Technique Blog

Technique: Growing Your Own Garden

American Artist — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 07:00:00 GMT

For many artists, growing and tending to their own gardens provides an additional outlet for creative expression.

by Naomi Ekperigin

Tulips in a Square Vase,
by Susan Van Campen, 2006,
watercolor, 23 x 30.
Courtesy Hirschl & Adler Galleries,
New York, New York.

Every artist has, at some point in their studies or their career, painted from nature. One of the most common subjects is the potted flower or plant, which can help one learn about color, form, and working with a living subject. For many, flowers provide endless inspiration and can be beautifully rendered in all media. Artists who have the time and space often plant their own gardens, giving them ready access to their subject matter. However, many have also found that working on their garden enables them to employ the same concepts of design and composition that work so well in painting. Artists Carl and Sandra Bryant, have grown flowers and vegetables for several years on their property, and many of their plantings serve as inspirations for their mosaic artwork. “We have a lot of favorites,” Sandra says. “Tiger lilies, rhododendrons, dianthus, and peonies, to name a few. Some are gifts from friends, and many I choose for the color. Both Carl and I tend toward big, showy flowers set off my more subtle flowers in the background.”

Many artists plant flowers with an idea of what they think will create a beautiful overall space, but soon learn that nature must indeed run its course. “Many times I have really tried to design and plant my gardens, but plants have a funny way of telling you where they want to be,” says watercolorist Susan Van Campen. “So after a lot of trial and error, I have begun to just let some things happen—very similar to painting in watercolor.” The unpredictability of planting is part of what can make gardening so enjoyable for an artist. For those who want to begin planting, it is important to be prepared for the time and energy that is required in the process. Most gardeners do not simply plant seeds and spend the rest of the season watching the flowers grow. “We do a lot of rearranging as plants come up,” says Bryant. “Designing is an ongoing process,” echoes artist Trudy Kraft, who often uses the flowers from her own garden for her watercolors. “Perennials—the plants that survive from season to season—often need to be divided and moved. This can be fun because it provides a recurring opportunity to modify design. Annuals, which have only one growing season, are also fun to play with. In the fall, I sometimes plant a whole bed of tulip bulbs, forget the details of what I planted, and am amazed by the profusion of color that appears in the spring.”

Flowers on the Table,
by Sandra Bryant, 2005,
glass mosaic, 30 x 24.
Private collection.

For those who prefer a less intensive method, artist Christopher Leeper takes a more hands-off approach to his garden, which he recommends. “I like a natural-looking design and let the garden grow and change as it sees fit. Because of my busy schedule, this seems to work. Low-maintenance flowers are great.” Such flowers include Black Eyed Susans, Siberian irises, peonies, and purple coneflowers. These are suitable to most climates and soils but, “read books on what works in your area and plant what you like,” advises Leeper.

Garden's End,
by Christopher Leeper, 2007,
acrylic on linen, 32 x 44.
Collection the artist.

For most artists, it is the plant’s ability to serve as a subject that motivates their planting choices. Depending on the growing season of the flowers one has chosen, along with the area’s climate, such choices do not have to be difficult, because there is a constant flourishing of new subject matter. “Planting what I like to paint has been my priority, but some of my preferences have changed over the years,” says Van Campen. “I like every color, shape, and form, but I don’t enjoy painting tiny little flowers, because I find them too finicky.” Leeper, who has more than 10 kinds of plants in his garden, finds that he too only prefers a few of them for painting. “Of all the flowers I have, only the coneflowers and sunflowers were planted with an idea to paint them. I also planted corn because I like how the dried plant looks in the fall and winter.” It was one of his paintings of dried corn plants, Garden’s End, that made him a semifinalists in the most recent Watercolor Cover Competition. Of the inspiration for that painting, he says, “By the fall, the garden gets neglected, and the weeds compete with the remaining vegetables. This makes for an interesting, albeit untidy, scene.”

Akbar's Folio No. 6,
by Trudy Kraft, 2007,
watercolor and gouache
on Nepalese paper,
12 x 9. Courtsey Gross
McCleaf Gallery, Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania.

Indeed, it is the unexpected moments of inspiration that is the greatest gift to artists who choose to plant a garden. “I find that painting and gardening go well together,” says Kraft. “They stimulate each other.” Van Campen shares this sentiment. “Having a garden has been the best thing for me as a painter because not only do I get a lot of exercise but I also get to observe my subjects throughout their lives, at every stage, which can be perfect for a painting.” For those interested in starting their own garden, many recommend getting to know your climate and soil by reading books and talking with other gardeners. “See if your neighbors or friends want to thin a planting,” suggests Leeper. “It’s an easy and inexpensive way to add plants to your garden.” And it’s important to keep in mind the same rule that artists use when approaching painting: be flexible. “Enjoy the entire process, failures as well as successes, since there is so much to learn from both,” says Bryant. This same attitude should be readily applied to the process of creating fine art, which often requires much trial and error in order to render the subject properly, as well as develop a unique style. With these connections, it is not surprising that so many artists also turn their property into a beautiful source of inspiration. Kraft also offers advice that could easily apply to tackling a painting: “Start small and expand gradually. Make sure that you have the time and interest to do the work involved. As a teacher once told me, ‘In cultivating a garden, you are also cultivating yourself.’”

Naomi Ekperigin is the assistant editor of American Artist.

Technique: Working With a Complementary Palette

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 11:20:00 GMT

Working with a complementary palette can lead to harmonious paintings and the creation of clear, vibrant colors.

By Naomi Ekperigin

Still Life of Egg and Glass,
by Jacob Stevens, 2007,
oil on board, 24 x 18.
Private collection.

For many artists, choosing a palette can be difficult. Each poses different sets of benefits and challenges, and it can take time to learn to maximize a palette’s effectiveness. A palette can be made with as few as three colors, and traditional painting is taught with the rule that the primary colors red, yellow, and blue can be used to make all other hues. However, there are several options for creating harmonious, visually pleasing paintings using a variety of palettes. For some, using complementary colors (those opposite one another on the color wheel) offers a viable alternative to a traditional palette. “Using only two families of color (complementary colors) will naturally give your paintings strength and harmony,” says Joyce Washor in her book Big Art, Small Canvas: Paint Easier, Faster, and Better With Small Oils (North Light Books, Cincinnati, Ohio). “An infinite number of colors can be mixed with the hues in complementary palettes.” Washor first began working with a complementary palette more than 10 years ago as a student at the Woodstock School of Art, in New York, when she took a class with painter HongNian Zhang. “I was getting a lot of muddy color mixtures, and I found using a complementary palette alleviated this problem--although it took me about two years to really get the hang of it.” The three different palettes she uses are red/green, yellow/purple, and blue/orange, which she employs when working in both oil and watercolor. She determines her palette based on the overall mood of the scene or still life.

Washor now teaches several workshops a year on this technique, and asserts that while it may seem simple, the palette is actually quite complex. “It’s the theory of the complementary palette that makes it so effective. It’s based on the idea of yin and yang,” she says. “All aspects of painting can be interpreted this way: value (dark versus light); composition (up and down or left to right); color temperature (warm versus cool); color intensity (soft versus strong); and color hue (green versus red, orange versus blue, and yellow versus purple).” The artist paints portraits, landscapes, and still lifes, and now primarily paints miniature works. “Small paintings have taught me the art of careful color observation,” she notes in her book. “An object may not be immediately recognizable just by its size, so the color has to be representational in order to identify it.” When preparing a setup, she considers which objects would fit in the color scheme she wishes to work in—her favorite is red/green.

Three Onions,
by Joyce Washor, 2007,
watercolor, 3 x 4.
Collection the artist.
Washor used an orange/blue
palette for this piece.

“In my workshops, the first thing I do is have the students make a color chart,” Washor says. “For example, I lay out all the reds and greens if that’s the palette we’re working with, and have them mix them so that they have an idea of the full range of colors available.” Washor’s red/green palette consists of chrome green, permanent green light, Winsor green, sap green, raw umber, bright red, chrome orange, permanent rose, Indian red, purple madder alizarin, blue black, and Permalba white; her preferred brand is Winsor and Newton. “I explain to students that there are some colors they aren’t going to get. For example, with a red/green palette, a truly vibrant blue is not possible. However, the blue you do get will maintain the harmony of the painting, and when the viewer sees it in relation to the other colors in the piece it will appear blue.” Washor also notes that there seem to be a wider range of grays when working with this type of palette.

Jacob Stevens, an artist based in Tucson, Arizona, began working with a complementary palette for the same reasons as Washor. “I am a professional video game artist, but I work in traditional media such as oil as a way of exploring my technique beyond the digital realm,” he explains. “I had been taught that the primary colors red, yellow, and blue could be used to mix any color. That just didn’t seem true to me—the colors I mixed using the primary colors were dull and muddy compared to the premixed colors I bought at the store.” About a year ago, Stevens began experimenting with alternative color palettes in an attempt to save money on tube colors, as well as to simplify his color mixing yet still create colors that were full of life. Of his several experiments, he has found the complementary color palette to be the most intuitive. “I’m also no longer intimidated by the wide variety of colors offered in art stores because I know I can make any of those colors using a complementary palette,” he adds. Stevens classifies himself as a traditional realist painter, and, like Washor, finds his palette suits a whole host of subjects.

Overturned Vase,
by Joyce Washor, 2007, oil.

Complementary palettes are effective for creating rich color because colors appear most vibrant when placed next to their complements. In much of Washor’s work the results of a complementary palette are many neutral tones spiked with contrasting bursts of color and bright highlights—highlights tempered by their complements, which tie the composition together even tighter. Using complementary colors can also draw the viewer’s eye to your focal point. When mixing colors, Washor recommends using a palette knife to add colors in very small amounts. “If you add too much paint and the color is too far off, discard the pile and start again, but save the pile for future use,” she says in her book. “Ninety percent of the time I find that it’s applicable to another part of the painting. This is another advantage of the complementary palette. Colors are so harmonious that even mistakes are usable.” One of the biggest challenges artists face with this palette is training their eyes to see the subtle nuances in color temperature and intensity. Working slowly and taking ample time to study a subject before picking up a brush helps an artist become more familiar with these subtle variations over time.

Melton, by Jacob Stevens,
2007, oil on board,
18 x 25. Private collection.

Overall, both Washor and Stevens find that a complementary palette has far more benefits than disadvantages. “It takes time to learn to master any kind of palette,” says Washor. Those who are interested in experimenting with a set of complementary colors should be open, patient, and willing to take risks as they discover new ways to render their favorite subjects.

