I'm not great at this personal blog thing yet, but I do have to share a life changing day.
Watching it over and over and welling up tears again and again currently. I'm one lucky girl, and so in love with this great guy! Enjoy!
The art of J. C. Leyendecker
"Art is art because it is hard." I had a professor say this to me recently, and I have been repeating it over and over in my head since then. I haven't really come to a full conclusion about what I think it means (and for that I am sitting here asking myself why I am writing a post about it,) but I do agree that art is hard!
I believe that art is hard in the sense that it is so personal that every mistake, whether the size of a molehill or a mountain, can in turn be perceived as just the opposite: a molehill for a mountain or mountain for a molehill. As an artist, you will always find a piece incomplete or far from perfect--at least!
Recently, I have been focusing on creating my work and stopping when I feel I should stop; not when I see that the painting is complete, but when I feel that I have reached a place where I love it! (Granted, there are times when I do NEED to keep painting. If I followed that rule always my homework assignments would never be completed.)
I think it's important to love your finished product. I have many pieces that end up deep in my closet simply because at the very end when I hold up my finished painting, and I don't love it. So, how do you love a piece? "Three Ts," Time, Thought, Techno Music.
Time: Don't rush your art. "Painting is not a race." It's the whole idea that "Rome wasn't built in a day" principle. Start and start again if you need to. Research beforehand. Make your drawing perfect! And, most importantly, take the time to sit back, look carefully at your art, observe it in every form and every inch, then take the time to have some good thoughts . . .
Thought: Make that art in your head. I find that when I photograph a piece and then stare at it for weeks on my wall, once I begin painting it--it's so much better! I let myself become excited about it! I figure out what I want it to say, and what I want to achieve during the process.
Techno Music: This is to remember to not get so serious about it! Let it be enjoyable. Making art is hard, but it's many more things before that.
In one of my classes we were given the assignment to complete a master copy; in other words, we were given the assignment to copy an exact replica of a "master artist" before the 1900s. Our class is varying from Rembrandt to Teichart (even though she really wasn't a master before the 1900s.) Of course, I chose a favorite: John Singer Sargent. At first I searched his pieces that I know and love, but I wanted something a little bit fresh and a little bit, well, not so "mainstream." I stumbled across his piece Carmela Bertagna.
It was a quick and impulsive, but not so impulsive, decision from there. It was perfect. I have found my style to be tightening up recently (becoming more and more picture perfect realism.) And although I enjoy the process and the growth that it is giving my work, I wanted to dabble back into my lose painting ways again (more of an impressionism feel.)
The second step to this master copy (the first being choosing the piece,) was to do a *quick accurate sketch that could be transferred to the canvas. I figured my proportions, top of head to chin, and quickly set to work with this sketch. I worked for about 45 minutes on this little head study. Noting some changes that could be made more easily with paint rather than a pencil and eraser.
Next, after transfering my image to my canvas and *toning the canvas grey, our task for the day was to complete a value study. This is about an hour into the study. (At 2 hours, my completion time of the value study, I forgot to take another photograph, but I'll post one as soon as possible.) Because of this piece, I learnt something very valuable today: Slow down! Slow down the painting time. Take the time to let it soak. Painting is not racing. It is Painting.
Painting is not racing:
I had to come to this conclusion of "today's painting lesson" with the help of my teacher, Christopher Thornock, that painting is not racing. He actually said the very words, "slow down" to me, but that was just what I needed to hear! Though I didn't feel like it was a race today, I realized that I just was paintingpaintingpainting. Not a second for a breath of air!
I've been at this painting things for some years now, nearing 13 years in fact, and from starting at level 0 at 8 years old I have learnt a great deal of things about painting. (The application of the knowledge has been a much slower process, and still today I think my brain is trying to process some ounce of painting knowledge I "learned" years ago.) However, I've got my system and my ways for painting a decent painting down pat! I can create a decent painting while still keeping all my hair in place, but I always need to remember to slow down and take that "decent" painting to a new level that stretches me. A level that makes me struggle and think. A level that makes me grow and learn. A level that makes them "ooh and ahh." (And for that, a level that makes me "eww and agh" in the process.)
Painting is like making sugar cookies:
Cookies: After you've made them enough times, you know the recipe perfectly.
Painting: After painting enough paintings, you know the exact recipe for what it takes to make a good painting.
Cookies: After mixing all the ingredients together, you can test the result by the texture and or taste of the dough. You know if it's good, and if it is, in fact, good dough, you put it in the oven for the perfect time. "That's pretty good."
Painting: As you apply all your knowledge of painting (the recipe) into the piece, you sense when you've nearly completed a decent painting (the dough.) So you work it a little more, refining things here and there. "That's pretty good."
Cookies: Surely you can eat plain sugar cookies, and if you're recipe is good, that plain sugar cookie, too, is delicious. But doesn't the frosting and ornaments make a sugar cookie a sugar cookie? Spend that time. Frost the cookie. It's so much sweeter in your mouth.
