Reporting In: "So...where's the scifi painting?"

 You may be asking. Well, I let it fall through. Usually things fall through regrettably, but I let this painting idea go willingly. Allow me to explain.
A couple posts ago, I was discussing my eagerness, as well as hesitation, to embark on a new scifi narrative painting. I got so far as to finish the maquette for the dog-creature (see below) and got a friend to help me take reference photos for the part of the figure. Things were falling into place nicely, and I was checking off boxes that I thought I needed in order to make solid, failure-proof painting. But it's never that simple, is it.

Behold: the Dog!

I made the decision to work way smaller that I had initially planned: 18"x24" compared to my previously slated 30"x40" stretched canvas. My first scifi painting I did, the Blue Painting, was 3'x4' (yes, feet!) by comparison. The idea here was to dip my toes to see if this type of painting was something I really wanted to pursue during my time at school, and what better way to find out that working a bit smaller than necessary.
As I revved up to get started, I had another thought: why not take this opportunity, now that I'm working with a manageable size, to experiment a little? I chose to experiment with medium of choice, which I decided would be acrylic for its fast drying time, which would be both a boon and a curse. My peers in my class were doing wonderful things with acrylic and demonstrated a fearlessness when it came to experimentation, and I was feeling inspired and thought to do the same.
Well, it came to the point where I was ready to get started. Step 1: transfer the drawing. Okay, this was it! This was where it all went wrong with my first scifi painting: the complete and utter lack of a drawing which was vital for this type of piece. Well, I did it! There was now 100% more drawing on this painting than there was on my previous attempt. I went in with the acrylic for an underpainting. Things were looking good, the acrylic was drying fast, I'd be able to work in layers. Exciting stuff, there was no way this could go wrong. All I had to do was just...do it.

And then I got bored.

I don't know how else to describe the state of being I was in. I couldn't be bothered to continue. Thank goodness this was an assignment of my own choosing, because if I had to do this for a grade or if this was a commission I'd be potentially screwed. Or maybe some sort of extrinsic motivation would have been enough to get me to work on it, but I suppose I won't know for now. All I know was I had no desire to see this painting to fruition. In some way, I had already seen the image of its final form in my head, and in that moment, it was enough. It was enough for it to exist in my imagination. Hell, it was enough for it to exist as a quick thumbnail sketch. It was especially enough, more than enough really, for me to just get to sculpt the dog creature. I think that's what I discovered. What and when is something enough. The why is a difficult thing to ascertain, and will take more introspection. But as I'm getting older and more experienced with making art ( I have a long way to go, hopefully), I think I'm just realizing what I like and don't like, and how I want to spend my time. I think I owe this in part to the nature of this advanced painting class. Being in charge of making my own assignments has taught me a lot about myself beyond being a painter: it has revealed things about my own person that I would not know otherwise. And that is a tremendous value, and was worth spending a week and a half futzing around with oil clay and acrylic paint.

-Gigi M.

Rambling: Maquette Sculpting!

 I can't think of a way to categorize this post, but...I've been sculpting this maquette for my next imaginative painting and I wanted to talk about the process. Firstly, it's been a lot of freaking fun making this little guy, who I lovingly call "the dog". This creature was collaboratively designed between my friend and I a few years ago, and has been subject to constant change and reiteration. It's been delightful to be able to take part in putting my own spin on it and take inspiration from my friends epic ideas.

I'm using an oil clay to sculpt, and since it does not dry, it has been relaxing to work with without worrying about cracking or shrinking. The kicker is that it cannot be baked into a sturdy form. If i wanted or needed to, I could create a mold using the sculpt and cast multiples out of plaster or some other material. My hangup with the oil clay is my self-imposed inability to paint directly onto its surface (mostly due to cost and wanting to reuse the clay after each project). If I need to see the exact sculpt in color, I would need to go the mold route, which I am not the most experienced in.

It's been a while since sculpting a creature, a thing that does not exist in our real world. I referenced dog skeletal and muscular anatomy diagrams for reference when creating the wire armature for the sculpture. To bulk up the armature without using too much oil clay, I wrapped the wire with tin foil and tape. The armature is sturdy but also flexible, and I have been able to manipulate the pose even after covering the wire with oil clay (it doesn't hurt that oil clay is also very pliable).

This is what I've sculpted so far. It's really been a lot of fun to get back into sculpting, especially an imaginative creature like this. It's somehow easier to make something from nothing with my hands than it is with paint, and I aim to challenge that inner conflict in time. But for now, enjoy some pics of "the dog" so far.

-Gigi M.

Observations: Discussing a failed painting

I'm currently embarking upon creating another imaginative narrative painting. In the past, I've been able to successfully combine photo reference and observation in alternating ratios to create imagined scenes. However, there is one such painting that did not go the way I wanted despite all my efforts. So before I fully dive into this next painting, I want to try to re-trace my steps, analyze to the best of my ability what went wrong (or right), and how I can address these problems for the future.

