Day Eleven: "Murder of Crows"

Happy Halloween!

With my favorite holiday at hand I'm taking a break from painting today and looking at a different type of influence/reference material.  I've talked about looking at other artist's work to see how they handled problems with color, composition, or surfaces.  But what about our own work?  What can our own images teach us about where we are with our work today?

Back on "Murder Of Crows" (MOC) day three, I wrote that one of my goals with this project was to allow the painting to lead me, and I would make a conscious effort to be receptive to learning from the painting as it grew.  When building a body of work, usually one painting will influence another; a problem that is overcome in one instance may help me in another, a color combination or  a new brushstroke can be recognized and redefined to fit the canvas at hand.  This is an excellent way to maintain a level of consistency in your work.   I have several around my studio at any given time, and they change from project to project. 

The first inklings of ideas that I associate with MOC began with this painting,

September Rain. It is an 18"X 24" oil on canvas, that was completed plein aire (working on location, outside) over the course of three days.  While working on this painting I could feel a new sensibility taking hold in my mind.  I was able to recognize the rhythms before me for the first time, and I was able to draw with the tip of my brush leaf patterns as I'd never been able to before.  It was very exciting!

On the fourth day, still plein aire, I painted this small diptych (two separate paintings, that together tell a story, think of poetry) on panel, each panel is11''X10" and painted with oil paint.  I call it Twigs.  In this instance I was focusing only on the rhythms that I was recognizing,  and I was striving only to give enough information to satisfy what I was feeling.  These two pieces appeared very quickly, in a matter of hours (they're very small) and upon completion I began work on a 20"X 20'"canvas.

Back in the studio, a few days later, Thicket was the resulting image of that work.  This painting I see as a true teacher for what I want to accomplish with MOC.  A friend upon seeing this painting said I was revisiting my historical Dutch roots, with the dark moody palette, and macabre scene.  She compared the work to the contemporary allegories of Od Nerdrum.

In a strange way I recognized that I'd touched on something, and I looked anew at my large four foot square surface leaning against the wall.

Paint well... 

 

Day Ten: "Murder Of Crows"

The murder is growing! 

Two more crows have made themselves known today (I've always been an advocate of odd numbers, they just seem to fit together in a more interesting way). They appeared as I began to build upon the triangular, abstracted sketch I did yesterday. In defining the scene, I've decided to construct a loose grid of (what will become) fence-posts, barbed wire, and vegetation. You can see yellowish two by four looking lines on the left and the beginnings of rusty barbed wire along and above the white diagonal. I still want to incorporate some of the elements from the original drawing (see day one).  I've begun to block in fabric, tangled in the barbed wire, that should hold the diagonal that begins with the white crow in the upper left and continues to lower right. I think the patterning I will develop on the fabric, will be a nice lyrical addition to the somber blacks of the crows and wildness of the vegetation.

To tell the truth, at this point I'm just really unhappy with the whole mess... but then in all the years I've been painting, there comes a point where I hate what I'm doing. Like an unruly child, I just want to kill it! One, Two, Three....

Four, Five... Six,  Seven, Eight, Nine,

TEN!!

I think what makes this all the more difficult is having to write about what I'm doing, explaining how I'm going to get myself out of this pile of dooties.

Ahh...The romantic life of an artist!

Paint well...

Day Nine: "Murder Of Crows"

What an interesting day... snow flurries and blustery! My favorite kind of day... even, diffused light, and a warm fire.

To start with today, I needed to do some sketching to clarify the composition in my mind, and better define the figures. I would recommend keeping a sketchbook as well as a journal to keep record of those fleeting ideas that all too frequently disappear.

With these two sketches, I'm trying out some ideas for the composition. The sketch on the left is an abstracted layout, describing the depth and space I see in the painting, and hope to develop further. The sketch on the right incorporates more of the details that I find are already emerging within the painting. I'm sketching here on paper to try out poses for the figures before moving to the canvas.  I suppose I should clarify that these sketches are completed in pen and ink. I find that I prefer using pen and ink because it is not easily erased, so if I decide to change my mind I have to redraw the image...more practice!

These two pages of sketches are getting to know the subject better, training my hand at recognizing the shapes and textures. On the right, the lower figure has already become established on the canvas. I'm not as solid with the white crow's pose yet.

