Tag: Composition

The Strange Edges of the Sea

I got a few painterly goodies for Christmas, and one was a new tablet of watercolor paper, one which I have never heard of before. Of course, it needs checking out. How does it handle wet paper and washes? Dry brush? Bleeding? Etc. It is not an expensive paper – $20 for 32 pages of 9×12 pure cotton paper – but it is actually a decent one. I can lift colors from it pretty easily, too! It is a rather nice bit of paper overall, and while not Arches or Fabriano, I think it will do quite well for studies, and probably gouache as well.

Besides playing with new paper, I have also attempted to lead the eye in the composition to a small area of white. Rocks, waves, clouds, land masses, sand, whatever are all designed to catch your eye. I think it worked out pretty good. I also am rather pleased with the movement of the sand in the lower right hand corner.

9×12, CP 140# paper, watercolor.

Tanglewood Underpinnings (III) and Tree Removal

Above is where I currently stand with my acrylic version of Tanglewood. I changed the foreground and began adding colors to the leaves, hoping to indicate dappled light. The foreground was similar in texture and appearance to the leaves, so I applied paint and mushed things around.

In looking at it, I thought this was looking okay, but so boring. Teacher and I both agreed the trees were too symmetrical and their pattern to repetitive. Time to fell some trees!

Home, the painting was scanned, and then sent to LR or some other program to remove the center tree. I didn’t even need to get out my saw! This definitely makes the painting better already.

More tree removal, but not as well done as the first one. The hint of the upright remains, but in that glimmer of a tree comes some new ideas.

First, the removal of just one tree is my preferred one of the two. The second one shows that suggestion of an upright, perhaps more subtle (i.e. obscured by foliage) works, too. More upright trees in the background, hidden by foliage, will add to the visual interest of the painting without creating a yawn-worthy one.

So, this is where I am right now. Not finished, but getting close. If you have an opinion, let me know!

Negative Painting & Glazing

This morning I decided to do a few things I haven’t been too fond of in the past.  One is negative painting.  The other is using glazes.  That’s what I did here.  The first layer was a warm yellowish wash, very thin.  From there, about 3 or 4 consecutive layers of blues and violets around the main trunks, and then over the ones to the sides, making them bluish.  I then used a rigger brush (for the first time) to create branches.

Overall, the picture works, but the areas I can say shouldn’t have happened are the branches in front of the central trunk.  The other thing I need to do is to create better contrast on the branches, in particular it seems on the right.  I would like to see more blue in there, in narrow strips using a flat brush.  I may do that later.

The idea behind this painting a sycamore tree in moonlight, with the above exercises to accomplish it.  I thought ahead more than I usually do, considering colors and such, as well as the approach to creating what I desired as an end product.

A Quick Thought

To my disgust, I am getting rather obsessed with photography, and trying to take mine to a higher level.  This higher level means better composition, more forethought before shooting (though it may not be possible at times), and better understanding of the post-processing program(s) I use.

Below is the original image of a guitarist in a crowd of people.

Singer for the Dead - Original

The composition isn’t great, but I needed the entire length of my lens – the Nikon 24-120mm f4 – on my Df. The focal point is the guitarist. As you can see, there are a few people between me and him. While taking this picture, and many others at the Day of the Dead, I thought about composition, and layers – foreground, midground, background – while I shot. During the crops, I thought of the same, and tried, too, to incorporate leading lines and/or the rule of thirds. Post-processing included colors, black and white, and vignetting. I used Nik Silver Efex, LR, and Perfect Photo Suite 9, along with different crops.

Singer for the Dead BW

Singer for the Dead

El Dia de los Muertos 2014 (87 of 421)

 

Doing Lines

The visual is a primary part of our lives.  Eyesight, unless you have a serious problem, is taken for granted.  However, looking and seeing may be two very different things.

When we look, it is an objective experience.  Our eyes take in, the nerves process, our bodies and minds react.  Maybe we duck.  Maybe we recognize.  Looking, to me, is a function of existence, and probably an essential function evolved for safety and protection.

To see is a subjective experience.  Seeing is taking the act of looking to a deeper level.  This is where we may interpret a facial expression.  We may delve deeper into an object, moving in close to gaze on minute detail, or move back to take in a wider vantage point.  Whatever we do to see, we do to experience on a personal level, from whatever motivates us to go beyond the cursory glance.

For myself, it is the simpler things I find most attractive.  While I enjoy and admire an artist’s ability to capture detail, to create reality in painting, I find myself drawn to an impression of something, a piece of something, When I paint or draw, I might work to capture an object, but I am not interested in infinitesimal detail but the spirit or energy of something.  There is beauty in a solid object, a single stone, the curve of a tree branch, or the metallic grill of a car.  A blurred facial expression captures the essence of our mortality.  This part becomes greater than the whole and is representative of the whole – the shape, the form, the gestalt.

For the past several months, I have moved away from painting and into photography.  At times, I find photography a rather cold process, simply because of the lack of a brush, and the follow-up with software.  The sense of involvement is far less personal, and the frustration with sitting at a desk and playing with a computer does not make me feel artistic or creative.  But, somewhere, a break-through has occurred, and I realized, when reviewing a lot of my photos, that the ones I enjoyed the most – looking at as well as creating – are the ones with a strong sense of line and shape, which in turn lead to a sense of movement or calm or a glimpse into another world.

I find that my photography is influenced by my study of sumi-e where the essential of something is far more important than the actual object.  I also enjoy strong, graphical compositions, which can be seen in my favorite photos, and in some of my paintings.  Dynamic lines and shapes are visually exciting and interesting as they lead your eye.  Lines and shapes can also draw the viewer inward, into the heart of the artist.

In a gallery, whether physical or virtual, the first thing we do is look.  Something suddenly attracts us, we hone in, and then begin to see.  All this is subjective.  A critic, though, will step back and look more objectively, and contemplate skill, rendering, compositional elements, contrast, detail, color, and so on.  An artist must also do the same of his or her own work.  The purpose of this is to learn from what we have done, and this becomes an impetus to continue, to learn more, to move in this or that direction.  Critiquing one’s own work, and that of others, is an intellectual enterprise, while also being a subjective experience which leads to a complex of new emotions, thoughts, perspectives, and whatever else lies within.  It is also another level of the artistic experience which works in strange and wonderful ways on creativity, vision, and expression.

Artists work to create expressions of an event, an experience, an emotion.  Art can be visual, auditory, or experienced by other senses, such as touch or smell.  Art can be kinetic – something we do physically.  Art must be experienced – watching a play, seeing a painting, listening to a song,  The artist experiences his own art by doing it, and then it is shared, and in the sharing, the artist moves beyond the moment and continues to grow.  The same must be said for the viewer who participates by listening or seeing or doing.  All together, art creates a mesh we all experience in our own unique ways, and binds us together in our humanity, creating a community whether or not we realize it, or choose to recognize or acknowledge it.