What a trip it was! The whole package…great scenery, interesting animals, terrific traveling companions who are also great artists and, in 2013, the exhibition at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum to top it off.
I’ll be blogging about specific aspects of this experience and the art that I plan to create from it between now and showtime, but today I thought I’d share an overview of some of my favorite images, an album, if you will.
And, for this coming Mongolia Monday, I’ll compare and contrast Mongolia’s Gobi with the part of the Sonora Desert that I have now visited.
View from the condo I shared with four other artists.Nacapuli CanyonSomeone took pictures of almost everything. Here's Carel Brest van Kempen photographing ants.Predator water beetle; waterhole in Nacapuli CanyonAs yet unidentified lizard; Nacapuli CanyonEstero Solado; an estuary ringed by three species of mangroveRoseate spoonbills feeding in the esteroThe turkey vulture who wouldn't abandon "his" fishOne of about six species of fiddler crabs living on the shores of the esteroWillets on the beach near the condo in nice morning lightPelican feeding frenzy off-shore in San CarlosThe wonderful boat that we went out inThe boat made it possible for the plein air painters to get to great spots like thisHeerman's gull; almost at eye level from the boat's dingySan Pedro Island; we spent a day birdwatching and snorkeling along its three mile lengthBrown pelicansBrandt's cormorantsSally Lightfoot crabBlue-footed booby colony; the white is guanoBlue-footed booby; an artist favoriteCalifornia sea lionsMale California sea lionFemale magnificent frigatebirdThe Sea of CortezGroup shot- photo by Molly Moore- Field Trip to San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico, March 19 - 26, 2011. Pictured are Linda Bittner, Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen, DeVere Burt, Andrew Denman, Kim Diment, Kim Duffek, Cathy Ferrell, Susan Fisher, Susan Fox, Mary Garrish, Ann Geise, Shawn Gould, Mary Helsaple, Heiner Hertling, John Kobald, Deian Moore, John Pitcher, Don Rambadt, Paul Rhymer, Rebecca Richman, Carolyn Thome, Christine Sarazin, Rachelle Siegrist, Wes Siegrist, Martha Thompson, Glenn Thompson, Sue Westin, Ronnie Williford, Debbe Wilson, and Nicholas Wilson. (Not pictured are John Agnew and Molly Moore). Leading the field trip was Richard C. Brusca, Ph.D. The trip was organized by David J. Wagner, Ph.D. for artists to produce a body of artwork for a museum exhibition entitled The Sea of Cortez, produced by David J. Wagner, L.L.C., and scheduled to premiere at The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum Art Institute from March 16 through June 2, 2013.
If all goes according to plan, I’ll be on my way to Arizona on Wednesday. A few days of gallery visits in Tucson and Scottsdale and then I’ll be joining around two dozen fellow artists on Sunday morning for the nine hour (two hours at customs, they tell us) bus ride to San Carlos, a town of 4,000 which is just to the west of Guaymas on the Sea of Cortez.
We're going to be based in a condo complex right on the beach just west of Guaymas
We’ll spend five days learning about the Sonoran desert ecosystem, hiking, snorkling, going out in a 50′ boat and recording the wildlife and landscape in a variety of media. What is doesn’t look like I’ll have, as near as I can tell right now, is an internet connection, although I may be able to post some photos on Facebook via my iPhone.
The purpose of the trip is to gather the material needed for us to each create work for an exhibition “The Sea of Cortez”, to be held at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in 2013.
One of my personal goals will be to compare the desert ecosystem of this part of Mexico with the Gobi of Mongolia. The biggest difference, which is obvious from looking at maps of both places, is that much of the Sonoran desert has at least some marine influence, whereas the Gobi has none. What this will mean in terms of climate, vegetation and animal life will be interesting to learn.
The Gobi extends from Govi-Altai in the west to Dornogovi in the east, over a third of the land area of Mongolia.
So, if you don’t see a new post here for a week or so, you’ll know that I’m suffering for my art- hanging out with a bunch of great artists, sketching, painting, talking shop and eating great Mexican food.
I thought that I would occasionally share some my early artwork. Really early, for starters, from when I was from around eight to thirteen years old.