Naomi Ekperigin is the assistant editor for American Artist.

Oil Painting Techniques: C.W. Mundy: Painting From Upside-Down Photographs

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 11:19:00 GMT

C.W. Mundy teaches his students to paint effective portraits. Here, we look more closely at his innovative technique for painting portraits from upside-down photographs in this step-by-step demonstration of Bourbon Street Chef, New Orleans.


Step 1 Mundy began the demo by lightly sketching in an underdrawing.	Step 2 Holding his photograph upside down to make sure he was seeing his subject subjectively, Mundy next began blocking in his light, medium, and dark values.	Step 3 Mundy worked from the bottom of his canvas up as he painted sections of colors.

Step 4 The artist painted in his darkest darks with large strokes of color.	Step 5 Once the form began coming together, Mundy added his lighter values and details to the figure.	THE COMPLETED PAINTING: Bourbon Street Chef, New Orleans 2006, oil on linen, 36 x 24. Private collection.

Technique: Trudy Kraft's Watercolors: Art and Nature, Symbol and Pattern

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 10:31:00 GMT

Trudy Kraft expresses her love of art and the natural world in complex, multilayered paintings.

by Lynne Moss Perricelli

Cosmogenesis
2006, watercolor, gouache,
and masking fluid, 25 x 30.
All artwork this article
courtesy Gross McCleaf
Gallery, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,
unless otherwise indicated.

Looking at Trudy Kraft’s paintings brings forth a variety of associations, ranging from quilts to kimonos to ancient symbols. Indeed the artist calls upon an array of influences—from the natural elements around her to the traditional art forms of Japan to the art she studies in museums. Synthesizing all these visual ideas, Kraft uses symbol and pattern to express a “deep intuitive feeling” that forms a mental image, one that she can explore and continue to reveal in a series of paintings.

Employing both an additive and a reductive process, Kraft combines watermedia and masking fluid in multiple layers, with one work leading to the next. “Working in a series creates a remarkable, inexplicable dialogue with the paintings,” she says. “With each one I see more and understand more deeply.” Experimenting with color, tone, texture, and space, Kraft gradually realizes her ideas and feelings in the making of the painting.

Every discussion of Kraft’s work leads in some way to the influence of the extended periods she spent in Kyoto, Japan, in the 1980s, where her husband was writing a doctoral dissertation on a Zen master of the 14th century. Here she studied the tea ceremony, visited temples and museums, enjoyed Kabuki theater, and became fascinated with traditional textile designs—encounters that had a profound and lasting effect on Kraft’s artistic sensibility. As is evident in her work today, she was especially impressed with the textile designs and their fusing of nature and pattern, notably the techniques of Bingata and Tsujigahana, both resist-based. She also studied sumi-e painting and began to see how working in this technique helped her retain and pursue a visual idea. “I loved the idea of filling up a brush and letting it run dry, making a variety of markings,” she adds.


Akbar’s Folio No. 2 2006, watercolor and gouache, 13¼ x 9½.	Akbar’s Folio No. 6 2007, watercolor and gouache on Nepalese paper, 12½ x 9.

The artist’s ideas for her paintings—all of which stem from her reverence for nature and art—originate from her huge store of images, in her mind and in her notebooks. For the past 35 years or so she has kept notebooks of all kinds in which she has made drawings of anything that interests her, but especially of plants, insects, and artwork she has come across in museums around the world, such as Islamic art, Korean pottery, or Aboriginal paintings. “Lately I’ve been very interested in folk art, and I’ve taken a lot from that, especially in my botanical paintings,” she adds. “All these different arts are infinitely inspiring.” She looks through these notebooks on a regular basis, continually rediscovering the material. Recently she came across botanical drawings that she traced onto a piece of Mylar and cut out to make a stencil, for instance. “Some of them are sumi-e irises or butterflies, drawings from my own garden or a museum,” she explains.


Along the Mora 2007, watercolor, gouache, and masking fluid, 51 x 30.	Terma Zone No. 17 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 51 x 40.

The first stage of Kraft’s process is to work out her concept. “I get a mental image,” she describes. “My mind’s eye shows me things. Not that the images turn out like that, but my mind’s eye works on the problem, on the idea, so it’s a combination of an idea and a feeling, and the color will describe it.” The idea changes over time, evolving into a visual concept through a series of small sketches and paintings. “I work up the idea in drawings, large and small, so that I can see if there are problems and make changes,” she says.

The artist then cuts the paper. Working from large rolls of Arches 156-lb paper, she cuts the paper into the desired dimensions—which vary widely but are typically quite large—and then selects her palette. She weights down the paper and wets the surface so the paper will lay flat. She then makes marks to establish the space and applies the first layer of watercolor. Referring to her earlier drawings and paintings, she uses free, broad strokes to lay in the initial colors and design. Once this dries, she applies the first layer of masking fluid. “This protects the initial color,” she says, “and sets up the structure. It’s the bones of the painting.” Next, she adds multiple layers of watercolor on top, building up the imagery, and when those layers are dry, she applies more masking fluid. Throughout the process she works intuitively, responding to the interaction of color and composition. When she is finished layering, she uses a rubber eraser to remove the masking fluid, revealing the underlying layers.


Terma Zone No. 07 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 30 x 25. Private collection.	Terma Zone No. 15 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 22 x 16½.

“When I first started using masking fluid 20 years ago, I used brushes to apply it,” Kraft explains. “Then I used eye droppers, turkey basters, medicine droppers. Now I often use a Masquepen, in which the masking fluid comes out in a fine, continuous line.” At times Kraft uses a range of blacks, grays, and sepias to unify the surface before removing the masking fluid. Other times she applies gouache on top of the final layers to “augment and adorn certain areas, to bring them out,” she says. In all, the process slowly refines the imagery. With the application of controlled patterning, the image becomes more detailed as the work develops.

Kraft employs as many different techniques as necessary for the effects she desires, including wet-on-dry, wet-in-wet, and drybrush. She takes advantage of bloom wherever it occurs and uses the masking to direct the paint flow and make tonal changes. “The paint pulls around the masking and creates space,” she describes. “I flood the surface with color and water, creating more patterns.” To remove watercolor, she uses a sponge or a rag. “I have been experimenting with water-based paints and have developed a variety of techniques,” she says, adding that she appreciates the spontaneous nature of the medium.

Kraft, in fact, thrives on the experimental aspects of her approach, and she seeks to balance setting up a structure with following the “personality and intelligence” of the watercolor medium. “The older I get and the more experienced, the more aware I am of the possible ways of solving painting problems. It would not be interesting to paint if it were all prescribed. Watercolor is difficult, but it depends on how you approach it. For me, when something isn’t working, I put it aside for a while.”

Although Kraft uses Arches paper primarily, she has also experimented with Twinrocker and a few varieties of handmade papers. For paints, she favors Schmincke, Winsor & Newton, Holbein, Turner, and Daniel Smith; for gouache she uses Schmincke or Winsor & Newton. She organizes her tubes of paint in several baskets according to cool and warm colors; she keeps the watercolors and gouache separate. Her brushes are made by a variety of manufacturers and include a number of Japanese brushes and sponge brushes. Other tools include spray bottles and an array of kitchen implements.

Flora and Fauna No. 7
2005, watercolor, gouache,
and masking fluid, 14¼ x 11¼ .
Private collection.

Certainly Kraft’s process shapes the content of her paintings. In a recent series, Terma Zones (terma means “hidden teachings” in Tibetan), the artist explored her longtime interest in borders, employing the masking fluid to create zones of imagery within each piece. “When I first did big pieces, I had to tape them down and this created a border,” she describes. “That border is like a frame. For the past seven or eight years I’ve wanted to make my colors more significant. If everything is a brilliant red, there is nothing to bounce off of it, so to make my colors glow, I used more secondary colors and more water. I started to build the zones into the center, utilizing the entire surface. The process liberated me from the way I was working before. I stopped using gouache as the final layer. To me this became another way to articulate my deep feelings and reverence for nature, to express the joy of it.”

The borders remind her of illuminated manuscripts and painted frames, such as the borders in Mughal and Flemish manuscripts, and this is one way in which Kraft’s paintings become meditative objects, art that contains hidden treasures. In her process of building up and taking away, gradually realizing the imagery, she searches for and brings forth all the treasures hidden within in her own deep connection to art and nature.

About the Artist
Trudy Kraft, born in Amarillo, Texas, now lives in Haverford, Pennsylvania. She studied art at Hamilton College, in Clinton, New York, and the Art Students League of New York, in Manhattan. She has participated in numerous group and solo exhibitions and was a finalist for a Pew Fellowship. Her paintings are in private, corporate, and museum collections, including the Amarillo Museum of Art and the Tyler Museum of Art, both in Texas; and the Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minnesota. She is represented by Gross McCleaf Gallery, in Philadelphia, which hosted a show of her work last March. To learn more, visit www.trudykraft.com or www.grossmccleafgallery.com.

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Technique: Elizabeth Daggar's Architectural Paintings: Boldness & Clarity

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 10:06:00 GMT

This Brooklyn-based artist uses a combination of casein and acrylic to create paintings of considerable power.

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by John A. Parks

Amsterdam II
2007, casein and acrylic, 10 x 20.
Collection the artist.

Elizabeth Daggar makes austere paintings that reveal a stark geometry in her architectural subjects. To achieve the clean, matte finish needed for this type of work, she has developed a technique that involves mixing casein into her acrylic paints. “I build my painting up in thin glazes,” says the artist, “but I find that using acrylic on its own can sometimes leave me with a surface that has a rather plastic look. When I mix in the casein, I get a more velvety and beautiful surface.” Daggar says that using casein alone is not practical for her technique. “It’s difficult to glaze with casein by itself,” she says, “because the top layer tends to disturb the layer underneath when it is rewetted. By mixing the paints together I get the best of both media.” The reason for the different finish of acrylic and casein paints stems from their constituents: Acrylic is made from polymer emulsions, which tend to dry to a glossy hardness, while casein is a protein derived from milk solids that has a gluelike consistency and dries to a very even, matte finish.

Amsterdam III
2007, casein and acrylic, 30 x 40.
Collection the artist.

The results of this combined approach can be seen in Amsterdam I, in which the upper façade of a Dutch house is shown thrusting skyward at a dramatic and almost uncomfortable angle. A thin, clear winter sky hovers overhead, and the windows reflect a golden sun setting somewhere out of view. All the shapes of the building, windows, and street lamp have been strengthened and simplified to a point where they are clean, assertive, and easily read. The effect on the viewer is one of an elegiac emptiness or alienation, somewhere between an image in a graphic novel and a painting by Italian surrealist Giorgio de Chirico. An even starker clarity is evident in Berlin, where a group of buildings has been reduced to a set of severe planes and plunging perspectives. A gray sky churns overhead while a few dead twigs peek from the top of the canvas. Again, the view of almost featureless walls and simplified shapes creates a sense of unease, a slight grimness of alienation and emptiness.

