My smallest brush was a large round size 6. It was a great way to prevent myself from getting too tight too soon so that I could properly work from general to specific. Also, in a 3 hour sketch (I’m just used to much longer) I usually run out of time before I an get to anything specific and I find that this can be a good thing for me.

oil sketch, 18" x 24"

Another great resource on drawing from memory is also now available here. Drawing from memory: The Cavé method for learning to draw from memory, written by Marie Elisabeth Blavet Cavé. Here’s a portrait of Madame Cavé, painted by Ingres, from The Met’s permanent collection:

Cavé portrait, by Ingres

The first line of the book starts out with the sentence,

“This is the only method of drawing which really teaches anything.”

I can’t say I fully agree that it’s the only method of drawing that teaches one how to draw, but it certainly shouldn’t sit on the bench. Hours, weeks, months and years of learning how to draw accurately from direct observation has been immensely helpful (and frustrating at times); it has really helped me train my eye. Drawing from memory on the other hand helps me test my knowledge and thus has helped me train my mind.

On a side note, I think that this is also why I find the sculpture and ecorche classes that I’m taking with Steve Perkins so helpful. Besides the fact that working from 3D to 3D has allowed me to really understand the form, masses, rhythm and structure of the human body more directly, Perkins’ rare knowledge of the forms and masses and how he presents this information works to build up my memory of the figure. I find that I am able to store this information of patterns in a simple way – I think of it as a diagrammatic, yet organic, hierarchical filing system. But I digress…

Both books describe wonderful and fun exercises in how to test your observational memory. We have a 4-week long pose this month and after spending this last week on compositional studies and a drawing study, I begin the underdrawing/painting this coming week. I plan to test myself with this month’s pose by trying out a drawing from memory next weekend.

I’d love to follow-up with a memory sketch in clay, but I’ll see how the drawing goes first. I imagine the 3D version will only stand a chance if I really understand the pose from a structural construct rather than a purely optical/shape approach. The prospect of finding out how much I possibly don’t know about about a pose I spend 80 hours on is a scary thought…but I guess I should find out sooner than never. I’ll post both memory sketches (2D and 3D) over the next two weeks.

figure drawing, male study

Here’s a 12-day study of a male figure completed during our morning class at the studio. I’m experimenting with toned paper and the use of white chalk. For now, I’ve decided to stay with graphite rather than switch to charcoal and white chalk. I like (or am used to) graphite and enjoy the subtlety you can achieve in the values with this medium. In the end, however, I’d eventually like to incorporate both charcoal and graphite in the drawing so that I can reach the rich dark that you can get with charcoal in a much more efficient way. At the same time, I can still take advantage of the subtlety and control that I am used to with graphite. I’ve tried this before with a cast drawing of an arm and the charcoal helped me progress the drawing much further without any loss of subtlety in the refining stages of modeling. I find it much more difficult trying to do this with the figure in the interior.

3hr portrait sketch, oil on paper

3-hr portrait sketch, oil on paper

3-hour quick portrait sketch, Whittnie

Andrew Loomis and Matthew Innis’ latest blog post on his blog, Underpaintings, offers great reading material for these quick portraits.

open sketch class drawing

When I get stuck on longer poses and projects, it’s very easy to forget how helpful a sketch session can be. This was a nice pose, and it was great practice in trying to track anatomical landmarks as her pelvis mimicked the weight of a pendulum throwing her contrapposto to and fro…it was actually more funny than frustrating. This taught me that sometimes it’s futile; you just have to let go and give up on the pose corrections. Accept it as a challenge for one session. Like a wise friend once said, “After all, it’s life drawing. They’re going to move!”

"Helicopter" Sketches/Drawings, Leonardo da Vinci

The lecture and discussion at Janus Collaborative this past Friday was not only intellectually stimulating, but fun. It was great to spend an evening meeting new realist painters and reconnecting with old friends from other schools and ateliers. Spending a majority of my time at the studio and working reduces my social time and “catching up” to checking status updates on Facebook — and even this time is limited. But I think that discussing our process and thoughts every now and then is just as important to art training and to the picture making process.