When we buy art books or go to shows, we see an artist’s best work and that is as it should be. But no one starts like Athena springing full-grown from Zeus’ head. No matter how “talented” an artist is, there is still a lot to learn, motor skills to develop and a personal path to find.
Most of us probably end up throwing away far more of our creations than we keep.
The takeaway, I hope, is that you should just start where you are and keep going. And if you want to try making art, DO IT! Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks or if you have “talent” or if you’re “good enough”. Take joy in the process. Like I did as a kid.
Here’s a sampling of some “historic” works that didn’t get round-filed.
My first "major" work. Using a Walter T. Foster art book on big cats that I still have, I tried to put together a composition with a number of elements. I always liked to draw animals most of all and was, I think, about 8 years old when I painted this. "Lion Family" approx. 18x24" probably watercolor, but maybe acrylic, on paperOne of PILES of drawings I did as a kid. My dad brought home old business forms and I drew on the blank backs. I had an endless supply of paper, but ended up a little surprised to learn that one could get drawing paper that didn't have printing on one side. "Lion" colored pencil, 8.5x11"When I was 11, I took my first real art lessons from local Humboldt County artist Dorothy (Dottie) Stocum, through the Redwood Art Association (RAA). This great class for kids was held on Saturday mornings in a big old empty Victorian. The media is acrylic, which was brand new back then (the mid-1960s) and touted as being THE replacement for oils. Well, no. "Still Life" acrylic 18x24"My "abstract" phase when I was also messing around with using a palette knife. Also an RAA Saturday morning class piece. "Arrows" acrylic 18x24"Somewhere around age 12 or 13, I learned about sketching from life; these were found object (driftwood and stones) sculptures that I saw when my mom took me to the Ferndale Art Festival. They needed to be drawn. And I loved the titles. No idea who the artist was. Approx. 6x8" blue felt tip pen on paper
I have a small collection of old books about the practice and techniques of oil painting, watercolor, drawing and sketching. This morning, trying to figure out what to blog about today, I pulled “The Practice of Oil Painting-And of Drawing as Associated with it” by Solomon J. Solomon, R.A. (Royal Academy) off the shelf. I purchased it some years ago in England for the princely sum of six pounds, fifty pence. There is no copyright date, but a portrait of a young girl with short hair suggests that it was published in the 1920s to 1930s.
Opening the book randomly, I found some study advice that is as relevant now as it was then, so thought that I would share it.
It’s from Chapter XII, Hints on Arrangements-Solecisms in Composition:
“We do not get stronger by watching other men lift weights. Nor are weights lifted or pictures composed, either at the beginning or at any time, without effort. Good composition calls for a far higher mental capacity than mere painting (interesting observation), which is in itself difficult enough…
When in the course of your reading you come across a pictorial episode, visualize it and sketch the scene as it strikes you. There are, nowadays, so many beautiful illustrations to be seen (alas, those days are mostly gone); you may well learn, from some of them, how figures are grouped, and how accessories are placed to complete the pictorial arrangement. Such mental notes, added to your unceasing practice, will greatly increase the facility with which you will be enabled to arrange and compose artistically.
When visiting a picture or sculpture gallery, take a sketchbook with you. Your memory will not suffice to recall the results of your analysis of compositions. Study particularly the placing of heads, half and full length portraits and figures, and the main structural lines and colour massed of decorative designs. Mark the arrangement of light and shade (chiaroscuro) in Dutch and Spanish pictures, which have such fine technical qualities, and when anything strikes you as particularly beautiful, draw it, and in drawing it search for the secret of its beauty.”
My main takeaway from the studies above was a greater understanding of what it means to “work from lean to fat” and how many small, subtle touches of tone and color go into painting at the level of a Rembrandt or Hals. This is why it is so critical to see great original art. Reproductions just aren’t the same
From Tiepolo
* The images are from studies that I’ve done myself. All but the first and last were from a show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1995, “Rembrandt, Not Rembrandt”. The Tiepolo was from an incredible show of his preliminary drawings for one of his ceiling “jobs”. I’ve never been able to find a book with more than a couple of ok reproductions of them.
I got the email telling me to go the site and check the acceptance list yesterday morning at 9am. It was in alphabetical order, so I slowly scrolled down, holding my breath. And saw my name. Twice! I entered three pieces, so two out of three.
