Harumph.

This is Katharine.

I think I overworked Katharine, this painting doesn't have any of the freshness I had been working towards. My friend thinks it's probably the best so far in terms of likeness, and I agree (though I still really like the last one I did of her and the self portrait) but it feels... I don't know... stiff. I like it, I just think I should have held back a little is all.

The image is a little dark because the painting is a little dark. I've always felt my paintings were too technicolor and high key. I blame my enduring love affair with cartoons, but the colors were always super bright with darks mixed in here and there. Mayhap the brights are used a little too sparingly in this painting, but I think I'm on the right track.

Oh, and I'm figuring out how to paint hair.

Keep your comrade warm...

Sigh. This one's a little different. I'm still along the vein I want to be on, I've just taken a slight detour is all. This isn't as "chunky" as I want to be working at the moment, I've softened the edges too much I feel. (Though maybe that's a good thing in the difference between handling a man and a woman...) The drawing was poorly established, and it shows, but it isn't terrible. The likeness is in the ball park just not spot on. I think I'll have to give it another go, but that goes without saying.

I think I'm getting better at accurately seeing and evaluating the effects of light. These paintings have become less monochromatic "flesh" colored studies, and have evolved into honest portraits in the flesh, so to speak. Even looking back a mere two weeks or so ago... progress is being made. Like they say, "you learn to paint by painting."

The disappointing factor in choosing what to paint these days has been my reference. The pictures are all well and good, just... not very interesting. The self portrait a few posts back I kind of lucked into as far as interesting lighting, but I've been practicing a lot with shooting reference and I think I'm getting the hang of it. Next up: warm light and cool shadow; along with temperature and value changes as the planes change. I think it'll help me avoid the over all... red... feel like this. I tried to cool it down with a purple-ish background, but that actually only made things worse. Sometimes contrast isn't your friend.

Moving on... it would seem that the Graphic Artists Guild is suing the Illustrator's Partnership of America . The idea sickens me. BUT... I'm reposting a link I've stolen from Irene Gallo's blog that any visual artist (or anyone that cares about visual artist's rights) should look into and considering signing the petition to stop the lawsuit:

http://stopsuitpetition.blogspot.com/

I'm kind of sick of the Guild. I wish they'd stop acting like they're speaking for ALL artists - because they quite obviously don't. Though apparently they feel they can sue anyone who speaks out against them. Ah... litigation.

Oh. Before I go, it would seem that there were over 5,000 entries into the Societies 51st annual, and only 449 pieces were accepted, which is a scant 8 percent or so. I only stood a 1 in 1,000 chance of getting something in, assuming everyone else who entered submitted 5 pieces. Really I think it was more of 1 in 5,000. So I really don't feel so bad.

I really want to end this post on a happy note, but I've got nothing. So, smile. Just because I said so and because they're infectious. Smile enough and you can't help but feel happy. I promise.

"No one makes their first jump..."

Well, first thing's first, I suppose. The results for the Society's 51st annual were posted late in the day on Friday, and I didn't get anything accepted. I wouldn't really say I was disappointed though. I mean, don't get me wrong, I would have loved to have gotten something in the book, but I didn't have high hopes; and it's hard to feel let down if you don't get your hopes up. A few days after I entered I convinced myself this would be the inevitable outcome. I know there are people out there that subscribe to the notion that positive thinking can change anything - but I'm not one of them. I don't think any amount of "happy thoughts" would have swayed the jury into choosing my work. The truth of the matter is I've still got some ways to go, despite how far I may have come.

I didn't make my first jump. It doesn't mean anything.

That being said, I think may have started a project that's going to drive me insane before it's through. It will serve as an illustration codex if I'm able to stick with it. The plan so far has been to go through all of my notes from all of my classes (though mostly illustration classes) and condense them into one easy to manage book. I'm not very far into the project at all at this point, but it's slow going and tedious. There's nothing quite like transcribing notes you've already taken for your own benefit. I think I stand to relearn a lot that I already know, which is good, but I'm curious how well I'll be able to add to it in the future. Most of what I'm learning at these days is about handling paint and color mixing. I suppose I can make notation on that kind of thing, but I don't know. I don't know how well any of it will transcribe. I can take it to lectures and make notes on feedback I receive, but that almost feels like a flimsy excuse.

Wow. I just realized it sounds like I'm trying to talk myself out of it. I guess I don't know what I plan to do with it past revisiting all of my old notes with a definite sense of purpose. Maybe I'm getting bored and too comfortable in my day to day and needed one more thing to put off doing. As it is I have three outstanding personal projects and a deadline in January for the next contest to prepare for. PLUS whatever else I think of between now and then. Ah... I've got to get cracking!