Painting: The frosting of the painting is taking the time to find colors that aren't spot on, or the values that need adjusting, or the lines that could be drawn just a little better. The process to a great painting is a slow and thoughtful way. The frosting is taking the time. If it takes 4 weeks, frost it. It'll be so much sweeter on the wall.
This master copy is schedule to be completed Wednesday, November 7th. Check back for updates.
Notes:
*Transferring a sketch to a canvas is so helpful! Often times, a pencil tip or charcoal tip straight to a canvas can not only be damaging, but also frustrating as texture on texture doesn't allow for detail. My favorite process is to sketch on WindpowerTM smooth Bristol paper, ignoring the size because I can scan it into a computer and print it larger using a program (my favorite for Mac is PosteRazor.) After I complete my sketch, I trace it with tracing paper of any sorts, even wax paper if it's thin enough. Taking the tracing paper with the sketch on it now, I lay it on top of my transfer paper which is atop my canvas and begin my transfer (I prefer Saral Transfer Paper and would rather not scrimp trying to use homemade or anything else.)
*I've worked on a toned canvas and a white canvas both. It depends on the project, but generally I prefer my canvas toned. If i'm worried about losing my transfer, I spray some Fixativ before toning the canvas with diluted Raw Sienna oil paint.
Some days you've got it, and some days you don't. That couldn't be more true for me and my art.
Some days I want it, and some days I don't. (Most days I do, but occasionally I won't.)
Although this blog would tell you otherwise, I have been on artistic overload lately. I labor at my easel 6 days a week. I also dilly dally at my easel 6 days a week. And I also relish at my easel 6 days a week. It is nuts to think about the emotional range my easel provides each week.
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| Work in progress. Painting day 7. |
Recently, I've been working on one particular piece amongst completing another 5 other pieces. It is a simple 8x10in (though I think I will end up cropping the painting surface even more.) I've done many compositions similar, however, this one has been a struggle. It's a terrible kind of struggle, too!
This project, at least to this point, is experienced as follows:
I spend my hours in class nearly distracted by thinking about the things I can work on when I get to my easel later in the day. Once I get there, take my pallet from the freezer (oil paint doesn't freeze, it just keeps fresh in the freezer,) and start working it is wonderful!
Painting day 1: I go crazy and my brush flies around the surface. The more I look and figure out the puzzle of the composition, the more things I find I can lay in and begin to draw with my brush. I draw and shift paint around for hours.
Painting day 2: I return excited to see my "great" piece of art emerging and what do you know? It's horrendous! I can see so many mistakes my eyes had become immune to during the last session. So then, slowly, I attempt the "fixing." I fix and fix until once again I am immune. Usually by that point, I have exhausted my efforts and step away for the day.
Painting day 3: I still find the piece horrendous, even with all my fixed errors from the previous day; however, I feel SO GOOD about it now because I can see the changes and I can SEE the errors! That is the first step to correct errors: finding the errors. So bravo to me. (Silly, but you do have to mentally reward, criticize, analyze yourself and your mind as you are painting. You learn so much from your own thoughts while you're working.) I also spend sometime, if needed, scraping away at the paint on the surface with a razor. It helps to "ruin" a piece before you fix it. That way you don't try to salvage the bad parts you've worked so long at. Afterall, they are not worth salvaging. And if you've painted it once, you can paint it again.
Painting day 4: repeat day 3
Painting day 5: repeat day 4
Painting day 6: This is the day. This is the day I make it or break it. This is the day where nearly all my efforts are exhausted at the start, rather than the end, as it has been for the past few days. This is the day that I just sit and look. I don't attempt to fiddle with my brush unless I know for sure there is something grand to be done. For this piece, I decided it was not perfect. I was not happy. So, in order to attempt another large re-work on the same surface, I began a small sketch of "perfect" angles on another surface. Then I got carried away . . . and nearly painted a new painting. The old painting went promptly into the drawer.
Painting day 7: I return excited to see my "great" piece of art emerging and what do you know? It's horren . . . not too bad! I can see so many mistakes my eyes had become immune to during the last session, but they're only little. So then, slowly, I attempt the "fixing." I fix and fix until once again I am immune, and then I keep carefully painting. I let my mind go somewhere else. I don't paint from my textbook knowledge but only from my feelings. That's when the piece becomes alive.
Painting day 8: That is this coming Monday, we'll see where it takes me. For now, I am satisfied.
This is just a recollection of the ups and down of this piece. It is never the same, the process that is. But each painting presents to me simple and complex artistic struggles that allow me to learn and grow and let my work flourish. They are many more artistic struggles to come and I welcome them with open arms.
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| Painting day 1: Drawing and laying in masses. The face in this image is probably day two, but the arms, hair and body, are certainly remnants from day 1. |
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| Day two: Trying to refine the face shape etc. My drawing should be perfect here, but in this experience it was far from that at this stage. |
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| Day 6: Do I love it? Will it stay? Will I scrape it off or will that hang on a wall? |
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| Painting day 7: the new "sketch" |
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| Painting day 8: refining, having fun, and enjoying the piece now. |