Necropolis
2007, four-color serigraph on paper,
18 x 24. Edition of 48.

Daggar’s work is meticulous from start to finish. “I’ve been a graphic designer for some years,” she says, “and I guess that some of the feel for line and shape as well as the clean finish have come from that world.” Although the artist’s professional life has involved TV animation, digital video, and a large number of print projects, she finds that her painting is an opportunity to explore a quieter, slower-moving world. Her recent work is based on photographs she took while traveling to Holland and Germany. “It was winter,” she describes, “and the streets of Amsterdam were bare of leaves so that you could see the bones of the buildings. The whole city was in silhouette, and the light was amazing.” Some of the images from that trip were made into silk-screen prints, a medium that suits Daggar’s graphic approach and her taste for a limited palette. In her Necropolis image, for instance, she has added a decorative wallpaper pattern to the sky. “When I was traveling in Europe I noticed a lot of heavily printed wallpapers with outsized patterns,” she says. “I added those to the images to convey a sense of the whole experience.”

Berlin
2007, casein and acrylic, 18 x 24.
Private collection.

While on her trips, the artist takes a large number of photographs and uses them as the basis for her paintings and prints. She begins by choosing an image with the kind of graphic qualities that excite her, specifically ones with severe angles and unusual perspectives. “I’m drawn to images that are devoid of people,” the artist explains. “But I don’t think too much about the atmosphere of the work, even though it is important to me. I feel that will emerge as a byproduct of the choices I make while doing the painting.” The stark and restrained look of Daggar’s paintings is increased by her decision to use a palette restricted to umbers, blues, and an occasional yellow. This is a strategy that reinforces the sense of austerity and absence in her work, a kind of blankness that is both intriguing and compelling.

When creating one of her paintings, Daggar begins by drawing a careful graphite outline on the canvas, which often involves considerable simplification and editing of the source information. Many features are removed, along with a lot of surface detail, while the shapes themselves are strengthened and clarified. The artist then begins laying in thin washes of burnt or raw umber in the shadows. “At this stage I’m just establishing the skeleton of the piece,” says the artist. In these early layers the paint is mostly acrylic mixed with acrylic matte medium and just a little casein. “I vary the proportion of casein to acrylic as I work,” says Daggar. “I use more casein in the light-colored areas where I really build up the paint to heavier layers.”

Cypress
2007, four-color serigraph on paper,
18 x 24. Edition of 48

In a larger recent painting the artist experimented with a combination of hard and soft edges. Amsterdam III shows a view looking up a building façade to a group of overhanging awnings. The light shining through the fabric creates soft edges on the striped patterns while the cast shadows on the sides of the building are also soft. Although the overall look of the painting is slightly richer than her other work, the general feel of starkness and alienation remains. Daggar’s interest in edges is also evident in her work in charcoal, in which she relishes the blurry and atmospheric feel that can be achieved with the medium.The artist admits to a wide range of influences in her work. “I admire Edward Hopper for his sense of light and space,” she says. “Even when he doesn’t have figures in his paintings you feel that they are about people. You often have the sense that someone has just left the picture or that some sort of story is taking place in the houses he paints.” The artist is also attracted to the work of Charles Sheeler, mostly for his adventurous simplifications and his decision to take on subject matter that is anything but picturesque. Daggar admires Picasso because of the broad range of work he took on, and she has also recently become an admirer of Mary Cassatt, noting that this artist probably got less recognition than she deserved simply because of her gender.
As for the future of Daggar’s work, the artist feels that she will probably try to pare down her images even more, approaching starker and more abstract images.

About the Artist
Elizabeth Daggar studied at the Pratt Institute, in New York City, where she majored in graphic design. “I was attracted to the program because of the wide range of media I was able to work in,” she says, “but most of my electives were in the fine-art area.” Since college she has worked as a freelance graphic designer, doing animation work for VH1 as well as doing a large variety of print projects. She has published a number of posters through her own design company, Electrofork, and showcased one of her short films at Resfest 1999 and NY Vidfest 2000. She is represented by the Object Image Gallery, in Brooklyn, New York. More of the artist’s work can be seen on her website at www.electrofork.com.

John A. Parks is an artist who is represented by Allan Stone Gallery, in New York City. He is also a teacher at the School of Visual Arts, in New York City, and is a frequent contributor to American Artist, Drawing, Watercolor, and Workshop magazines.

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Technique: Trudy Kraft's Multilayered Watercolors

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 09:57:00 GMT

In the summer 2008 issue of Watercolor, we discussed how Trudy Kraft expressed her love of art and the natural world in complex, multilayered paintings. In this online exclusive gallery, we present more of Kraft's mixed media watercolors.


Terma Zone No. 02 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 30 x 25. All artwork this gallery courtesy Gross McCleaf Gallery, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.	Terma Zone No. 08 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 30 x 25.	Palo Duro 1105 2006, watercolor, gouache, and masking fluid, 30 x 25.


Akbar's Folio No. 7 2007, watercolor and gouache on handmade paper, 15 x 14¾.	Akbar's Folio No. 1 2006, watercolor and gouache, 9½ x 6½.	Terma Zone No. 10 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 21 x 61¾.


Terma Zone No. 18 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 51 x 20.	Terma Zone No. 19 2007, watercolor and masking fluid, 51 x 20.

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Technique: Mosaic Art: The Tile Creations of Carl and Sandra Bryant

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 09:55:00 GMT

Artists Carl and Sandra Bryant use tiny pieces of glass to create intricate mosaic works of art.

by Stephanie Kaplan


Autumn Landscape by Sandra Bryant, 2006, glass mosaic, 24 x 32. Collection the artist.	Mosaic Landscape by Sandra Bryant, 2005, glass mosaic, 24 x 24. Collection the artist.

Art is often a labor of love, but it’s especially so for husband and wife mosaic team Carl and Sandra Bryant. “Sandy had worked in oil painting for many years, and we wanted to try something that we could do together,” explains Carl. The couple first explored making clay fine art pieces and hand-pressed tiles for backsplashes and before settling on creating mosaics together in 2001. “We both immediately fell in love with the medium,” continues Carl. “Not believing in starting small, the first piece we attempted was a 45” x 60” mural of an urban coffee stand,” Carl recalls. “Despite the challenges, once we were done we knew we had found something that we both loved and could work on together.”

Because the Bryants are self-taught, their creative process was honed through from trial and error. Each mosaic begins with a thumbnail graphite sketch of the subject matter, followed by a more detailed pen-and-ink drawing on kraft paper. Depending on the design, Sandra will sometimes also complete an acrylic painting on kraft paper covered with gesso—“I’m just looking at shading, composition, and color when I do the painting,” the artist clarifies. Once the composition and color is established for the mosaic, the painting or drawing is placed on a board and used as a pattern guide for the mosaic. The artists utilize the reverse indirect mosaic method to create their mosaics—piecing together a standard fine art mosaic that is five or six square feet takes about five days. Once the pattern is covered with clear contact paper sticky side up, the artists place the tesserae—the individual glass pieces in a mosaic—on the pattern and move them around to create the desired design. “It’s like putting together a big puzzle,” Sandra explains. “It’s important to have the tesserae flow in a line so that the sections of the mosaic match up exactly—if the line breaks, the composition doesn’t flow.” This technique provides maximum flexibility because the artists can change the position of the tiles multiple times until they reach their desired composition. Once the mosaic is pieced together, the face of the mosaic is covered with tile tape, which is much stickier than the contact paper. Another board is placed on top of the tile tape and the sandwiched mosaic is flipped onto its front. The artists then peel off the contact paper from the back of the mosaic, grout the tiles from the back, and adhere the mosaic to its final base with white Laticrete, a cemtent-based glass adhesive. “The process of grouting the tiles from the back of the mosaic gives the top of the mosaic a very smooth surface,” Sandra explains. “We use an archival base of either fully primed top-quality marine plywood, reinforced cement, or cement board, and we use reinforced mortar that is made to adhere to glass mosaic,” Carl adds. “Mosaics have been around since ancient times and many are still in wonderful condition.”


Birth of a Planet by Carl Bryant, 2006, glass mosaic with beads, 24 x 22. Private collection.	Gelato by Carl Bryant, 2006, glass mosaic, 30 x 24. Collection the artist.

After a one-week drying period, the artists peel off the tile tape from the front of the mosaic and fill in any small spaces between the tiles with additional grout. “I like to use different colored grouts depending on the design because there isn’t one color that looks right with everything,” Sandra explains. If I had to choose one grout color to use for all of my mosaics, I would go with a neutral beige color because it makes the tile colors pop.”

To create their intricate mosaics, the artists use many types of glass—two of their favorite manufactures are Aura and Sicis. Sandra also purchases stained glass and glass cabochons—a gem created by melting pieces of glass together—to use in the mosaics. Although the couple estimates that they have 1,000 jars of glass in their studio, they put anything they like in mosaics—turquoise or coins—anything that they find, anything that inspires them. The artists follow the same philosophy when considering the palette for their pieces—“We tend to use a lot of red in our fine art work, but we really enjoy more muted palettes as well. It really depends upon the individual piece,” Sandra says. Regardless of their color choices, the artists generally work with more saturated colors because they produce more eye-catching mosaics.


Flowers on the Table by Sandra Bryant, 2005, glass mosaic, 30 x 24. Private collection.	Striped Wallpaper by Sandra Bryant, 2007, glass and gold leaf mosaic, 32 x 24. Collection the artist.	The Black Vase by Sandra Bryant, 2007, glass and gold leaf mosaic, 24 x 24. Collection the artist.

Despite the couple’s love for the same creative process, their work is quite different. Carl’s mosaics tend to be more abstract, such as Gelato and Birth of a Planet, while Sandra focuses on landscapes and still lifes. In Gelato Carl’s use of different shades of red tile makes the more intricate yellow and green design stand out. The intricate details that make this mosaic so effective can also be seen in Sandra’s Flowers on the Table. “Most of our fine art projects have an average of 1,600 individually shaped pieces of glass per square foot,” explains the artists’ website. A close look at the flower stamens in Striped Wallpaper illustrates that even the smallest part of a flower is composed of many tiny pieces of glass that add a realistic quality to the mosaic. “Sometimes one flower in our garden will inspire a floral still life,” Sandra explains.


