The Big Picture

Here it is: The Big Picture!

This is a preliminary “brain dump” of topics that need to be included in a study of painting. Yes, painting is only one aspect of art, and yes, I have ignored drawing, art history, artist studies and probably a lot of other things. But we have to start somewhere. This is somewhere. So let’s start here. I can (and probably will) add to it and modify it as I go along.

I find it much more comfortable to work with a plan like this than with a bulleted list. Bullets give a delightful feeling of oraganization, but so often I’m left wondering whether point A belongs in list B or list C. I like the way things on this diagram flow into each other and almost complete a circle. After all, learning to paint isn’t really a linear process with a neatly defined beginning and end, it’s a never-ending spiral. A plan like this not only helps me to see how a topic relates to other topics (and so gives meaning to boring exercises), it also will remind me not to get bogged down in one small corner of the big picture, like colour charts or brushwork. (The green points are the titles of books that I think will be helpful, and the blue ones are exercises that practice a skill.)

So how does all this translate into goals for 2010?

I want 2010 to be the year in which I can finally call myself  an “artist”. Not necessarily a professional artist, but at least a competent amateur. I want it to be the year in which I feel confident that I can succeed in drawing or painting whatever I set out to draw or paint. I want it to be the year in which I am proud to show others my work, rather than embarrassed by its shortcomings.

I believe it’s possible. But it will take work. And I think this might be the year in which I take myself seriously enough to put in the work.

So, looking at the big picture, I’m going to start by studying value. From there I will follow whatever strand of the web seems necessary or interesting – probably some aspect of color. I will make a point of investing time in myself and my art almost every day.

And that is as specific as I’m going to get with my goals for now. The question I need to answer at the end of the month will not be “Did I complete item X?”. It will be, “Did I make progress toward becoming an artist?”

Stay tuned for the answer.

Coloured Pencils

For me, coloured pencils will forever mean a 12-pack of Laurentian (as it was spelled back then) pencil crayons, in the cool vinyl package with the cabin on it. I got a new set at the beginning of every school year when I was a child. So did my own kids. Sadly, just about the time they were growing out of colouring at school, Sanford bought the brand and killed both the vinyl pouch and the cabin. They’re just not the same any more.

This year, under the Christmas tree, I found a set of 24 Prismacolor pencils. I’ve had a fun afternoon scribbling away and experimenting. The drawing above is from a tutorial by Paula Pertile. I had fun with it, despite having almost none of the colours she used. As usual, I’m happier with the actual drawing than the scan; it’s more orange than it looks here, and the background is, well, visible! Despite fiddling with the scan in Gimp, I can’t get it to look quite right. The tomato is pretty good, though.

Where Did I Go Wrong?

So, as promised, I have been giving a lot of thought over the last week or so to why Art School at Home hasn’t been working for me, and what I should do about it. And I’ve reached a few conclusions:

• I’ve been trying to be too linear and systematic. I’m very much NOT a step-by-step person. I’m a big-picture, seize the moment kind of person (although I do enjoy planning. So while goals like “draw 6 skull, then 6 scapula, then 6 pelvises” were excellent for my anatomy knowledge, they quickly turned into drudgery.
• I need to spend time on the basics, like colour charts and drawing skills. But I get bored quickly if I try to do too much at a time. They do need to be done regularly, but interspersed with more other projects to add interest.
• Time. I’m not good at time management, and I often waste my time and end up not doing any art at all. I won’t get good at art by wishing I were good at art!

So, what do I do about all this? Well, I think I can develop a system that will work for me. Tomorrow I’ll post my ideas.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Two days before Christmas, the small library branch where I work was surprisingly busy. Last minute shoppers looking for product reviews, people with time off work stocking up on books and DVDs, grandparents with visiting grandchildren picking up storybooks to read with them, seniors checking their email for holiday messages, and lots of moms with young kids fitting their usual library visit into a hectic week. The colouring table in our children’s area was constantly surrounded by kids, with all the usual minor colouring crises, like running out of stocking pictures (emergency trip to the photocopier!) and spilled crayons.