We were lucky enough to have Tony Mastromatteo give two lectures last Friday. During the regular day program, we focused on the painting life as a creative, professional life. He answered many questions, pulling mainly from his own experience, about how to survive as a painter and be satisfied with what we are painting once we are out of school. We discussed the transition, and both the short-term and long-term fulfillment of an artist’s career. He talked about how to make a living as a painter instead of one who paints/waits tables/takes odd jobs/freelances/ tutors/babysits/dog walks…you get my drift.

Tony also mentioned how he now understands the important distinction between emerging, mid-level and established artists. If I had more time, I would write more about the specifics of the lecture but one of the main things I walked away with that afternoon is that it confirmed how this type of training is crucial. Painstaking studies 7-8 hours a day, 5 days a week is what it takes, and if we want to make a living as a painter we have to do the work and we have to be good at what we do whether or not we continue to paint the figure or paint apples. Otherwise we end up painting houses.

No doubt there is a lot of thinking and self-exploration that faces everyone once we are finished with art school and if you ask 10 different working artists, you’ll get at least 10 different answers of what has worked for them. Art school doesn’t train us for everything. We are here (in the atelier system) mainly to learn and perfect technique. From this starting point, in our own studios, we have a life’s work and much exploration ahead of us. Perhaps it sounds a bit daunting, but quiet exciting as well.

For the evening, Tony discussed what the atelier system is lacking: the development of ideas. Technical know-how is a given in realist paintings. Subject matter on the other hand is the next hurdle. In fact it is the hurdle (and will continue to be the following hurdles down the track on our run as realist painters). Ateliers, unlike the university system, is mainly (if not only) concerned with technical development and perfection. And for good reason, it takes years to perfect and execute “the how” so we have to turn down the volume on “the what”.

Whether we came into this type of training already knowing “the what” or not, “the how” is absolutely essential. It is our language and we have to be proficient in it in order to communicate and express what we want in any picture. So contrary to some discussions involving the topic of creativity and expression, we move forward on the premise that it is absolutely essential to learn and master technique. However, as Tony says, we can’t move forward very well with a bum leg.

I look forward to more discussions and lectures such as this one during the rest of my studies at Janus. It’s nice to have instructors who are supportive of developing a curriculum that sets a very high and challenging bar for us to meet, yet who also realize the importance of developing the “muscle” of creativity in conjunction with technical know-how. On a side note, it may be a good thing that painting is a “lonely profession” since there’s a study out there saying how we are far more creative in individual settings, than in groups. I agree that groupthink is often not the best way to solve a problem:

As far as more details of the specifics of Tony’s lecture, I will hand the baton to a blog post from one of the attendees from that evening. (Check out the rest of Hyeseung’s blog and website while you’re there. Awesome work!)

Reverse Engineering Painting
Lecture and Discussion with Anthony Mastromatteo
Practitioners of contemporary realism have limited the possibilities of their language by placing their greatest emphasis on technical issues. We will explore further possibilities of visual language as utilized in the past through the breakdown and examination of various successful paintings and plot a path beyond pure technical execution. Along this path, each individual artist may thrive in his or her specific manner of expression.

Time: 6:30-9pm
Where: Janus Collaborative studio, 3rd Floor
Please join us for the evening.
RSVP info@januscollaborative.org

It should be an interesting lecture, followed by a great discussion among attendees. I’m looking forward to breaking up my academic study with such a topic. If you’re in the area or know someone in the area who might be interested, please spread the word.

Under certain lighting conditions, for example with front light or under a strong spotlight, with the subject against a dark background, the dark tones at the edge of an object may be absorbed into the background and what we really see in this instance is an area just inside the edge of the form instead of the dark light. The outermost edge of this zone blends into the background. This creates the illusion of softer edges instead of a crisp separation between the object and background. The basic lesson is what we’ve heard over and over again, we must pay attention to the edges and work very carefully at the meeting of forms. A great example is an image I’ve posted here before.