Carl clips glass to fill in the sides of an almost completed floral work. The preliminary pattern painting sits in the foreground.	Sandra cleans the mosaic after it has been grouted and adhered to its permanent base. The mosaic is cleaned because the preliminary layer of grout on the back of the mosaic is never perfect. The final topcoat of grout is important for color corrections and for filling in tiny holes left over after the preliminary layer of grout.

Although the couple has only taken on one public mosaic mural, public art is something we are very interested in and would like to do more of. Installing the mosaic at the Lucille Umbarger Elementary School in, Burlington, Washington, was a challenge, but Sandra is anxious to take on similar projects because she enjoyed working with a community. Regardless of the type of mosaics the couple creates, Sandra reiterates that they continue to work with this medium for one simple reason—because it’s really fun.

For more information on the Bryants, visit their website, www.showcasemosaics.com.

Stephanie Kaplan is the online editor of American Artist.

Technique: Lana Grow: Going With the Flow and Exploring Abstraction

American Artist — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 09:54:00 GMT

As an experimental artist, Minnesotan Lana Grow has no rules. She begins her paintings in different ways and lets them evolve.

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by Linda S. Price

Simply Flora
2006, watermedia, 22 x 22.
Collection the artist.

This is a direct painting
without much layering,
representing the artist’s desire
to move in a different
direction with color.

Lana Grow’s career as an artist did not begin in the traditional way. “I wanted to have some original art on my walls,” she explains, “and I didn’t have the extra money for that.” So she took a class in watercolor, did a few paintings, and hung them. Soon she was hooked, and every year she enrolled in another class. When the last of her children went off to college she finally set up a studio and established a successful career painting traditional paintings. This led to creating a line of handmade greeting cards, which later led to painting on ornaments. But she longed to do something different—to capture an emotional response rather than duplicate what she saw. So she veered in the direction of abstraction and kept going.

“Abstract is fun,” she exclaims. “It gives an avenue for the viewer to participate in the creative venture with you. I like to provide an element of mystery or intrigue so people will look at the painting more than once and ask, ‘What’s that?’ I want them to revisit and become involved.”

Not one for rules, Grow likes to go with the flow and experiment. To this end she starts every painting in a unique way. Sometimes her inspiration comes from nature, such as the spectacular sunset in Sun to Earth Revealed. Sometimes it springs from the desire to explore a new technique. In Simply Flora her goal was to move in a different direction in terms of color—away from her usual blue hues into reds and yellows. Other times she begins with an element from a previous successful painting and explores it further, perhaps keeping the same basic format and design but altering the color scheme. As she tells her students, “Expand on your own work, on what you do well. You don’t have to reinvent the wheel every time you start a painting.” She also sets challenges for herself—such as creating a painting without using a brush. “When I’m stumped for an idea,” she says, “or when I want a structure to learn on, I leaf through magazine ads looking for good design, strong contrast, and big and little shapes.” Then, using a viewfinder to focus on small sections, the artist looks for those that might provide the basis of an abstract painting. Sometimes, instead of magazines, she uses her own photos or paintings. She also looks to a book on the great painters of the 20th century for inspiration—-ways to begin a painting or solve problems.


Sun to Earth Revealed 1998, watermedia, 30 x 22. Private collection. The artist was inspired to create this painting after witnessing a spectacular sunset near her cabin retreat. She used a gold-leaf pen to bring out the shapes of the leaves.	Centered Energy Escape 2007, watermedia, 30 x 22. Private collection. Grow began this without a specific subject in mind, allowing the surface to evolve as she worked. She created the white lines spontaneously with a squirt bottle filled with gesso.

Grow’s paintings evolve in many ways. “It’s hard to pin down the process of an experimental painter,” she explains. “It’s my painting. I do what I want to do. But I try to do new things and experiment to keep fresh. My process varies from painting to painting. Each painting eventually takes on a new life.”

If she has a plan in mind, she draws the design on her paper before beginning the layering process, which is the basis of most of her paintings, although sometimes she creates texture on her surface before layering. She coats her surface with acrylic paint or gesso, usually a light color, then when it’s still wet she removes selected areas. Because this method requires speed—-which she finds makes her more spontaneous—-Grow uses a spray bottle to keep the paint wet. She advises her less experienced students to add a few drops of glazing liquid to their paints to keep them workable longer. To remove paint, the artist calls upon many methods and tools: dabbing with a Kleenex or rolling over a paper towel; using alcohol, which reacts with the water and paint to create blooms; working with erasers, sponges, shapers, or a squeegee; and scraping away with chopsticks or metal pot-scrubbers. Then she adds another layer of paint, usually darker, and follows the same process. She paints and selectively scrapes anywhere from three to five layers, letting some of the previous layers peek through and trying to make every area interesting and different. “I’m always looking for things that can create new textures,” she says, noting that she has a large collection of what other people might think of as trash, including old chopsticks, rubber nonslip grips, as well as corrugated paper, Saran Wrap, bubble wrap, and wax paper. “At some point,” she notes, “I leave any plan I might have and let the painting start talking to me. Then all my years of painting experience, plus my knowledge of the elements and principles of design and my natural color sense, kick in, and my inner computer takes over.”


SW Raw Sienna Pedernal 2006, watermedia and collage, 30 x 20. Private collection. A classroom demonstration using gesso, gel, and collage, this painting was influenced by Grow’s travels in the Southwest and depicts a mountain often painted by Georgia O’Keeffe.	Willing to Accept the Risk 2006, watermedia, 30 x 22. Private collection. Beginning with an initial layer of black gesso, the artist worked primarily with opaque paint. The painting took her in a different direction and made her stretch, hence the title.

She has some favorite formats, including cruciform, shape within a shape, bridging, strata (or landscape), grid, T-format, and opposing forces, and she may begin a painting with one in mind, or as the painting develops one might emerge. Nor is she adamant about establishing a focal point or center of interest. If she feels a painting needs one, she usually employs the Golden Mean.

Sometimes she turns to collage to create this interest, using either handmade or found paper. In particular, she likes crystalline paper, which she makes by placing high-quality white tissue paper underneath a plastic garbage bag and covering the tissue paper with gesso. When it’s dry she turns it over and gessoes the other side. While that’s still wet she pours on three colors she’s mixed with water and polymer medium. It dries with beautiful crackly lines. She adheres the torn and cut pieces of paper to her surface—-painted side down—-with soft gel medium. Contrast is essential in collage, so she’s careful to vary edges, sizes, and shapes, making sure the pieces lead the eye around the painting and being alert to arrow shapes that might lead the eye out of the frame. If the piece still isn’t working, she can paint on the paper (saving the opaque paint until the end) or use stamps, colored pencils, oil pastels, metallic pens, or other tools. Ever mindful of the need for variety, she advises, “Every time you touch the paper, think of doing it in a different way.” Because unity is equally important, she often covers the whole painting with a wash of transparent color. Using a common overall surface manipulation can also achieve the same result. The last step, if a painting has both shiny and dull areas, is to unify them with a coat of either polymer gloss medium or matte medium or a combination of both to create a satin finish.

Catch the Rhythm/Join the Party I
2007, watermedia, 30 x 22.
Collection the artist.

The first piece in the series,
this painting was inspired by a
small abstract section the
artist discovered in a magazine ad.

These are the techniques Grow teaches her students in her workshops, but she emphasizes that “they teach themselves to paint with the tools I give them. I give them the chance to learn and explore. I teach a technique, but students must be willing to take a risk and to make it their own. I also inspire them to have confidence in themselves. I tap into their creative spirits and motivate their own authentic voices. I want them to leave excited about painting and knowing they can do it—-if they work hard enough.”

About the Artist
Lana Grow, of Arden Hills, Minnesota, studied at the University of Minnesota, the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and the College of St. Catharine, all in Minneapolis, as well as in workshops with well-known teachers. She conducts workshops around the United States and has sold her paintings on the internet, at art fairs, and at one-person and group shows. She is represented in Minnesota by Vine & Branches Gallery, in St. Paul; Three Havens Artworks, in Alexandria; and Art Holdings Gallery, in Minneapolis. Her work is featured in Searching for the Artist Within, by Karlyn Holman (Bayfield Street Publishing, Bayfield, Wisconsin); Creative Composition & Design, by Pat Dews (North Light Books, Cincinnati, Ohio); Splash 8 (North Light Books, Cincinnati, Ohio), and The Art of Layering: Making Connections (published by the Society of Layerists in Multi-Media). She is a signature member of the American Watercolor Society, the Red River Watercolor Society, the International Society of Experimental Artists, and the Society of Layerists in Multi-Media. Learn more about the artist on her website at www.artshow.com.

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Technique: Watercolor Pencil Tips and Techniques

American Artist — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 09:53:00 GMT

Learn about working with water-soluble pencils from Kristy Ann Kutch, author of Drawing and Painting With Colored Pencil (Watson-Guptill Publications, New York, New York).

by Kristy Ann Kutch

Water-soluble colored drawing products include: 1) watercolor pencils and woodless pencils, which have cores of watercolor pigment blended with binders 2) water-soluble ink-type pencils, which are used like watercolor pencils but which are more permanent and staining and 3) watercolor crayons or water-soluble waxy stick-type products. Each of these products allows the artist to create a drawing in dry form, then apply water to dissolve the pigment for aqueous effects.

When sharpening a water-soluble colored pencil, always dust off the pencil tip before using. Sawdust from the pencil casing can appear as tiny fragments that appear grainy in a washed area and keep it from looking pure and smooth. Some excellent pencils are just a little too large in diameter for an electric sharpener, but these leads are well worth the labor of hand-sharpening.

Dried watercolor pencil can often be lifted and erased, depending on the nature of the pigment and how staining it is. To erase such pigment, allow the surface to dry completely. (This is the biggest challenge for an eager, impatient artist!) Then use a white vinyl eraser— a battery-powered or electric eraser is ideal for this—and erase the area to be lifted. Be certain to whisk away the eraser crumbs and to not try this when there is any wet area on the art. Eraser crumbs fly in every direction and can cling to and ruin a smooth, wet wash, making it look grainy.

If a pencil tip should break while sharpening, clean off the sawdust and save the tip in a sealed sandwich bag. It can be placed into a tiny container, like a plastic milk-jug lid, and used for painting from the point. Simply add a few drops of water to wet the point and use it like a cake or pan of watercolor. This works well with a fine brush for painting details.

Sun-Kissed Lilies
shows the grated pencil
technique on the petals of
the lilies and in the
deep violet particles in
the background.