One of my goals for many years has been to have my paintings accepted into juried shows that are outside the “wildlife art ghetto” to which the genre of animal art has been foolishly and ignorantly consigned by many in the mainstream art world, even though great artists who these same people often admire also painted animals.
Clearly, the good folks at Greenhouse Gallery don’t share that bias, bless their hearts.
I’m proud to be an animal artist and know that our genre’s best work easily stands with the best in any other field of representational art. And I also know that to paint animals successfully requires a specific depth of knowledge that is not appreciated by those outside the field.
Here are the two paintings that will soon be on their way to San Antonio, Texas:
Done for the Day 17x30" oil on canvasboardTakhi Stallion, Hustai National Park 17x30" oil on canvasboard
Safari camp on Paradise Plain, Masai Mara, Kenya, 2004
As those who get my newsletter and read this blog know, I was invited to go on what sounded like one of those trips of a lifetime that many artists dream of….traveling to India to see wild tigers. I had been scheduled to leave this past Tuesday (Jan. 17), but I canceled the trip. Why? Well, the reasons why and what you can learn from my experience are the topic of today’s post. I’ve illustrated it with images of journeys past.
I’m going to keep the identity of who invited me and was sponsoring the event private, since at no time did I feel that there was any malice or ill-intent involved. But, as I think you’ll see, it doesn’t take either to decide not go on, or actually cancel out of, what seems to be a great trip.
Artists copying masterworks at The Louvre, Paris, France, 1996
To make a longish saga as short as possible: an artist friend asked if I would like to see if he could get me invited to an artist’s event in India. We would be hosted at a fancy lodge adjacent to a national park which is home to tigers and other wildlife. I said “Yes!”. And, after a short time, an invitation was emailed to me by the organizer. I accepted. It seemed like a smart career move, based on what I knew at the time, with the opportunity to have my work seen by an international audience.
Plans were plotted and plane reservations were made. Then all the artists involved (from quite a few countries) got an email from the organizer with an update for the event. And that’s when it started to look iffy. As in, OMG.
What had been represented to me as an Artist’s Week that would result in a donated work being exhibited on a tour in Europe and then auctioned off to support tiger conservation had morphed into an event in India which was to include a fashion show, rock concert and some kind of children’s activities. There were no specifics about international exhibition venues and the auction was now going to be handled by a “company like Christie’s”, whatever THAT was supposed to mean. And, to top it off, the organizer said that a new sponsor had signed on and wanted our paintings at the end of February, that is, one month after our week there had ended. Red flags, flashing red lights, danger, danger, danger.
I was going to travel, literally, half way around the world for….this? I don’t think so.
Leaving our names on a remaining section of the Berlin Wall, Germany, 1990
While there were serious problems with the changes themselves, the fact that things had changed so much so close to the event was even more worrisome. It suggested an inexperienced event organizer who was winging it and didn’t really know what they were doing. Things that should have been settled long before the artists were even invited (and remember, I got on the dance card late in the day) still seemed to be in flux. Not to mention the completely unrealistic surprise deadline and, oh by the way, can you all increase the percentage of your contribution because it’s (all together now) For The Tigers.
I (apparently along with a number of the other artists, including the friend who got me into this) replied saying, more or less, you’ve got to be kidding. I wrote to the organizer that, unfortunately, I was going to have to bow out. My previous commitments and my working methods made it impossible to meet the deadline. (I wasn’t going to get into all the other stuff.)
My friend also dropped out.
In the meantime, I had bought plane tickets to Nairobi and back and he had bought our tickets from Nairobi to Mumbai and back (I was going to hang around in Kenya for a couple of weeks after the return from India). I had, the day before, sent via FedEx my visa application to a company that handles such things.
Now I had to unwind it all. I stopped the visa application process before it had started and had them FedEx my passport back to me (total cost: around $50). I canceled my itinerary and banked the tickets (change fee when I re-book: $250. Ouch). Friend canceled the tickets he had booked (cancellation fee: $218. More ouch). So, around $500 to get out of it. Not great, but it was the right thing to do, believe me.
So, what can be learned from all of this? Remember, there are no bad guys. Everyone had good intentions.