The painting we will be discussing is untitled, but I like to refer to it as "the blue painting" (you'll see why). The scene takes place on an icy, alien world, with the two main characters, one a human pilot and the other her alien guide, overlooking a distant city. The conception for this painting began with sketches of an alien species that would become the character of the guide. After sitting on the concept for a few years, I wanted to create a faux book cover for the story I developed, inspired by pulp sci-fi and fantasy book covers of the 70s. Artists like Frank Frazetta were at the forefront of my mind in terms of stylistic goals. However, though I had sketched from imagination almost consistently for the past 20 years, I had never traditionally painted a fantastical scene like this, and didn't know where to begin.

With some guidance, it was suggested to me to create maquettes for the characters, especially the alien, so I could know how light would fall on their forms. In this regard, I looked towards James Gurney and Thomas Hart Benton for their use of maquettes for paintings. In addition, photo reference was a must for this piece, and I had friends and family pose for me. Despite the steps I had taken with reference gathering, it wouldn't be enough as problems quickly developed for the painting.

The maquettes

Firstly, the maquettes I had made were roughly sculpted and ideally should have been far more refined. Because they were made with oil clay, painting them was not an option for me, and I would have needed to make separate models to test local color with the lighting as well. The environment the characters were in was stitched together from several different references and feels nebulous beneath their feet (there is a degree of separation of the characters from environment that I was unable to resolve). No amount of reference, however good the quality, would be able to help if I never committed to a composition, which is precisely what happened.

Attempt #1

In trying to achieve so many goals with the composition, such as being able to see the distant city and enough of the environment without being too far away from the characters, I felt as though I was constantly compromising one or more of those priorities. Most importantly, I never drew a finalized composition onto my painting surface; this is my biggest downfall yet most valuable lesson by far. Throughout the painting, I changed the pilot's pose several times, and since my reference was not as good as it could have been, her anatomy and form never looked correct to me. For the environment, I pulled from multiple different landscape photographs as examples, but ideally I should have physically modeled the scene with the maquettes using foam sheets and cardboard.

After lots of scraping

Only after scraping much of the painting off did I have the bright idea to actually DRAW in the complex poses and anatomy for these characters, but in some ways it was too late (debatably). Another problem that was occurring was my lack of confidence towards my application of paint. I was initially trying to imitate the hazy, vibrant, and dreamy style of 70's sci-fi and fantasy book covers, but I got too thick with the paint too early in the painting's lifespan. In trying to remedy this problem, I started to glaze with thin layers of paint, but the medium I was using, Liquin, was drying to a tacky finish: all in all, it was a largely unpleasant painting experience.

Needless to say, I felt defeated by the end of the painting. Despite having a good amount of fun during the making of this painting, the trials I experienced made me doubt myself for a long time as to whether I could, or should, make imaginative paintings. I still don't know about the should part, but there is a want in me to try again. Failure has been a great teacher to me, and I don't regret the way things went with this painting. To end on a sillier note...did it need to be 4' x 3' feet??? NO!!! Starting off small(er)ish is not a bad idea either!

-Gigi M.

The Blue Painting

Conundrum: So many things I want to paint, but not enough...what?

 There is no shortage of beautiful moments I want to capture through paint. This past weekend was time I intended on spending, uninterrupted by second-guessing myself, completely upon making art. Yet, every time I finally thought I settled on a subject, after setting up my palette and easel, I felt drained. Is it just impatience? I know the feeling of working through the beginning stages of any kind of art and the amount of trust you have to have in the process, which is to say, working through the "ugly" phase of a piece. I've had paintings and sculptures that had their ugly phase last up until the last couple of hours or minutes of working on them, and for some, it never went away. Truthfully, I am not bothered by making a less than good piece of art as much as I used to be, so I don't think that's my hang up as of late.

My problem seems to be in sticking around long enough to even see any phase of the painting beyond a quick gesture.

Maybe part of me just wants to sketch, and not make a full blown painting out of everything? Maybe I just haven't been giving myself that opportunity to play.

Things to think about.

-Gigi M.

Conundrum: When to paint over a painting

Wanting to start a new painting, I was bummed to realize I was short on 24" x 36" stretched canvases. Too impatient to want to go out and buy one, and wishing to save money, I ran across an old painting of the aforementioned size that I wasn't too fond of. The gears in my head (as dusty as they are) began to turn...I could paint over this. Right?

I didn't end up painting over it, and don't know if I ever shall. I don't think there is anything wrong with the act of painting over an older work, and that extends to all mediums. I've drawn over countless old sketchbooks thousands of times, and they aren't any less precious to me than this one particular painting. What is the painting of, since I mentioned that I wasn't too fond of it? It's a self-portrait I painted from looking in a mirror. So many things went wrong with it that I could save that story for a separate post. It is almost as if, because it was such a troubled painting, that I feel some sort of guilt in contemplating the act of covering it up, almost as if to conceal my mistakes.