Notice how the edge of the shoulder as it turns into the form of the back is very soft, while the edge of the upper forearm of the left arm against a light drapery is much more crisp. We can also contrast the field effects happening in the skull and the right arm. The skull has a softer edge as the top of the head as it turns away from us toward the background and enters the dark light, while the right arm (also turning away from us into the background) is more lit and its dark light zone is not near the edge of the arm placed against the background. Thus the difference in their edge treatment. (At least this is how I rationalize my reading of how Caravaggio treated the two edges differently.) He may have just been copying what he saw, which proves that how he painted what he saw is accurate with visual phenomena. Yet, I suspect that he was aware of these patterns in nature and didn’t just copy nature by rote in his practice. (There are also other reasons why the skull has a softer edge than the right arm.)

For the painting I worked on in Sarah Lamb’s workshop, she had me pay attention to the edge of the gourd which was in the dark light region, against the darker background of the wooden box. This edge was much softer than the opposing edge more directly facing the light source against a cast shadow on the same dark wooden box.

With a backlit subject, the same field effects would occur with the opposite observation. Edges would be softer on the light edge against a light background as some of this lighter zone would be absorbed into the background and harder on the darker side of the form against the lighter background. This is also consistent with the rule that high contrast areas are often the sharpest areas in a painting/nature.

There are many different field effects in nature which I have yet to learn and fully understand. In essence, everything in our visual experience is a field effect since we never see objects in nature in isolation, especially color. The cognitive experience of visual phenomena is a product of many different optical illusions and our eyes are lying to our brains (or is it our brains lying to our eyes, therefore lying to itself? …If anyone knows of any books on this topic, please let me know and shoot me an email! I love this stuff!!).

We discussed another field effect at the edges of a form, in relation to color, which I’ll write as a separate post later this week. I’ve indulged in my musings enough for the evening (making good use of that extra hour we gained from Daylight Savings this weekend). It’s time to finish preparing my panels for this week’s intensive workshop-style class with Michael at the studio.

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Though I haven’t had any issues, I thought it wise to add the statement below:

Art Student’s/Blogger’s Caveat:
Everyone should always take this in consideration when reading any blog, but I’ll state it here just to be clear. Everything written on my personal blog is my interpretation of my studies and in no way should be taken as the exact teaching itself. Though I strive to understand and represent all the concepts fully and back up my writing/notes with examples, other more established posts/articles/books, science, visual phenomena, etc. there is always room for error and misunderstanding so it is the reader’s responsibility to cross-reference anything they read here. In case of any error brought to my attention, I will always point them out ASAP. (And of course, if you’ve heard otherwise or spot any incongruities, please shoot me an email since I created this blog to develop a greater, ongoing conversation amongst like-minded people and artists.)

Bargue Plate, Bent Arm of a Man, Graphite

A recent Bargue plate drawing I did over the summer is on the cover of the latest special supplement issue of Drawing Magazine. I completed this Bargue copy via the sister school of Janus Collaborative, NYK Academy on the 2nd Fl of the Harlem Studios (JCSA is on the 3rd Fl). Both programs, in my opinion, serve to complement each other by training your eye in completely two different ways. AT JCSA we focus on the figure and direct observation where measuring is used as a check. It is based on a more structural analysis of drawing where ideas of perspective and constructive anatomy lie strong in the pedagogy.

NYK Academy’s curriculum is based on the sight-size drawing technique of the Florence Academy. This program originated with Andrea Smith who attended and taught at the Florence Academy. She now advises Judy Kudlow, who is the current instructor of the program. The course consists of a rational progression from graphite to charcoal to paint; the subject matter increases in difficulty with every drawing from 2D or “flats”, which are copies of the Bargues on to casts, then still life. There is also a figure drawing class in the evenings which you can take once you learn to measure (sight-size) in space.