Pigmentation in water-soluble pencils is very important. Buy quality products, which have more pigment and less “filler” ingredients. It is better to buy a small set of quality pencils and blend colors than to buy a large, cheaply-made set. The quality is evident once the drawing is washed with a damp brush. Poor quality pencils yield washed-out, faded-looking colors and quality products give rich, densely-hued results that stay vivid. Look for brands that are available in open stock so it is easy to purchase duplicates of favorite colors.

To custom-blend colors, make a homemade watercolor pencil palette. Using scrap material, densely scribble the dry colors onto the surface. (Textured surfaces that grab the pigment work very well for this purpose: Ampersand Aquabord, Art Spectrum Colourfix Paper, or Wallis Sanded Pastel Paper.) Add a few drops of water from a brush and wet and swirl the colors until dissolved and blended. Simply paint small areas (such as petals and leaves) right from this homemade palette. This wash can be diluted, too, for a lighter, more subtle wash, such as for shadows.

Watercolor pencil pigment can be applied over wax-based pencil for fine details and smooth, fluid-looking shadows. Simply prepare a puddle of wash in a shadow color and brush it over the wax-penciled layer. The wax-based pencil does not cause a wax-resist, as might be expected.

For a densely-speckled effect, wet the area (e.g., a flower petal) with a brush first. Then take the desired shades of watercolor pencils and a strip of sandpaper and grate the tip of the watercolor pencil over the dampened surface. The watercolor pencil dust falls onto the surface, is dissolved, and clings to the desired area. Simply blow away the excess pigment-dust; it only clings to the area that has been dampened. This is an excellent technique for rendering “freckles” on lilies or moss on tree trunks.

Simply Juicy
illustrates a spattered
background completed with
watercolor pencils and
a toothbrush.

Very fine details can be painted with watercolor pencil and a fine brush. Either prepare and wet a homemade palette of the desired color or paint right from the tip of the watercolor pencil. An excellent brush for such fine details is a No. 2 Lizard Lick brush from Cheap Joe’s Art Stuff. It looks ragged and wispy when dry but comes to a fine, precise point when wetted. It also holds a surprising amount of liquid.

Spattering is easy with water-soluble colored pencils. Simply wet a soft, adult-size toothbrush with plain water and brush the watercolor pencil tip across the damp bristles until the bristles are heavily loaded with pigment. Dab the brush four or five times against a tissue to absorb the excess liquid; this also gives a better-controlled, more finely-misted spatter. If a droplet that has landed on the surface seems too large, take a corner of the tissue and let the tissue wick up the droplet. Do not blot.

See my book Drawing and Painting with Colored Pencil (Watson-Guptill Publications, New York, New York) for illustrations and examples of many of the hints.

Technique: Sissi Siska: Transforming Silk Painting

American Artist — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 09:52:00 GMT

New Jersey artist Sissi Siska reinvents traditional silk-painting techniques to create multimedia works of art.

by Stephanie Kaplan


Orchids on Blue Ferns 2005, dyes, gutta, and wax on crepe de chine silk, 6’ x 3’. Collection the artist.	Detail of Orchids on Blue Ferns.

New Jersey artist Sissi Siska transforms delicate pieces of silk into complex paintings with many dimensions. Formerly a textile designer, Siska has been painting silk for more than 20 years. “Having had no formal training in textile arts, I learned the original French technique of painting on silk —gutta-serti resist—by trial and error,” Siska explains.

Experimentation and the willingness to try new techniques are at the core of Siska’s silk-painting technique. The artist mostly uses crepe de chine or jacquard silk, which are similar to the weight of a silk scarf. She prefers these silks because they have a tooth—similar to the tooth in watercolor paper—that accepts more dye. “I like to find unusual silk fabrics with unusual weaves,” the artist says. “When the light hits the pattern it produces a luster that adds dimension to the overall composition.” Siska prefers dyes made by Dupont or Sennelier, but emphasizes, “Each color and fabric has its own personality.” These dyes produce brilliant colors and maintain the silk’s smooth texture.


Harlequin This textile design sample demonstrates Siska’s various wax techniques, including crackling.	Green Orchid This sample illustrates the crackle technique in the stamen of the flower.

Siska begins her process by stretching a piece of white silk on an open frame to create her canvas. She works on frames constructed from soft wood. “Because I add many layers of dye to the fabric, the silk sags, and I need to keep stretching the fabric over and over again as I work,” she says. The artist also uses a special Japanese stretching system that can accommodate cloth as large as nine feet long. Because spontaneity is the key to her creative process, Siska rarely completes preliminary sketches for her paintings. She makes an exception for elaborate borders and large banners because it is difficult to create these compositions completely by eye. If needed, she will begin with a graphite sketch on tracing paper. This drawing is then placed underneath the silk when it is stretched out on the frame.

Mauve Orchids With Ginger
2004, dyes, gutta, and
wax on crepe de chine
silk, 9’ x 3’. Collection
the artist.

This painting was one of 12
banners selected to be
part of the Orchids!
Beauty and Beyond exhibition
at the United States
Botanical Garden in
Washington, DC, sponsored
by the Conservatory and
the Smithsonian Institution.

Siska’s modifications to the French gutta-serti resist technique make her silk paintings unique. The traditional gutta-serti technique involves outlining the compositions in white gutta, which is a solvent-based resist with the consistency of glue. Instead, Siska uses a vanishing marker to loosely place her composition on the silk—“I don’t outline everything in white because I don’t want the viewer’s eye to bounce around to all of the white outlines,” she explains. Next, she adds a background color to the composition. Once the background dries, she begins drawing with a bottle or pipette of gutta, changing the tip to create varied lines on the silk. Another layer of dye is applied around the gutta lines, and this process is repeated a number of times to create a multilayered background. “Because the silk and gutta are both white, the gutta saves the white lines and keeps the dye in the outlined areas in a way that is similar to watercolor masking,” Siska explains.

Siska used a wax mask
to create deep accent
details in the center
of Mauve Orchids
With Ginger.

The artist experiments with alternatives to gutta and different ways of moving the dye around the silk canvas. She often utilizes hot wax instead of gutta to mask out sections of her compositions. “Using the wax produces a freer, more organic line than drawing with the bottle of gutta,” Siska explains. Regardless of which medium she uses, Siska constantly tests the consistency of the wax or gutta, and paints layers of dye on another board to preview color combinations. She sometimes uses salt to push the wet dye around on the silk—“this makes a very interesting background,” the artist says. To create highlights with the dye, Siska uses a pipette of alcohol or a Q-tip to lift a layer of color from the silk, and then dries the highlight immediately with a hair dryer. Removing color with bleach also creates patterns in her compositions.


Tools and brushes that are used to apply wax and dye to the silk. “ The tool with a lot of prongs creates many interesting wax textures,” Siska explains.	Siska’s French steamer has an extension to accommodate fabric up to 60 inches wide and 20 yards long.

One of the artist’s most innovative techniques can be seen in Green Orchid. In floral paintings such as this, she uses what she calls the crackle technique. “I take the silk off the frame to crackle and break the wax—this creates great patterns,” Siska explains. “When you crackle silk, you give the color a specific place to go—the crackled areas in the silk are similar to the veins in a crumpled piece of wax paper.” Paraffin wax creates a heavier crackle, while softer beeswax yields a finer crackle. Once she has crackled the silk, Siska places it back on the frame, uses wax or gutta to mask around a specific crackled area, and then adds color to the crackled veins. She often repeats the crackle technique a few times to achieve multiple layers of color and texture. In Mauve Orchids With Ginger, the artist uses the crackle technique to create the details in the orchid centers.

Once Siska is satisfied with her composition, she removes the silk from the frame and uses a steamer from France to set the dyes in the fabric. She tends to steam a few paintings at a time—separated by sheets of newsprint—to prevent the paintings from soaking up too much moisture. The newsprint also soaks up the melting wax and any excess dye. Although the colors brighten and bond to the silk in about an hour, Siska leaves the paintings in the steamer for two hours to ensure that the composition is completely set. Finally, the silk painting is dry cleaned to remove any wax residue and scraps of newspaper that stick to the gutta.


Storm Over Leland Gardens 1993, 36 x 36, dyes, gutta, and wax on silk crepe de chine. Collection The Bysis Group.	Dragonflies 1989, dyes, gutta, and wax on crepe de chine silk, 22 x 18. Collection Nolan Kierce.

Siska takes special pride in preserving her finished pieces. The artist uses 100 percent rag mount board and displays her pieces behind museum-quality glass to prevent the colors from fading. Because lighting conditions can have a profound effect on her finished work, the artist rarely exhibits her larger pieces for extended periods of time. As Siska reminds us, “A silk painting is like an antique kimono that needs to be preserved.”

For more information on Siska, visit her website at www.sissisiska.homestead.com, or contact her at siskasissi@yahoo.com.

Stephanie Kaplan is the online editor of American Artist.

Technique: George James: Innovations With Transparent Watercolor

American Artist — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 09:51:00 GMT

Known for his innovative method of using transparent watercolor on a nonabsorbent surface, this California artist employs an open-ended approach.

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by Lynne Moss Perricelli

Sunday Morning Nougat
2003, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36.
All artwork this article collection
the artist unless otherwise indicated.

George James loves the spontaneity of watercolor so much that he works exclusively on a surface that repels the water, allowing him to rework the paint and allow the imagery to evolve for as long as he pleases. “My whole philosophy is to work spontaneously, and with traditional watercolor the artist gets about one and a half chances at it,” he says. “With the materials I use, I can keep honing a painting for weeks.”

In a departure from the traditional surface of paper, James prefers to paint on a sheet of plastic called Yupo. He first encountered the product in 1982 while teaching at California State University, Fullerton, where one of his students was drawing on a new surface her husband had given her from his work in the printing industry. Intrigued, James began experimenting with the material, which was originally named Kimdura, continually trying new materials and techniques to achieve the effects of traditional watercolor on this new nonabsorbent surface. “I can take paint back as well as put it on,” he describes. “This allows me to work expeditiously on all kinds of variations on that idea. I can build layers and a complicated orchestration of color and texture and patterns, and yet the transparency remains.” This method fits James’ overall approach, which is the “push-and-pull idea,” he says, “and trial and error.”

The Path of the Melody
2006, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36.