Insomnia has its uses.

Well, my beloved insomnia strikes again, so I thought I'd take advantage of it and post the mini-painting I did this afternoon in the hour before I had to leave for work. I think I'm on to something. The only problem with being on to something is I want to go back and fix old paintings (or redo them entirely) so that they all "fit". There aren't enough hours in the day...

This pretty much marks the first self portrait I've painted since high school. I did one in gouache in my sketchbook about a year ago, but I don't know... I have trouble calling things in my sketchbooks paintings, even when I'm using paint to make the marks. Ok, fine, how about this; this is the first self portrait I've ever done in oil. I think. I can't remember any others, so therefore they must not exist, right? Right.

I learned a few things working on this little guy. Primarily I pretty much have a dark caucasian tone to my skin. Since I basically got away with using the "formula" I normally use for painting people (and I tend to paint a lot of caucasian people) with more of the slighty darker tone serving as a midtone. Ok, I think that's actually the only thing I learned about my features doing this painting. The nose came out redder than it is in the painting - but I did make my nose redder than it is in actuality. Why? Artistic license - that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Aside from that I learned that I need to learn to mix better greens and that painting a dude is just as easy (or difficult) as painting a dudette. (I was recently asked me if I planned on painting a man any time soon. I guess this is as close as I could come.) I do remember thinking in the early stages of the painting that "painting black people is hard!" but like I said, I'm just a dark white person, so it worked out. I intend to work on that and maybe do Matt Crane proud and finally start painting culturally... (Whatever that means.)

Last but not least I learned I need to find a better way to photograph stuff like this. I know how, actually, I'm just lazy at 3 in the morning and don't feel like setting up a tripod to get a better picture. If I get enough in the way of protest I'll see what I can do. I just look at it as incentive to invest in proper light set up. Well, it's either that or figure out how to create an overcast day on command. Now, there'd be a neat trick.

And the beat goes on...

I know. I know. I've been kind of slacking off with this blog lately. But I haven't really had much I wanted to put up. That is, obviously, until today! I've been hitting the easel fairly regularly these days - not doing anything of much import, but practicing, which is deathly important. Deathly. God's truth. Anyway, I've burned through four more mini canvases doing mini portraits and I'm here to share the results.

Clockwise from the upper left we have; Kari, Gretchen, Bonnie, and Danielle. The fun has been in trying a different approach each time. With Kari I was still drawing with a brush with asphaltum , but I changed my approach to handling of the eyes, which I like. Both with Gretchen and Danielle I did an under painting in terre verte but where I was going for darker shadows with Gretchen (and leaving the picture-plane left eye all in shadow) I tried a higher key handling of Danielle. Also I tried mixing different combinations than my tired go-to flesh formula, and I think it turned out ok. It's hard to see in the picture, but I like the handling of the area around the mouth. Bonnie was kind of a mixed bag of approaches. I did an actual charcoal drawing for the structure (since I'm more confident with a pencil than with a brush) and took my go-to flesh formula and complemented it with mixtures that I learned painting Danielle. The overall handling of paint in this one is more of what I'm after. More chunks. Less blend. We'll have to wait to see where I go from here.

And the beat goes on.

Society of Illustrators: Annual 51

The Society's call for entries poster by John Cuneo

Today was the submission deadline for the Society of Illustrators fifty-first annual. I point this out because I entered five pieces for judging. This will mark my first venture into the competition sphere of illustration, and I'm more nervous than I think I've ever been. Actually, that's not true, nerves aren't really a key factor in what I'm feeling. It wasn't that hard, all I had to do was upload some pictures and send an electronic payment. I think it's going to be the waiting that does me in. I'm anxious. I want to think I stand a chance, but of course I don't want to get my hopes up. I'll find out on November 21 if anything made it in. Wouldn't that be a hoot? I think so.

In other news, thanks to some rabid bidding on eBay, I managed to get a hold on a couple of books from the Famous Artists Course. The school still operates, but the books I got were from its inception period, back when Rockwell, Parker, Stahl, Fawcett, Peak, Fuchs, and others were attached to the school. I've only just begun to flip through these books, but the wealth of knowledge they contain is overwhelming. I think I stand to learn a lot through these books. So I'm excited and all geared up. There may be hope for me yet.

Smallish portraits

I have a small stack of 4x6 canvas boards and until recently, I was at a loss of what to do with them. Since I usually paint on a fairly large scale, I only have two uses for 4x6 surfaces;

1. Small preparatory studies - for color, value, composition and the like.
2. Practicing random approaches and experimentation.