New Forest ponies, Hampshire, England, 2004
Here’s 10 tips, based on the above and other personal experiences:
1. You’ve seen an ad for a workshop or a tour in a place you’ve always dreamed of going to. Ask yourself: Is this the right trip for you or are you going because it’s there? How well does the trip fit your artistic goals?
2. Can you check out the organizer through references from previous “customers”? Make sure that their criteria for a successful or failed trip are in line with yours.
3. Before you sign up, have an exit strategy. This may mean paying more for refundable tickets (which I had not). It may mean having to leave the workshop or group. I ended up moving into a small hotel in town when I was in Portugal in 1996 because the group I was with at an old farmhouse was the very definition of “disfunctional” and I couldn’t even get a reasonable night’s sleep. Make sure you have enough money or at least a high enough limit on your credit card so you aren’t stuck in a bad situation for lack of funds.
Roman temple ruins, Evora, Portugal, 1996
4. I don’t travel with miscellaneous groups of total strangers anymore. See item 3. What’s your tolerance for rude, inconsiderate behavior? What is your tolerance for physical discomfort? Know thyself and do not try to fool yourself or talk yourself into a trip. If you need your own room, suck it up and pay the single supplement.
5. Which brings us to….Don’t force it. Trust your gut. I had to force myself to punch the “Buy” button for the India trip plane tickets. There is a book called “The Gift of Fear”, which I recommend for anyone who is planning to travel to unknown or exotic locations because it explains very clearly WHY you should trust your gut/instincts/intuition. The punch line is that the data you need is there, but, for whatever reason, only your subconscious mind is perceiving it. In hindsight, it’s often quite obvious why it was really dumb to (fill in the blank with the “What was I thinking?” of your choice).
6. Once you’ve signed on for a trip, monitor the responsiveness and helpfulness of the organizer(s). Do they communicate with the participants in a timely and professional fashion? Do they answer emails, voice messages in a timely fashion? No news is bad news and was one of the red flags for the India trip. And, by the way, two days before the event, the schedule for the week was sent out (I’m still on the mailing list, I guess). There will be only one “game drive” a day and the rest of the time will be filled with…other stuff. I would be a seriously unhappy camper at this point.
Outdoor cafe, Milan, Italy, 2000
7. If you start to wonder what’s going on, don’t make excuses for the organizers. For most of us, once we commit to something, it’s natural to want it to all be ok. See item 5.
8. Yes, it’s your dream trip, but don’t get carried away. Be hard-headed. You’re the one writing the checks. The only leverage you have is your willingness to walk away. Do not let yourself be cornered into thinking that you MUST go if it starts to feel wrong. It wasn’t easy to get to the bail-out point on the India trip, especially after announcing it in my newsletter, on my blog, on Facebook….but it was the right thing to do.
9. If you are traveling with a buddy, once again, have an exit strategy. Travel can have a strange effect on some people, who will possibly do things that they would never do at home. You are responsible for your own care and safety. If someone you’re with wants to do something you think is stupid or risky, walk away. I repeat, walk away. You’re a long way from home, may not speak the language and might not have a cell phone that works where you are. Carry the contact information for your embassy with you and register with them before you go. They can’t help you if they don’t know you’re in the country.
10. But if it all feels right and good, GO, GO, GO!!! There’s nothing like getting out there into the world and learning what a big, wonderful, fascinating place it is.
The Parliament Building with statue of Chinggis Khan, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, 2008
I’ve had my iPad for about three weeks and am already wondering how I got along without it.
It’s easy for me to read on it and I’ve downloaded my first book, Isaac Asimov’s Memoirs, if you must know.
I’ve played to the end of Graffiti Ball. I’ve got Solitaire, Cro-Mag Race and Paper Toss. David and I have found that we like playing Scrabble with it.
I’ve downloaded the iPad version of the Monglian language app that I have on the iPhone and also found a English-Mongolian dictionary.
Google Earth looks really good.
I plan to use Keynote for a virtual portfolio of my work and a presentation about the women’s crafts collective that I work with in Mongolia.
The battery life is terrific. The glossy screen is lovely. The keyboard, well, it’s functional, but will take some getting used to. I wouldn’t write the Great American Novel with it, but would certainly do short blog posts or longish emails.