With the sight-size method, measuring is a way to train your eye and you learn many things in a logical and simplified way so that you can achieve control of the materials and sharpen your analytical skills in a different way than the structural/constructive curriculum does. It is based on a more perceptual approach. One of the greatest things I’ve learned from the program so far is how to really analyze a curve. In the morning program at JCSA, we discuss the inflection point(s) of a curve and learn to really spot the change of direction through very close observational skills. However, by doing the Bargues I have noticed that it has only enhanced my analytical skills so that I can draw “by eye” much better.

One misunderstanding may be that everything is measured in the sight-size approach. Soon after my first Bargue plate copy, I quickly learned that this wasn’t true. From how I see it, the measurements serve as a foundation from which to build your drawing upon. Later measurements serve as a check and you have to rely on your eye much more along with a perceptual analysis/observation (AND since I can’t unlearn this…a structural, anatomical and constructive analysis). In short, all my teachers are really saying the same thing anyway. The approaches and techniques only seem different on the surface but the concepts are all the same; it’s just another tool.

This special issue of Drawing Magazine discusses the importance of copying master drawings and the lessons behind them, amongst many, many other interesting articles concerning drawing and draftsmanship.

Below are images of my Bargue copy of the male arm in various steps:

"Block-In" or Contours

Shadows

Intermediary Tones

Final Drawing (Stop Modeled in Graphite)

Today one of the doctors, in answering our questions as he covered the muscle groups and functions of the lower limb, mentioned that it was very interesting for him to look at things from a different perspective/perspective of an artist interested in realistic rendering of the human figure. Many of our questions were ones that have never come up before in his many years of teaching medical students, nor were they thoughts that crossed his mind in his practice. Yet he found them to be quite relevant, interesting and practical. We don’t do any actual dissection, but we work “alongside” the medical students on a weekly basis as they cut through various parts of the cadaver and reveal the muscle groups for us to study and understand. I like to think that the entire partnership is a collaboration in itself where both the artists and the med school students/faculty learn from each other’s point of views and experience.

Our drawings are also up in the dissection lab and though I’m not sure if they are at all useful as a diagram or illustration to the med students during the week, I’d like to imagine that they are. In return, their work in the dissection lab help reveal to us a better understanding of the amazing construction of the human figure.

Anatomical Study of the Upper Leg

I find that there are many ways to approach a drawing in the lab. I found the lower limb a bit complex, so I decided to draw the upper leg as I saw it (dissected/cut, somewhat incomplete as the skin was completely peeled away and the subcutaneous fat and fascia have been cleaned off in some parts while remnants could be seen in other sections), with a slant toward something more diagrammatic in order to better familiarize myself with the muscles and their function in different states of rest and contraction. This will help me better understand any pose the model takes whether it’s from direct observation or something I create from imagination. I didn’t have much time, and I didn’t get a chance to completely draw the muscles that were already cut so I’m sure I could improve the accuracy of some details in my quick study. Nonetheless, the experience of observing and translating the dissected upper leg of the cadaver into a drawing really helped me gain a great understanding of the surface anatomy in this part of the body. I can’t wait until next week and only wish I could stay longer to draw from the cadavers a little more.

For the final pass, I wanted to concentrate on the textures and discoloration of the object. I also wanted to be able to show the simple form of the ladle despite the variation in its local color. Overall it was a fun painting to work on and though simple it brought forth many lessons for me to learn from in terms of painting local color, light effect, color/temperature variation, chroma control, form painting and paint handling.

Rusty Ladle, oil on board

Next time, I will need to improve the edge quality and edge variation a bit more.

Rusty Ladle, 2nd Pass

Edges, color adjustments (decrease chroma) and working on the lighter end of my value range were my primary concerns this round. I struggled with the tungsten light source during the first pass. The warmth of the bulb is quite distracting so I took some time to assess the local color and the affect of the light source on it for this pass.

