Oil Painting

The times we live in and the problems people are dealing with make me pause. Although I am not a person who regularly reflects on the past, lately I have been thinking about something….my illustration days, and the importance of all those years spent creating images of everything imaginable, from romance book covers, to editorial-magazine assignments, to car and movie advertisements.

I have been a picture maker for fifty years.  I started freelancing in 1971, and spent the first 28 years of my career as an illustrator.  The past 22 years have been spent doing “fine art” oil paintings that are of interest to me and the galleries that represent me.  When looking back on the body of work I created, I find myself acknowledging the importance of the first 28 years on the second stage of my personal journey as an Artist.

As illustrators, we were asked to draw and paint anything and everything ….and we were well compensated for it financially.  Aside from the obvious money aspect of commercial art, there was, for me, a more important side to all of that work…it was a fabulous training ground for learning one’s craft.  The book covers with all of the figures in them were probably the most valuable lessons.  Figures are difficult because if you get them wrong it is obvious.  I think what helped me the most during those Illustration years was the sheer volume of work I had to produce…hundreds of book covers with the always lurking deadlines!  I rarely turned work down.  I learned discipline and work ethic from my father when I was young. This was greatly enhanced by the pressure of the commercial art business.  I can honestly say that I never missed a deadline in that period of my career. 

One late afternoon in my studio while finishing a book cover for Bantam Books, I was cleaning up the edges with white gesso (as I always did) and accidentally tipped over a bucket of white acrylic onto the oil painting! Distraught as I was, I calmed myself and started the painting over immediately, and still delivered it on time.  That was certainly a confidence builder, knowing that I could respond that way (under such pressure) and not have the job or the deadline suffer in any way.  The art director never knew what I had gone through. 

Creating a book cover typically went like this: First, the Art Director would send me a concept sheet describing the characters, the fashion, and the action they wanted to see on the cover. Next, I would produce several rough thumbnail sketches and call my photographer in New York to pick models and book a shoot.  On the day of the shoot, I would attend, sketches in hand, and the photographer would pose the models to match my sketches — often to a tee!  I would receive beautiful black and white 16×20 prints to take back to my studio as visual aids. The prints had gorgeous values.  I would then create several versions of the cover sketch for the Art Director, who would approve one. I would go and finish the assignment.  The sketches were pretty well worked out, so there were rarely any changes (thankfully) that had to be made on the finished painting. 

During those years, I went from being a pen and ink artist (I thought drawing was always my strong suit), to all the other traditional mediums…and eventually ending up doing my first oil painting that I considered successful in 1983, a portrait of my father. That was it… I have been from that time on predominately an oil painter.

In the mid to late 1980s, while in the midst of a busy illustration career, I started showing small fine art paintings in local miniature shows.  I had some success…which encouraged me to pursue that further.  I continued doing illustration until the business started changing and digital was changing the business as I knew it, or cared for it.  I painted my last commercial cover in 1999.  At that point, I already had a couple of galleries representing me and I never looked back (except in conversation or in rare times like these that make you reflect on your life.)

For some reason, there seems to be, amongst some folks, a negative connotation with illustration, which I never understood.  I can remember an Art Critic in one of the New York papers Sunday section, calling Andrew Wyeth a “mere illustrator.”  I was appalled by a comment like that!  All my art heroes were illustrators back then and Andrew Wyeth is an iconic American fine artist.

I know many ex-illustrators do not mention that period in their art careers, but I always embrace and remember it fondly…it was a hard job with many hours spent making deadlines, but the positive rewards far outweighed the work.  I am forever thankful for the opportunity and for the success I had which enabled me to have a long career.  There is still plenty to be learned on this art journey…and I really don’t know if I could be doing what I do today were it not for the years spent as an illustrator. 

Thanks again to Oil Painters of America for the invitation and opportunity to do another Blog piece…it is always an honor.

Hodges Soileau OPA  

The topic of skies in the landscape comes up all the time with my private students and is a subject with which many painters struggle. I thought I would share a few things I have learned.

