Lemon and Knife

"Lemon and Knife"
Oil on masonite, 4 x 10 Inches

Every month or so, I visit my local home furnishing store, and spend an hour or so looking for objects to paint. As often as not, I leave empty handed, but last month, I got lucky. I'm (obviously) a big fan of classical Dutch still life, and some of my favorite painters often include knives with really exquisite mother-of-pearl handles in their compositions.

So there on the bargain shelf was a set of 6 of these steak knives; not mother-of-pearl, but the effect was pretty similar. I have to say they're rather useless for cutting anything (probably why they were on the bargain shelf), but do they ever look great in a still life.

Purchase Information

Glad that's over.

Well that's it. I'm done moving out of my Boston studio. Totally done.

I thought perhaps I'd have an emotional twinge at the end, but no. After I took the last box out to the car, I just wanted to sweep the floor and go home.

I wouldn't exactly say it's been monkey on my back, but for the last couple weeks it's been a real distraction. I already have enough of those, thank you very much.

I'm just glad it's behind me. Now I can get back to more important things.

Like, umm... painting.

Kinda Bittersweet

Last year's Open Studios

For the past 4 years, I've had this really great studio space in one of the prime Boston art buildings. It's been good to be there, and the building always drew big crowds for the events. I usually had a couple hundred visitors for each of the monthly "first friday" shows, and for the semi-annual Open Studios, I'd usually get about 1500 people over the course of the weekend.

Since getting the space, though, I've moved out to the far suburbs; my drive in to the studio went from 10 minutes to an average of 40 (much more in bad traffic). I also have a studio at home, so needless to say I wasn't going downtown a lot. In fact almost never. For the past 2 years it's basically just been a showroom. I've met a lot of great people there, and usually sold enough during the events to more or less cover the overhead, but I've also been thinking of leaving for a long while. I dragged my feet on this, but it's finally time, and Wednesday is my last day there.

I was actually worried I'd have trouble getting out of the lease. The management company requires 3-year leases (nice work if you can get it), and I still had a way to go. There's always been a 6-12 month waiting list to get into the building (it's popular), but with the economy on the skids, I was thinking most artists would think twice about signing a 3-year $800/month lease. It actually did take the landlord a couple months to get a replacement for me. But in the end, it all worked out.

So for 2 weeks I've been taking things apart, boxing them up, and dragging them back home. After many Jeep loads, and one mondo pickup truck load (thanks Loren!), it's almost finished. Couple more boxes and a quick sweep tomorrow night and it's an empty room.

And a big thanks to my wonderful partner Sean, whose idea this was in the first place (it's all your fault). 4 years ago, I had only shown my paintings to a handful of friends and family members, and being a "real" artist was just a dim fantasy. For my birthday that year, Sean secretly got me into a group exhibit in Boston, and then gave me the choice between participating in that show or getting this great studio space he'd scoped out.

We took the difficult option. It was a huge amount of work, and an enormous learning curve. I made some big blunders, but I also started getting a few wins. Putting my paintings out in front of a couple hundred people every month (and actually making sales) started giving me the confidence to think about quitting my day job and painting full time, which I eventually did.

So, it was a great chapter in my life, and laid the groundwork to take a step I'd secretly dreamed about. But, this chapter's also closing, and it's time to move forward. Everything changes.

And of course thanks to everybody who visited me there... I'll see you online!

Orange, Glass, and Silver

"Orange, Glass, and Silver"
Oil on linen on masonite, 8 x 10 inches
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Silver Teapot and Wineglass

"Silver Teapot and Wineglass"
Oil on linen on masonite, 8 x 10 inches
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Upgraded... at last

Well, as you can see, I've given the blog a long-overdue facelift. In addition to converting to Blogger's layout capability, organizing my link lists, and generally tidying up, I've also added labels for easy viewing of different subjects. Well... I've added them for the last year, anyway.

Glad that's out of the way.

Painting A Day: Tea Time

"Tea Time"
Oil on masonite, 6 x 5 inches
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See how this painting was made, start to finish:



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Painting A Day: Yellow Onion

"Yellow Onion"
Oil on masonite, 6 x 5 inches
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See how this painting was made, start to finish:



NOTE: International shipping is available; with eBay and PayPal, fast and secure payments may be made in multiple currencies.