My poster study was a good reference and tool in helping me correct the key of the painting from the first pass, though it could have served me better. I found that my poster study was too chromatic overall and it was also missing the higher parts of the value range. To a lesser degree I repeated those mistakes, so I spent a good chunk of my time this round fixing the parts that I had made too green or yellow or too chromatic.

Once it looked like the color and value adjustments were working out both on the ladle and on the background, I concentrated on minutia and some details of texture. I hope to build up some of the rusty textures on top of this pass during my next and final round. Critiques or suggestions welcome.

Rusty Ladle

This is the first pass to the still life set-up of a simple rusty ladle. It’s under artificial lighting, and you can check out the poster study here. I’m attracted to the simplicity of the object, its colors and the old, rusty texture of the metal. And I just love the high contrast of the dark cast shadow to the light blasting the background and top section of the ladle.

I decided against a grisaille and started directly with an ébauche (first pass or underpainting, always in color – at least in the tradition/approach practiced by Bouguereau and other 19th Century painters), simply because the value range of the composition is so small and compressed. I wanted a base with color and value decisions in the underpainting to work off of for the following pass. It seemed that building on top of this and layering the textures on top of something with form, color and value made the most sense.

back, male torso (Bargue Plate 56)

The left column features a schematic to aid you in approaching the “block-in” for the Bargue copy while the one next to it is the finished drawing. The drawing on the right column is my finished drawing.

poster study

Here’s a quick poster study of a very simple set-up under artificial light. Again, I just wanted to key the painting, not get too finnicky, and to stay abstract and simple. More tomorrow…back to my daylight set-up which I had to let dry a couple of days.

Caravaggio was a master of chiaroscuro and his naturalistic painting style was in direct contrast to the idealistic views during the Renaissance. This was quite effective in his religious, narrative paintings as the apostles and disciples were depicted as human instead of “godly” or mythical beings.

Sometimes he controlled the light source and light direction by blocking much of the strong light flooding in through a window or a door. Other times, he used candles to light his subjects. The areas of the subject nearest to the candlelight are very brightly lit and everything else rapidly turns into the shadow (since the light dissipates very quickly). Notice how the reflective light is minimized. Caravaggio often surrounded his subjects with dark cloth or dark walls in order to diminish any bounced light onto his subject.

This type of set-up is a very effective way to create a strong design and lead the viewers eye across the tableau. James Gurney writes more about chiaroscuro in his wonderful blog (which you should be following if you’re not already doing so). I’m far from a narrative painting (though sketchbooks are a great way to work out some of these ideas), but I’m using the opportunity of having access to such a wonderful studio to paint some subjects under dramatic lighting this summer. Plus, there are no city or street lights to get in the way of my shadows up here!

I began by drawing directly with a brush in an attempt to approach this painting “loosely” as I learned through Sarah Lamb’s workshop. Being more comfortable with getting the drawing “right” first – usually with pencil then transferring, I wanted to mix things up a bit this time. This confidence also springs from the fact that still life subjects are often more forgiving than the figure. Regardless of the drawing tool, it was the usual block-in stuff where I began with a loose envelope, then slowly broke this down to straight block-in lines with a lot of triangulation plus usage of vertical and horizontal plumbs “by eye” – and a knitting needle.

I resolved the drawing as well as I could. Once I had something accurate enough to build the underpainting on, I went in with brown and scumbled a very thin wash. This took place early on as I tried to treat the drawing and underpainting with a more mass drawing approach rather than a linear approach. With this technique there is more juggling with the drawing and so I continue to work on the drawing careful not to let the medium get too sloppy. The important things I keep in mind is to always improve the drawing, not lose the drawing by painting and covering lines I want to keep and I make sure things remain thin. I plan to build paint up in the lights especially since there is a lot of texture on the metal bowl and ladle.