When he first began experimenting with Yupo, the artist simply applied his extensive knowledge of traditional watercolor—at the time almost 15 years as a full-time artist and teacher—and adapted the materials and techniques to suit the new surface. When laying in a broad wash, for instance, he learned to use a roller or squeegee to make the color smooth after he had applied it with a brush. He learned how to use drybrush and work wet-in-wet, and he began employing spatulas and other tools to create patterns and texture. At the same time, he learned how to blot paint with a tissue or paper towel to lighten areas and adjust the values. “I still used all the traditional tools,” James adds. “I just had to learn to use them differently. And there’s a lot more freedom and possible solutions to problems that arise. I find it a much more creative way to work.”

James’ paintings today are primarily figurative, which reflects his career teaching life drawing and other studio-art classes as much as his own attraction to the subject. Less concerned with anatomy than he would be while teaching, the artist focuses instead on using the figure metaphorically, often grouping figures or situating them within interiors. “I’m interested in the way people sit and talk,” he says, “and how they communicate with the body.” The interiors have become another rich area of exploration, creating an opportunity to experiment with space, objects, and decorative elements.

Cherries, Tea, and Pips
2002, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36.

The artist’s subject matter originates from firsthand observation, memories, and his imagination, as well as photos and sketches. “For the most part I build images from sketches,” he explains. “I might take photos at a street party, and from there I make a sketch in which I combine imagery from several different photos. I might like the way someone is sitting or is dressed, holding something. I piece the image together from shapes, patterns, colorations. The whole thing is a big montage.” Although he may take numerous photos and study them carefully, he relies on them only for the information they provide, not for compositional ideas or content. “I’m just recording friends, people, stuff,” he says, adding that the ideas and drawings in the sketchbook are his primary resource. On a recent trip to Maui, for instance, he returned home with a sketchbook full of many new ideas. “I just drew, drew, drew,” he says.

Lady in the Blue Glove
2006, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36.

In beginning a new painting, James first makes a series of sketches of possible compositions, gradually finalizing the design. “I basically start with the locations of things,” he describes. “With a Derwent watercolor pencil, I lay down a linear pattern. I’m conscious of the dynamics and the pattern of lights and darks. As I’m composing I’m thinking design, and I’m trying to achieve clarity.” The artist prefers Derwent because it is water-soluble and, unlike a graphite pencil, can be corrected or eliminated without marring the Yupo surface.

The lights and darks are critical to James’ work, but he does not think of them in terms of a value pattern. “Imagine a checkerboard,” he explains. “The darks describe the lights and the lights describe the darks. I just apply that to my composition. I have to sort that out in the drawing, and once I have that I can decide the colors.”

Pressing My Haircut
2000, watercolor on Yupo, 35 x 25.

Rather than relying on local color, James looks to his emotional response to a subject to determine a palette for a painting. For instance, The Music Lesson [not shown] focuses on the memories and emotions evoked when James opened his old violin case for his granddaughter, who had decided to take lessons. “When I opened the case, all my memories popped out,” he says. “The violin was old and varnishy, and it triggered some colors in my mind—all those layers of varnish. And one thing led to another.” Managing color from an emotional viewpoint rather than an intellectual one, the artist has a strong sense of the content of the painting as he begins it. “I sit on it and have a sense of it,” he says. He then uses his knowledge of color mixing, split complements, tertiaries, and so forth to create the effects he desires.

The process of developing the painting centers on the gradual evolution of the imagery, combined with the refinement of the light and dark pattern. “I always look at the range of values,” James says, “from the brightest paper to the blacks. I mix a broad range of values and develop the painting to show that range. The work is not dainty. There’s a lot of strength in that regard.” Working on Yupo allows James the advantage of an immediate sense of the value structure, because the values do not become lighter as the paint is absorbed into the paper, as in traditional watercolor. “To make the values darker, I just take water out of the paint, and I’m constantly adjusting the amount of water as I paint,” the artist explains. “To lighten a value, I blot it with tissues or paper towels.”

Blue Fishing Crows
2004, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36.

As James continuously adds and removes paint, he manipulates it with whichever tools are appropriate for the effects he wants. Concentrating on the emotional content, he looks to the gesture of the figure, colors, forms, and patterns to develop the piece. In a portrait he completed several years ago, for instance, he was thinking of his father who had recently died, and although he wanted to capture his face, he couldn’t remember it. “I wanted his face specifically, but I just couldn’t do it,” he says. “I was grieving, and thinking of all my memories of my father, and I decided to take out his face and just capture his gesture.”

Many of James’ paintings incorporate geometric forms that serve both as decorative elements and flatten the pictorial space. “I’m interested in the flatness of the surface of a painting, and I am intentional in not making a work look dimensional.” The geometric forms contribute to this effect in the way in which they direct the viewer’s eye and interrupt the perspective, as does the Yupo surface itself. “Yupo is a surface-oriented material,” James notes. “Things lay flat, and I enhance that with the decorative elements. All this goes back to my undergraduate education, which had a lot to do with the integrity of the two-dimensional surface. In traditional watercolor, the paint disappears, but on Yupo I can do a lot more, and it’s a wonderful experience.”


Chocolate Ruby Ketchup 1998, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36. Private collection.	The Rug 2006, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 36.

In addition to the Yupo paper, the artist favors DaVinci watercolor paints, Jack Richeson & Co. brushes, and Stephen Quiller palettes. He finds his tools for texture at any store and has an extensive supply of spatulas, squeegees, foam rollers, and craft brushes. His typical palette includes the following: aureolin, yellow ochre, Indian yellow, benzimida orange, cadmium red medium or light, alizarin crimson, opera, Hooker’s green light, emerald green, phthalo green, cobalt blue, ultramarine blue, cerulean blue, phthalo blue, cobalt turquoise, and dioxazine purple.

Although James’ works are widely acclaimed, many watercolor artists object to the use of nontraditional materials such as Yupo and believe that such artwork should be eliminated from society shows. “I try to keep my head above the fray,” James says of the controversy. “I like to think we live in a society that embraces new things. Why exactly would anyone want to protect an 18th-century paper anyway? All the materials have changed, and now there’s a synthetic paper that necessitates a different approach and changes the look. People get angry about it, but it’s just plain watercolor with a different way of working with it.”


The Last Tea 2000, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 37.	Party of the Jewelstone Mother 2003, watercolor on Yupo, 26 x 40.

To other artists interested in Yupo, James advises persistence. “Just stick with it, and eventually you will break out into the open,” he says. “With time you will be able to bring some sanity and control to the process, and that’s true in any medium.”

About the Artist

George James, of Costa Mesa, California, earned his M.A. degree at Long Beach State University, in California. A professor of fine art at California State University, Fullerton, since 1968, he is now professor emeritus at the university and conducts painting workshops across the country. He has received numerous awards for his work in regional and national shows, including the American Watercolor Society’s Gold Medal and the National Watercolor Society’s Silver Star. To learn more, visit www.georgejameswatercolor.com.

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Technique: Andrew DeVries: Sculpture From Start to Finish

American Artist — Wed, 07 May 2008 09:50:00 GMT

Massachusetts-based artist Andrew DeVries controls every aspect of his career, from casting his own bronzes to running his own art gallery.

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by John A. Parks

Heavenly
2005, bronze,
19 x 18 x 7.
All artwork this article private collection.

It’s all there already,” says Andrew DeVries in describing how one of his sculptures begins. “I make a line drawing, usually without a model, but the whole thing is already completed in my head.” A passionate sculptor of the figure, DeVries draws on his many years of studying dancers to fire his imagination for sculptures that explore the drama and poetry of pose, posture, and gesture. In Heavenly, for instance, a dancer stretches out en pointe, caught in an ecstatic gliding moment. This, like many of the artist’s smaller sculptures, was done from memory, a process that he finds enhances the clarity and sense of the piece. He recalls Degas’ famous remark that, “It is very well to copy what one sees; it’s much better to draw what one has retained in one’s memory.”

Not only is the artist’s vision comprehensive from the outset but he also manages to retain control of all the technical aspects of realizing a sculpture all the way to completion, eventually exhibiting and marketing the work through his own gallery. The process of making a bronze is long, complex, and labor-intensive and comprises seven stages: sculpting the original in wax or plasticine, making a rubber mold, making a hollow wax positive, making a ceramic shell mold, casting the bronze, chasing the bronze, and putting on the patina.

Sculpting the Original

After making his preparatory line drawing, DeVries begins each sculpture by building an armature, or a metal frame placed on a wooden base. Since he knows that various parts of the sculpture will have to be cast separately, he equips his armature with joints attached with long screws so that he will be able to dismantle them from the outside. If the sculpture is to be a small table-size piece, the artist will begin working with wax right over the frame. If the work is larger, he will build further mesh structures over the frame and work on top in plasticine. DeVries models his small sculptures in microcrystalline wax, which is a somewhat hard substance at room temperature but quickly becomes pliable when heated. The artist uses a small propane torch to heat small pieces as he builds up his figure. Wax allows for endless changes in both addition and subtraction, and DeVries has a large variety of tools for shaping and modeling. “You have to heat the tools with a torch so that they cut into the wax in just the right way,” he says. “Part of the skill in sculpting comes from understanding just how hot a tool needs to be to give you the right feel or resist as it moves the wax.” For his larger figures, the artist uses an industrial plasticine, a mixture of clay and oil, that also needs to be heated slightly to become workable. DeVries will work on his sculpture anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, depending on its size and complexity.

Seagull
2004, bronze, 35 x 27 x 12.

Once the model is complete, many sculptors consider their task finished and send the piece off to a foundry to be cast in bronze. Not DeVries. “By doing my own casting, I get to control every part of the production,” he says. “If somebody else is finishing the surfaces they might not always understand the form in the same way I do, and they might not give the same care and attention.” In order to undertake the casting process DeVries has acquired a 4,000-square-foot studio space complete with an office area from which he runs the business side of his enterprise. A separate building houses the foundry, the ceramic mold room, and a space for photographing finished pieces. The artist employs an assistant for only one day a week and does everything else himself.

The Rubber Mold

The process of casting in bronze begins with dismantling the original into parts for mold-making. Often this means removing arms or legs as well as a section of the head, and perhaps the middle of the torso. “You have to consider how the bronze is eventually going to pour,” says the artist. “You can’t make it pour uphill, so you often have to make the extremities separately.” Once the original has been broken down, the artist makes a rubber mold of each of the parts. For big areas, such as the torso, the mold may be made in several pieces, and the artist places shims (thin sheets of metal) into the wax or plasticine to separate the mold later. “There are many different kinds of rubber-mold material,” says DeVries, “including silicon, latex, polyurethane, and polysulphides. Each has a slightly different feel and flexibility.”

