Absorb
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qNu4xzHTP60&feature=related
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Things just keep coming
Another insightful and interesting post on http://muddycolors.blogspot.com/ by Gregory Manchess
source : http://muddycolors.blogspot.com/2012/05/10-things-i-rememberabout.html
Pasted for my convenience
Ever hear of the three P’s? Perfection. Procrastination. Paralysis.
I used to start a piece needing it to be the best thing ever: perfection. It had to solve every problem of my portfolio development, it had to stimulate, it had to thrill, it had to make clients call me, it had to make women weep.
It was too much to accomplish. So, I hesitated: procrastination. The more I hesitated, the bigger the problem became, until it was so great I couldn’t start since it would surely fail on any level: paralysis. Idea abandoned.
It was simply fear.
Below are a few things I’ve used over the years to forge ahead. Once in a while, after having put in tons of effort on other paintings, a new one pops out almost having painted itself, as the saying goes. These points will work for you. I promise, but you have to apply them. Don’t wait for inspiration. It’s fickle and unreliable.
And no, there aren’t exactly ten points here. Sometimes, we just don’t need that much to begin.
1. Force a deadline.
I give myself a deadline. Could be a week, a day, an hour. For example: ‘I must put something on the page by 3 pm or I will get “those feelings” back.’ Feelings of inadequacy. A pit in my gut that suggests that time is passing and I’ve nothing to show for it. Life is full of distractions. That’s why I clear a path, make room, and show up on time for my own deadline. I begin whether I want to or not.
2. Seek stimulation.
Lots of times I look at others’ work. Studying the paint, the color, the shapes, the ideas of other painters stimulates something deep inside. I want to feel the same strokes, I want to understand the same feelings for myself. I can barely contain wanting to experience that quest.
3. Make it urgent.
I’ve always been in a hurry. I’m not sure why, other than I have a very heartfelt impression of life being very short. Always have. I hate wasting time on worry or hesitation. (even though I trip over both) I know that every effort I make now is rewarded down the line by saving me future effort.
4. Use fear.
There’s nothing to be afraid of. In fact, I should be afraid. If I feel fearful, I know I’m on to something. I am about to discover what makes me tick. I want it to be authentic and real, and I fear that I might be an imposter. Everyone does. So forget that junk. We’re all afraid of discovery. At first.
5. Fail first.
Sometimes, I have to fail first. I don’t want to fail because it’s irritating and painful, and absolutely no fun. But I know that failure leads to interesting combinations, better solutions, success. We’ve spent thousands of years evolving, learning, testing. There is no other way. Yes, sometimes things come quickly, but only after tons of effort. Make that effort. Rinse and repeat.
6. Share the struggle.
I listen to and watch other painters talk about their struggles, their form, their techniques, research, and discoveries. The patterns are similar and the principles are always the same. I glean enthusiasm and inspiration from watching other artists penetrate the same travails that I encounter. And I steal their magic powers to push on through.
7. Just begin.
There is ONLY this. Prepared or not, begin. When I write, I don’t get writer’s block. I know from painting what is needed. I must start drawing, immediately. The writer must start putting words on paper. Doesn’t matter how bad, a writer will break that hesitation by throwing words on paper. Same for me. I put thumbnails down. The sooner the better. It breaks every spell. I can start to understand the problem, build the mood, the expression. Nothing is solved or expressed until I throw down a perimeter and draw within it. Nothing.
source : http://muddycolors.blogspot.com/2012/05/10-things-i-rememberabout.html
Pasted for my convenience
Ever hear of the three P’s? Perfection. Procrastination. Paralysis.
I used to start a piece needing it to be the best thing ever: perfection. It had to solve every problem of my portfolio development, it had to stimulate, it had to thrill, it had to make clients call me, it had to make women weep.
It was too much to accomplish. So, I hesitated: procrastination. The more I hesitated, the bigger the problem became, until it was so great I couldn’t start since it would surely fail on any level: paralysis. Idea abandoned.
It was simply fear.