I will start with the most obvious, which is that the sky sets the tone of the painting.  If you are depicting a sunset, sunrise, cloudy day, fog or even bright midday sun, the sky should convey that mood. Care must be taken to make sure that the mood established in the sky is carried through the rest of the landscape.

Newer painters often forget that everything in a painting must be bathed in the same light. This means that the landscape must reflect the sky in temperature of light.  This is obvious when painting a strong sunrise or sunset, but can be easy to miss when painting a scene with subdued light, especially when the light is a cooler color temperature.  For example, if the sky’s light is cool and the artist paints the reflected light a warm color temperature, the painting simply will not work. The same temperature MUST be carried throughout the entire painting.

The sky is also an important compositional device and has much to contribute to the overall design. For example, when there are strong diagonals within the landscape, clouds can be arranged to counterbalance with diagonals of their own in the opposite direction (in a subtle manner of course!)  Another example is when the painting contains a series of horizontals in its land forms, the artist can choose to either echo the effect with more horizontals in the clouds, or contrast with more vertical cloud formations.

Often times the sky contributes to the overall success of the painting by being subdued in form, value and color, while still playing an important role in setting the mood.  If the landscape or seascape is very complex with lots going on, the sky needs to be very low contrast and subtle so as not to draw attention away from the busier areas of the painting.

The mistake I see most often with my novice students, and sometimes elsewhere, is the habit of painting a blue sky with a color that is very intense and/or far too dark, particularly a dark Ultramarine Blue.  This takes all the light out of the sky, and makes it look artificial. Remember to squint to see how light in value the sky really is in comparison to the other planes of the landscape.

Also, it is important to remember when painting clouds, our job is to give the impression that they are light, airy and full of moisture; they are not solid objects. In an impressionistic painting, all sorts of colors can be introduced into the clouds, just remember to keep the colors subdued to avoid making them look heavy.  

So…pay attention to the sky in all stages of your painting and do not make it an afterthought!  Better to plan the design, values, temperature, intensity and edges right from the beginning.

Deborah Tilby  SFCA,  OPAM

www.deborahtilby.com

https://www.instagram.com/deborahtilby/

Character, Personality, Spirit, Soul – these qualities cannot be measured by the length of the nose or the distance between the eyes. Yet, they are what a client is looking for when they commission me to paint a portrait. They can be revealed, however, in the movements, gestures and tendencies of the sitter. They are glimpsed when a subject interacts with the world around them, for example the way they tilt their head in response to a question, or nod when emphasizing certain words, or the way they move their hair, or even the way they keep their eyes on a nearby person they love. These small but revelatory motions cannot be captured in a single, still photograph. Yet, they are crucial for understanding personality and for creating a meaningful portrait.

In addition to painting studies from life, I use photographs as reference — multiple photos instead of just a single one. But even a series of photos, after a month or two in the studio, become quiet and stagnant. The memory of the photoshoot is much less in the front of my mind and it becomes harder to recall who I am painting, not just how they look. And it is who I am painting that matters. So that is why I began taking videos during my photoshoots.

Usually, I try to take the video when the client is “off guard”, though I always let them know at the beginning of the session that I will be filming. I want to see the unhindered character traits and mannerisms of my subject because those traits often form a large part of how the person is perceived. Video also helps me better understand the anatomy of my sitter because it captures him or her turning their head, providing a three-dimensional view of the skull, very helpful for understanding the upturn of the nose, or how deep the eyes are, etc., (photos often lack this level of information). 

In addition to life sittings when possible, and after studying the videos to watch for clues of character, I will choose a “main” photo reference that most portrays the sitter and get it approved by the client. Between sittings, I will use this still photo 75% of the time, but also flip through other pictures to see various angles and skin tones more clearly. But there comes a time as I work when I forget what it was like, really like, to be around the person. That is when I re-watch the video and see if I am capturing the spirit of the person. I will study the “hints” (the movements and tendencies) and see if I have captured a sense of personality in the collection of shapes on my canvas. I watch my subject’s head as it turns, and see if I have the skull correctly rendered. I look at proportions such as how the head compares to the body or to the arm length. I pick up the brush and trust myself as I work, using the rolling video which forces me to see the person as a whole. 