It's entirely possible I hesitate for a completely different reason. It could be that, despite the problems, I still put in a lot of work into the painting and do not wish to revise that fact. However, it calls into question the power of placing preciousness on any particular object. Why do we do it? Why are some things off limits and others not? I don't know. But I do know the tugging sensation in your chest when something feels wrong. It may be that this is simply the wrong call to make at this point in my life. Perhaps it would feel better, or right, if I was older and more experienced to make that call. 

Could it be that it is simply the first self-portrait I painted from life that makes it special to me? I think that's part of it. The fact that I haven't made that many since also makes me feel the need to keep some sort of evidence that I tried. Some day, once I have painted many more self-portraits, this one might finally join the ranks of the sketchbooks, not too sacred to reclaim its material, but nonetheless well loved.

-Gigi M.

Observations: Singin- wait...no, Painting in the rain!

You ever chilling outside in cloudy weather, and you feel that...cold, condensation-filled breeze touch your skin... so distinct and ominous? I felt that a few times while doing this most recent plein air painting, and before I knew it, rain was coming down, not too heavy, but not lightly either. I used an umbrella to try to protect the painting, but it, as well as my palette, got wet regardless. I've gotta say, it was the most fun I've had doing an alla prima plein air in a long while, perhaps because of the added stakes of dealing with the rain and potentially halting or ruining the painting. Being an oil painting, it was repelling the water: droplets stayed on the surface and I found that I could dab them off gently with a paper towel without too much trouble. I cannot say the same for the palette. Trying to mix colors just became frustrating as water was mixing (somehow) with the paint, making this concoction that just refused want to stick to the surface, let alone getting it on my brush. Oil and water not mixing? Never heard of it! Just kidding...

moist painting

even moister palette

What drew me to the subject matter in the first place so much that I would risk the rain? I had this very discussion with a friend of mine as I was painting this. I scoped out this beautiful maple tree as a subject a few days before because I was enamored by the the vibrancy of its red leaves. Interestingly, I believe that because of the way light was scattering and being distributed throughout the clouds that day, the leaves appeared to be glowing, almost electrically so. Did I successfully capture that in the final painting? Alas, not completely. The deeper I got into the painting, trying to cover the surface with as much paint as possible before the rain came, I got distracted by the many hues hidden in the grass, which is never just green. What could help me achieve my initial vision for this painting in the future? I think the foremost maple tree, my main subject, currently gets lost within the background due to a lack of sharp edges. Upping contrast in terms of brush texture in addition to value would help it stand distinct from its surroundings. Also, it happened again! The perceived coolness of the painting when viewed outside was diminished when brining it indoors.

-Gigi M.

Art Appreciation: Alfred Sisley - "The Kitchen Garden"

Twice now I have attended the Farm To Table: Food and Identity in the Age of Impressionism exhibit at the Cincinnati Art Museum, and there is one painting that still has a hold over me since my first visit. The Kitchen Garden by Alfred Sisley (1839-1899) was the painting I chose as my favorite out of the works I saw both those days. I can confidently say there were countless beautiful and touching works of art on display, and were each enjoyable or admirable in their own way for different reasons, one to the next. Where I might have been drawn to a different work if I was younger or were older, The Kitchen Garden stands out to me at this place in my life for my fascination with plein air paintings, my role as a painting student, and simply as a human being who with a love for these types of spaces.

Now, to talk about the piece itself.

https://kimbellart.org/collection/ag-201501

Every aspect of this painting feels lovingly attended to, which is to say, given the care that it asks of the artist for the intents and purposes of their painting. For instance, the buildings in the background on the horizon are at face value nothing more than small blocky strokes of white and brown, with small dabs of blue-grey for the implications of windows. "Implications" being key here, especially given that Sisley was an Impressionist painter. On the flip side, the greenery and the garden itself is given the same level as care, but begs for a different technique compared to the human architecture of the scene. The leaves of trees and petals of flowers are made of small, round dabs, and the stalks of vegetables and trunks of trees call for longer, vertical paint strokes.

Compositionally, I appreciate the break in the sky on the right half of the painting by the trees in the background. Though the horizon lies on the middle of the picture plane, the asymmetry of the top and bottom halves of the painting, and the movement created by the lit dirt path that snakes its way through the garden, create such a visual interest that nothing feels unnaturally balanced; quite the opposite. One little area of this piece that I treasure is the block of shadow cast by a building on the bottom left of the painting, acting like a cool area for one's eyes to rest on their journey through Sisley's The Kitchen Garden.

The inception for my love of oil painting began with a landscape painting class in my high school. Since then, the way I have observed the world around me has been, more often than not, through the lens of painting. Whatever Sisley was feeling at the time, he captured the sense of peace that comes with existing in this humble and beautiful space, and this is something I aspire to achieve with my own work. Whether he was conscious of trying to capture his particular time and place in the grander scheme of history, or simply desired to paint a slice of his life, I am grateful to have had a glimpse at the world through his eyes.

-Gigi M.

My lovely photo, can you tell I wanted to be a photo major?