Below are a few things I’ve used over the years to forge ahead. Once in a while, after having put in tons of effort on other paintings, a new one pops out almost having painted itself, as the saying goes. These points will work for you. I promise, but you have to apply them. Don’t wait for inspiration. It’s fickle and unreliable.
And no, there aren’t exactly ten points here. Sometimes, we just don’t need that much to begin.
1. Force a deadline.
I give myself a deadline. Could be a week, a day, an hour. For example: ‘I must put something on the page by 3 pm or I will get “those feelings” back.’ Feelings of inadequacy. A pit in my gut that suggests that time is passing and I’ve nothing to show for it. Life is full of distractions. That’s why I clear a path, make room, and show up on time for my own deadline. I begin whether I want to or not.
2. Seek stimulation.
Lots of times I look at others’ work. Studying the paint, the color, the shapes, the ideas of other painters stimulates something deep inside. I want to feel the same strokes, I want to understand the same feelings for myself. I can barely contain wanting to experience that quest.
3. Make it urgent.
I’ve always been in a hurry. I’m not sure why, other than I have a very heartfelt impression of life being very short. Always have. I hate wasting time on worry or hesitation. (even though I trip over both) I know that every effort I make now is rewarded down the line by saving me future effort.
4. Use fear.
There’s nothing to be afraid of. In fact, I should be afraid. If I feel fearful, I know I’m on to something. I am about to discover what makes me tick. I want it to be authentic and real, and I fear that I might be an imposter. Everyone does. So forget that junk. We’re all afraid of discovery. At first.
5. Fail first.
Sometimes, I have to fail first. I don’t want to fail because it’s irritating and painful, and absolutely no fun. But I know that failure leads to interesting combinations, better solutions, success. We’ve spent thousands of years evolving, learning, testing. There is no other way. Yes, sometimes things come quickly, but only after tons of effort. Make that effort. Rinse and repeat.
6. Share the struggle.
I listen to and watch other painters talk about their struggles, their form, their techniques, research, and discoveries. The patterns are similar and the principles are always the same. I glean enthusiasm and inspiration from watching other artists penetrate the same travails that I encounter. And I steal their magic powers to push on through.
7. Just begin.
There is ONLY this. Prepared or not, begin. When I write, I don’t get writer’s block. I know from painting what is needed. I must start drawing, immediately. The writer must start putting words on paper. Doesn’t matter how bad, a writer will break that hesitation by throwing words on paper. Same for me. I put thumbnails down. The sooner the better. It breaks every spell. I can start to understand the problem, build the mood, the expression. Nothing is solved or expressed until I throw down a perimeter and draw within it. Nothing.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Edges : Part II
Source I:
http://gurneyjourney.blogspot.com/2008/06/depth-and-edges.html
Source II:
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/about-edges.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-about-edges.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-about-edges_21.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/yet-more-about-edges.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/different-ways-of-making-edge.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/endless-information-on-edges-pt-3.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/edges-deweighting-for-eye-control.html
http://gurneyjourney.blogspot.com/2008/06/depth-and-edges.html
Source II:
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/about-edges.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-about-edges.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-about-edges_21.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/yet-more-about-edges.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/different-ways-of-making-edge.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/endless-information-on-edges-pt-3.html
http://stapletonkearns.blogspot.com/2009/04/edges-deweighting-for-eye-control.html
Edges : Part I
A little reminder about edges from several sources scattered around the internet.
Source : Unknown (?)
There is a scale of edges, just as there is a scale of values. It goes from hard>firm>soft>lost. Just as with value, you can use the whole scale in one picture or just a piece of it. The careful manipulation of edges is one of the most overlooked, but most important, tools an artist can use to create form, atmosphere, and believability.
In general, edges are:
Harder in the light, softer in the shadow
Harder in bright light, softer in dim light
Harder in focused light, softer in diffused light
Harder in the foreground, softer in the background
Harder on smooth forms, softer on textured forms
Harder on hard forms, softer on soft forms
Harder on flat forms, softer on rounded forms
Harder on thin forms, softer on thick forms
Harder on still forms, softer on forms in motion (on moving forms they are harder on the leading edge and softer on the trailing edge)
Harder at the center of interest, softer as you move away
Source : Unknown (?)