The great thing about it of course, I don't have to prep any surface. So I get to unwrap the board and let loose. I'm trying to limit the studies to about an hour to help with strong decision making skills. I submit to you, the two that exist so far.

Homecoming

Well, I'm home. The last three weeks were intense, if nothing else. Being that far away from everything you know throws into sharp focus what really matters.

Sigh.

Enough of that babble. What have I been up to since being back? Not a lot, actually. Which is sad. Very sad indeed. Monday I promptly came home and napped for about five hours, then wasted away the rest of the day touching all of my things. Tuesday I woke up and spent the day cleaning. I was filled with a sudden and fervent zeal to make my studio more conducive to work. I was surprised in how little work I needed to do, but some gentle massaging was required after such a long absence; we had to get reacquainted, dont'cha know? Wednesday was where things took an interesting turn.

I woke up with a wicked head cold. I was in such a sad state at work that I made a careless mistake and ended up holding the short end of the stick. A good night's sleep and plenty of medication did little to improve my state of well-being. When I woke up Thursday the cold migrated down into my chest, so I took advantage of it. With the perfect excuse to stay in and not go out in hand, I holed up in the studio and kind of cranked out some studies. The aching in my back served as a perfect timer to prevent me from working on any one thing for too long.

And today? More cleaning and more creating. I dug out my brown paper sketchbook to do some drawings in as soon as I got back and I've been diligently scribbling in it. I've got some older paintings I want to rework and a few ideas for some new ones, so I've been all draw, draw, draw. So, for Rusty, I include a 'stration, for the 'Stration Station. Just a sketch of something to come.

It's the final countdown!

Queue up the face-melting guitar solo and the synth-rock; this boy's coming home!

Oh, but I suppose there may be someone out there who wants to know what I've been up to for the last few days. Sigh. So, I guess I'll start there.

Thursday.
Thursday was a long day. Actually, I'll go out on a limb here and say it was the longest day of my trip. Well, except for maybe the day I flew in, but really, there's nothing that makes sense about leaving home at 4am and arriving at your destination at midnight. Nothing. But Thursday! I get a phone call from Jose at Avenging Angels at 8am and at that point pretty much forfeit the rest of my unconscious-time. Brian and I go out for breakfast at this little cafe around the corner with the simple idea of getting some food-stuff and caffeine. Why are the simple things always the most complicated? To make a long story short, it was staffed by three women who all spoke French (though I suspect it was one of the women's only language) and apparently had the stereotypical French attitude of serving Americans. Or maybe it's an East Coast thing. I don't know. The service sucked though and it took us about half an hour to procure our morning rations. We walked along 125th street and then parted ways so I could go pick up my portfolio.

The third guy that I was supposed to talk to apparently had a lot on his plate, so he's been in and out of the office all week, and I didn't get a chance to talk to him. However, Jose did say that they were all interested and that they'd be in touch soon. Which, you know, is promising. From here I set out on my real errand for the day. The night before Stephany told me that this bakery (which I suppose is one of the mighty bakeries in the bakery world) had opened a new shop in Rockefellar Center and had these adorable shirts that said I cupcake NY. Of course there's supposed to be an image of a cupcake instead of the word cupcake, obviously derived from the I heart NY paraphernilia. I bet Milton Glaser would be interested in these shirts... Anyway, I'm at 18th street and 5th avenue and I need to get up to 49th street and 4th avenue. It's early afternoon, the weather is nice and I'm feeling pretty chipper. I decide to walk it. I don't feel like looking up how far that is, but it took awhile to hoof it that far. I find the little bakery, Magnolia Bakery, by the by and I walk in with my head held high because I'm about to buy my lady something she's crazy over.

Or so I thought. They didn't have any shirts. Not one. Let alone the one I was in search of. Luckily for me I had written down the information of their other two stores, so I call the next closest one to where I was. They don't have any either. Joy. I call the first store, and yup, they've got shirts. Oh, the bad news is the store's back in the direction I had come from. Not wanting to walk back, I hop the subway. Getting off the train I wander (which is rare for me since I usually know where I'm going, but I swear, the streets didn't make sense) around the West Village until I find the store. Well, first I found the line to get into the store. I waited in line and get into the store, famished I pick up a cupcake and a drink and tell the nice woman I'd like a shirt. Guess what? Oh, they had shirts. Shirts for babies. Nothing else. I had been defeated by a cupcake and a t-shirt. At least they teamed up on me, I suppose. I hop the train and come home. So let this be a lesson to you; if you're looking for something specific for your spouse, ask the stupid questions. Questions like, do you have them in normal people sizes, before trekking all across an island looking for them. Trust me on this.