Still Life with Garlic, underpainting

My underpainting is really a monochromatic wash-in though I used two colors, a warm and a cool, to map out the temperature changes. I first simplified things by starting with the darkest dark and moved from there. The neutral gray ground played a very strong role in how I simplified my values, slowly building up the underpainting from three values, on to four, five, etc until I was satisfied in suggesting the volume of the objects. The underpainting was “done” once I worked out the overall value and temperature relationships of the entire composition as well as I could.

Poster Study - Still Life with Garlic

I tried to keep the shapes as simple and as abstract as possible without compromising the composition too much. Parts of the background are slightly more chromatic than it should be in the final painting. I found it challenging to lay down flat color and value patches when many elements require indirect color/painting to achieve its effect. Regardless, I would attempt to find the most accurate average, mix and lay it down thickly, trying not to fuss with it unless it needed correction.

After selecting and editing which objects to put in the composition, looking at some master still life painters and paintings, and doing A LOT of rearranging, I finally reached something simple enough yet interesting as a composition. Alas! now the light is gone and I will have to start tomorrow; but this allows me some time to gesso and prime some supports for subsequent paintings.

In my research, I learned a few things about how to set-up a still life.

• Pay attention to positive AND negative shapes
• Keep the composition balanced
• Do spend serious time and thought into setting up the objects; take as much time rearranging things around as you need
• It helps to look at still life paintings of old masters to get some ideas on how you can arrange things
• Paint subjects you are drawn to

I have also set up a still life for the evening in which the light source is artificial and controlled. I’ll post my poster studies for both and write about my next step in tomorrow’s entry.

Right at the end of my break, I was fortunate enough to take a 3-day Still Life workshop with Sarah Lamb. It’s my second attempt at a still life, as I’ve been working mostly from the figure. One of the most difficult things for me was to attempt to achieve a finished painting in 3 days since I am used to longer poses. It was great to push myself to paint at this speed, draw with a paint brush and approach things from a more mass-oriented way rather than linear. It exercised different muscles, so to speak and I walked away feeling a lot more confident with the paint brush. Sarah Lamb was a wonderful teacher and her still life paintings are beautiful — well-drawn, painterly while still capturing the subtlety in her subject matter.

I learned a lot about composition in regards to setting up objects for a still life (which, in my opinion, is much harder than it looks and is nothing like setting up the figure). We also discussed cropping, Ted Seth Jacobs, field effect, materials and color. We started with a poster study, moved on to an quick drawing/underpainting and pushed it to a finished painting as much as we could in the three days. This is how far I got in the painting. The glare makes parts of the painting a little difficult to see in my photo, but alas…

Still Life with Gourd

I start a 4-day portrait painting class with Kate Lehman tomorrow and beginning this Friday I’m on my own upstate where I’ll have space and quiet for 2 months (well, and freelance deadlines). I’ll also be back to posting regularly. Hope everyone had a great 4th of July celebration!

final drawing copy of Menzel's Head of Bearded Man

Here is the result after day 2. Now after an entire day away from the drawing, the values of the entire form of the cheek from the nose/corner of the eye to the beard is quite off. I didn’t notice this during the session. This is a good lesson in taking breaks!

I hope to run into more of Adolf Menzel’s drawings – graphite, pen and ink, anything. Menzel was self-taught and did not attend an academy. He has excellent knowledge of perspective, linework and anatomy as well as a wonderful sense of form. He, too, was a painter and illustrator like Mucha. Both did etchings and woodcuts — excellent draughtsmen.

Copy of Menzel drawing, Head of Bearded Man, graphite

Here’s a new copy I’m working on from another visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It is a copy of a beautiful drawing by Adolf Menzel, in graphite. I’m going back for a second session since I didn’t have time to finish. I spent a lot of time just admiring Menzel’s handwork. Here’s a shot of what I have so far after the first session.