Knife, Wineglass, and Sugarbowl

"Knife, Wineglass, and Sugarbowl"
Oil on linen on masonite, 8 x 10 inches
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I've been doing a lot of posts of works in progress, studio projects, even technical rambling; it was time to put out a genuine finished painting. And there it is... I've been working on this one intermittently for the last month or so... it's great to have it finished.

Another sneak peak

Here's a preview of another work in progress. This is just the underpainting phase, once dry I'll begin the final painting, likely in the next 10 days or so.

A few people have asked me about the underpainting technique. I will be discussing it in a separate upcoming post. No promises about when, but probably within the next 2 or 3 weeks... in other words when I've slacked off and dont have any paintings to show :)

Teaser, and copyright

More underpainting today... all day. This one's another teaser from the upcoming batch of small paintings. Really good when I get more excited than usual about my current efforts. As a reminder, this is just the first step, not the finished painting.

I recently heard about a plan by the agency that oversees Egyptian antiquities to copyright the images of the pyramids, and demand payment for use of these images. Any funds received through this scheme would be applied to the preservation of historical monuments throughout the country. I think that's a fine and laudable goal, and a much better use of the money than, say, a new weekend villa for Hosni Mubarak. But the whole plan still seemed sleazy because of its utter misuse of the intention of copyright. Oh, and it's essentially unenforceable outside of Egypt.

Copyright basically exists to protect the intellectual property and financial interests of individual creators and their immediate heirs. After a certain amount of time (generally less than 100 years), those people with a direct stake in the work are usually no longer around, and the work passes into the public domain; it's owned by humanity at large. It's why, for instance, there's so much great literature freely available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox. It just strikes me as a real perversion of this principle to try to slap a copyright on objects created 4300 years ago, and for which clearly no one individual has a direct financial interest.

Anyway, this is all from the simplistic moral point of view, and the law is always more complicated than that. I worked for a number of years at a company that specifically dealt with copyright issues (Copyright Clearance Center, see below). I was in the technology group as a software developer, but I did have a number of conversations about copyright principles with people who really knew their stuff. Some of the details, subtleties, and exceptions seemed absolutely mind numbing. It left me with the impression that if I were ever seriously worried about any copyright issue, I'd pretty much have to consult an attorney.

I think for most artists (myself included), being unknown is a much greater career threat than copyright infringement; I don't personally expend a lot of energy watermarking my images and so forth. Nevertheless, it's generally a good idea for artists to have an overview of copyright issues, and know where to look for more answers. Here are a few of the obvious ones:

U.S. Copyright Office
Wikipedia entry on copyright
Copyright Clearance Center

And for some alternative points of view:
Cory Doctorow article
Creative Commons

Big new batch of paintings on the way

Today I got started with a big new batch of paintings... nine of them to be exact. Having done the drawings, I was able to tear right into the underpainting phase, and completed four. Why can't all my days be this productive??? I'm pretty excited about these new pieces, and posted images of two of the underpaintings, just to whet your appetites.

With any luck I'll be able to wrap up the underpaintings by the end of the week. With even more luck, one or two will be dry on monday, so I could possibly start getting finished pieces from this group early next week. Can't wait. Oh, I'm also documenting the progress of each of these, so there will be movies when done... stay tuned!

The Treadmill (and I don't mean exercise)

It was one of those days spent doing important things that nevertheless felt like a waste because I didn't once pick up a paintbrush. Sort of like a mouse on one of those exercise wheels.

The one bright spot (literally) was that I started working up some arrangements for new still lifes. The photo above is one of them, in my light box.

Painting A Day: Olive Jar No. 3

"Olive Jar No. 3"
Oil on masonite, 5 x 5 inches
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Sometimes paintings come in groups; 4 of my last 8 or so had something to do with olives; in fact the previous one was of the exact same jar in a different position. It's probably enough olives for the immediate future, but I certainly have enjoyed the theme.

Podcasts, etc.

These days I mostly listen to podcasts and audiobooks while I work, and it seems not to interfere with the act of painting at all... in fact it ends up being a very enjoyable combination. Clear evidence that visual and verbal activities occupy different parts of the brain, I imagine.