But, I wondered, having bought Autodesk’s Sketchbook for the iPhone, could I use the iPad as a real, functional, I just need to get some work done, sketchbook? I bought Sketchbook Pro first thing. With some caveats, which I will cover at the end, the answer is a resounding “YES!!!” I had to force myself to stop drawing and get this post done.
The iPad should be viewed as simply another way to create images. A different media, if you will. And one that takes the same kind of futzing around, experimenting and practice that would be required to get the hang of any new way of working. Except that it’s a whole bunch of ways in one app that can be endlessly combined.
I’ve barely scratched the surface as this point, but thought that I would share some of what I’ve drawn and “painted” over the last week or so.
I first had to decide what tool to draw with and what color. I decided to see if I could replicate David Rankin’s fast sketching technique because, if I could, then the iPad would be all I would need for field sketching at zoos and such. Here’s some experiments, the ones I considered reasonably successful. The others have gone to the big wastebasket in teh interwebs.
Gobi Monastery gate, from July 2010 trip to Mongolia; this was the first keeperHerder's dog; started to see how to add color
These next ones are all done really fast. Maybe a minute or so.
Bactrian camel; trying different tool and valueAnother experimentI like this one. Used a chisel point for thick and thin lines.My thought here was to see if I could do a prelimary quick sketch for a painting. Two guys riding a yak.
Then we went to the Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge and I took the iPad with me. I realized that I didn’t know it well enough to do much, but I did do this one sketch that turned out ok. It’s from up on Table Bluff looking east across the bay.
First location sketch
When we got home I decided to try something finished in full color from a photo I’d taken that day. I beat this thing to death adding layer after layer and, you know what, it didn’t matter. I could just keep going as long as I wanted to.
Trees at the refuge
So I had a scribbling good time on that one. But how about a “real” drawing of an animal. A couple of false starts, I did the lemur and realized that this app was for real. It probably took me somewhat over an hour because of picking my way through all the choices of tool and colors. At this point, I also started to really use the “Radius” setting, which is the diameter of the tool and “Opacity” which is how solid the color is. And that function is what really makes this go for me more than anything else, I think.
Lemur, Bronx Zoo
I started an argali drawing, got it almost done, leaned forward, accidentally pushed the button at the bottom of the iPad, which closed the app, unfortunately having not saved about an hour’s worth of work. All gone. Oops. Lesson learned. But here’s the starting drawing, which is pretty much the same as what I do with a brush or pencil.
Start of argali drawing; and the end, as it turned out.
This morning I did the following drawing of a yak, wanting to have something more finished to go with the lemur. I did my saves this time, so I can show you the whole sequence from start to finish. It took about an hour and a half. I used the same procedure as usual.
DrawingShapes of shadowsLaying in the darkest darksPutting in a layer of color all overThe process of refining shape, values, drawing beginsMore layers of colorThought I was done and, anyway, it was lunchtime.But came back and realized that the highlights on the hide were too bright.
I could keep going on this guy, smoothing the transitions between areas and doing more with the ground, but I’ve gotten all I need from this one, so time to move on. It was fun though, especially adding the squiggles on the head.
Now, the caveats:
The first eight drawings, up to the lemur, were done with my finger. I was surprised at what a decent result I got, but I needed something with finer control and which was a wee bit thinner because said finger blocked my view of what I was working on. We went by the local Apple affiliate store and I bought a Ten One Design Pogo Sketch because….it was the only stylus they had. As it turned out, it works pretty well. But I would still like something with a smaller tip. There doesn’t seem to be anything out there at the moment. The stylus tips have to be a special kind of foam that will conduct electricity, which is how the touch screens work. There is some DIY info. on the web that shows you how to make your own and I’m thinking I might try that.
Moving the foam tip around on the screen doesn’t have a great tactile quality. It’s kind of smooshy and draggy. And I wonder how long the foam will hold up with the kind of use I intend to give it. I still need to put a removable clear film on the screen, so maybe I can find something that is slicker. Someone needs to make a special clear film for artists that has the right amount of friction.