But first, I want to discuss a few points on what to focus on and what not to focus on when copying master drawings. The points are a mix from notes I’ve compiled through my studies to date and from my own experience in copying old master drawings.

What NOT to do:

• copy every single line or hatch mark (at least for educational purposes. If your goal is to make an exact copy of a work then this point would, of course, be moot.)

Some things to focus on:

• tilts and distances
• value relationships
• long lines and relationships
• proportion
• areas of overlap
• perspective

These may seem a bit too general, and I guess my main point in this post is that when trying to learn from an old master drawing we miss the lesson if we simply copy every single line without filtering the reasons behind those lines. Missing one hatch mark is a small “mistake” compared to missing the mark when it comes to understanding relationships of long lines, rhythm, proportion and value.

In my analysis above, I focus on two main mistakes I make in my study of Bloemaert’s drawing. They are both rooted in the common error of exaggeration. The black circle addresses an obvious area where I inadvertently created a bump at the point where the radius attaches to the bones of the wrist and hand, by overestimating the curve. The green lines in my drawing (leading to the black circle, you may need to click the image for a closer view to see the lines), when placed next to Bloemaert’s drawing shows how the lower tilt is slightly off. This seemingly small error is great when combined with the long line and curve leading to the bump of the wrist. I end up pinching the lower section of the arm too much and causing that non-existent swelling of the wrist.

In the second analysis, I take a closer look at long lines/relationships and the difficulty of curves. There is a subtle and beautiful curve relating the upper arm to the lower arm. If you take away the “bump of the elbow” and take a closer look at Bloemaert’s drawing, you’ll see how he clearly saw and understood this relationship as he exhibits the beauty of this woman’s arm in the subtlety of his drawn curve. In my study of the drawing I have exaggerated the inflection of the curve toward the end of my line. This tendency to under or overexagerrate the line towards the end of your stroke is common and can be improved with much practice. It is difficult to control the line the longer it is — especially for me and it is something I continue to practice.

Overall it was a great learning experience and I copied other drawings that day, but I have to say Abraham Bloemaert is a master is the subtlety of those curves – as well as overlap. I didn’t cover issue of overlap in this post but if you’re interested in learning more about it, Bloemart drawings are a great source. I will cover overlap and how to evaluate a curve’s point of inflection in future posts.

Happy copying!

PS – Copying master drawings also reveals your weaknesses while it highlights your strengths and/or improvements throughout classical art training. For example, it helps me know how to redirect my training and what I should continue to focus on during my training. How to pick an old master drawing to copy? More on my next post…

Drawing in Charcoal, Mucha

Mucha at Work

Not only was Alfons (also spelled as Alphonse) Mucha an excellent draughtsman, but he excelled in design and the decorative arts.  Though he is more notably known for his work in poster design, illustration and advertising, his brilliant eye for design and composition paired with exquisite line work in both his more traditional paintings and drawings and in his illustrative posters allowed him to successfully merge the two areas of art and design in the style we now know as Art Nouveau.

France Embraces Bohemia, oil painting by Mucha

Just like many artists of the time, he travelled to Paris in 1887 to further develop his art training in one of the many Parisian academies or ateliers alongside with some of the best artists in the 19th Century.  

Self Portrait, oil

He became a student at the Academie Julien and the Academie Colarossi (sculpture based training).  

painting in oil, Mucha

oil painting, Mucha

During his studies, Mucha produced magazine illustrations and advertising most likely to help pay for his studies and living expenses in Paris.  Not only did he create a multitude of posters and advertisements for the theatre, but this prolific Czech painter produced numerous works of art and continues to influence generations of artists, painters, graphic designers, designers, lettering/typography and draughtsmen today.