Anyway, I thought I'd link to a few of my favorites as an appreciation, in no particular order.

AstronomyCast What the name says - weekly astronomy-related shows.
Librivox Free audiobooks: public domain literature read by volunteers.
The History Of Rome Weekly episodes, starting with the founding of the city.
12 Byzantine Rulers History of Byzantine Empire.
Well Told Tales SciFi, horror, and hard-boiled short stories.
Escape Pod Contemporary SciFi short stories.
My History Can Beat Up Your Politics Today's news in historical perspective.
This American Life Public radio show. Quirky. Brilliant.

I actually do have a new painting ready to go, but I'll wait to start the auction tomorrow (Monday). Look for it early afternoon.

Progress, not Perfection...

"Tortoise and Hare"
Copley Square, Boston
Nancy Schon


Some artists seem to quickly master the mechanics of the craft, and produce work of a high quality early on, and consistently through their careers. For others, its a slow process of gaining bits and pieces of technique over time, gradually improving. I put myself squarely in the second group.

I have very little formal training; that's probably both a curse and a blessing. Painting started off as a hobby for me about 10 years ago, and I figured things out as I went for the next six years. At that point I took about a year's worth of weekly classes with a local artist, and picked up some of the rudiments of classical realism, French academic style. The influx of new ideas provided a real boost for me, and it was absolutely the right thing to do. While I have a lot of respect for the tradition and the technique, and love many of the paintings that result, I also don't have a particular desire to be that type of artist. I wanted to be back on my own and absorb what I'd learned, as well as continue to improvise and pick things up "on the street". This is where I've been for the last few years, during my transition to full-time artist.

But... being outside a formal atelier or academic environment does not mean that learning and growth stop... far from it. I set a high standard for myself and exercise self-criticism, but when I'm finished with a painting I generally think it's pretty good, measured by the yardstick of what I'm capable of. Look back at it a year later, though, and I'm usually embarrassed by what I see. It's the healthiest sign in the world; it means my abilities and my standards are improving. I hope I always cringe at what I painted the year before.

It also means I usually want to bury my older paintings (a combination of strong pride and lurking insecurity seems to be common among people who are mostly self-taught). A few weeks ago I was thinking I should delete all of my older blog posts, so anybody reading would only see what I've been doing recently. I casually mentioned this to a friend, who told me that was ridiculous. Having gone through most of the archives, he said it was interesting precisely because of the evidence of growth and improvement. He's right, of course. I can keep a trim, neatly manicured portfolio on my static website, but the blog should show my history, warts and all.

So, in that spirit (and also since I won't have a new painting to show until tomorrow), I picked a few paintings I was proud of at the time from each of the three years I've been blogging. Overall I had some early hits, and recent misses, but this particular selection shows the trend. I can only hope it continues!



September 2005


December 2005



June 2006


October 2006



November 2006


April 2007


October 2007


February 2008


March 2008

Painting A Day: Olive Jar No. 2

"Olive Jar No. 2"
Oil on masonite, 5 x 5 inches
View high resolution image

By the way, the previous post's photo of my palette was taken while this painting was on the easel. The mixtures visible went into this piece.

My palette

A few people have asked about the palette I use, so I thought I'd do a post on it. Keep in mind that my remarks are from the viewpoint of a realist painter, and the concerns I have are not necessarily those of artists working in different styles.

I use lots of colors... Lots... 60+ these days.

It wasn't always so. When I started off, I followed the standard art-book advice about limiting the palette to between 8 and 12 pigments. The rationale behind that suggestion seems to be two-fold: first, it's easier to manage fewer colors, and second, with a limited palette you can still mix every color you see. I suspect it's also a hangover from the 19th century, when chemistry simply had not provided the spectacular range of stable pigments now available to us.

I do have some sympathy with the first part of that argument. Particularly for newcomers, mixing paint is difficult and intimidating, and the greater the number of choices, the greater the confusion. Given that, I would even tend to agree with those teachers who start beginners off with monochromatic paintings... at least there the student is having to study the values very carefully, without the agony of trying to mix the proper color.

