrait Cover Competition are featured in the September issue of American Artist, and they share advice about how to paint the figure and how to maintain a successful painting practice. When we asked David Tanner, the winner of the competition, to give his advice, he offered more than we had room to print. So I thought I'd share it here--hopefully it's useful for those of you working on how to paint the figure realistically, as this artist does. Here, then, are David Tanner's recommendations:


Self-Portrait by David Tanner 2009, oil painting, 16 x 12. Winner of American Artist's Self-Portrait Cover Competition.

If you are interested in representational painting, make sure you find a school or take classes taught by artists who can "walk the walk." Even the most general of painting classes should be taught by a painter capable of doing a basic still life demonstration painting from life.

Paint what you love, of course, but also challenge yourself to paint subjects that hold less interest. I had no idea how much I would love plein air landscape painting until I tried it for the first time, and I'm positive it has improved my reaction time to light and color in other genres.

Draw from life constantly--both alone and with fellow artists. Take advantage of local open figure drawing sessions, where you can join other artists and chip in for a model fee to practice with a live model outside of your classes.

Go to museums and galleries, and linger over the paintings that resonate with you. In particular, look to see how the artists have simplified their subjects down to the masses of color-values.

Study magazines like American Artist, and pay close attention to the advice presented in the articles. In my early days as a painter, I created my first successful flesh-color combinations after reading an interview in American Artist with a well-known portrait painter.

Painting from life is the only way to successfully sensitize your eye to color, value, and form. Avoid frequent painting from photographs until you have extensive experience painting all subjects from life.

Squint and compare when observing your subject and your painting to see value relationships. Let your eyes blur and go out of focus when observing colors on your subject. The blurring will simplify the color to a mass and may make your color mixing choices easier.

Stand far back from your canvas after every few brushstrokes to monitor the success of the effect you are achieving compared to the subject.

For more information about the artist, visit Tanner's website. You can learn more about the artist's painting--and see all the finalists of our Self-Portrait Competition--in the September issue of American Artist.

--Austin

The Question That Never Goes Away

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 10 Jul 2012 06:10:00 GMT

"Am I an Artist?" I can't help but wonder how many nuclear physicists get up out of bed each morning and ask themselves whether they are nuclear physicists. Granted, if one is a nuclear physicist, one has concrete evidence of the fact--education, background, job title, and hours of working each day with whatever it is that nuclear physicists work with--but an artist has a few concrete pieces of evidence as well:


"Am I a fisherman?" You've got a boat, you head out to sea, you catch fish, and you come home. The question answers itself. Peruvian Fisherman by Steve Henderson.

Paint; canvas; brushes; paper; pencils; clay; some sort of easel, palette, or workspace--all of which are jumbled together somehow to create an oil painting, a drawing, sculpture, piece of jewelry, or some other product that others look at and call "art."

So it would only make sense to call the person who made it an "artist." Ah, but nothing in life is simple, and many people--some of whom are nuclear physicists--work at a day job and do art on the side, in the evenings, on the weekends, in place of eating lunch--and while what they produce looks like a painting or a sculpture or a piece of jewelry, they torture themselves by asking all the time, "Am I an artist? Am I a real artist?"

Some people ask themselves this so much that they stop producing whatever artwork they have been producing, until they can get an answer to the question.

But to some extent, does it really matter? And whose definition of "artist" are you using anyway?

This is what I recommend: go ahead, keep asking yourself the question if you insist, but don't stop creating whatever it is that you create, and don't let the question fill your mind and crowd out ideas for your next piece of work. Your next piece of artwork, that is.

Does this question crowd your mind? Leave a comment and let me know.

--Carolyn

Toning Your Canvas

Courtney Jordan — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 17:45:00 GMT

A few weeks ago I had a studio session with Lea Colie Wight, a great painter who had a really lovely tone to her oil painting surface that many of us loved and wanted to know more about. I wanted to share that info with you!

Canvas Toning Process


	The tone of the oil painting canvas was a lovely rich gray color that many of us enjoyed working on.

On pre-stretched, pre-primed canvas, one to two coats of Golden Acrylic #6 Neutral Gray paint diluted with water should be applied to the surface with a brush.

The mixture ratio is approximately two parts water to one part paint. To apply the tone, first cover the entire surface of the canvas with the mixture using a 2- or 3-inch wide brush. When the surface is completely covered make sure the paint surface is smooth by lightly dragging the brush through the paint from one edge to the other across the entire surface.

The finished canvas should have a uniformly smooth gray finish. If the first coat did not cover sufficiently then a second coat of the diluted #6 Neutral Gray toning mixture should be applied. Be careful to not apply the paint too thickly because it reduces the absorbency of the canvas and it makes it harder to apply the paint evenly.

Wight also recommends starting with closer to half water, half paint and see how it spreads.

Happy Painting!

How Do You Pick the Right Workshop?

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 03:31:00 GMT

Whether or not you like to be around a lot of people is one thought to consider when
you choose the right workshop for you. Descent into Bryce by Steve Henderson,
18 x 18, oil painting, also available as a limited edition signed print.