Moving beyond still images, I see the need to use more modern devices and watch people move, laugh, talk and breathe, and see if my painting holds the image of a being that loves, thinks and feels. It just makes sense to me. I cannot always have that person, child, or animal sit still for me to paint from life, so the video is the second-best option. 

There are other advantages as well.  When I ask a client to send me a video (so that I can appreciate the character and get a sense of who I am painting), it goes beyond a technical request: it is a tribute that honors the subject. It shows my deep respect not only for the person but also for the art of portraiture. It reminds me to not merely copy a photo and “miss the forest for the trees.” It gives my eyes a break and stimulates my brain to think. 

I do not know what will come next in our options for references when painting portraits – maybe a hologram sitting? But I do know this: we are past the age of still photos. I think the reason we like them is that they are “safe.” Necessary? Yes, I believe so, for a big portion of the painting. But let us also bring out the video and paint, and put the photo on standby for a while. Use the photo for technical information, but do whatever it takes to paint the person. Between sittings, or in lieu of sittings, videos are a great tool to study the unique, subtle, quirky, or beautiful movements that remind us of the breath behind the body, and help us capture it with a paintbrush. 

*This youtube video is an example of my process of taking video for a portrait commission: 

I am a professional artist, but what some people don’t know about me is that I have played piano since I was eight years old. I was classically trained all the way through college, with a major in art and a minor in music. I took all the music classes: ​ ​ theory, aural skills, counterpoint. I even took voice lessons and sang in ​the ​choir. I loved music with a passion that rivaled my love for art… it was that big a part of my life.

But there came a point when I had to choose, because I couldn’t devote 100% of my time to both. These art forms each demand much more of a person when it comes to choosing a career path. I chose painting, and the music gradually diminished in my life.

Recently, however, I’ve returned to playing piano once in a while just for fun. Since I’ve played some of the same stuff over and over for the last 15 years, I decided to order some new sheet music to freshen up my repertoire.

At first I was excited to play the new material, but I quickly realized that the music was just “ok”. Honestly, I got rather bored playing these lovely but cliche arrangements of popular songs.

This made me realize that I have changed. I’m not a student anymore, but a person who is capable of taking something and making it my own. And as a recovering rule-follower, it has taken me years to realize that I can do this. The possibilities are limitless.

Now I know why my high school piano teacher was pushing the “Fake Books” on me, but I never wanted to try them. Now I know why jazz musicians can really let loose, and why improv performers can take an ordinary tune and turn it into something amazing.

What does this have to do with art? Well, as with the music, I am arriving at a similar place in my painting. One can spend a lifetime playing scales or painting color charts, and working solely on technique, but at some point, we have to break away and start becoming artists. We have permission to use our imagination and just roll with it. Let the art carry us on an unexpected journey. Those of us who struggle with perfectionism will constantly hear voices in our heads telling us to play it safe, and do things the comfortable or traditional way. Follow the “rules” because they are time-tested.

But that is ridiculous! I have the vocabulary, and I’ve had it for years-both as an artist and a musician. Why did chord charts always scare me? Because it meant I had to take something and be “original” with it! Why does breaking away from classical art scare me? Because it means I am forging new territory and I have to own it.

I’ve been having conversations with other artists about ways that we can break away from traditional molds. Here are a few ideas:
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• ​Glaze an area down to improve the value structure and overall design.
• Eliminate or add elements either from another reference source or from your imagination.
• Do an entire painting in only one color family.
• Choose unusual subject matter (I am currently starting a series on people working out at the gym!).
• Go through stacks of old studies and paintings and analyze why they worked or didn’t.
• Drastically change some of them to see if your problem solving skills have improved since you first painted them.

The list goes on and on. I would love to hear what you have to say — how are you successfully “breaking the rules” in your art?