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Relevant links:
Mucha Museum online
The Official Mucha Website
Images – The Olga Gallery

Other blog posts on Mucha:
Lines and Colors
The Artistic Anatomy Blog, Mucha’s “France Embraces Bohemia“

Sketch of a small terracotta sculpture

Here’s a sketch from my latest visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Museums – such as the MET – provide an abundant amount of  interesting and beautiful things to sketch, from 2D & 3D artwork to museum visitors and guards. On a rainy day, it’s the perfect place! However, what caught my attention this visit were the terracotta sculptures nearby in the European Sculptures section of the museum. This sketch is from a very small bust by Jules Dalon, a French sculptor from the 19th Century.  It is most likely a study for a larger piece. Yes, that’s right, a sketch of a sketch!

This week I’ll be posting more sketches and studies so keep an eye out!

Figure Block-In

The side drawing was a critique from Michael Grimaldi where he analyzed the rhythm and movement of the structural forms making an excellent parallel to a previous drapery workshop which the full-time/core program students took part in last month at JCSA, aka Janus.  More on the block-in in a future post.

Northern light exposure

When: Saturday, May 30th
Time: 3pm until…
Where: 508 E117th St, click here for Google map
Directions: Take the 6 train to 116th St and walk 4 blocks east (towards Third Ave) to Pleasant Avenue. Turn left, JCSA is a few steps from Pleasant Ave. on 117th St.
If driving, JCSA is 2 blocks from FDR Drive, exit 16. There is ample street parking.
Website:  www.januscollaborative.org

Annigoni’s style is greatly influenced by the great Old Masters of the Italian Renaissance though he learned the art of painting in tempera grassa (ie, “fatty tempera”) while studying under the Russian painter Nikolai Lokoff.  What makes the tempera paint fatty are particles of oil mixed in with the egg tempera. The oil allows the paint to have slightly more blending effects though the medium remains to follow the drying properties of pure tempera rather than oil paint.

I am not sure whether these portraits were painted in pure tempera grassa, pure oil paint or a mix of both mediums, regardless they are exquisite.  

Born in 1910 and being a realist painter at a time when realism and traditional painting was a dying art form, Annigoni signed the manifesto of Modern Realist Painters in 1947. The group consisted of 7 painters who were openly opposed to abstract art and other styles and movements of art in Italy at the time. Despite representational art’s fall from grace, Annigoni continued to produce work that bore the style of Italian Renaissance portraiture executed with technical bravado and enjoyed worldwide success in the face of modernism and post-modernism. Nelson Shanks of Studio Incamminati in Philadelphia and Michael John Angel of the Angel Academy in Florence were both Annigoni students.

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Images courtesy of Artron
Annigoni on Art Renewal, more images
Angel Academy of Art
Studio Incamminati

No matter how many times you have drawn the figure from life, drawing the figure from memory remains a challenge.  The only way to reach the goal with greater ease is to continually practice drawing the figure from memory.  In Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Discourses on Art he tells (I believe in Discourse IX) his students to redraw from memory figures that they had previously drawn in the life class. Continual practice in this exercise, he said, would soon enable the student to draw “tolerably correct” human figures “with as little effort of the mind as is required to trace with a pen the letters of the alphabet.” Leonardo da Vinci recommended artists should go over the forms and outlines they had studied that day before going to sleep at night.

In our portrait sketch class with Kate Lehman at JCSA, we were asked to paint the same portrait from memory and it was amazing how much the brain simplified things down to the most essential elements — at least this was my strategy that day.  I was more amazed at what I was able to remember, than what I didn’t remember.  Simplification and a broad approach proved to be a great strategy in recreating the portrait.  Now I am lucky enough to get my hands on an out-of-print book, The Training of the Memory in Art written by Horace Lecoq de Boisbaudran in 1847.  I am looking to improve my skills in memory drawing not only to aid drawing from the imagination, but to be able to develop compositions in the process of picture making.

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Links:
Jon deMartin
Kate Lehman

Books: 
Discourses on Art, Sir Joshua Reynolds (online version of 7 discourses, here)

Check out:
Another post on memory drawing via one of my favorite blogs, Gurney Journey.