All the Strange Hours is now running on a new installation of Wordpress (blog software). It has a new web address:

http://rourkevisualart.com/atsh/

(The old address was http://rourkevisualart.com/wordpress. It now points to the new address, via the magic of .htaccess files, so your old bookmark will still work. You might want to update, however, since it is slightly faster that way.)

I did this because I wanted the address to be /atsh instead of /wordpress. The big reason, however, was to upgrade the database the software runs on from MySQL version 4 to version 5. That will enable future improvements in functionality.

I think I have things migrated correctly, but I’d be surprised if there aren’t a few glitches. The subscriptions (via email and RSS feed) should work correctly without modification. Please let me know if there are any problems.

Thanks.

Tags: All the Strange Hours, WordPress

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In comments, Julius writes:

David: In the beautiful work you show on your gallery, are most of the effects achieved with your “thick glazing” technique? I have been experimenting with thin glazes and have run into problems at every turn. For example: How to achieve an intense red or orange, since cadmium colors are out? How to glaze thinly and be able to do fabrics and tablecloths - especially in light colors? How to do a light color ceramic bowl (as in one of yours)? Maybe you could speak in detail about the work in your gallery…

Thanks for the kind words, Julius. Glazing is not my primary oil painting technique.* I tend to paint fairly opaquely most of the time, attempting to achieve the final look of each passage before moving to the next. I’m not dogmatic about that, however, and will go back over a passage, opaquely or transparently, if I didn’t get it right the first time.

I do use glazing for specific purposes. For example, the background of the self portrait in the gallery is yellow ochre glazed over white. Although YO is usually thought of as rather dull, its undertone has a very different character—much higher in chroma and value. That’s one great use of glazing: to avoid “chalkiness” (lowered chroma) at high values.

As far as intense red or orange, here’s how that was done historically. Start by painting that specific passage in a flat opaque color similar to your desired final hue. For example, you could use cadmium red light (historically, this would have been vermilion, which behaves similarly to cad red). Let it dry. Then glaze over it with a similar transparent color such as alizarin crimson (which is fugitive) or pyrol ruby (which is not). Make this second color thick where you want it dark and thin where you want midtones or lights. If desired, paint into the lights with the same or similar colors mixed with white. Let it dry. If the darks are not dark enough, apply another layer of glaze to those areas, perhaps darkened with another transparent color such as ultramarine blue. Over two or three layers, you can get the darks as strong as you like, in a higher chroma than you can get without glazing. I’ve tried this, and it works. For orange, you are limited in glazing colors, but hansa yellow mixed with any of the modern transparent organic reds or crimsons can work.

Does this method allow you to get any color you wish? No, it does not. You are limited to available shades of transparent pigments. But the Old Masters were even more limited, and they didn’t make junk.

As for fabrics, this method works quite well if you have the patience for it. Be prepared to go back into the lights, while the glaze layer is still wet, with opaque colors mixed with white.

Ceramics are easy. For a white ceramic glazed with blue, just paint the object without the blue and allow to dry. Ultramarine or other semi-transparent blues glazed on top are quite convincing (that’s how I did the ceramic cup in the “Three Cherries” painting in my gallery.

This would be easier to show than to tell, but I hope this is helpful.


*In part that’s due to the influence of my teacher, Dennis Cheaney. Dennis is a student of Ted Set Jacobs, who long ago rejected glazing in his own painting method, because he believes it makes it more difficult to precisely control hue, value, and chroma. I don’t paint the same way that Dennis and Ted do (nor nearly as well), but the vast majority of my formal instruction has been in a direct painting style.

Tags: Dennis Cheaney, glazing, Ted Seth Jacobs

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White Shirt

Here’s where the “White Shirt” painting is at. What I’ve done is finish initial rendering of each area of the shirt. I found that the hues were uneven—I am still learning to manage near-neutrals across relatively large areas of a painting. What I tried was to glaze transparent yellow oxide across bluer shadow areas, which evened out hues somewhat, but the overall painting was unconvincingly yellow-orange. I had also over-rendered much of the shirt, with too broad a range in value between darks and lights.

This was a perfect time to apply a velatura. (CONTINUED) ⇒

Tags: calcite, David's work, lead white, oil painting, putty, stand oil, velatura, walnut oil, work in progress

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So tonight I’m working on my “White Shirt” painting. I spend a good hour on the most detailed part of the piece—the hangar hook and its shadow. I do a really nice job, with small brushes, getting each curve and the flash of metal just right. Detailed, but not too fussy. Then I step back.

I’ve made an error. The hook is too small. It looks almost right, but not quite.

I sit for a minute, then take a rag dipped in turps and wipe it off the painting. You need to be willing to do that sometimes, just as an author needs to be able to delete a wondrous chapter that just doesn’t work with the rest of the novel. If it’s not right, it has to go, no matter how much you like it.

Tags: art technique, work in progres

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Alex writes,

I love the M. Graham watercolors, so I am going to start there, but, I wonder: Can I use linseed oil with them as a brush cleaner without degrading the quality of the walnut oil? (Linseed is SO much more cost effective.)

Thanks, Alex. I’m not aware of any technical reason not to mix linseed with M. Graham oil paints (which are ground in walnut oil). M. Graham would much prefer that you buy oil from them, but inexpensive linseed will work just as well and is exactly as natural and nontoxic (don’t buy boiled oil or other hardware store linseed oil).

In fact, two of my favorite paint makers—Robert Doak & Associates and Blue Ridge Artist Materials—grind their paints in a linseed/walnut blend. You might want to check them out. M. Graham is of mid-range quality while theirs is high-end, but not all that much more expensive. All three brands are extremely smooth and brushable. You could mix paint from all of these brands together without any problems.