In this image of the canvas, it is easy to see the basic abstract form (from the sketch above) coming forth, and the crouching black crow from the sketch standing at the bottom of the canvas is starting a counter-point that I hope to develop using a sight-line between him and what will be the white crow.

As far as the story behind this moment I'm painting (the subject), I'm working with the idea that this "Murder Of Crows" is debating the existence of the white crow. I've discovered in my research that white crows do exist, they are separate breed, altogether different from the more common black crow. Albino crows also exist, as they do among all lifeforms. I am almost more drawn to using an albino crow in this composition, because (as I understand the phenomenon) it would be more likely an albino crow would be gathering here than a white crow.

Paint well...

Day Eight: "Murder Of Crows"

As I progress here I'll begin to write less and paint more... I feel I've said enough over the past few posts.

The distance and clarification I achieved yesterday gave me good insight as to how I want to proceed with painting. As you can see, I've begun to actually block in the figures of the crows, and I've decided to incorporate a few elements from the original three figures that will begin to appear over the next few days.

I was drawn to the surreal idea that crows actually hold each other accountable (in a way) for their actions. Whether this actually turns into a 'murder' remains to be decided, I'm not normally that morbid. I am how ever interested in one of the crows being different from the rest; it would appear that difference will be in his color. This will give me the opportunity to paint some interesting lighting effects, not only with glowing whites, but glowing blacks.

I've been thinking a lot about Marc Chagall, and Morris Graves. Chagall for his glowing, jewel-like color palette, and how he drew his figures almost in cartoon form. In Graves I see the same glowing effects but the figures are seen as though through a scrim of mist, with more subdued color.

Paint well...

Day Seven: "Murder of Crows"

Good Morning,

I had a great find last night on my foray out junking (see previous posting to see where). I found a 1958, hardcover MoMA exhibition catalogue on Jean Arp! SCORE!!  Jean Hans Arp (1887-1966) was one of the co-founders of the Dada movement in 1916 (Zurich), and joined the Surrealist movement in 1925 (Paris)... an amazing painter, draftsman, lithographer, sculptor and poet. His work tends to be more poetic and whimsical than serious or morbid. He wrote a short essay for this catalogue titled "Looking."
                                                   The opening line reads:

 
"To open my eyes, to see, to look to contemplate the world, to watch clouds and trees,  to behold cities and buildings, to look works of art in the eye, to look men in the eye, to see, to look - ever since childhood this has been my greatest joy"



So that's why I'm a bit late getting started (I've been reading it most of the morning). It's telling that this book should appear in my life at this time, because I left yesterday's session talking about looking at my painting, its influences and inspirations. I'd actually been thinking as I signed off with that post, how was I going to explain my position. I attempted (feebly) to describe the crows and the hats and the figures, but it really didn't hit the mark for me. So I thought I'd attempt a re-do, take a day to clarify where I'm at and where I may be headed, to do a bit of looking around (if only for my own sake). Sorting out my 'Sorts' as it were...

To begin, I decided to once and for all find the origin of the phrase "murder of crows." I found a site on-line, Grammarphobia.com, and they suggest the saying is "a poetic term, not a scientific one. Traced back to the 15th century phrases, 'mursher of crowys' and 'murther of crowes'." An interesting foot note to their listing mentions folk tales that suggest flocks of crows hold trials and execute members for bad behavior. I like that idea, and transposing that explanation to this project is an interesting take on how a group of people can gather and gossip.

Looking at my working drawing from day one of this blog; I want to focus on the shapes of the hats. More specifically, I want to look at shapes that I see related to and influencing my interest in that element's design.

First I should explain that for a time in Santa Fe, I refurbished, repaired, and built from raw felt bodies, cowboy hats (I still reshape hats for friends), and I often wear a cowboy hat. Also, I have amassed a good sized collection souvenir cowboy hats in various materials from bronze to bakelite, in sizes ranging from that of a pencil eraser to about 10 inches in diameter. I have produced abstractions of hats for years in drawings and paintings, and I have taken the basic form of the hat, and composed a series of bronze sculptures (one such is seen here). Needless to say, for me, hats have become a part of my life. So far these bronze works have come the closest to translating what I feel when I see a hat. Put in words, the line quality of the shape that defines the space is what I am attracted to. When I look at the working sketch above, these three discs and how they interact, is very exciting to me, the rest of the composition is but window dressing.

