Thinking About Colored Backgrounds

Last spring I took a course in colored backgrounds and textures from the amazing Roz Stendahl.  If you don't already follow her blog, Roz Wound Up, I recommend it.  You can learn more about her classes there.

Anyhow, BEFORE I took her class, I thought a bit about colored backgrounds, which I almost never use, and what a difference it might make to sketching.  I mean, what do I know?  Nothing.  That's why I was taking the course.

So for fun, I just painted a few pages (with FW Acrylic Inks) and sketched on them.  Nik was a willing subject.

I can see how color and stroke can add all kinds of energy to my sketches.

Remember, I did these just as a baseline for myself before I took Roz's class!!    I'll post some of the work I did after her class soon!  It's a lot better.

More Color Tests

Here are there results of a few more color tests.

This first one, actually, is a digitally matted and framed version of the green sheet I made and included in my last post.  I did it turned horizontally, with the paint running down the page.

I turned in by accident and realized how much it looked like a stormy Lake Michigan!

Next, I took a bunch of colors and started playing with them in combinations.  Because I was anticipating a trip to a place with a distinctly tropical environment, and because I wanted to limit my palette, and I wanted the most versatile combinations of red, blues, yellows, and pink that I could get.  

This next one also started out as a was test, but I turned it into a landscape, just for fun.  

More color combo tests...

On each of the last three pages I tested one color of green paint (listed near the top) in combination with a bunch of other colors I thought I might take.  I really only wanted to take one green.... so which was the most versatile?

Though this might look tedious, I actually found it quite pleasurable to just push paint around and watch what happened.   I learned a lot about my paints!

Color Tests Before Travel

I haven't done any color swatches with my watercolors in a year, or more.

I have a book I keep and I add a swatch into it every time I get a new pigment.  But that's not quite the same as getting them all out and painting them side by side all at once.

Here are the results of some watercolor tests I did, as I prepared to go on a vacation last winter to the U.S. Virgin Islands.

I did them by color so I could see things side by side and think about which ones I wanted to take along.

I didn't think the final sheets would wind up being so darned pretty!

Watercolors of the Skeleton

I have the great good fortune to work with a skeleton in my drawing studio.

These two cropped portraits were done with attention to composition.  I used ink and two colors of watercolor (or maybe three in the second one, as I think I see two blues there).  Both are 18 x 24 on Strathmore 400 drawing paper.

You can see the paper buckled.  To be fair, it isn't intended for watercolor.  But I liked trying it anyhow.

I think you can probably tell that the skeleton had been posed in a nice office chair when we drew it.

Working on these pieces made me think a lot about myself as a professional and the many many many hours of my life I spend in an office chair.

Thoughts about mortality and the passage of time and the need to make money and the need to make art (which never really makes money) whirled around me as I worked.

Painting a Trike

I had such a good time scribbling the tricycle with white chalk on black paper that I wanted to try a watercolor of the same subject, but using a stark, almost black and white background, and painting the trike in partially positive and partially negative space.

Plus, in the studio where I was working, there was this lone Christmas ornament floating around.  Which got me thinking about how trikes can show up as awesome Christmas presents (I remember riding one in great circles in the basement during the winter when I was growing up).

This is on Strathmore 400 watercolor paper, with Daniel Smith paints.

During the process of painting,  I thought a lot about Christmas, about past toys, and past joys, and how bleak I'm feeling lately about the future.

I am glad I was also painting.  It made me feel a lot less bleak.  It immersed me in the process and in the moment, and now--as ever--that's all we ever really have.  This moment.  Even though we like to bank on a future that looks a certain way, we really have no assurance of anything except the now.

And scribbling is a great way to spend it. I'm sure of that!

Sketching to Test New Paints

I nabbed three colors of VanGogh watercolors paints from the clearance bin at a local art store the other day.   I wanted to test them out, but I didn't feel like doing swatches.

So, I decided to sketch what was on the table in front of me--with no worries about realistic color.

I used only my three new colors--Van Gogh permanent red violet, permanent blue violet, and permanent orange--along with my trusty Daniel Smith indanthrone blue (which I consider a magic color because it makes anything look good).

Here are my experiments.

This was a lot more fun that the usual color swatching, which is, of course useful, and I'll probably do those eventually.

But the scribbles of random objects took very little time, got my daily observations in, helped me learn about the values and behaviors of the new paints, and was fun.

Working with a Skeleton

As part of my July watercolor class, I had the wonderful experience of working with a skeleton for the first time.  He or she (no one in the class knew or could tell) could be posed, so the instructor had him/her sitting in a chair up on a riser so that the ribs were about even with my head.

That led to the interesting angle of having to draw the skull from below.

Since the subject felt so complicated and strange, I added a bit of comfort to my experience by drawing contours first with a Pentel Pocket Brush pen.  The upper scribble here resulted from my first attempt.  The lower was my second.