The rubber-mold material is painted carefully onto the surface of the model in successive layers until it has reached a sufficient thickness. Once the rubber has cured, a thick layer of plaster is applied on top of it, separated by an application of Vaseline so that it will not stick. If the sculpture is large, the plaster is reinforced with hemp or burlap, and in the case of a very large sculpture, steel reinforcement may be used. This plaster layer, known as the “mother mold” or “backup mold,” provides a strong, inflexible support for the rubber mold. Once it has set, the plaster is then separated along the shim lines and removed. The rubber mold is then also separated along the shim lines and removed from the original.

The Other Side of Eden
1991, bronze, 62 x 48 x 20.

Wax Casting

The artist now uses the rubber mold to create a wax positive, a version of the original that is hollow. “This allows me to make a mold of both the inside and outside of the hollow wax shell, which will eventually be made in bronze,” says the artist. “Bronzes have to be hollow for several reasons, but the main reason is that bronze shrinks and distorts as it cools. If you were to cast the figures solid, they would deform badly by the time the bronze was cool.” The hollow wax casting is made by pouring molten wax into the rubber mold, waiting a short amount of time, and then pouring it out again. A thin layer of wax, cooled by the surface of the mold, remains inside. Because the rest of the wax has been poured away, a hollow version of the original model remains. The wax model must now be chased, or finished. “Often there will be tiny problems where the wax hasn’t poured fully into a detail or there is a seam apparent from the mold,” says the artist. Using a blowtorch and a variety of metal tools he can now work out these imperfections with great delicacy.

At this stage DeVries must consider how the bronze is going to pour into the mold. He attaches long, solid bars of wax, known as gates, to the exterior of the wax model. These form hollow tubes in the next stage, which will act as air vents to allow the metal to move freely through the mold. The large rectangular block that DeVries adds at the top of the gates will form a “pour cup” for the bronze. Another consideration at this stage is how the next mold, the ceramic shell mold, will be handled when it’s hot. Often a further handle will be added, especially if the sculpture is large. By this time the wax model appears to have acquired a number of strange additions, but all are necessary before proceeding to the next stage.

The Ceramic Shell Mold

The ceramic shell mold is a mold of both the outside and the inside of the wax positive, made from a material that will be able to withstand the heat of molten bronze. First, the entire wax positive is covered with a thin coat of slurry, a fine ceramic material, by dipping the whole piece or by pouring the slurry over it. After this has set hard it is covered with successive layers of a heat-resistant stucco made from silica. Each successive shell becomes thicker and harder as the material changes from a fine grain to a coarse grain.

The Bather
2005, bronze, 26 x 54 x 26.

Because about 12 hours of drying time is required between each layer of stucco, it generally takes several days to complete this process. The completed mold is then placed in a dewaxing oven and heated very quickly to about 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit before being reduced to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. The initial flash heating to a high temperature ensures that the wax melts quickly enough that its expansion doesn’t crack the mold. The liquid wax now pours out leaving a perfect mold of the original inside. This is the essence of the traditional lost-wax process. The lost wax will soon be replaced with molten bronze.

Casting the Bronze

DeVries next moves to the casting pit, which is built in a shed on the side of his studio. This is the most exciting but also the most dangerous part of the process, so DeVries wears a Zetex fire-resistant coat, fireproof boots, and a large face mask with a transparent viewing window. These days he also wears a thick wool hat because his hair has been singed to a crisp several times in this process. A furnace fired with propane and forced air is used to heat a silicon-carbide crucible to a temperature of about 2,200 degrees Fahrenheit. Ingots of bronze are slowly added to the crucible, with care being taken to first heat them on top of the furnace to drive off any moisture held in the metal. As the bronze heats and eventually melts, slag (impurities) is removed from the surface with a skimming tool. Meanwhile, the mold itself is heated in a preheat oven—essentially a large metal box also heated with propane jets. The mold must become almost as hot as the bronze for the metal to flow freely.

Once both mold and bronze have been sufficiently heated, the mold is removed from the preheat oven by hand, using a pair of Zetex gloves. “I’ve got about 30 seconds to get the mold out of the oven and into the sand pit before I start feeling too much heat,” says DeVries. The hot mold is packed into the sand at the right position to receive the bronze, and the artist then opens the furnace and attaches a large set of pull-out tongs (a caliperlike device) to the crucible. These are locked in place and attached to an electric hoist set on an I-beam above. The crucible is then lifted up and pulled along the I-beam on runners to a position over the mold.

Nocturne
1998, bronze, 39 x 21 x 12.

Using the attached tongs, DeVries tilts the crucible toward the mold, pouring the bronze into the pour cup. This is the most dramatic moment of the whole process, as the white hot metal streams from the glowing crucible and the whole area pulses with heat. “It’s important to get a smooth and steady flow,” says the artist. “Any interruption could result in what’s called a chill line or a cold shut: places where the metal doesn’t flow together and you get small gaps or deformation.” The process is all over in a minute or two, and the mold must then be left to cool for a considerable period of time. Once cool, the ceramic mold is broken away from the bronze using a hammer and chisel. To make any further copies of the piece the artist must return to the rubber mold and take the process from there. The completed bronze is then cleaned by sandblasting and is now ready for reassembly and chasing.

Chasing

The various pieces of the sculpture must now be reassembled by welding. Once this is completed, the surface must be finished, removing all the welding seams and repairing any imperfections that have occurred during the casting. This process is known as chasing. A variety of power tools is used to grind down the welded seams, and the final finishing is done by hand. Hammers and chisels replace texture in areas that have been obliterated by seams, a variety of small files are used to finish details of the form, and the piece is then sanded with abrasives to the desired finish. As with the other stages of the bronzing process, DeVries enjoys the artistic control that comes from taking charge of these creative details.

Patination

The final step in the whole sculpture process is called patination, or the addition of a patina. Eventually all metals will acquire a patina if exposed to the air because of the action of trace chemicals and the gradual process of oxidation. Sculptors use a variety of chemicals to achieve different looks and colors of patina. Most of them are applied by heating the sculpture anywhere from 200 degrees to 300 degrees with a blowtorch and applying the chemicals with a brush or an airbrush. “It’s very much a performance at this stage,” says DeVries. “No two patinas ever come out quite the same, and you have to be aware of nuances that occur as you apply the chemicals.” Some patinas bring about radical color changes, while others impart extremely subtle and rich color to the bronze.

Tres Jolie
2001, bronze, 32 x 14 x 8.

Once the patina has been achieved, the bronze is washed to remove any toxic chemicals and then covered in a coat of wax and polished. It remains only to mount the sculpture on a plinth. “These days I prefer stone,” says DeVries, “and I have a local supplier who cuts granite blocks for me.” The artist notes that collectors often place large bronzes outdoors, where their appearance is further affected by exposure to weather. “People should really wax a bronze sculpture once a year to avoid uneven weathering,” he says. “If they live near the ocean it should be more often.” DeVries says that freezing does not really affect bronze, except in cases where the sculpture has been exposed to a lot of water.

The Business of Sculpture

Several years ago DeVries opened his own gallery in rented space in Lenox, Massachusetts, a town know for its galleries and a summer influx of art connoisseurs. In an attempt to increase sales, DeVries has applied the same care and energy he brings to his work to the marketing end of his business. The artist keeps careful records of clients, prospective clients, and visitors and does four big mailings a year. He revolves the work in the gallery and mounts opening parties several times during the summer season, sometimes printing a color catalogue. “I also spend as much on advertising as I can,” he says. In order to ease entry-level collectors into making a purchase, the artist also produces one noneditioned piece, a small and handsome bronze bell, which sells for less than $500. The sculptures themselves are generally made in editions of 12. If a piece is sold to someone within striking distance, the artist will also assist with installation, guiding his work all the way to its final home.

About the Artist

Andrew DeVries was born and raised on a farm near Rochester, New York. He left school at the age of 15 and remained on the farm for the next five years, painting in his spare time. At the age of 20 the artist moved West, eventually living in Denver, where he spent two years drawing and painting the dancers of the Denver Ballet. One day Reike Maria Love, the artistic director of the ballet, suggested that he try sculpture, and as soon as he felt the clay in his hands he knew that he had found his calling. He was apprenticed to sculptor Ed Dwight and learned about metalwork in the foundry of artist Lee Schenkeir. He also credits Raelee Frazier for teaching him about the art of mold making. DeVries won the Walter and Michael Lantz prize from the National Sculpture Society (NSS) in 1991. In 1994 the NSS selected his piece The Chariot for their first international exhibition in Seravezza, Italy, and in 1996 awarded him the Lindsay Morris Memorial Prize. DeVries’ sculpture is in private and corporate collections around the United States as well as in Australia, Canada, England, Germany, Ireland, Israel, Korea, and Portugal, and is also in the U.S Library of Congress. To view more of the artist’s work, visit his website at www.andrewdevries.com

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Technique: Roland Simard: Painting With Pulp

American Artist — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 10:59:00 GMT

New Hampshire artist Roland Simard takes papermaking to the next level with his pulp paintings.

by Stephanie Kaplan

Shadow Pool
2007, fiber, 24 x 18. Collection the artist.

New Hampshire artist Roland Simard’s paintings are all about creating layers of texture. While this is common for many artists, what sets Simard apart is that he uses fibers instead of paint. Although he began his art career working predominantly in oil, a graduate course in papermaking gave Simard a finer appreciation of working with fibers and inspired him to take papermaking to the next level. “I was attracted to how luminous the fiber pigments were in contrast to what you see in paint,” the artist explains, “and it’s a lot of fun to work with the pulp.”

Simard begins his multistep process with a sketch of his composition. “Depending on the image, I will do a very detailed sketch in pastel if the colors are important, or in graphite if they’re not,” he says. “I do a grid drawing to scale because I can’t draw in the water.” The artist draws inspiration from his natural surroundings in New Hampshire’s White Mountains—as evident in Shadow Pool and Shelburne Birches.

Simard forms the sheet of paper in a large vat of water that sits on a table. A deckle, or frame, is placed in the vat to keep the fibers in place and to maintain the desired size and shape of each sheet. The artist places this drawing on a table next to the vat to provide a guide for the placement of the pulp, and places a mirror above the vat at a 45-degree angle, so he can see the drawing and maintain the correct proportions of the composition.

Shelburne Birches
2004, fiber, 30 x 24. Private collection.

Simard uses 90 percent cotton fibers in his work because they are easy to process; Spanish flax and abaca make up the other 10 percent because they add strength to the sheet and because the fibers are longer. The fiber combination is processed in a machine called a hollander where a paper beater shreds the fiber to a pulp for approximately 30 minutes to keep the fibers somewhat long. Liquid sizing is added to the processed pulp to strengthen and waterproof the finished sheet.

