Still Rendering . . .

I’m on my third attempt at rendering a sphere and my rendering has really improved. Most of the time I am able to get a smooth tone on top of the textured lines in the Strathmore paper. My paper is no longer turning to felt from abrasion, and I no longer create visible strokes in the drawing. Here are a few things I’ve learned:

  • Work very slowly, adding charcoal a molecule at a time.
  • Make multiple passes, moving the charcoal in many different directions.
  • Don’t move the charcoal quickly because the hard impact with ridges will leave marks.
  • Keep the stick of charcoal close to perpendicular to the paper so that only the point touches – don’t lay the charcoal on its side.
  • It is essential that you sharpen the charcoal as you go – sometimes every few minutes. You can sometimes sharpen the stick on the paper as you draw by rotating it, but when you hit a soft part of the stick and the point dulls you will need to resort to sandpaper to restore the fine point.
  • Lift off dark flecks of charcoal with a tortillon folded from newsprint or paper towels.
  • Also use the tortillon to smooth out any ridges that appear.
  • Don’t use the tortillon to smudge the charcoal in attempt to get a smooth tone. This will break down the paper and the smudge doesn’t look as good as a hand-rendered tone. The tortillon should only be used to move grains of charcoal from one place to another.
  • Often flaws are more apparent from a distance. I am near sighted and find that if I remove my glasses I can easily spot light and dark patches that I can’t see with focused vision.

My renderings are still a bit sparkly. If you look at them closeup, you will see lots of black dots of charcoal and white patches without charcoal. Some of my classmates in the atelier are able to make their drawings look like airbrush paintings. I still have a ways to go, both in quality, and in rendering speed.

This is a closeup of the sphere, the table it sits on, the core and cast shadows, and the background. My rendering has improved to the point where the charcoal is fairly smooth, even on textured paper.

In this picture you can see the ridges in the paper. My technique has now improved to the point where the charcoal stays smooth across the rigdes and valleys. The lines you are seeing are the shadows cast by the ridges.

Here’s one more view of the ridges in the paper.

 

Another Papercut Value Study

Just finished my second papercut value study for class – this time a still life that I set up in my studio. One of the nifty things about using cut paper is that I was able to try out two different value schemes for the background and the tabletop before gluing everything together.

In the end I decided to go with a dark gray background, a light gray table, and a shimmering pool of pure white light.

Papercut Value Study

This week’s assignment is to create a four-level mastercopy value study using cut paper. The goal of the assignment is to learn how to simplify an image and convey three dimensional form with a limited number of values. We use paper cuts instead of paint for two reasons: using paper ensures we don’t cheat by blending some extra shades of gray and the act of cutting discourages elaborate detail.

I chose to do Edward Hopper’s New York Office. The whole project took about nine hours and at one point I felt like I was playing with paper dolls. One big take away is that there are many ways to approach the design and some are better than others for structural and asthetic reasons. After a three hour false start, I realized it is better to layer the paper in the same order as the items in the scene – in other words, the background should be on the paper towards the back and the forground should be on paper towards the front. I also learned that it is often easier to cut holes that reveal the layer underneath than to cut small pieces to glue on top.

It turns out you can still cheat with papercuts by taking advantage of texture and shadows. One can represent subtle tonal changes with compositions of shapes that are all the same color. One can also use shadows between layers with the same color to represent very fine lines.

Meanwhile back at the atelier . . .

You might think that with all of the printmaking and woodworking going on that nothing was happening in the atelier. Au contraire, mon frère – we are all busy learning to render. Rendering in charcoal is a very slow process and learning to render is even slower, so I don’t have a lot to show even though I have been working hard.

Our goal was to learn to render a white sphere lit by a single light source. The easy part was learning what the sphere is supposed to look like – there is actually a lot of nuance in the play of the light and shadow, but you can see it once you know what you are looking for. The really hard part – and the part that takes all of the time is learning to make smooth gradations of gray with charcoal.

You would think this would be easy, but the surface of the paper is actually covered with tiny ridges and valleys, and the ridges tend to pick up charcoal and get darker, while the valleys stay white. This leads to a sparkly look. To get the tone completely smooth requires many many very light passes of charcoal. You need to hit the same spot of paper over and over again in order to break down the paper’s sizing and open up the surface to accept the charcoal. Press too hard, though, and the surface will get too dark before you are able to lay down enough layers to get a smooth tone. And heaven help you if you sneeze.

Musicians practice scales before concertos. As artists, our first rendering exercise is value scales. This scale, which is made of 1″ squares, took me about six hours and it is still a bit sparkly. Must learn patience, grasshopper.

Before rendering spheres, we practice value scales.