You can see that in the first one I attempted to show some shading with the brush pen but it wasn't working for me that day.  I didn't have the patience.  So I mixed a lovely gray watercolor and went in with that.  Much better.

Also, I enjoyed seeing how much the second attempt improved!  A reminder that whenever learning a new skill, I shouldn't judge myself on a first attempt.  Or probably any single attempt, as a bad day, or a bad drawing, can happen at any time!

You would think at fifty-three years of age I'd have learned this by now.  I know that it is true.  But why do I need constant reminders?

Anyhow, I tackled it again with a dip pen and some purple ink, just to see how I could do with the shading, now that I felt a bit more comfortable with the subject.

I tried it again a few days later, with some new Daniel Smith sepia watercolor.  My goals here were to test out the new color as a monochrome paint, work with the skeleton some more, try out some new rough surface watercolor paper I had purchased, and attempt to draw shapes instead of contours.

I did three drawings on one piece of the paper.  You could probably guess that the upper left came first, then the upper right, then the lower sketch.  Each one gets better with the structure and the shadow shapes.

I really like this page, this set of sketches, because it shows the progress that can be made in just one hour (or so) of trying, then trying again, then trying again.  I think I might frame it just to use it as an example for my creative writing students.  

Next session, I decided to try the sepia paint (which I completely love for monochrome work!!) and do a "heroic" study--a painting of the skull bigger than life.  Again, I wanted to try to represent shadow shapes and volume instead of starting with contours (like I do when I sketch with pen).  This is on 18 x 24 Strathmore 400 watercolor paper.

I am super pleased with the results of this.

My last work with the skeleton is a piece that took me several days.  I took a photo of him/her sitting in the chair in the art studio.  The walls behind are gridded with artwork by former students.  I wanted to play with color and big shapes and aim for a sketchy, scribbly feel and just see what happened.   This is on 22 x 30 rough paper. 

Okay, that was a lot of fun!  And super hard.  The ribs and the grid on the wall came pretty easily, mirroring each other, I thought.  But holy cow I couldn't render the skull to my satisfaction.  Not nearly as well as I had in earlier sketches.  Like I said, no matter where you are in the process, there's always the bad day or the bad drawing.

So, while parts of this piece are overworked (because, frankly, I just wiped down and started again on that skull, knowing it would end up murky, but attempting to learn something from the practice), I like the colors and lines and general composition.  And I really like the idea.  I may try to do it again some time in the future.

I wonder if I can gain access to this or another skeleton if I'm not in a class?  I have to investigate that.  If you've never drawn from a skeleton, or even just a skull, I recommend it.  The subtleties amazed me!

And once again, scribbling has led me to a new appreciation of all the beauty that is around--and within--us!

Scribbling with Watercolors

I really want to learn more about watercolors and how they work. 

And while that means I read and look for classes, it also means I simply have to play around with them! 

Scribbling with paint!  Asking, "What happens if I do this?"  "Or this?"

"Breaking" a few sketches, as Roz Stendahl advises.  Sometimes you just gotta do it to figure out how far you can push something.

So for a while I just messed around, doing my daily sketches and adding wonky colors to see what would happen.  

And sometimes I put the colors down first and then scribbled on top of them--sometimes completely unrelated things!

What the heck, right?  I'm learning!

Scribbling doesn't mean without purpose.  Or without standards.  Or without mindfulness or value.  

Scribbling means loose and playful and exploratory and creative.

Scribbling with paint is all those things!

Early Spring Gouache Experiments

On an icy, sleety day in mid April, I decided to experiment with some gouache. I've had it and used dabs here and there, but never really asked "what does this do" and tried a whole sketch with it.

And even though I greatly value reading and watching demos, I am learning that when it comes to making stuff, I have to get in and scribble--really play with abandon and probably make a mess--to understand how things work.

So I decided to try something dark with light values and just play around to see how it layered and how opaque the lights were and all of that.

I started with a decision to do my spring rhododendrons in my back yard. It has been freezing (literally freezing rain yesterday), so the buds are still closed tight. The bushes are at the edge of the woods, so the background is dark. And nearby is a perennial garden with phlox and daisies... all dormant now but I noticed one loan phlox dried and still standing--ghostly-- nearby. Anyhow, that caught my eye as a very white value against all the dark greens.

First I made two pages of value thumbnail sketches. What did it look like? What did I want it to look like? You might be able to see, from the scratches that are my thumbnails, that I perceived a spiral design in it, and so messed around with what that might look like. At one point, I even turned the journal upside down and drew the thumbnails upside down, just to test-drive the image... I have a whole new appreciation for why/how thumbnails are useful.

Then I did a two-page spread, a bit more detail, to capture the structure of the rhode leaves and the placement of the phlox...

Next, I decided to work outside of my sketchbook on some quality wc paper, again, just as part of the overall gouache experience for me. I painted an underlayer in thinned acrylic in complementary colors (I knew the painting would be dark and green, mostly). I was thinking a little about the thumbnails and the movements I thought would happen as I put down the magenta and a little yellow.