There is a scale of edges, just as there is a scale of values. It goes from hard>firm>soft>lost. Just as with value, you can use the whole scale in one picture or just a piece of it. The careful manipulation of edges is one of the most overlooked, but most important, tools an artist can use to create form, atmosphere, and believability.
In general, edges are:
Harder in the light, softer in the shadow
Harder in bright light, softer in dim light
Harder in focused light, softer in diffused light
Harder in the foreground, softer in the background
Harder on smooth forms, softer on textured forms
Harder on hard forms, softer on soft forms
Harder on flat forms, softer on rounded forms
Harder on thin forms, softer on thick forms
Harder on still forms, softer on forms in motion (on moving forms they are harder on the leading edge and softer on the trailing edge)
Harder at the center of interest, softer as you move away
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Things To Remember Update
Second post by Greg Manchess from http://muddycolors.blogspot.com/2012/04/10-thingsi-remember-about-planning.html
Start small
One word: thumbnails. I remember the day I realized that tiny little drawings, if designed well, will blow up into the same exact proportions. In other words, what works small, works large. Not the other way around. One problem: I hated my thumbnails. So, I spent years going through the agony of learning to draw shapes fast, and as accurately as possible. This saved tremendous grief down the line. Measure twice, and all that. I got more excited about...well, everything really, when the thumbnails were solid.
Find a better point of view
I found that by drawing small, I could cover more ground, keep from getting lost in one composition, and find angles I hadn’t thought of. I explore all those angles. I want to show the viewer how much I love what I paint. I want to take them with me. And I’ve found over the years that they’re willing to go. Besides, I don’t want my portfolio full of boring pov’s, unless I can bring something special to it.
Lighting
I ask myself right away: how is this baby gonna be lit? What’s the light in the world of the painting? Time of day? Year? Setting? Weather? Indoors, outdoors? Is the lighting the focus, or the subject in light? What kind of light do I want to try, play with, understand. Then I search for ways to express it in a way I alone want to see. This helps make it unique. I don’t want my list of work to reflect the same damn light angle, from the same damn source, painted under the same damn conditions, every time. Shoot. Me. In. The. Head. Boring.
Which leads to...
Value
Lighting determines much of this. But I have to pay attention to whether it’s about a bright picture, or dark, haunting, moody, or uplifting. I study the differences all the time as to what makes pictures inspire certain feelings. What kind of light makes me feel certain things. There must also be a range of value to convey this. Once decided, the light values must stay consistent to be convincing. The more convincing the painting, the better the illusion.
Design the entire space
Every piece of space in the painting is important to me. I want to fall in love with every angle, every twist, turn, value, shape, and line. Every figure. Every face. I design out the space so that it works side-to-side, top-to-bottom. It is a fine designed window into the scene, and every piece is critical. Every piece. If it isn’t, it’s out.
Use line to direct the eye
I don’t trip over silly philosophies about how this line mimics that rhythm, or that gesture connects to this line. Or how movements repeat. A through-line, just like a story plot, leads the eye through the painting. If it’s a scene, I want to lead the viewer through it, looking from the most important element first, through to all the supporting pieces. Nothing complicated. Edited and simplified.
Foreground. Middle ground. Background.
As with 2D space, I also design in 3D: front to back. I find the focal point of the piece, and load the picture from there, working to allow the foreground to take my eye past it, into the picture, all the way through to the far background. The background will support and hold firm what I show in the middle ground. Everything is supported by the other elements. If it doesn’t, it’s adjusted or it’s gone. I don’t have the time in my composition to waste on elements that don’t support the whole.
Overlap
When I notice that I’m spending too much time on an element, it means I’m too much in love with that particular detail and I need to incorporate it into the balance of the whole picture. There’s not much sadder to me than to see a painter miss an opportunity to thrill by pushing and pulling pictorial elements apart or together. Elements must vary. Overlapping adds depth and interest at the same time, and keeps my compositions from becoming staid.