After doing value scales on two different types of paper (Strathmore 500 Charcoal and Canson Mi Teintes), I was ready to move on to value studies. Since a fully rendered sphere takes about 30 hours, we really wanted to look before leaping, so each of us made a number of postage stamp value studies. I was able to do these six in about 4 hours.

A carefully rendered sphere can take 30 hours so we do a bunch of value studies first to make sure we will like the outcome.

Finally the big day came and I was ready to embark on the sphere itself. The first step was to get a really good flat white sphere – I used a Christmas ornament, but others have had good success with light bulbs. The sphere is placed in a box that shields it from most stray light so that the shadows stay really clean. It is lit from a single light source which is clamped in place behind my easel. This setup took a lot of careful effort and adjustment, but it was important since the rendering will take 30 hours. In the image below, I’m about 6 hours into rendering and have what Juliette calls a good under painting or ghost image to work from. Now my challenge is to get the charcoal really smooth.

Sphere rendering setup. The blue ear wash bulb is to blow charcoal off the paper. Many a student has learned the hard way never to blow on a charcoal drawing. A single, microscopic drop of spittle can lead to tears.

Of course, the ultimate goal is not to draw spheres – it is to learn to render and turn form so that we can draw the figure, still life arrangements, and landscapes. We continue to draw from a model each morning in the life room and the poses are getting longer and longer. We begin each session with 20 minutes of gestures from a variety of poses, but the remaining two and a half hours are dedicated to a single pose the lasts about a month.  This drawing was from right before the holidays. It was about a three week pose and I probably drew 9 days because I am part time. One challenge for me is that I never get a month long pose because I come in every other day. At some point, later in the year, I may have to switch my schedule so that I draw every morning and then work at Microsoft in the afternoons and evenings. This would give me an entire month on one pose, but I would lose out on the coaching I get in the afternoon studio sessions. Life is full of tradeoffs.

We continue to draw longer and longer poses in the mornings in the life room.

Dreaming of a White Christmas

This week we started to render white spheres in charcoal. The timing couldn’t have been better because Christmas ornaments just went on sale at Bartells. Christmas ornaments make excellent drawing spheres because:

  • They are inexpensive and widely available. I got six for about $3.
  • They come in a wide variety of sizes.
  • They are very round and smooth. I recommend getting the frosted ones instead of the reflective ones because they hold paint better.
  • They come with a hanging hook that is useful when applying spray paint.

Here are some painting tips:

  1. Use Killz Stain Blocking Primer in the spray can. This primer has a matte finish and is opaque enough to cover up any ornament color. If you have a transparent ornament, you will need at least two coats to prevent light from passing through and diluting the core shadows.
  2. Hang the ornament from a string.
  3. Wind the ornament up on the string and let it spin.
  4. Spray from a distance while the ornament spins. If you are careful, you can get a completely smooth coat.
  5. Leave ornament hanging by its string until it is dry.

Notan Studies

This week we are working on notan studies. My inspirations were Halloween, Vermeer, and Michael Kenna.

 

My first encounter with these simple, two-value studies was in Mitch Albala’s plein air landscape class where he taught us to make three or four thumbnails with a sharpie in order to quickly explore compositional alternatives before starting on a painting. I find notans to be powerful images in their own right, but they are worth doing because they teach us so much. Notan studies are great for

  • Learning to simplify
  • Seeing primal shapes and masses
  • Experimenting with composition and balance
  • Designing effective support for lost edges
  • Understanding passage (one edge passing behind another)
  • Demonstrating how little information is actually necessary to convey the essence of a three-dimensional scene.
  • Using light and dark to model three-dimensional shapes
  • Learning to read subtle visual cues

Bottles enter the third dimension

Our most recent Barnstone assignment involved redrawing the three bottles under orthographic projection with geometric constructions for all of the circular cross sections. Here are some learnings:

  1. Wash your hands. When you work for hours on a single drawing you don’t want to see fingerprints.
  2. Sharpen your pencils often and be sure to wipe off the graphite sharpening dust before drawing.
  3. When using a rular or triangle, first place the pencil in the correct position on the paper, then slide the rular up snug against the pencil. This ensures that the line doesn’t end up a half a millimeter away from its intended position.
  4. Draw very lightly.
  5. It is impossible to get all of the angles an intersections perfect. The important thing is to produce an asthetic drawing and this means balancing between perfection where it counts and errors that don’t matter. In the planar cross sections, each circle construction has four lines that intersect at the center of the circle. I feel it is important to nail this intersection point, so I always place the tip of my pencil directly on the intersection before placing my rular.
  6. Start at the top of the bottle and work down, one plane at a time. Don’t attempt to work assembly line style or draw planes out of order. It is too easy to get confused.
  7. Rotate the paper, if necessary, so that you always draw on the side of the rular closest to your dominant hand.