For me it is very easy to see the shape of the bird described within the shape of the hat. The pointed ellipse of

the form recalls the profile of a planes wing section when it is diagrammed to explain lift.  Following this trail of thought a step or two further and ladies' hats from the 1940's come to mind, where actual bird bodies, wings and feathers were applied in all their taxidermy-ed glory;  then Edward Curtis's photos of traditional American Indian head wear,  physically braiding eagles into their hair; and then a bit more surreal, the ancient Sumerian bas relief carving of Anunnaki, bird-headed god figures. All of these varying types of 'sorts' are what I was talking about yesterday when I was attempting to describe influences to one's work. For me they come like a brainstorm of images that flip-book-flash through my mind when I'm working. The images dove-tail (curious choice) into one another, each idea calling up the next in a cascade of influences. All these thoughts should be recognized and at least acknowledged for the sake of maintaining some connection to your imagination. These are the ways the painting speaks it's truth into being through the artist.

I do not feel that I can know where all of the inspirations for my work will come from. I can start with a basic premise, but to know every step of the work in advance is to become soulless, a mechanized production port, doing same-o same-o work with each and every painting.  Where's the fun in that? Where's the heart? Your imagination is one of the few things you have that is truly your own, it is a gift to yourself from yourself, and should be honored.

I realize the ideas I've represented in this session focus on a small part of this painting. It was my intent to give you some idea of how I work as best as words can describe. I do however hope that these explanations are of some benefit in understanding my process. Part of the impetus for doing these sessions is to clarify myself, I suppose that works both ways...

Paint well...

Day Six: Murder Of Crows

Good Morning,

Getting a late start this morning... blueberry pancakes and sausages were calling

(enough said).

I have to admit to a vice of mine. I am an avid, ravenous, even voracious junk-store-aholic. I'm talking 3 or 4 nights a week! I always go at night because there are fewer people, AND that's when they put out the stuff for the next day!!! (but it's not an addiction or anything, I have it under control.)

Anyway,

I was out the other night and found this GREAT BRUSH!!! You can see it here in my hand... I think it's intended use is for applying wall paper paste, but WOW, what great texture it gives oil paint! It doesn't really pick paint up paint from the palette (it's almost bigger than my palette), so I use it directly on the canvas after a good surface of paint has been built up.  The effect is like a giant hybridized, fan brush-leaf rake.

As I said, it gives a wonderful surface texture to the paint. In the photo to the left, the grainy texture that runs from the upper right down to the center bottom is its signature mark. Another thing I can mention with this image (while we're here) is how you can work with a monochromatic palette (using basically one color) and achieve another level of interest in your work. In this example, you can see some cross-grain brush work, and drips of runny paint. I would encourage you to try lots of different implements while painting. At one point, when I lived in Sante Fe, I was polishing the surface of my paintings with antique paperweights; those magnifying, bubble-looking glass things. I have quite a collection now of flat and round ones, they are great to coat in paint or ink and draw with too!

 Painting ain't just for brushes anymore!

Yesterday I started to talk about influences and what will become of this painting, what direction it might take. I came to the conclusion that I (my persona) am an amalgam of 'sorts', all sorts; meaning that I have many interests in many areas. Also, I stated (on day three of this project) that one of my pursuits with this painting was to let the canvas guide me in what it would become.  So, I was thinking why not let this painting be an affirmation of my 'sorts'? Too trite? Well it's an idea and my coffee cup is empty so I'll run with it for now...

OK! Coffee cup full, check! Eudie, outside break, check! Now back to work.

I was thinking about what exactly inspired the title I chose for this painting, Murder Of Crows. First of all I have always wondered how/who ever decided to name a group of crows a murder; second the image of these three old guys sitting in a cluster, is interesting to me. (I hope this isn't too much of a stretch) The black hats, the idea of crows, and the three old men just all kind of collided in my brain and became a Murder Of Crows.

So this is where I stand to date. You can see the effect of the new brush in the dark gray area, upper right, and the green rusty upper left corner. It softens and blends the paint quickly, leaving a glow-like appearance. If you stand back and look at the canvas that effect is something different. All the other brush work looks choppy and uneven; whereas those two corners seem to settle, fall back into the space. NOTE: One thing to keep in mind is that dark/cool colors tend to recede and bright/hot colors tend to come forward. That's the push pull effect Hans Hoffman worked with and taught. Cezanne worked warm cool contrasts to achieve his pulsating compositions. This is a technique (I'd hate to use the word trick) to develop depth and interest in your painting.