But one little boy, about 4 or 5 years old, had a different problem. His mom had finished checking out their books and needed to leave, because she still had several errands to get through before lunch. His picture of a fireplace was only half coloured. And, although he had lots of crayons at home, he didn’t think he had the right red to finish those bricks. His picture was really  just a scribble – not even close to staying within the lines – but he had obviously thought about which crayon to dig out of the big box on the table. Not just any red would do.

It brought back a memory from decades ago, when I was about his age. It was a hot day, and my family had gone swimming at a small lake a few miles from home. I ducked under the water and opened my eyes, and was amazed to discover that the water was yellow, not blue. The sandy/muddy bottom stirred up by all those swimmers and the sun hitting the surface combined to create a sort of yellow ochre-ish colour. I remember being totally fascinated by my discovery, and ducking under over and over to see it.

A few days later, when I coloured a picture in Sunday School, I coloured the water yellow. The woman in charge of the kindergarten class didn’t like it. Water, she said firmly, is blue. “No, it’s yellow. I’ve seen it,” I told her. I’m sure she thought I wasn’t a very bright child! But at that age I apparently hadn’t yet lost the ability to really see what I looked at. I wonder when I did lose it, and why it’s so difficult to get back now.

I made a point of admiring the little boy’s fireplace, and commented to his mom that he seemed to have a good sense of colour. I don’t know if that tipped the balance, but she told him they could buy more crayons when they shopped for Daddy’s gift. I was happy for him, and hoped it would be a big box with lots of reds. You can never have too many art supplies!

Happy Holidays

I’m in the middle of the usual pre-Christmas rush of cooking, cleaning, shopping, and am actually enjoying it for once! For the first time in several years we will have both our mothers, both our siblings, and all of our nieces and nephews together for Christmas. With my 3 children home for 2 weeks, and 12 more people coming for Christmas dinner, there’s not a lot of time for art. But that’s okay. The kids are on vacation from their schools; so am I. I’ll be back after Christmas with an assessment of this year and plans for next.

In the meantime, this lovely lady is one of a set of six little carolers who help to decorate our home every year. Their tiny bodies are clothespegs, and they have been patiently dressed (not by me!) in their Victorian finery. The men, resplendent in top hats, play violins with toothpick bows. A little boy holds a lantern on a pole; a little girl, bundled in a warm scarf, stands beside him. The two women, holding their sheet music and singing along, have taken different approaches to dressing for the cold. One is wearing a pretty but sensibly cozy-looking coral dress and matching hat. This one, though, went all out in her holiday finery. It’s not easy to balance a hat like that on a 5″ body!

Whatever holiday you celebrate, I wish you a joyous season.

Is It Good Enough?

I’ve made a decision that is huge for me. I’ve decided to give one of my paintings as a gift for Christmas. And I’m having serious bouts of lack of confidence over it. Is it really good enough, or will it be one of those things that’s whipped out of a closet and hung whenever I visit?

An elderly relative recently sold her beloved cottage. By coincidence, I had started a painting of it in a class a year or two ago, and my husband (my reasonably unbiased critic) tells me it captures the feeling of the place well. So I’ve finished it, bought a frame, and am ready to wrap it up and put it under the tree for her. The problem is that I see so many things that could be better. Do artists ever reach the point of feeling their work is perfect? Probably not. So how do I know when I’m ready to make the jump from “practice” art to “public” art?

(This photo was taken just before the last few touchups, mostly to the end wall of the cottage. It’s such a dark, overcast day here today that I can’t get a decent photo of the final version. But it’s close.)

Just Having Fun

So, now that I’ve ‘fessed up to not doing my homework, what do I need to do to change things?

Well, for now I’m backing off on the “good for me” goals, and focusing on simply making art playing with art and having fun. My only goal for the rest of the month is to do something with some kind of art supply every day. Something. Anything. Whatever. Experiment. Play. It doesn’t have to take long. It doesn’t have to be good. I just want to regain the fun. Hopefully I’ll learn a bit about handling some of the media I’ve been ignoring. Then perhaps in the New Year I’ll get back to more structured learning again.