Nailing the Block-in

Here are some drawings from last week. I’ve been struggling for a while with my block ins, but I think some things began to fall into place this week. Here are some areas I am focusing on now:

  • Using mostly straight lines.
  • Carrying lines through the entire image to look for interesting alignments.
  • Identifying interesting angles and rhythms and emphasizing them in my choice of straight lines.
  • Drawing cues to three-dimensional structure inside of the figure, instead of just working around the contour.

This last point is really important. It seems that what I am thinking about as I am drawing has a direct impact on the drawing. If I think of a flat, two-dimensional contour, I will get a flat drawing. If I think of a three dimensional shape, the drawing will convey the third dimension. This all seems obvious in retrospect, but the amazing thing is that it works at the level of my subconscious. I am not analyzing the angles of the third dimension – I am just thinking about the subject as three dimensional and some hidden portion of my mind does the rest.

The Outsider

Today I went for a bike ride, but I had to turn back because it was too cold. I put on some winter gloves and another fleece and headed back out, but I really had to push to overcome the urge to stay inside. Over the summer I did a lot of biking and got into great shape and I had these dreams of how I would continue to stay fit through the fall and winter through the magic of evening yoga-spin classes. Then the atelier started and between the Barnestone assignments and the commuting and the evenings at Microsoft, weekday exercise kind of moved to the back burner. Today was cold, but it wasn’t raining and I had the time, so I persevered.

The day was blustery and gray, but I kept passing these tableaus of fall Americana: colored leaves swirling and flying across the road in front of me, a boy raking his front yard, a father and son chopping logs with a real axe, a rust-red chicken waddling across the bike path, and another father and son throwing a tennis ball for their sheep dog.

As I rode on, I was struck by the contrast between the bleak weather and the warmth of the work and play and all of the cozy houses I passed and this reminded me of the artistic theme of being an outsider – of passing through a scene, while remaining invisible to others – of being outside in the cold with the warmth of home and hearth visible, but just out of reach.

A few weeks ago, the atelier took a field trip to the Frye Museum to see Ties That Bind: American Artists in Europe. Juliette had asked us to look deeply at each painting and record our thoughts. For me, the outsider theme appeared in scene after scene. Take, for example, this painting by George Inness. The landscape is vast, but the only person in sight is buried in the lengthening shadows of the foreground. Evening is coming, but the homes and hearths are far off in the distance in the last remaining bits of sunlight as the moon begins to rise.

Campagna, Italian Landscape, c. 1875
George Inness

In this image by Léon Barillot, the sole human is a featureless silhouette in the middle distance, standing apart from the cows, and far from the city on the horizon.

Three Cows and a Calf, c. 1890
Leon Barillot

This painting by Théophile Emile Achille de Bock reminds me of late fall in New England – not the colorful weekends when the city slickers come to see the leaves – I’m thinking of the oppressive grey days when the biting wind rips across the granite. There are no people in the scene at all, leaving the viewer to be the outsider. The bleak weather and wilderness setting remind us that people don’t belong. The rocks were here long before us and they will remain long after we are gone.

Rocky Landscape with Birches, not dated
Théophile Emile Achille de Bock

An essential element of the outsider theme is the contrast between the outsider’s situation and the scene they are viewing. The outsider is often in the shadows, enduring the elements, risking loneliness, and standing at a distance from the comforts of home and civilization.

This painting by Albert Neuhuys shows the opposite of the outsider theme. Here the mother and child are in a sturdy house which protects them from the great outdoors which is barely visible through a small window in the back. The mother is nurturing and she is feeding her child while sitting in a solid chair that we imagine her own mother used when she was a baby. The room is their entire world and it meets all of their needs. As with the fall rocks, nothing changes as time passes, only in this painting the home is and always will be a place of comfort.

Feeding the Baby, not dated
Albert (Neuhuits) Neuhuys

The outsider theme resonates with me because I have experienced it many times in my own life. Once, as a child, walking home through purple twilight on Thanksgiving, I saw bright lights in the dining rooms of each of the houses I passed and thought about the meals being prepared and kids playing with relatives as my feet crunched through the dried leaves and clouds raced across the darkening sky. Another time, later in life, I looked out the window of an airliner speeding across the Midwest at 3am and thought about how each of the points of light below was a farmhouse with a family and pets, all sound asleep and oblivious to my passage. And then there was the time I spent the day alone photographing an abandoned town. I could imagine life when the town was thriving, but the former inhabitants were now long gone and unaware of my visit.

My thought as I rode my bike was that perhaps the paintings at the Frye were not so much about the outsider theme as I was sensitive to the theme. Perhaps this is just the way I see the world and art. If so, perhaps I can tap into these feelings and put them into my own art so that others can experience these moments the way I do. Food for thought.