Friday.
This was a great day. I had an appointment to talk to an art director type lady over at Penguin books. Actually, it was Puffin books, but who wants to split hairs? I hop the subway downtown and when I have an hour to kill before my appointment so I set out to find a deli or other such establishment. Whilst I was looking around I was struck by a deep dismay. I'm only a few blocks from where I ended up yesterday. A stone's throw from Magnolia bakery. If I had only known. Dismayed but not defeated, I duck into an Dunkin Donuts and order a pumpkin muffin and a drink. All is right with the world. I finish up and go wait outside the building where my appoint is fast approaching.

While I was waiting outside, absently leafing through a Communication Arts illustration annual I had picked up, my mind began to wander. I wasn't wandering anywhere in particular, but I offer it as explanation for what happens next. I was distracted and my wits weren't about me when from behind me I hear what has become one of the most gut-wrenchingly frightening sounds imaginable; and only fans of the show Lost can appreciate this. You know that tele-type mechanical noise the column of black smoke makes as it whisps about the island sucking people into holes and generally causing mayhem? Yeah, heard it from right behind me. I whip (no, I'm serious, I freaked out) around fully intending to see a giant amorphous shape hovering inches from my face about to strike. But it was a taxi. A normal, yellow, harmless taxi. Yeah, some of them have a receipt machine or something that makes that noise. That exact noise. I had heard it a few other times since being out here, so I knew what it was almost as soon as I turned, but like I said, I was distracted.

Having had enough with the noises of the world, I decide to go inside to wait. I check in and do all that good stuff and wait. I don't wait too awful long and Jeanine comes out to meet me. As we're walking back to where the show's going to go down, she tells me that another one of their designers wants to take a look at my portfolio as she's really interested in my work. We pick her up (for want of a better phrase) and she starts telling me she's looked at my site and really likes my work. I almost die. The portfolio review goes well, if only too quickly, but they both responded well to a few of my pieces and made positive comments. Apparently my ability to leave room in a dynamic compostion for type really pleased them both. Go figure. So, business being done I head back to the apartment. Brian and I went back to the MET and then went and saw Eagle Eye. I must say Shia did a better job than I had suspected he would and Rube Goldberg would be proud of this movie. That's all I have to say.

Saturday.
Brian and I definitely called it quits. It was obvious business was done and we were just going to kind of screw around and relax. We ran out to go down to the Society of Illustrators before they too decided to call it quits for the day, but when we got down there we find that it's closed for an educators symposium... or something like that. Crestfallen, we reevaluate our afternoon. We end up hanging out at Grand Central Terminal for a while and I was actually kind of disappointed in it. It wasn't as Grand as I thought it was going to be. I had all of these romantic images of it in my head and it just didn't deliver. It was pretty, but eh, not what I was hoping for. Then, a little later that evening we went over to Rusty's house for his birthday bash. It was a good time. I spent most of the evening talking to my new friends (at least I like to think so) Kurt and Zelda about all things illustration. It was fantastic. And that was it. Drinking was involved, but I'm 3000 miles from home, so I wasn't really intending on anything happening. Which brings me to

Today.
Brian and I went out to see a show at an art gallery that Dan Adel was in and that too was mildly disappointing. To finish off the evening we decide to hop a train into Brooklyn bound for the 36th street station to see Owen Smith's murals that were installed a little while back. We figured since one of our teacher's had mosaics in the subway, the least we could do was go see them. Then, we came home. That's it really. We got all packed up and ready to go. In about two hours we're going to head out to head home. I'll post again when I get home and fill it with nonsensical observations and whimsical musing. Until then!

Joy, sadness, and huh?

It's been an interesting few days. It's been an interesting few days indeed.

Monday.
Thanks to the efforts of my good buddy Rusty, I had an appointment with the good folks over at Avenging Angels to have a look-see at my little black book. (Hey, I've got to do something to make illustration sound exciting, don't I?) It was slated for early afternoon, so even if I slept a little longer than I had been lately, I would have been able to make it there A-ok with no kind of troubles. Or so I thought. Remember kids, when you're new to a big city, the last thing you want to do, from a navigation standpoint, is write down the wrong address. Well, I didn't so much write down the wrong address as I did write down the wrong street. But it was an easy mistake to make! It's on 18th street, and I'm staying on 118th street, so really, how could I not? Thanks to a phone call to my lady and the fact that I brought it to their attention that they didn't have their address listed on their website (which they saw to rectify in a timely fashion) I was back on track in no time. I made it to the appointed floor at my destination after riding in the world's smallest and most rickety elevator and sat down for a nice (read: nerve-racking) chat with some nice (read: nice) folks. The reaction to my work seemed very positive. It was so positive that they actually wanted to wait for the third art director to arrive to talk with me. But, since it wasn't looking like he was coming back any time soon, we had gotten started without him. At any rate, they seemed interested and since they wanted the absent art director too view my work, how could I not help but offer to leave it for him to see and to come back the following day? I know! So that's what I did. I'd get a call on the following day and I'd come back in to talk. Easy-peasy.