A view of the full canvas shows drawn in shapes beginning to appear; strong colors, and seeming discordant lines. This may seem a strange thing to say but in affect I'm looking into the surface for clues to shapes and ideas, and defining what it is I see. There are several ways to define shapes as you work the surface. Of course you can simply slap paint around (like I've been doing) and see what happens, one problem you can face in doing this is your paint may become muddy. (Not that there is anything wrong with mud if that is a look you are going for. Degas did a wonderful series of racehorse paintings using the sludge from his turp pot.)  Other ways to draw into the paint are using oil sticks, or the tip of a palette knife, or (as in the example to the left) drawing with a pencil .

What I've tried to do today working on the canvas is to emphasize some elements that stand out while keeping in mind what I really enjoy about painting. I like brush work and texture, and I like photo realism; contradicting styles one might say, but something to keep in mind. What if physical surface texture was allied with a photo-realistic, faux-texture?

That may be an interesting challenge. What do you think?

Paint well...

Day Five: "Murder of Crows"

Good Morning?

Wow, day five (and they said it wouldn't last). It was a bit of a harrowing evening, Eudie was stung by a bee in his throat (!) yesterday afternoon. He was coughing and panting...but he still ate his dinner and his breakfast this morning like a champ, he's doing just fine.

This may be a short session today, I've got some dry-walling to complete downstairs and I'm meeting with a friend to organize an exhibition of work in Phoenix...


So, it kind of looks like I've got a fire going here; a big pile of something anyway. I'm really at a turning point at this stage. In my old way of painting I would now begin blocking in the major planes of the figures, making note of junctures and proportions. One problem of painting the figure is everyone knows what people look like and they can easily spot a deformity. In landscape painting the artist can get away with fudging a scene, unless it's iconic (say The Statue of Liberty). With abstract painting the artist has the most freedom, however, all bets aren't necessarily off because you still need to have balance, depth, good color, and a nice surface (at least to keep my attention).

I feel that in in order to have an successful painting, you need to be able to catch the viewer's attention from afar (with color and shape, and the physical size of the painting), keep their attention from a few feet away (using composition and subject), and reward them from up close with some juicy surface texture (brush and knife work). These elements should build upon one another in a visual crescendo. Of course all of that is well and good as a personal philosophy, but I still haven't figured out how to get someone who likes the Western Art genre to appreciate abstract work. But I really am trying, because it is so rewarding to look at!

In looking closely at this canvas, I think I have arranged an overall interesting shape with some good color to attract a viewer; I'm developing the composition, and the surface is coming along nicely. I just need to work on the subject (more on that to follow).

I've included some detail images of the surface to show some different kinds of surface texture. To the right the pale line is drawn with oil stick, some thinned dripping paint is occurring in the upper right corner and just left of center (the gray-green into yellow), and nearly dead-center is an incised loose looking (Zorro!) Z shape, executed with the tip of a palette knife. In the image below, along with more of the drawn pale line and a few drips, are some examples of brushwork. The thinned olive-green in the upper left, and more impasto (a term for thick paint, think of icing on a cake) creamy yellow-gold center and right of center.














When I mentioned I was at a turning point earlier, I was referring to the "subject" aspect of this canvas. That brings me to the idea of influences. What is in an artist's head at the time the brush touches the surface absolutely influences what will occur. As an example (using myself), I have produced a certain genre of work for many years (that being Western). However, recently I have had some life changing experiences. Most notably I went back top school and (finally) got my degree in Fine Art. That experience cannot but impact the work that I now produce. At the outset of this blog I noted that I was trying a new approach in working, so from here forth. I really don't know what to expect of this painting.

I have been toying with the idea of combining genres for quite some time now (since the 1980's to be exact), and am getting closer with every drawing and painting that I produce. My experiences in Chicago (at school) have given me the fortitude, and my experiences with plein aire painting have given me the mental faculties that I believe are the final few pieces to this puzzle I've been puzzling. We'll have to watch together.

Paint well...

Day Four: "Murder Of Crows"

Good Morning!