Think it, feel it, research it
I think a lot about what I’m to portray. Then I try to feel the elements. Is it leather? Steel? Hair? Skin? This gives me the feeling I need to go after, and the best way for me to get it is to research it to exhaustion. I get every sort of reference needed about it: photos, video, the thing itself. I try to get it in the position I need, but I’m not always successful. So, I surround myself in reference. I rely on my memory for the idea, not the final.
Photos are guides
They are only there to remind me of the actual thing. Otherwise, I’d have the thing in front of me. Certainly I work from photos, from sketches to finish. I remember that the photo is not the painting, so in the end, the very last thing to do is reject the reference in favor of the painting. And make it work.
Start small
One word: thumbnails. I remember the day I realized that tiny little drawings, if designed well, will blow up into the same exact proportions. In other words, what works small, works large. Not the other way around. One problem: I hated my thumbnails. So, I spent years going through the agony of learning to draw shapes fast, and as accurately as possible. This saved tremendous grief down the line. Measure twice, and all that. I got more excited about...well, everything really, when the thumbnails were solid.
Find a better point of view
I found that by drawing small, I could cover more ground, keep from getting lost in one composition, and find angles I hadn’t thought of. I explore all those angles. I want to show the viewer how much I love what I paint. I want to take them with me. And I’ve found over the years that they’re willing to go. Besides, I don’t want my portfolio full of boring pov’s, unless I can bring something special to it.
Lighting
I ask myself right away: how is this baby gonna be lit? What’s the light in the world of the painting? Time of day? Year? Setting? Weather? Indoors, outdoors? Is the lighting the focus, or the subject in light? What kind of light do I want to try, play with, understand. Then I search for ways to express it in a way I alone want to see. This helps make it unique. I don’t want my list of work to reflect the same damn light angle, from the same damn source, painted under the same damn conditions, every time. Shoot. Me. In. The. Head. Boring.
Which leads to...
Value
Lighting determines much of this. But I have to pay attention to whether it’s about a bright picture, or dark, haunting, moody, or uplifting. I study the differences all the time as to what makes pictures inspire certain feelings. What kind of light makes me feel certain things. There must also be a range of value to convey this. Once decided, the light values must stay consistent to be convincing. The more convincing the painting, the better the illusion.
Design the entire space
Every piece of space in the painting is important to me. I want to fall in love with every angle, every twist, turn, value, shape, and line. Every figure. Every face. I design out the space so that it works side-to-side, top-to-bottom. It is a fine designed window into the scene, and every piece is critical. Every piece. If it isn’t, it’s out.
Use line to direct the eye
I don’t trip over silly philosophies about how this line mimics that rhythm, or that gesture connects to this line. Or how movements repeat. A through-line, just like a story plot, leads the eye through the painting. If it’s a scene, I want to lead the viewer through it, looking from the most important element first, through to all the supporting pieces. Nothing complicated. Edited and simplified.
Foreground. Middle ground. Background.
As with 2D space, I also design in 3D: front to back. I find the focal point of the piece, and load the picture from there, working to allow the foreground to take my eye past it, into the picture, all the way through to the far background. The background will support and hold firm what I show in the middle ground. Everything is supported by the other elements. If it doesn’t, it’s adjusted or it’s gone. I don’t have the time in my composition to waste on elements that don’t support the whole.
Overlap
When I notice that I’m spending too much time on an element, it means I’m too much in love with that particular detail and I need to incorporate it into the balance of the whole picture. There’s not much sadder to me than to see a painter miss an opportunity to thrill by pushing and pulling pictorial elements apart or together. Elements must vary. Overlapping adds depth and interest at the same time, and keeps my compositions from becoming staid.
Think it, feel it, research it
I think a lot about what I’m to portray. Then I try to feel the elements. Is it leather? Steel? Hair? Skin? This gives me the feeling I need to go after, and the best way for me to get it is to research it to exhaustion. I get every sort of reference needed about it: photos, video, the thing itself. I try to get it in the position I need, but I’m not always successful. So, I surround myself in reference. I rely on my memory for the idea, not the final.