I have a lot more trouble with the claim that you can mix any color you need with a palette of 8 to 12 paints. A more accurate statement is that you can kinda-sorta-approximately-get-it-in-the-ballpark with a restricted selection. Anybody who carefully looks around on a bright summer day will quickly see that there is an endless variety of green in front of them; mixtures of viridian, cadmium yellow, and cobalt or ultramarine blue will only crudely reflect the reality of this spectrum. I was recently struggling to mix a specific turquoise color. I tried forcing a mixture out of of all the blues and and some of the greens I had: cobalt blue, cobalt green, ultramarine blue, phthalo blue, phthalo turquoise (misleading name!), phthalo green, prussian blue, viridian... even experimenting with differing amounts of zinc, titanium, and lead whites. I just could not get what I needed. I finally went out and bought Gamblin's cobalt teal and was able to get pretty darned close. Many, many, many colors simply cannot be accurately created from combinations of the typical dozen basic pigments these books suggest.

Rough approximations of color are perfectly appropriate to certain plein air and impressionist styles of painting, for instance. However, with the more strictly realist approach I follow, the goal is to produce color notes that are as accurate as observation allows... and this means a larger palette. I once attended a talk by Ted Seth Jacobs in which he stated that a range of 25 pigments seems to be the low threshold to allow artists to begin to capture true color.

A few words about mono-pigments vs. convenience mixtures and hues... mono-pigments are just paints that have only one pigment in the tube; for instance cadmium red or cobalt blue. These are attractive because they're typically very crisp tones, and with some experience, the artist will become very familiar with the behavior of that pigment in combination with others. Most of my paints are mono-pigments. Convenience mixtures are paints where the manufacturer has pre-mixed other pigments, providing an easier starting point for the artist. Cadmium green is a very common example; it's always a combination of cadmium yellow and a strong green or blue; usually a phthalo. I know some artists look at the use of these mixtures as a sign of laziness, but I don't. Like any other tool, they're just fine providing the limitations are understood; these mixtures often don't combine with other pigments as cleanly and crisply as mono-pigments. I do use a good number of convenience mixtures, but most of them are combinations I've made in large batches and tubed up myself. Hues are typically mixtures of cheaper pigments attempting to emulate more expensive ones - for instance a lot of manufactures have hues designed to replicate the pricier cadmium colors. I don't care for hues, since they lack the very properties that make the more expensive paints worth their price. The one exception I currently use is Gamblin's manganese blue hue. Manganese blue is a gorgeous color which is unfortunately no longer made as a raw pigment. A couple of paint manufacturers did purchase the last stocks. As far as I know Old Holland is the only one that offers it in oil, but it seems to be an inferior quality batch of the pigment; it's frankly kind of muddy and ugly. The Gamblin hue is a distinct phthalo blue formulation - different from the standard phthalo blue. It's crisp, clean, and beautiful; I've since put the Old Holland authentic tube back in my Dead Paint Box and only use the hue.

Manufacturers... I like some more than others, but I don't have one particular favorite and am always open to trying new lines. Of course, it's very important to select the "artist's" series; most manufacturers also offer a line of student or academy paints, which contain a high percentage of fillers and are not suitable for professional work. These are the brands I'm currently using, in no order: Michael Harding, Gamblin, Holbein, Old Holland, Utrecht, Blockx, Rembrandt, Sennelier, Winsor Newton, Daler Rowney, Graham, Grumbacher, Williamsburg. Michael Harding and Williamsburg both make absolutely superb paint, and being the smallest manufacturers in this list, I think are worthy of particular support.

In addition to the colored paints, I also use a series of 9 neutral greys graded to the Munsell scale. These are really invaluable both for my underpaintings, and also in controlling the saturation (intensity) of my colors. This was inspired by my friend Stuart Dunkel, who used to manufacture and sell complete sets of Munsell greys. Unfortunately, he no longer does, so I had to mix and tube the range myself... an easy afternoon of effort.