Overall the functionality of Sketchbook Pro is really good and pretty intuitive. I’ve read the documentation and don’t recall seeing any of these addressed: I would like to have a side bar, like in Photoshop, that let’s me keep the tools and color selector in view. Having to toggle back and forth can get a little old. But it does give one the maximum real estate for drawing. I’d like an auto-save option (imagine that) that can be set to a choice of intervals. I want an eraser. Right now, I have to change colors and select white to erase.
I’d like to be able to directly import all or a selection of drawings into Aperture without having to export them to Photos on the iPad first. But the whole process was easy and worked well, except for the part where every image was re-named “Susan on the camel.jpg” (a previous project) when I exported them to my blog folder instead of the names I took the time to give each drawing in Sketchbook. Aperture also insisted on creating a new Project for the images instead of letting me import them into the album I had created for them. The two apps need to learn to communicate better.
I’d like the images to be in a format other than jpg so that I can process them in Photoshop if I want to without losing image quality.
I would like to be able to access the user manual in one click.
In conclusion:
The combination of the iPad and Sketchbook Pro is very close to being a serious product for serious working fine artists. I absolutely recommend it.
I had the opportunity to spend yesterday morning and early afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City before my evening flight home. (I was there for a Society of Animal Artists board meeting and added a little time for other things). My main purpose was to see the Kublai Khan exhibition. He was the grandson of Chinggis Khan, which I hadn’t realized until I started to learn about Mongol history. That will be a Mongolia Monday post at some point.
Afterwards, I wandered through the 19th Century European painting galleries and was reminded once again that there is no substitute for seeing masterpieces in the original. I also noticed quite a few paintings with animal subjects. I didn’t have my Nikon, just my iPhone. So the following images aren’t great, but they will serve to share my favorites.
I didn’t remember to photograph the labels for all of them, I’m sorry to say, but did track down titles and artist for all except one. But it really doesn’t matter who did them. The takeaway is to see and appreciate the great lineage of animal art that those of us who have chosen our fellow creatures as subjects are part of.
Tiger and Cubs- Gerome
Animal art has a long and honorable history in European painting and was not dismissed with the snobbery so many of us encounter today.
detail of horse painting- Bonheur
It is instructive to see how artists of the period, who had tremendous ability as painters in a variety of subject matter, could also do a specialized subject like animals extremely well. That is often not the case today.
Detail, camel
There was one entire room dedicated to European artists who painted North African subjects. Many also traveled to the Middle East. The collective term for them is Orientalists. I should do a post on them sometime since their approach and reaction to what they saw is interesting for any artist who, like myself, is also fortunate enough to journey to distant places.
Before the Audience- Gerome
What IS that black cat doing there? A spy, perhaps?
Friedland detail- Messonier
This is a detail from a massive painting of one of Napoleon’s greatest victories, with a cast of dozens. This horse is around 5″ from top of head to bottom of hoof. Stunning description of action and anatomy. Here’s the whole thing:
Friedland- Meissonier
Since we have a rough collie in the family, I naturally had to have a photo of this one, which has a more old-fashioned shape to the head:
Mrs. Walter Rathbone Bacon- Zorn
The Met also has a phenomenal collection of Greek and Roman sculpture. The main hall was filled with schoolkids drawing from the marble and bronze figures.
Bronze lions, ancient Greece
If you have access to a museum with animal sculpture, you have a great rainy day opportunity to go sketch animals that will hold still.
Statue of Artemis/Diana
It’s interesting to note how artists interpreted something like the head structure of a deer over 2,000 years ago.
detail of deer's head
I also want to strongly make the point that there is no substitute for seeing great art “live”. Reproductions in books and posters are, at best, rough approximations. The color is probably not accurate. The size certainly isn’t. And size matters. The visual impact of a painting like “Friedland” is due in no small part to its large dimensions: 53.5″ high and 95.5″ wide.
But what I think is missing almost the most is that a painting has a visual texture, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. Printing an image of a painting on a flat piece of paper eliminates that aspect completely. As an admittedly dramatic example, here is a Van Gogh. First the whole work. Then a detail shot at an angle that shows how the paint was applied. When he put it on this thickly, the painting almost becomes a live thing.
van Goghdetail
A painting like this is about more than the image. It’s also about paint as paint.
Susan Fox, American Artist 