Photos are guides
They are only there to remind me of the actual thing. Otherwise, I’d have the thing in front of me. Certainly I work from photos, from sketches to finish. I remember that the photo is not the painting, so in the end, the very last thing to do is reject the reference in favor of the painting. And make it work.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Things To Remember
I must keep reminding myself of this *4 (The Patient, Tool)
Usually not very keen on these kind of things but it is one of the best insightful, straight forward and
confrontating things I have read recently by Greg Manchess : http://muddycolors.blogspot.com/2012/03/10-things-to-remember-about-training.html
1. Draw Now. Think Next.
Ideas without followthrough are useless. Conceptual art without skill is nothing. Ideas are cheap. One doesn’t get better at ideas by thinking better thoughts. You must train to learn how to create them, what to do with them. Train yourself to search for the good ones, to generate good ones from practice.
Draw. Draw your fool head off, but draw. Draw first. Think about it next. Contrary to so-called avant guard thinking, drawing doesn’t create answers, it creates more ideas.
2. Learn to be authentic.
No one is quite like you anyway. Forget about being original. “Oh, it’s so original!” Bah. You already are. Take the higher road, and learn to be authentic.
You are already connected. What you have to say is important because we all want to know. Learn to discern, of course, what is important from what is frivolous. It is all stowed inside, as you’ve been working on it already for a long time. You won’t find your style. If you are authentic to who you are, your style finds you.
3. Build luck and use it.
When preparation meets opportunity, it’s called luck. Create your own luck by being prepared to see it when it’s about to happen. Don’t wait for it. You won’t see it if you don’t know what to look for. Luck happens when you are ready for it, and you are ready for it when you’re prepared: training.
4. All painting is re-painting.
Do it again. Drawing it once is never enough. Painting it once isn’t either. Do it over and over, focusing on improvement each time. Got a favorite part of a painting? Learn to paint it out. Learn to paint over it. Do not try to save those good mistakes. Paint them again and this time shoot to get it right...under your control. Nobody is an expert by doing something good once.
5. Create momentum.
Finished one good piece? Great. I’m happy for you, but that’s not momentum. When one painting is done, move into the next as soon as possible. Repetition is key to keeping momentum, and momentum is key to gaining successful training. Repeat your successes.
6. Keep finishing.
Stop quitting. Finish the stupid thing already, so you can move into the next one. Do not allow failure to dictate your progress. You must push against that. Fail and fail again. You will push through that failure and keep moving. But learn from it as you do.
“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better. --Samuel Beckett
7. Seek advice.
Everyone has an opinion, especially about your work. It’s rather easy to recognize the parts of someone else’s work that are problematic. Finding your own? Tough as nails. When someone tells you what’s off about your work, they are usually correct. When they tell you how to repair it, they are nearly always incorrect.
8. Take criticism well.
Which leads me to criticism: learn to take it, and use it well. Do not take it personally, but try to decipher what it is they are coaching you about. You can use that stuff, man. Grow some thick skin. Unless they’re a jerk, there are golden nuggets of wisdom in there. And remember: it’s meant for you, and you are the only one that can use it.
9. Work for good habits.
Training as a painter is like training as an athlete, musician, pilot. Learning a language lights up many of the same parts of your brain as learning to draw a hand. It is now an indisputable fact that the brain is plastic, even into old age.
To your last breath, the brain wants to learn and will do everything it can to get the advantage. It builds nerve fibers to speed up learning. It strengthens the nerves to send signals faster, for efficiency. Trick is, you want to build that stuff for good uses. The brain is just as happy to build strong nerves to reinforce bad habits.
10. Draw through, not around.
Years ago, I was ok at drawing, but I needed to get better. Here’s the problem: I wanted to be the kind of good that when I looked at my own work, I actually liked it. I had to do this, otherwise, I wasn’t about to spend all those years to come away feeling awkward about my attempts. And then quit. No way.
The absolute, drop-to-your-knees, scary part of it was that I realized very quickly that it was going to take training. That every time I drew, I had to get it as right as I could at that very moment. And that was going to take time, effort, and learning to feel a sense of progress, even when it wasn’t working in the least. I was going to have to push through that crap.
The only way to get to that stage is to hunker down, and hone in. The way around is through. Do not look for the shortcuts until later. Train yourself through it, dammit.