It's always a good morning when there are fresh hot cranberry muffins and coffee, and a warm fire crackling. Eudie (that's my dog) is anxious about the muffins, it seems his breakfast wasn't enough for him this morning.

The past few nights I've been watching the slight sliver of the new moon gently waxing. Night before last, there was a gossamer cloud just veiling its soft glow, it had the appearance of bright light glinting off of a single strand of hair; the kind of light that is so bright it distorts any surrounding vision, and splays the beams apart so all you can see is the effect of the light radiating around the frail object as a halo. It took my breath away.

Light is a big subject in Art, I don't have the time or the space to go into depth but a short list of artist's to look at (as I have done recently) would be Turner, Seurat's pencil drawings, Monet's Haystack series, and O'Keefee's paintings from her New York years; in particular, her painting The Shelton with Sunspots (seen right) in the Art Institute of Chicago's collection (I did a lot of looking at that painting). I also especially liked Turner's quote, "I'm interested in drawing what I see, not what I know".

So just how does one go about depicting light, a natural, basically invisible element, that we can really only see the effect of as it reacts to objects? AND, how can I use ground minerals, chemicals, various oils, and solids (called paint), to depict this invisible element? That's a big idea! One that can be answered by Turner's comment, paint what you see, not what you know (or think you know). To further heighten any anxiety you may be feeling with this question, I ask; How can you paint what you see, when (as a studio painter) you are painting an idea in your mind, and not really looking at a finite object or scene?


At this point I'll have to get specific about the painting I am working on. As you can see, the canvas is now nearly covered with paint. The atmosphere around the central forms is deepening and some clarification is coming into view inside of the forms themselves. Still, this is mostly underpainting that will likely be covered by successive layers of paint. I like this stage of painting. I enjoy watching the rivulets of turp-thinned pigments run down the surface. Because of the heavy surface texture, the drips at times follow the contours of the forms, in a kind of passive delineation that allows the painting itself to speak to me. Some would call these happy accidents, I don't really see them as such (though I do welcome happiness wherever I can find it)

Note: Some artists work from dark toward light, others from light to dark; I never really clearly understood either trail of thought. I usually start by applying a ground of paint to the canvas (called imprimata), to reduce absorbency thus allowing easier application of subsequent layers of paint. This process can also be done to enhance a painting by introducing a complementary or discordant color to achieve different effects. I actually prefer a darker ground because it's dramatic, and has a harmonizing effect (for some this is a drawback). I did not begin this canvas with imprimata. The last few paintings I've completed were all started that way, I suppose I wanted to remind myself why I prefer a tinted canvas.

Back to the question at hand; how to paint what I see, looking at what I envision? Basically, the way I look at it, in order to have light in your composition, you need to have color; to have color you need shape, and to have shape you need space. This may sound like a catch 22, but not if put in the correct order.

I need a caveat here.
Please understand there are exceptions to
EVERY RULE!
Any of these steps can be done in any order at any time.
(besides, remember there really aren't any rules in making Art)

Three dimensional space can be developed in a two dimensional plane by using this simple idea. The five most important lines in your work are the three outer edges and the fifth line (at a diagonal) receding back into that space (thanks to the teachings of Hans Hoffman). From this starting point (whether you actually draw it in or simply recognize its presence) shape can be located, color can be placed, and the light can appear.

With today's painting, you can see the fifth line (beige in color, in the lower right quarter of the canvas) receeding back to the left; the line is picked up by the top point of the black vertical stroke, and then the division of the yellow and purple colors. Here it intersects the horizon-line (light area on the left, black to gray color shift on the right). The formation of a cube, containing a jumble of bright colors, is sitting in a field of monochromatic greens, browns, indigo, and gray.

To build the illusion of light (sorry, this cannot happen all at once) I have purposefully left bare canvas in some areas. My focus at this point is to build spatial atmosphere up around the central form. You can see there are many areas of the painting in motion, some dripping, some brushy, a few are even incised into the paint. This is an exciting moment in painting a lot is happening and nothing is settled.

I think that's enough, my fire has gone out! I'd love to answer any questions, hear your comments.

Paint well...

Day Three: "Murder Of Crows"

Good Morning... The coffee is hot, the dog is fed, and the shapes of life are emerging from the darkness outside my window. Down to work...