Am I Having Fun Yet?

Warning: This is a very long thinking-out-loud post, with no real conclusion (at least not yet). It’s probably not of interest to anyone except me. But if you do happen to actually read it and have any suggestions for me, I’d appreciate your input.

Art school at home isn’t working.

That realization hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks this morning, as I sat playing solitaire while casting guilty looks at my newly-set up drawing table right next to the computer.

Let me back up a bit. One of my goals for December was to organize my art space. It’s in a spare bedroom, which also houses the computer, my canned goods pantry, the vacuum cleaner, the genealogy files, and was fast becoming the dumping ground for anything else if we didn’t know where to put it. So Monday, I dug it out. I cleared out the junk, set up an old table top as a work area, and tidied my supplies so I can find them easily.

Trouble is, I’m not using them. I’m playing solitaire instead.

So what’s the problem? I think it’s a combination of several factors:

• My goals are beginning to feel like having to eat spinach does to a kid.
  “You said you would draw lips. So draw them”
  “I don’t wanna draw lips.”
  “Lips are good for you. So draw them.”
  “If I draw some lips, can I go play?”
  “No, when you finish your lips, it will be time to draw your ears.”
• Painting is discouraging because my results aren’t good enough. My results aren’t good enough because I haven’t been doing enough practicing. I’m not doing enough practicing because it’s discouraging when the result is bad. Vicious circle.
• I love the feeling of getting totally involved in a painting. Drawing, although I know it’s a necessary skill, doesn’t give me quite the same feeling. So it’s probably the colour I want, but I’m not good at mixing to get the colour I want.
• Also, I tend not to spend time painting because it’s such a hassle to clean up after oils.
• I don’t really have a focus. So I tend, like Stephen Leacock’s Lord Ronald, to fling myself on my horse and ride off madly in all directions. Yet when I try to focus, for example on anatomy recently, I get that “spinach” feeling. Which suggests that I’ve picked the wrong focus – stuff that’s good for me rather than stuff I enjoy. But if I want to become a better artist, I’m going to have to put in time at the basics, aren’t I? Is there a balance? I wish I had a personal art coach to guide me. I need the artistic equivalent of Bob and Jillian!
• Then there’s the problem of what to do with my art. I don’t feel most of it is good enough to hang. Most of it should probably be looked on as a learning experience and pitched, but I feel I should keep it for some reason. And even with the good stuff, I’ve only got so many walls. I need to get past the idea of keeping it all.

Is art the wrong thing for me? Should I be spending my time on something else? I did some brainstorming and made a list of everything I could think of that I’m interested in. There are some things I think I’d like to spend a bit more time at, but nothing that gives me the same feeling of pleasure that making art does, at least sometimes. So I do think art is what I want to do, but I’m somehow going about it all wrong.

So over the next few days, I need to think about what I want. Why am I doing art in the first place, and where do I want to go with it. Once I know that, I need to decide how to get there while still enjoying the journey.

It’s only 3 weeks until the end of the year. I’m not usually into New Year’s resolutions, but this year I’d like to have an art plan in place for 2010 by then.

Noses

Strange things, noses. Almost no lines to them at all, which makes them quite challenging to draw. There’s just the nostrils (and it’s amazing how much the shape of the nostrils vary from one person to another) and a bit of shading to indicate the ala (there’s my new word for the day!) It’s so tempting to do more – especially to put in a line down the side of the nose – but overworking it just makes it look cartoonish. For noses, less is best.

Baby – Final?

I’m more pleased with the drawing than with the scan. The pencil marks seem so much harsher here than in real life. But here’s the drawing of little O. I’m not sure if it’s finished or whether I’ll go back to fine-tune it. Grandma’s hand was a struggle to draw, and I’m afraid it shows, while the baby’s face was a delight.