After that dried, I put on a dark layer. What I wanted to experience was how light gouache worked over dark, so I started with the dark and built "up" toward the lighter values. After that dried I started building the actual forms of the rhodes.

Anyhow, roughly one million layers later, I called it quits.

I took a photo of the image and put it in my computer and messed with the contrast a little. That was how I was able to learn/see what I wanted the result to look like... not the level of contrast I achieved with the paint. I might go back and mess with it more later.

I learned a TON about gouache--mixing and watering down. How the layers can (or how to avoid) activating the layer beneath. Opacity. Light over dark. It is still too dark, I think, but really my goal wasn't a great or finished "painting." Though actually, I kind of like the result. The goal was to play with the process from "look at that cool bush" through prelims, sketches, and paint and just see what I could experience and learn. It was such an enjoyable experience on an icy day!

Blue Dinosaur in a New Blue Sketchbook

I made a new sketchbook the other day.

I buy some of my favorite paper in large rolls, then cut it to the size I want and bind by hand.  Then I get the paper I want in the size I want.

This new one resulted from an experiment:  I wanted to see if I could bind one that would fold back on itself, and had a soft cover.

I bound the paper with coptic binding and covered it in a thick handmade paper I got at the local Fair Trade store.  So far so good.

I used Bee Paper's Super Deluxe sketchpaper, because I had the end of a roll left from some time ago.

I didn't worry too much about getting everything exact on this sketchbook--I plan to carry it lots of places and beat it up.  So I had a good time tossing it together and now I'll enjoy it.

Anyhow, after scribbling in my contact and current palette information on the first page (which I do to start any new sketchbook--it gets me past the "new book" syndrome), I decided to practice my scribbling on a dinosaur!  A triceratops to be exact.

In phthalo blue and cadmium red orange.

This is the first time I've drawn this particular toy, so I viewed this scribbling session as a "getting to know you" time.  I even sang the showtune as I drew.

First, a blind contour; that's the delightful mess on the upper left.  Then a modified contour.  Then a slower scribble of just the head, but still a scribble, not attempting to catch everything, but just exploring shapes and angles and then, some values.

Let me tell you:  this only sort of looks like my dinosaur!

But I feel like I had a successful sketching session.  I got to scribble with one of my favorite fountain pens (a Pelikan M200 fine), splash paint around, study a complex and super interesting figure (boy, I sure wish I could find a time machine and go back and see a live dinosaur), and practice my scribbling skills.  What a delightful way to spend an hour!

What I want to practice next time I draw this dino again is how to capture the horns when they are pointed toward the viewer.  Foreshortening them is hard.  They kind of disappear in my painting.  So, something to work on!

Testing A Limited Color Palette

Recently someone asked me what I use to carry watercolors out and about with me.

I use a variety of things.  Depends on where I am going and what I intend to draw and how long I"ll be.

But every single day, everywhere I go, I am using a tiny Jack Richeson child's palette, which I got at my local art store, to test drive a limited palette of just 8 colors.

I first learned about this palette from Roz Stendahl's class in Sketchbook Skool--in the klass called "Beginnings."

I popped out that paints that came with the kit to use the tiny palette.  Then I put in eight Daniel Smith watercolors which I have been testing recently, and would like to try out in some of my sketches.

What I am testing here is quite intentional.

First, the two color combination that I learned from Roz as a great way to practice monochromatic sketching:  the indanthrone blue and the burnt sienna.  I paired them together on the right for easy access and refilling.

Second, a muted tone triad (which I also first discovered thanks to Roz) of indanthrone blue, deep scarlet, and nickel azo yellow.  I like these colors and how they run a bit neutral when combined, which fits the natural subjects I tend to like to sketch.  You can see I placed that across the top row, building from the blue which I had already put down.

Third a much brighter triad of colors I love!  I learned about these colors somewhere else, and I have no idea where.  I have had them in my paintbox for a long time, and am reacquainting myself with them.  This is ultramarine turquoise, quinacridone magenta, and isoindoline yellow.  This triad filled out the second row.

Finally, I had one little well left.  So into this I put Cascade Green.  I like this color, like the green base it gives me now and then.  And I love the way it mixes with the quin magenta.

The only thing I'd like to have on here that I don't currently have is a transparent orange.  I don't own any.  Yet.

Here are some of the mixes--you'll see each triads at the top.  On the bottom left, I show burnt sienna mixed with the green (which results in browns) and the blue (which results in grays).  On the bottom right, I substituted the Cascade Green into each triad in place of the blue, just to see what would happen.

One of the best things about this palette, for me, as I learn about colors, is how inexpensive and tiny it is.  I can buy three for under $10 and use them for different color combos.  And because the wells are so tiny, if I put paints into it that don't work out, I can either wipe them out without too much loss of paint, or use them up in monochrome paintings pretty quickly.   When I find something I really like, I move it into a slightly bigger palette (made from a candy tin) which holds full and half pans.