I waited for twenty minutes for the elevator (I told you this elevator was trouble) then set off into the world to... I don't know, paint the town red. I called Brian and since his plans had fallen through for the day, he decided he wanted to come downtown to help me paint the town; though he was dead-set on orange over red. We met up and aimlessly wandered. We wandered into a few vintage shops, a comic book store, and then meandered over to the Empire State Building. (Have you ever noticed it shares initials with the Empire Strikes Back? I have.) After navigating the maze of alizarin velvet we find ourselves 86 stories in the air... just kind of hanging out. On the ride up I mused at how this elevator was faster than the other one I had been in that day. Does that seem right to you? We spend some time on what very well be the top of the world, take some pictures, and then come back down to earth. In all honesty I despise doing the "tourist" thing. Oh, of course I took some pictures, but people are insane at that altitude! Pushing to the edge of the railing, cramming in as tight as can be just to take pictures of a 900 foot drop. I love pictures, as I'm sure anyone who knows me knows, but there is something to be said for stopping and enjoying the moment. Spending time with what's going on and keeping it in the biological memory, rather than the digital one - where really, who's going to see it?

After our descent we poke into an eatery and I have the most expensive, most disappointing and unfulfilling milksjake I've ever had in my life. The fries weren't very good either. When we had eaten our fill and set out into the night, we called it a night and headed home. Such the town-painters we are.

Joy.

Tuesday.
Remember that phone call I was supposed to be getting this day? Yeah, never happened. I sat around all day like an adolescent girl watching my phone waiting for it to ring. For a while I thought my phone might be busted, so I started calling for drop offs again. It worked going out, and just as I started to suspect that it might not be accepting incoming calls (there was no logical reason to be thinking this, but then again I felt like an adolescent girl, I wasn't exactly in charge of m facilities) Adbase called me back, but I didn't answer. I wasn't in the mood for a sales pitch. And besides, my dreamy contact might call back and who'd want to be on the other line when that happened? Nobody. That's who. So I spent all day waiting by the phone for a call that never came.

Sadness.

Wednesday.
Today.
Today was exciting. Sometime last week, Brian somehow managed to get ahold of Donato Giancola and arranged a studio visit. I of course, intended to tag along. We schlepped out to Brooklyn and once we found the right house we stormed the gates! Or tentetively rang his doorbell. One of the two, I'm still a mite fuzzy on the events of the day. For those of you who don't know and are too lazy to click the link, Donato is a fantasy/science fiction illustrator. He's been in Spectrum loads of times and has won bunches of awards. He's illustrated a thing here or there for Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars, and even into the Marvel universe with Iron Man. And I was staning in his living room looking at all of his wonderful stuff. Then it got better, we ascended into his studio and got to poke through his things. Oh, and watch him paint. That was cool too. But we asked a lot of pointed questions about how he got his start and all of the other trivial nuts and bolts kind of things that people like us want to know. And this is where it gets wierd. Apparently he thinks that painting is dead. At least from an illustration stand point. That only people that are established are able to keep with painting because it's too late from them to make the switch and not lose their brand identity, as it were. He also expressed the notion that doing portfolio drop-offs were dead too. That art directors just wanted to get PDFs of new talent's work. (An idea that I don't agree with 100%, but I'm defintely going to try this PDF thing now too.) The visit was eye-opening, informational, and inspirational, but I didn't leave with stars in my eyes or a stone in my gut. I just kind of left with a...

Huh?

I suppose it's just food for thought and should all be taken with a grain of salt. If nothing else it's more evidence that there is no one right way to do what it is I'm trying to do. I do know, however, that I'm going to come home and redo a lot of the paintings I've previously done. I've been toying with that idea for quite some time, but now... now I'm certain of it. Pull together some of my older work into a more cohesive body of work. Yeah... I think that'll be a swell idea.

Tomorrow.
Hopefully I'll get my book back from the Avenging Angels, and that's really all I have planned. They have the better of my two books, so hopefully I'll get to it soon. I have need for it on Friday. Oh yes. I have plans indeed.

Not famous yet. Maybe tomorrow.