A couple days ago I wrote how I felt my working drawing for this project would make a suitable painting, and until recently I would have continued along with that train of thought. But now I want to say more, to explore painting more fully. But, what does that mean? Maybe it means nothing to the casual viewer of my work, personally it is akin to a paradigm shift in my head. My goal with this project is to let the paint lead me, to allow the image to come from within itself.

If Art is a language, I'm trying out a new dialect.


Looking at this canvas, I quite possibly just lost half of any audience I've ever had.

Many who look at Art never consider its beginnings, they simply assume that all of the colors flow out of the artiste's hand in one long deft swaying stroke, like Jack Frost painting the leaves in Disney's 'Fantasia'. I speak from experience because I believed it too. (As a side note, I LOVED that movie as a kid!! That scene where the ice is painted on the whole forest by the mere touch of a brush. I was there!)

Reality check. NOT how it happens!

Ya gotta start somewhere, and at first it ain't always a pretty picture. However, this isn't to say there is no structure. From the first grasp of the stretcher bar I have imaged my idea, looked at the surface, plotted and designed a course of action for applying paint to the surface. I decided which areas will come forward and which will recede, where I will want glazes, where will the paint be more impasto, and where I'll allow the surface itself to speak.

Looking at the canvas after the first day of actually painting, yes, it is rough; but there is a lot to look forward to. For instance, notice how the unpainted shapes form the base of the central shape seated firmly along the bottom. Above, the depth of the atmosphere is emerging in the dark browns and rusty blues. At this point, I'm doing two things at once, pushing back into space with the dark colors and pulling forward with the lighter. These areas will become underpainting for what is to come. Underpainting is the first layers of paint on a canvas, setting the tone and blocking in mass. In this case, I've used negative space almost as much as I've used paint to define much of the central mass. Negative space is the area around a figure and can be thought of as the air around a mass.

I take for granted how I work, so it is difficult for me to step back and actually look at what I do and describe it. It's funny to think how much information can be described with a video or a simple picture. A picture truly is worth a thousand words. As a thought exercise, try to describe getting dressed in the morning to a lifelong nudist, someone who's never worn clothes!

To this point all the paint on the canvas has been applied with a palette knife (my favorite one is in my hand to the right). I usually start a painting with a knife, sometimes I draw-in shapes using oil sticks (fat oil paint crayons). Also, I use a hand held palette (that's my palette on the right). I don't like to premix my paint, I like to apply pure color to the canvas; sometimes I squeeze the paint out directly from tube to canvas. For me this process seems to keep my paint from getting muddy. Also I don't really use any medium, just turpenoid, the finish with medium is too shiny.

These may seem tedious points to bring up, but as an artist they are absolutely essential things to know. As a young artist, I was voracious in pursuit of information on how to do everything. To that end I became an avid reader of artist biographies, looking for any little glint of information on how others actually make their work. The pursuit never ends, just last week I watched a video of Agnes Martin, With My Back To The World. It was so enlightening watching her apply paint, how she held a brush in her hand, chasing paint drops down the canvas with the tip of her brush, and the fact that she didn't like to talk while she painted! It was so refreshing to see an artist so open to share herself. I don't see why artists are so secretive about how they work, it's just silly.

I used to paint exclusively holding my brush as you would write (that curious way that tightens up your shoulder), it is much more freeing to hold the brush as you would hold a piece of charcoal for gesture drawing (drawing from the figure very quickly). One of the conscious decisions I made with my painting recently is to hold my brush in this manner. Note: I realize these are water color brushes I'm showing, but I really like painting with them, and until I can get to New York to find the long bristle brushes like DeKooning used, I'll have to settle.

I am not purporting here that I know it all, but I do know what works for me. It may not be the correct way; some ways may work better or faster, but possibly the way you or I make Art, that more difficult way, produces just the spark that makes the work special. I cannot help but feel that by seeing how others work helps us validate that what we are doing is alright, and quite possibly to learn something new.

A wise person once told me there really is no correct way to make Art.

Paint well...

Day Two: "Murder Of Crows"

For me the composition of a painting doesn't begin with the first applications of paint to the canvas. Long before that, I think about what I want the viewer to ultimately see when they look at my work. I think about the shape my idea presents in my mind, and how that translates into canvas size and proportion (often that calculation will have been decided with preparatory sketches).