Tags: Blue Ridge Artist Materials, linseed oil, M. Graham, Robert Doak, walnut oil

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My former art teacher, Dennis Cheaney, is a realist painter and a student of Ted Seth Jacobs. I learned a lot from Dennis and wish I could still study with him. He conceptualized the process of oil painting in several ways, one of which has really stuck with me.

Generally, when rendering form, you mix up various colors of paint and put them into the right places on the surface of the painting. I like to use natural bristle and synthetic flats for this. Some artists stop there and get a certain kind of stylized look. But in the academic realist tradition, there is another step, which Dennis calls “shaping the light.”

For this you use a dry soft brush. Not a fan blender, which is too wide for the kind of focused work we’re talking about here. Shaping the light involves slowly and delicately adjusting each patch of paint to conform to the way that light falls across it. How does the light flow across a forearm, for example? What is the rate of gradation? Is there a sharp change in value as the light moves from one form to another, or is it gradual? What is the shape of each patch of light as it flows from one passage to another? How hard or soft is each edge, at each point? As you work across each section, you stroke, clean the brush with a rag, stroke, and continue. If you need the color to be exceptionally clean, then you might switch to a fresh brush to avoid contamination while shaping. This process is more than just blending, which you can do without really even looking at the subject. It requires just as much observation as you need when applying paint.

Dennis suggested taking about half the time you spend in mixing and applying paint, and about half in shaping the light. You can do that in two discrete stages in a session, or move back and forth between one mode and the other. Either way, you develop a sensitivity to light and a sense of how to convincingly render form. Dennis is far better at this than I am, but I am starting to get a sense for how to do it correctly.

Tags: blending, light, oil painting, rendering

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Here’s what I’m working on now. “White shirt,” oil on panel, 20 × 16”.

White Shirt

I messed up the right sleeve. As was painfully obvious the next day, but somehow didn’t hit me at the time, the shadow color in the right sleeve is too green and too low in chroma. (This may not be clear in the photo you are looking at, as these are fairly subtle color distinctions.) Shadows elsewhere are in the orange and yellow range, assisted by the earth red tone I had applied on top of the glue-chalk gesso primer. My plan is to let let that section dry completely while I work on the rest, glaze the shadows with transparent yellow oxide and transparent red oxide, and work into that base in order to correct the color.

Other than that, I like it so far, which is rare for me at this point in a painting. It still needs a bunch of fabric detail and the hangar needs to be painted in, but it’s basically progressing well.

Tags: David's work, glazing, oil painting, work in progress

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Last year, a friend of ours and her two children (ages 7 and 8, if I recall correctly) visited. They wanted to look in the studio and my wife let them in (after cautioning them not to touch anything). I had a couple of nudes hanging against the wall, which my wife immediately turned around to keep them from being seen.

I’ve been thinking about that lately. Why was that necessary? These paintings were not pornographic or even explicit. They were of a man and a woman posing in the nude.

I’m not criticizing my wife, of course. She responded appropriately, especially since their mother hadn’t been warned about the possibility of them seeing paintings of naked people. I think it kind of disturbs me that this was necessary, however. We didn’t discuss the issue with our friend—we just assumed that she would never allow her children to see that kind of art.

This especially interesting when we compare modern attitudes to those of the Victorians. We think of Victorians as absurdly prudish, even to the point of considering it proper to do things like put books by male and female authors on different shelves and cover up the “limbs” of roast poultry with paper covers. We can laugh at that, yet I’ve read that Victorian children were routinely exposed to nude art. It was considered educational and uplifting. Obviously, not all people in the Victorian era had the same values, and I’m sure some found the idea of children looking at nudes to be inappropriate. Yet I’ve seen images of museums from the period, with throngs of both adults and school-age children looking at nude paintings and sculpture.

Are we more prudish about art than the Victorians, for all that advertising and other media are filled with sex? Is it inappropriate for children to see nude art?

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this topic, but I do know that if there were a nude in my living room, some uncomfortable situations would occur from time to time.

Comments?

Tags: attitudes toward art, nudes

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Shibumi, sir?” Nicholai knew the word, but only as it applied to gardens or architecture, where it connoted an understated beauty. “How are you using the term, sir?”

“Oh, vaguely. And incorrectly, I suspect. A blundering attempt to describe an ineffable quality. As you know, shibumi has to do with great refinement underlying commonplace appearances. It is a statement so correct that it does not have to be bold, so poignant it does not have to be pretty, so true it does not have to be real. Shibumi is understanding, rather than knowledge. Eloquent silence. In demeanor, it is modesty without pudency. In art, where the spirit of shibumi takes the form of sabi, it is elegant simplicity, articulate brevity. In philosophy, where shibumi emerges as wabi, it is spiritual tranquility that is not passive; it is being without the angst of becoming. And in the personality of a man, it is … how does one say it? Authority without domination? Something like that.”

Nicholai’s imagination was galvanized by the concept of shibumi. No other ideal had ever touched him so. “How does one achieve this shibumi, sir?”

“One does not achieve it, one … discovers it. And only a few men of infinite refinement ever do that. Men like my friend Otake-san.”

“Meaning that one must learn a great deal to arrive at shibumi?”

“Meaning, rather, that one must pass through knowledge and arrive at simplicity.”

—From the novel Shibumi, by Trevanian (1979).

The concept, of course, has great applicablilty to visual art.

Tags: shibumi

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Another one from a couple of years ago. This is one three hour session from life, in art class. Oil on toned canvas. Obviously unfinished; I think the model couldn’t make the next several sessions, so another model was booked.

Figure study

Tags: David's work, the figure

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