Let's assume that you don't attend workshops at the rate teenaged girls text--All. The. Time.--and you're looking for an experience that will fit not only your schedule and your budget, but your way of painting, and your way of thinking about painting as well.

First things first--look at the work produced by the prospective instructor. Hate it? Indifferent? Pass.

Like it? Learn more.

After you have determined whether or not you can afford the class--keeping in mind not only tuition costs, but travel, lodging, and time away (who will feed the dog?)--then consider how the class will be taught.

Is it hands on, with a relatively small group, and an instructor who circulates the room giving individual feedback about oil painting techniques and methods?

Or is it group seminar style, with 100 of you packed in the same room, assistants doing the circulating while the instructor's head speaks from a large white screen? Choose the learning method that works best for you.

Look over the supply list, read the class description to grasp the objectives, e-mail the instructor or hosting venue with questions, see if there are prerequisites (many of the workshops of my Norwegian artist, Steve Henderson, strongly encourage a fundamental acquaintanceship with drawing), and, if each step leads you excitedly to the next one, sign up.

Go in with an open mind, be willing to try something new even if it seems peculiar, and suspend your preconceptions of how things are supposed to be--after all, you're here to learn from another person, not rely upon what you've always done.

--Carolyn

Carolyn Henderson is the manager of Steve Henderson Fine Art. She is a weekly columnist for Fine Art News, a division of Canvoo, and writes a lifestyle column, Middle Aged Plague, that is published online and in print newspapers throughout the country.

Describing herself as "small, insignificant, and ordinary," Carolyn writes for and about normal, everyday people, who are not small and insignificant at all.

How I Built an Art Network in My Hometown

Patricia Watwood — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 04:45:00 GMT


The Honorable Clarence Harmon, Mayor of St. Louis by Patricia Watwood, oil on canvas, 24 x 18, oval, 2002. Collection of St. Louis City Hall.

Someone recently asked me what I did to get recognized and become part of the art scene in my hometown of St. Louis, and how those connections led to my having a solo exhibit at Saint Louis University Museum of Art. When I lived in St. Louis I wasn't part of the art community. In fact, I was not involved in fine art at all during that time of my life. (I was actually involved in theatre in high school and college).

I left St. Louis right after high school and have been based in New York for the past 15 years. It was only about five years ago that I started to realize that St. Louis could be a wonderful "second base" to balance out my New York art community. (Plus it would allow me to combine work trips with visits to Gramma's house with my kids!)

It all started with a few portrait painting commissions. My mother worked with the former mayor on education policy and when the time for his official portrait came, she suggested, "I know a talented portrait artist you could consider—and she's a native of St. Louis!" (Thanks, Mom!) I submitted a portfolio and subsequently won the commission. Building on that success, I did two commissions for Saint Louis University.

This experience with portraiture taught me that business is built on two priceless intangibles: word of mouth and personal relationships. So, being in the right place at the right time and developing one-on-one connections whenever I went back to St. Louis or corresponded with interested individuals over the phone or email was the key. It's a slow process, but I found that this kind of networking is the most common way to receive new painting commissions.


	Dr. Kenneth R. Smith, Jr. by Patricia Watwood, 2010, oil on canvas, 40 x 40. Collection of Saint Louis University.

In St. Louis, I cultivated my reputation as the "painter from New York" to stand out from the other portrait artists in the community. This allowed me to become better known in St. Louis, both for portraiture and for my studio paintings.

Then two years ago, I decided to have a showcase in St. Louis and do an event to draw people in and get the word out about my paintings. I sent out invitations to my family's extended network of friends, and anyone else we knew in the community with an interest in art. I then converted my mom's living room into an art gallery, bribed my mom to bake a bunch of delicious cakes, and we hosted a party.


Dr. Patricia Monteleone, Dean, by Patricia Watwood, 2008, oil on canvas, 40 x 30. Collection of Saint Louis University Medical School.

I put together a slideshow presentation about the process of commissioning a portrait, and set that up to play on loop in a corner of the "gallery." I also gave a short talk about my art background, the New York art community I'm involved with, and the importance of portraiture.

Two key things developed from this event. One is that I made a good contact with the Director of the Sheldon Art Gallery (a museum), who attended the party. Second, the executive assistant to the President of Saint Louis University came to see the showcase, and she recommended my work to the director at the Saint Louis University Museum of Art.

Father Biondi, the President of the University, is a devoted supporter of the arts with a strong interest in figurative work, and has built an exciting collection for the University. And, happily, they eventually invited me to have an exhibit at the museum. The Museum was pleased to present an artist with St. Louis roots, and to bring the world of contemporary realist painting to the St. Louis audience.

So work to develop key relationships in your circle of art, and over time this can lead to new opportunities. And remember that friends and family can be your greatest allies in spreading the word about your work. And if your mom's an awesome baker—put her to work!

--Patricia

P.S. Have you had similar experiences building your own artistic network? What strategies have you used? Leave a comment and let us know.

For more painting instruction from Patricia, check out her latest DVD, Figure Painting: Realistic Skin Tone.