I have this cool devise called a "proportional scale"; it's two wheels attached at the center that spin. To use it align the height measurement of your original on the first disc with the desired enlargement (or reduction) size on the second disc, a quick glance back to the first disc at your original's width measurement, will show the correct measurement (in proportion) on the second disc. In the past I've spent far too much time guessing at dimensions in proportion...this is a real time saver!

Once the size is considered, my focus is turned to the surface I'll work on, in this case canvas. I have used and do use ready-made canvases if they are what I need. However if I feel very strongly about an image I want to be inside it from the start. There is great pleasure for me in selecting the stretcher bars, seeing the size of your image take form, checking for sturdy straightness, aligning the dovetails so there is no cracking of the wood, then holding the heft of the wood at arms length envisioning the completed image. At times I simply contemplate this structure before stretching the canvas.

I have used several weights and textures of canvas and linen fabrics, I never stretch primed canvas (it's just too difficult to get it taught). My preference is a heavier fabric, though I have to be careful of thickness so the folded corners won't look like knuckles. The tools I use are canvas pullers, copper tacks, tack hammer, and a pastry brush (more on that later).

The process of stretching a canvas is very easy. Lay the canvas out on a flat surface (I work on the floor), and place the assembled stretcher bar on the canvas. Note: square the stretcher easily by aligning it in a doorway (assuming your doorways are square) and shifting the stretcher to match the door frame. To trim the canvas, fold the canvas over the stretcher to measure about 3 inches from that folded edge, usually just past the inner edge of the stretcher bar. This will allow you enough fabric to fold under the canvas when you begin tacking it down. I find in doing this those annoying strings of unraveling canvas are controlled. Once the canvas is trimmed to size, begin hammering tacks at the center-point of each side, pulling the canvas taught as you work on opposing sides, moving out toward the corners. I measure the tightness of the canvas by thumping it like a drum, at this point the sound should be very faint because when the gesso is applied the canvas will shrink to a good tight drum sound. At the corners, neatness is key. I make hospital corners (think of making your bed as a kid) that fold to the top and bottom sides of the canvas; this direction of fold avoids the crease from being seen from the side if your canvas is exhibited unframed.

There is something hopeful about a blank canvas, a clean slate, facing the future full-faced. Looking at this surface I begin to see the idea in my mind almost subliminally appear on the surface; I envision where the edges of the composition will align, feel the motions that will be required to apply the paint, measuring my being to the surface. There is something to be said for working on a large scale, it is very freeing. As I begin the first brush strokes of gesso, the bond that began with holding the stretcher at arms length is becoming clearer, stronger.

I apply three coats of professional grade acrylic gesso using a pastry brush, allowing each coat to dry (I do not normally gesso around to the sides of the canvas). No real technical reason for this brush selection, I just really like the way the long floppy bristles apply the gesso. I like surface texture and these marks, though white on white, do make a difference. Sometimes, just as the final coat of gesso is almost dry I will drag a palette knife across the surface. This of course is unseen detail, but it familiarizes me with the surface and I can more closely imagine my composition. Tomorrow, this canvas will receive paint.

Paint well...

Day One: "Murder of Crows"

I'm trying a new approach here, both in producing this blog and in the way I paint. Before when I began a painting I quickly obscured the abstract foundations from which I started, and proceeded to complete a photo realistic image. Over the past few months I've done a lot of plein aire painting and I've enjoyed looking at the randomness of patterns in nature. These sessions outdoors have in a round about way influenced my approach with this project.

To build this painting I've begun with a working sketch on paper from a figurative reference. This drawing is about three foot square executed in vine charcoal. What is most interesting to me about this composition is it's classic pyramidal shape composed of three simple forms, leaning in on each other. As it reads here, this image could make a worthwhile painting, but I've come to a point where I want to say more, to explore painting to a fuller extent. With this painting I hope to combine the random structural patterns of nature I've been looking at with figural forms.

I've prepared a canvas, four foot square. I hand stretch my canvases using cotton duck or linen (this canvas is cotton duck), I use a canvas puller and copper tacks, not staples. I'm very interested in the surface texture of my painting. Seeing the texture of the canvas through a thin layer of paint for me, is disappointing. I brush on at least three heavy layers of acrylic gesso, I do not sand the surface between layers because I want to build up the texture.

This is the first day of work on this project. As this project progresses, I will document each days work. I would like to encourage comments from those who follow along...

Paint well!