Category: Challenges

This started with the challenge, trying to examine how getting old was registering on my face. Simultaneously, I decided to use some Chinagraph marker pencils on some colored paper — don’t know why. The combination of a concerted attempt at realism rendered with garish, creamy grease pencils was a blast.

I don’t know how much the drawing actually looks like me — it actually looks more like my great-uncle who isn’t actually even related to me my birth. Oh, and my father, of course, who, despite the fact that I’ve only seen him four or five times over the past half century, insists on appearing in the mirror whenever I shave.

Anyway, it was interesting to see how the folds and pockets of my jaws are coming along, and my nascent jowls are really very flattering.  I had my hair cut today so I appear really rather bald but Picasso was bald and Pollack was bald and I’m glad to see that Sinead O’Connor is still bald too.. By the way, why are “bleak”, “dour” and grim” synonyms for “bald, Mr. Roget (who had a comb-over, BTW)?

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Addendum:

A couple of people have commented on the elongated rendering of my noggin and I have reviewed the situation and sussed out the cause. I have fallen afoul of a blunder which plagues many of the world’s great artists: Flat On the Table Syndrome ( FOTTS).

The distance from my eye to the top and bottom of my reflection is the same when my mirror is vertical. But if my book lies flat on the table, the distance from the top of the page is quite different from that to the bottom.

If I overlook that difference, I will distort the image because in its supine position it will seem wider than it really is.

Fortunately there are at least two cures for FOTTS that do not require telethons, 5Ks,  or government funding. One is to factor in the distortion and try to overcome it through sheer brain power. This can lead to even more distortion if one does not calculate properly. Secondly, one can just stand one’s book up — through the whole process or even just intermittently — and make sure one is not inducting hydroencephalopathic skull compression in the drawing.

It’s been a long-ass week. Undistinguished except for the miserable heat, mugginess, and torrential rain. I’m not much of a drinker but when I saw this challenge, I knew exactly what I’d make: a cool, crispy gin and tonic.

And I’d make it with sumi ink and a dash of watercolor (and a soupcon of salt).

Sumi is the everlasting gobstopper of art supplies. You get a beautiful carved black block embossed with gold and silver designs. You splash your cool stone chalice and rub it with the block a couple of times and, hey presto, ink. But it’s ink that’s so forgiving and compliant. It hits your brush looking all dark and full of intent, but then when you slap it on the page, it backs off, dissolving to a smoky wave.

You can modulate it in so many ways that perfectly suit my way of painting. I can dilute it to a whisper and then build up layers up on layers that transition smoothly into each other like a delicate moire. As it dries, sumi becomes a dusky, matte layer of grey that doesn’t feel like paint or ink or pencil or anything, like it was just meant to be there, like some sort of organic residue left by my gesture. And that ebony brick of oriental exotica last forever, through fecund years of rubbing against the stone palette and daubing on the page. Ah, suuuuumi.

Can you tell by my writing that I’ve consumed my model?

I did this painting fairly quickly, first in Dr. Martin’s washes and then added gouache and some white paint to simulate  a bleary, early morning, shallow depth of field. As is my wont, I worked quickly, nay hastily, and then scrawled a note along the bottom with a dip pen in Tiger Yellow watercolor.

For some reason, disaster struck:

The paper decided to turn my lines into spidery muck. Thinking I could repair matters, I tried a different nib and a darker ink. Matters went further down hill. Finally I pulled out my fountain pen and made a irreversibly botched job of it. I even slathered on some white-out to mitigate the damage and … ah, hell, that’s why Photoshop has a cropping tool.

Ugh.

Turn the page, on to the next challenge.

For some reason, our phone follows the aesthetic of the Sony Sports Walkman from the early 1990s. That’s probably around the time when innovation in landline phone design was frozen too.

I laid down a bright coat of Dr. Martins Tiger yellow, then when it dried completely, I drew the phone with my extra bold Lamy Safari. Then I used my Lamy fine point to add details and to cross hatch. Finally I used a white pencil, a white charcoal pencil and a couple of other colored pencils to add more details and dimension. This took 15 or so minutes.

Then I took a picture of the whole damned thing with my cel phone.

BTW, some people have wondered what book I am drawing in these days. Well, most of these challenges have been done in the same book, a 7″ square wire-bound number made by Stillman and Birn. It’s one of their Delta Series with cold press Extra Heavyweight Ivory paper (180 lb.) and a rough surface. I like the paper in this book but am no longer a big fan of wire-bound books so I have been waiting for an opportunity to use it. If you are okay with this sort of binding, I think their books are the best being made today. I see they make hardbound books today and I’ll definitely give them a try sometime soon.