Want a Portfolio-Ready Painting?

robz — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 03:51:00 GMT

Cast drawing and painting is a tried and true method of learning how to draw in a classical manner. It forces a student to acquire new perceptual and conceptual skills in order to complete the given task at hand. Normally, the process takes several months of slow, carefully measured steps. The results are usually pretty striking and satisfactory.

But my question to you is, what if you don't have a few months? What if you have less that two months to get together a portfolio for college?

At Teaching Studios, we help students who are working under a tight deadline to get several pieces together for a portfolio, for college or otherwise. With paintings and drawings that are of high quality despite being produced in a short amount of time.

One of them, we call Rapid Fire Cast Painting. Here's a step-by-step breakdown to illustrate the concept that was done by one of our Brooklyn-based students. The lesson took six hours. Others take less, some take longer. I'd welcome the chance to answer any questions about the demo and our Portfolio Development / Classical Drawing and Painting Program. Let me know what you think,

Rob
info@teachingstudios.com

Student Exercise: One Day Rapid Fire Cast Painting

The block-in stage. The cast is simply divided into linear shapes,
using vine charcoal directly on canvas. Shadows and light
shapes carry equal weight.

An acrylic wash of earth red is applied.

Four value stage. The student then mixes up a four value scale
of dark, transition, light and highlight. Then the student applies
those values where present on the cast.

Eight value stage. Further refining the painting, the student mixes up
four more intermediary values and applies them between the four values
already present. This results in smoother, more sophisticated
transitions and a great fundamentals piece for a painting portfolio.

Abandon and Control: Robert Liberace's Contradiction in Oil Painting?

judith St. Ledger - Roty — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 12:57:00 GMT

Oil painting demonstration by Robert Liberace.

To listen to Robert Liberace talk during one of his demonstrations, sometimes, fleetingly, it sounds to me like there is an occasional contradiction. The most recent example I can point to is when he talked during his most recent demo about drawing and painting with both "abandon and control." Well, how do I do that? But when I watch him paint, I begin to understand at least how he does that. (I'm a long way from figuring out how to effectively do it myself!)

This oil painting was done in class at the Art League in Alexandria, Virginia (developed further since my last blog), and is a good example of that abandon and control, as is his demonstration in his DVD, The Figure Sketch in Oil.

His first marks with oil on canvas amount to a thin, very fluid line. From my perspective, his gesture is fluid, loose, and yet powerful. From there he adds shadow. Even with the addition of the first pass of shadows, the painted sketch still seems to me to be really fluid, full of motion. Rob seemed to be shaping the form, taking care to pay attention to the width of the light, the width of the shadow, and still, critically, maintaining that initial dynamic gesture even with his straight lines.

In my own paintings, at this point I find that I have to really focus to maintain the oil painting techniques that give me that gesture—the one that made me want to paint that pose in the first place. Rob says that you may want to start over if you find yourself at that point and repeatedly stresses the importance of maintaining the strength of the gesture throughout.

As the shadow shapes take form, the concept of both abandon and control make more sense for me. In the demo, Rob carefully, but quickly, shaped the shadows, both form and cast shadows. Both the bones and muscles began to appear, especially the scapula and vertebral column. The control was initially represented by the care he put into laying in the shadows. (Jon deMartin, an instructor of mine at Studio Incamminati reminds readers in a recent Drawing magazine article that it is critical to keep a clear distinction between light and shadow, and that halftones are part of the light, not part of the shadow.)

When adding color, Rob added the "most obvious color with the largest presence," applying it sometimes with hatching strokes and sometimes blocks of color. He used the half tones to note the plane changes, and turn the individual forms.

He did all that maintaining his initial gesture. Truly using both abandon and control!

--Judith

Finishing My Oil Painting, Leaves of Grass

Patricia Watwood — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 17:55:00 GMT

Notice the chalk lines drawn over the figure to assess and check the proportion and length of her limbs.

I have finally finished my oil painting, Leaves of Grass, which I have blogged about previously. In all, the painting probably took nearly 2 months of time. In an earlier post, I shared the drawing and small study I made in preparation. I transferred the drawing, worked up the underpainting by copying my study, added narrative details from several different sources, and then went back to working from life with my model, Leah.

But before I finished I had a few steps left: After the first wash of color is on the canvas, I continued in "underpainting" mode with the model, truing up the drawing and reassessing the form and structures. I sometimes use a bit of chalk or pastel and draw construction lines or correction marks on top of the dry paint. This is a great tip on how to "edit" your drawing. Using simple lines in red or white pastel, I note the skeletal landmarks (and their symmetrical partners on the other side of the body), the lengths of the parts of the body, and the axis of the gesture and major forms.

The finished version of Leaves of Grass.

By notating the simple construction lines, you can reveal errors in proportion and parallelism and make corrections. The chalk lines can either be completely wiped off using water or solvent, or you can just incorporate the powder into the oil paint when you work back into it. The correction lines will sit on top of the canvas, like a transparent layer, which is useful in helping you analyze and consider changes without getting bogged down.

--Patricia

For more painting instruction from Patricia, check out her latest DVD, Figure Painting: Realistic Skin Tone.