The goal doesn’t dwell on the applause-- it focuses on the skill.
Usually not very keen on these kind of things but it is one of the best insightful, straight forward and
confrontating things I have read recently by Greg Manchess : http://muddycolors.blogspot.com/2012/03/10-things-to-remember-about-training.html
1. Draw Now. Think Next.
Ideas without followthrough are useless. Conceptual art without skill is nothing. Ideas are cheap. One doesn’t get better at ideas by thinking better thoughts. You must train to learn how to create them, what to do with them. Train yourself to search for the good ones, to generate good ones from practice.
Draw. Draw your fool head off, but draw. Draw first. Think about it next. Contrary to so-called avant guard thinking, drawing doesn’t create answers, it creates more ideas.
2. Learn to be authentic.
No one is quite like you anyway. Forget about being original. “Oh, it’s so original!” Bah. You already are. Take the higher road, and learn to be authentic.
You are already connected. What you have to say is important because we all want to know. Learn to discern, of course, what is important from what is frivolous. It is all stowed inside, as you’ve been working on it already for a long time. You won’t find your style. If you are authentic to who you are, your style finds you.
3. Build luck and use it.
When preparation meets opportunity, it’s called luck. Create your own luck by being prepared to see it when it’s about to happen. Don’t wait for it. You won’t see it if you don’t know what to look for. Luck happens when you are ready for it, and you are ready for it when you’re prepared: training.
4. All painting is re-painting.
Do it again. Drawing it once is never enough. Painting it once isn’t either. Do it over and over, focusing on improvement each time. Got a favorite part of a painting? Learn to paint it out. Learn to paint over it. Do not try to save those good mistakes. Paint them again and this time shoot to get it right...under your control. Nobody is an expert by doing something good once.
5. Create momentum.
Finished one good piece? Great. I’m happy for you, but that’s not momentum. When one painting is done, move into the next as soon as possible. Repetition is key to keeping momentum, and momentum is key to gaining successful training. Repeat your successes.
6. Keep finishing.
Stop quitting. Finish the stupid thing already, so you can move into the next one. Do not allow failure to dictate your progress. You must push against that. Fail and fail again. You will push through that failure and keep moving. But learn from it as you do.
“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better. --Samuel Beckett
7. Seek advice.
Everyone has an opinion, especially about your work. It’s rather easy to recognize the parts of someone else’s work that are problematic. Finding your own? Tough as nails. When someone tells you what’s off about your work, they are usually correct. When they tell you how to repair it, they are nearly always incorrect.
8. Take criticism well.
Which leads me to criticism: learn to take it, and use it well. Do not take it personally, but try to decipher what it is they are coaching you about. You can use that stuff, man. Grow some thick skin. Unless they’re a jerk, there are golden nuggets of wisdom in there. And remember: it’s meant for you, and you are the only one that can use it.
9. Work for good habits.
Training as a painter is like training as an athlete, musician, pilot. Learning a language lights up many of the same parts of your brain as learning to draw a hand. It is now an indisputable fact that the brain is plastic, even into old age.
To your last breath, the brain wants to learn and will do everything it can to get the advantage. It builds nerve fibers to speed up learning. It strengthens the nerves to send signals faster, for efficiency. Trick is, you want to build that stuff for good uses. The brain is just as happy to build strong nerves to reinforce bad habits.
10. Draw through, not around.
Years ago, I was ok at drawing, but I needed to get better. Here’s the problem: I wanted to be the kind of good that when I looked at my own work, I actually liked it. I had to do this, otherwise, I wasn’t about to spend all those years to come away feeling awkward about my attempts. And then quit. No way.
The absolute, drop-to-your-knees, scary part of it was that I realized very quickly that it was going to take training. That every time I drew, I had to get it as right as I could at that very moment. And that was going to take time, effort, and learning to feel a sense of progress, even when it wasn’t working in the least. I was going to have to push through that crap.
The only way to get to that stage is to hunker down, and hone in. The way around is through. Do not look for the shortcuts until later. Train yourself through it, dammit.
The goal doesn’t dwell on the applause-- it focuses on the skill.
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