Toxicity... I'm not a physician or scientist, and presume to offer advice to nobody... but... I personally think there's a lot of overblown and exaggerated concern about the safety of oil painting materials. It largely seems to stem from a certain paint manufacturer, who (although he makes paint that I like very much) seems to be shamelessly fanning this paranoia in order to sell his line of "studio safety" products. Yes. Certain common sense precautions should be taken. I don't eat, drink, snort, smoke, or shoot any of my paints or other materials. I had a decent ventilation system installed in my studio. I usually wear a pair of rubber gloves when I wipe down my palette at the end of the day. I always properly dispose of oily rags. Again, I'm only speaking for myself, but I freely use lead, cadmium, and cobalt paints along with turpentine when needed, and I'm much more concerned about my diet and lack of exercise than about my exposure to studio poisons. 'Nuff said...

There's a lot of good information about pigments, paints, and color theory online, and there are also a lot of artists who write descriptive pages like this one. For me, however, by far the most useful resource is the amazing Handprint site. Though Bruce MacEvoy is a watercolorist, and gears his discussions to that medium, there's a fantastic amount of information that's applicable to pigments in any media, including oil. I've rarely had a question that I haven't had answered there, and color geeks like myself will probably lose hours scrolling through it.

Most days, I squeeze out almost all of the colors, which takes about 30 minutes. In a typical painting, I probably end up using 80-90% of what's squeezed out, since the mixtures end up getting fairly complex. In other words, most of my paintings have 50 or so colors in combination.

Finally... the list, in the order of placement on my palette. Manufacturers are noted in the case of a convenience mixtures. Most but not all appear in the above image.

Red family:
pale red (my own mixture)
pale pink (my own mixture)
brilliant pink (holbein)
red grey (my own mixture)
chinese vermilion (I may soon remove this)
cadmium red light
cadmium red medium
cadmium red deep
quinacridone red
permanent alizarin (gamblin)
english red
burnt sienna
burnt umber
raw umber

Yellow family:
nickel yellow
naples yellow
pale yellow (my own mixture)
yellow-grey (my own mixture)
cadmium yellow light
cadmium yellow medium
cadmium yellow deep
indian yellow
aureolin
coral red (holbein)
cadmium orange
transparent orange (gamblin)
transparent gold ochre (gamblin)
yellow ochre
transparent oxide yellow
raw sienna

Green family:
pale green (my own mixture)
green grey (my own mixture)
cadmium green (my own mixture)
emerald green (daler rowney)
chromium oxide
terra verte
cobalt green
viridian
phthalo green
ultramarine green (unusual mono-pigment from rembrandt: pg24)

Blue family:
very pale blue (my own mixture)
pale blue (my own mixture)
blue grey (holbein)
royal blue (rembrandt)
cobalt teal
cobalt blue
ultramarine blue
manganese blue hue (gamblin)
cerulean
phthalo turquoise (gamblin)
phthalo blue
prussian blue

Violet family:
violet grey (holbein)
cobalt violet
thio violet (unusual mono-pigment from grumbacher: pr122)
permanent madder deep (unusual mono-pigment from rembrandt: pr264)
manganese violet
ultramarine violet
dioxazine purple

Whites, Greys, Blacks:
lead white
zinc white
titanium white
set of 9 neutral greys keyed to the munsell scale (my own mixtures)
palette scraping (a mixture of all the unused pigment at the end of the day - odd but sometimes useful)
payne's grey (rembrandt)
lamp black
mars black

So there you have it. This was certainly more than I intended to write when I sat down. Hopefully anybody who's bothered to slog through to the end has found something of use or interest.

Right.

I should be painting...

Knife and Imari

"Knife and Imari"
Oil on panel, 4 x 10 inches

About a month ago I made a movie of the first stage of this painting, and finally finished it today. One of my regular collectors expressed interest in it based on the movie, so unless I hear otherwise, I won't be offering this for sale.

Easel Project... part 1

Any project takes way longer than your first estimate. On friday I thought I'd be done with this one by the end of the weekend. Not even close.

Anyway, I'm making some modifications to my easel (Richeson/Best Santa Fe II). First, the small tilting work tray was simply not cutting it for me, so I built what is essentially a long narrow desk with a sliding palette. This way, everything I need - palette, brushes, mediums, etc. are directly in front of me at all times, and I'll have to do a minimum amount of turning and reaching while at work. That part of it is clearly visible in the picture. The second part is to build a small framework to hold the panels while working. That's sort of visible as a mockup - all the odd pieces of scrap lumber where a canvas normally goes. This part is still in progress. Once the whole thing is done, I'll post a better pic.