Next, the artist colors the pulp with pure pigments that won’t fade. “Coloring the pulp is like making your own paint,” Simard explains. He finds great joy in using a kitchen blender to mix various combinations of red, yellow, green, blue, black, brown, and white to create the palette for each work.

The artist favors several tools as “brushes” to place pulp in the water—he places the pulp pieces side by side and on top of each other to create the desired image. His favorite tool is a kitchen fork that only has two tines. He also uses wire pieces and paper clips to create small lines, and uses a string as if it were a pencil—“place the string in the wet pulp, lift it up, and then you get a line” Simard explains. This can be seen at work in the line of the fence in Out to Pasture. In this piece he also relied on other tools to create the varied texture in the sky and wheat field. Out to Sea also demonstrates Simard’s ability to manipulate the pulp into a textured, detail composition—the different layers in the sea mimic waves, while the piece of rope hanging over the bottom edge of the work gives the composition a greater sense of three-dimensionality. The artist also loves using various turkey basters to suck up the pulp and distribute it in the vat of water. He also enjoys pouring and splattering the pulp to achieve his desired effect.


Out to Pasture 2006, fiber,18 x 24. Private collection.	Out to Sea 2006, fiber, 18 x 24. Collection the artist.

Since the pulp remains in the vat of water during the entire process, the individual fibers weave and interlock with each other to form a single sheet. Once the artist is satisfied with the composition, he uses a vacuum system he designed to remove water from the vat. “The trick is to keep the water level equal to the level of the fibers,” Simard explains, “so that the fibers float around and find their own level. You want the fibers to move around a little bit, but if there is too much water in the vat then the pulp sinks and you loose a lot of control.” The vacuum system slowly removes the water from underneath the vat, which prevents the fibers from moving. “You can still work on the texture of the piece once the water is removed—even at this point, you can add a small amount of fiber to make things look more 3-D and to fine-tune the image,” Simard states.

Once the sheet is removed from the water, it is placed on wool felt and left to dry for several days. Once the artwork is dry, the sheet is coated and sealed with a clear, liquid polymer and mounted on museum board. This coating archives the sheet for thousands of years. The final product is a hand-cast sheet of paper that, when seen up close, displays abstract layers of texture and color—yet depicts a unified landscape from afar.


Cotton fibers are processed in the hollander for approximately 30 minutes.	Simard uses Aardvark pigments to color white, cotton fibers, which he stores in large buckets. These water-based, concentrated pigments are designed specifically for papermaking and disperse well in the hollander. A retention agent is also added to help the pigment adhere to the fibers.	The artist uses a kitchen blender to mix the basic pulp colors into the tints and shades that make up the palette for each work. The pulp can be premixed and stored for later use.	Simard adds pigmented pulp to a white pulp base. The fibers are being contained by a Plexiglass deckle that sits within a larger vat of water.

The artist uses a variety of forks and wires to add pulp to the sheet as it is being formed in the vat of water. The forks and wires give Simard more control over his medium, so he can create details using smaller amounts of pulp.	Simard uses his favorite tool, a modified fork with two tines, to add pulp to the sheet.	Once the sheet is complete, water is removed from the vat using a vacuum system that Simard designed. The water is slowly drawn through the sheet and extracted from underneath the vat. This process keeps the fibers from moving, and preserves the image cast in the sheet.

Stephanie Kaplan is the online editor of American Artist.

Technique: Sherry Camhy: When Black Is White

American Artist — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 10:58:00 GMT

This New York artist uses the sheen of graphite to create the light highlights in her drawings on black paper.

by Bob Bahr

Study of a Roman Sculpture
2007, graphite on black paper, 50 x 33.
Collection the artist.

Twilight
by Sherry Camhy, 2006,
graphite on black paper,
16½ x 30. Collection
Allen Miller and Susan Davidson.

Sherry Camhy’s recent suite of drawings, rich with plenty of dark tones, reveals a startling fact when the viewer moves closer to investigate the luminosity in the pieces: the drawings were done on black paper and the lights in the images were created using graphite pencils.

Camhy stumbled across this effect by accident in 2000. She was absentmindedly doodling on a piece of black matboard while talking on the phone with a friend when she noticed that the gray sheen of the graphite created shiny lights on the dark surface. After the artist hung up the phone, she began experimenting with pencils of various hardnesses and discovered another peculiar fact: the blacker the pencil was graded, the lighter the effect on the black sheet. Her HB pencil left fainter, darker marks and her 6B left bright ones. The reason was twofold: Camhy uses certain high-quality brands that don’t achieve the blackness in their darkest pencils by cutting the graphite with some carbon (hers are nearly pure graphite), and pencil makers make the harder leads by adding more clay to the graphite, which dulls the reflective sheen needed to get those lights. Camhy’s Light and Illusion Metaphor, reproduced on page 51, shows just how light graphite on black paper can look—the highlights on the salt shaker were made by burnishing layers of 9B graphite. The truth of this is hard to believe until one studies it from inches away.

Road Series: Morning Mist
2004, graphite on black paper, 30 x 70.
Private collection.

Portrait of Mark
1990, graphite on black board,
20 x 15. Collection the artist.

The board on which this image
was drawn has faded, but
the artist says she’s charmed by
the resulting warm tone in
the piece.

The artist’s first use of this interesting effect was Portrait of Mark, and her goal for that piece was to pursue the subtlety that graphite on black paper allowed. Her thinking was that if a viewer examined a drawing on black paper very closely, his or her pupils would dilate in order to gather more light and information. “It would force the viewer to physically see more as he or she looked at it,” says Camhy. From there, her work became bolder, the contrast in them more marked, as she explored the process with figure drawings and other subjects.

The artist says the hardest part of this process is reversing the order of her mark-making. Normally, on white paper, she would start with a dark pencil, perhaps a 6B, and lightly sketch her lines for the drawing. As it progressed, she would move to harder pencils for more precise lines and for details. On black paper, she begins by making very light lines with a 3H pencil and then continues to as high as a 9B for the last highlights. “I work all over the paper,” Camhy says, “and try to get the values down from the beginning. I lay out the proportions for myself and then start to work tighter.” Camhy never smudges with a stump or tortillon nor does the artist employ hatching. Instead, she slowly builds up tone using contiguous lines. “I like the control of building up the strokes line by line,” she explains. “It’s very personal—the idea goes from the hand of the artist, to the pencil, to the paper, to the viewer. The viewer can see how the artist did it.”

Camhy takes her entire process personally—right down to the individual pencils. In fact, she says she tends to name them, with the harder ones—like a 3H—getting the nickname Claudia, and softer ones—like a 9B—labeled Maria or Sophia. “The HB is Ann—very honest and direct,” she adds. She favors the Faber-Castell brand, and cites their consistency as the reason. “If I pick up a 3H from Faber-Castell it’s going to be the same as all the previous 3Hs I bought from them.”


Etude by Sherry Camhy, 1997, powdered graphite on gray paper, 14½ x 19½. Collection the artist.	Light and Illusion Metaphor by Sherry Camhy, 2005, graphite on black paper, 33 x 54. Collection the artist.

Reclining Form
2006, graphite on black paper,
29 x 31½. Collection the artist.

Ironically, when Camhy first came across this drawing method, she was working on pieces in which she tried to make the lightest marks possible so the images would subtly emerge from the white of the paper. Her work on a black surface is similarly subtle, although the contrast in Twilight shows just how dynamic the effect can be. The drawings on black paper have occupied her attention for more than six years, but along the way she has also completed exquisite, actual-size figure drawings in the traditional fashion of graphite on white paper. And recently she has been executing pastel drawings of sea and sky on very large sheets of paper—and then ripping off pieces from the perimeter and affixing the core of the pastel to a second sheet of black paper. “Sometimes a piece just seems to need to float free,” she explains. “It would just feel confined by the frame otherwise.” Occasionally she will purposely break the glass in the frames of finished pieces for the same reason—“to let them be free.”

Camhy may explore other art materials, but the artist is clearly devoted to graphite pencils. Her graphite drawings take her longer to complete than her paintings, but they are a labor of love, and she points out that one way of translating the Latin word for pencil—pencillus—is “little brush,” blurring the lines between drawing and painting. Accordingly, she refers to drawing simply as “image building,” and rather than see her pencil as a mere drawing tool, Camhy calls it her “secret friend,” one that that is quiet, clean, odorless, inexpensive, and lightweight. “They can be precise or not,” she notes. “They can be subtle or hard-edged. Pencils are simple, honest, and direct. There are no fancy mediums. It’s just you and it.”

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Technique: Pattiy Torno: Quilts With Multiple Dimensions

American Artist — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 10:57:00 GMT

Renowned quilter Pattiy Torno’s attention to detail results in fabric creations that have multiple dimensions.

by Stephanie Kaplan


Front	Back
Acceptance of Not Perfect 2006, cotton fabric, wool batting, and cotton embroidery floss, 58 x 83. All artwork this article collection the artist unless otherwise indicated.

Pattiy Torno believes her quilts should be viewed from both sides. “I like my quilts to have a front and a second front,” Torno explains. “Neither is better—the front allows me to play with lots of colors and different fabrics, but often the second front is more quiet where I play with larger shapes.” For example, the back of Inevitable almost stands alone as a separate quilt with its large floral pattern. Despite the differences in pattern and color between the fronts and backs of her quilts, Torno states, “I am a person who paints the undersides of everything with as much attention to detail as I paint the top. There is no place to hide—all aspects of the piece must speak to the quality of the whole.”

Peace of Mind
2006, cotton fabric, wool batting,
and cotton embroidery floss, 83 x 96.

Torno’s sewing skills make the back of her quilts more interesting. In contrast to the triangle pattern on the front of Acceptance of Not Perfect, the back of the quilt displays a banquet table with the stitches from the triangle pattern showing through the fabric. The layering of the geometric stitching pattern over the table replaces the texture of the varied cloth triangles on the front of the quilt. According to Torno, “The quilting often shows up better on the back than on the front, so it is important to want to look at both sides.” The artist’s mixture of machine piecing and hand quilting produces the details that make both sides of her work so appealing. “Paying attention in life makes the simple pleasures that much more sweet,” Torno explains, which is evident in the attention to detail in her remarkable quilts.


Front	Back	Front	Back
Dignity and Respect 2006, cotton fabric, wool batting, and cotton embroidery floss, 58 x 86.		Inevitable 2007, cotton fabric, wool batting, and cotton embroidery floss, 57 x 86.