I consider myself a colorist.  That is, I find that color palette inspires the visual message I wish to convey in my painting.  Interestingly though, color is subordinate in what I do. As a more-or-less representational painter, color always submits to value.  My goal is to make a thing look like a thing.  And the way to achieve this is through getting my values on point, and by accurately drawing patterns of shapes in order that the abstract pattern ultimately mimics the likeness of a thing.  Color is inconsequential at this stage. It is through attaining an accurate pattern of shapes varying in tone that I create my visual interpretation and representation of what is natural.  

Now these values, or patterns of light and dark shapes, take their form in particular mixtures of colors.  And it is through achieving an accuracy in these patterns that we can then create the illusion of three-dimensional form on a two-dimensional surface.  And as we create this illusion, and make our marks with intention, we eagerly guide our viewers through our painting compositions.  Through the particular choices of colors used in the manners that follow, I use color to make my visual statement.  

Color is only one of the common elements in a work of art.  Elements are stylistic features through which an artist conveys her visual expression.  (Other elements are line, shape, form, space, texture and value.)  An artist might adhere to several of these elements in a work, but choose to emphasize one in particular and use it to make the visual statement.  

There are various approaches to using color in painting.  It can be used as light; as tone; as pattern; as form; as symbol; as movement; as harmony; as contrast and as mood.  

As artists, we choose color that evokes a particular mood; sometimes the degree of chromatic intensity determines a state of emotion.  Relationships among the intense and the diluted can determine harmony.  Color harmony refers to “the property that certain aesthetically pleasing color combinations have.”  These combinations include both the opposing and the compatible on the color wheel, the sum of which creates an agreeable accordance, like a set of satisfying musical chords in harmony.  But the way humans respond both emotionally and perceptively to color and mood is not objective; it may be subject to age, gender, and personal preference for example.  Additionally, cultural and social-based differences affect how we learn about color.  

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Describing form by varying color and value is one way to create the illusion of three-dimensionality on a flat surface.  Those of us with full color vision get to discern the subtleties in color variation.  Artists can shift hue or family of color according to temperature as well.  In the art world, painters have historically marveled at the optical illusions that artists have learned to impress upon their viewers.  One such illusion, employed by the Impressionists, involves adjusting color in alternating color temperatures while increasing or decreasing value.  This method makes use of applying color as contrast. This trick helps to create the illusion of three-dimensionality or three-dimensional form.  Furthermore, one might choose to increase or decrease saturation in these alternating swaths of color and value mixture.  Another significant aspect of this technique is that it implies broken color or optical mixing:  instead of blending values and paint mixes together, the artist lays down discrete strokes side by side and the optic nerve in the brain perceptually mixes the color.  

Contrasting color can be a way to draw the viewer into parts of the painting.  Manipulating the saturation level of a color in relation to its surrounding colors helps draw the viewer to a focal point.  For instance, raising saturation in one area, in relation to surrounding muted colors, will cause the saturated area to stand out or attract attention.  

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Though the science is questionable on color, my experience with museum work, art appreciation, and my perception of work being done by current artists, reveals certain patterns of color relationship that please.   An artist invites a viewer into their work and navigates them through a painting by creating focal points that attract the eye, like key points within a map.  These key points can be distinguished through sharp edge work, high contrast, and saturation of color. For me, it is through high contrast or the juxtaposition of disparate values coupled with elevated intensity of chroma where I find resonance in a painting.  And here, color can be used as light.  

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Through navigating form through color, emphasizing and exaggerating light in color, contrasting temperature in color, using color as tone or value, and using color as form and creating color harmony, I make my visual statement through the element of color.  I deliberately craft focal points demonstrating these different usages of color.  There are often a few focal points or areas to rest on.  And it is through the manipulation of color choices that I guide my viewer through a painting.   I think of a painting as a geographic map: the eyes of the viewer are the explorer who bounces around from one significant point to the next, taking a road or river to the next stop.  The individual points are compelling enough to spend a little time in, but the next one beckons and the traveler moves on to explore the land mass in its entirety.