Zachary Kator | Living in Art

Woodcut tips

2012-01-30T19:17:00.000-08:00

Recently, while I was getting prepared to make some new prints, I discovered a new guide to making woodcuts. Written by the printmaker JJ Lankes, it contains a wealth of information I hadn't encountered elsewhere. It is even available to read online, at http://woodblock.com/encyclopedia/entries/011_04/011_04.html.

While going through this book trying to digest the new information, I became aware of the contrast between guides to printmaking and painting. Books such as this one on printmaking were written by practicing artists in the twentieth century. They are easy to relate to, being relatively contemporary. In contrast reviving the craft of traditional painting, necessitates perusing sometimes ancient documents. While some things, such as the plight of the artist, never seem to change, we share little else. This leads to a lot of uncertainty. Language, materials and working methods have changed immensely. One often encounters a broken trail of technique, formulas and advice. The need arises to fill in the gaps somehow.

Eager to try out some of the tips in the book, I began preparing a new set of poplar boards for carving. Before carving, Lankes recommends coating each piece with linseed oil. This has the effect of sealing the wood he says, so it is more stable. It is also supposed to tighten the surface grain, reducing its tendency to split under the carving knife.

Here I am preparing some linseed oil on my stone block. I mixed the oil with some turpentine to thin it, as instructed in the book. This will accelerate its drying time.

Here is a shot of one of the poplar blocks, partly coated with linseed oil.

The oil quickly soaked in. I allowed it to cure about a week. The early results are a panel with a nice smooth, tight grain. I will make my final conclusions once I have finished the print.

Forests

2011-12-20T20:57:00.000-08:00

I like forests. There is something about them, that makes them interesting to me. A sense of nobility and mystery.

I have always wanted to take these feelings, and express them in a good forest painting. This has proven to be very challenging. There is an abundance of detail, all of which must be absorbed and filtered. Forests also involve painting more up-close and intimate detail. I tend to prefer painting the far-away.

This season, I have focused on painting the forest. This picture was done on location at Blandy Farm, up in northern Virginia. It is of a special grove of ginkgo trees. I made the journey at just the right time to capture them as they turned in unison.

The trip up to the farm, as well as my stay, were marked by misadventures and bad luck. This culminated in the picture itself falling out of my car. The canvas received some damage, and at that point I decided to call it quits.

Portraits

2011-11-27T18:32:00.000-08:00

I have neglected portraiture a bit over the past few years. Figuring out landscape painting, among other things, has consumed the bulk of my attention. So recently, I have set aside some studio time, to bring in new sitters.

Since I'm still a bit rusty, I'm going to avoid painting anyone for awhile. Charcoal is more forgiving. At some point I will consider hiring some strangers to sit, but for the time being, the "victims" will be friends and family.

Volkonskoite

2011-11-15T09:45:00.000-08:00

Volkonskoite is rare green earth mineral, found mainly in the mountains of Russia. Named after a Russian prince who was a government minister, its use was confined historically to religious icon paintings. Volkonskoite is not well known outside of Russia, the most famous exception being Picasso. He was known to have imported large quantities from the Soviet Union for use in his paintings.

The green color derives from chromium-oxide, also used in a modern equivalent by the same name. The natural variety green is more subtle, and not as "loud" when used in mixtures. It also is far more transparent.

Up until this point, I haven't made much use of a standalone green in my pictures. I am always open to the idea if I could find one that was suitably flexible.

To that end, I've purchased a small jar of the relatively expensive Volkonskoite, to try out.

To the left is the raw color mixed with oil, to the right it has been tinted with white. It is a blueish green with cool undertones. I did not find Volkonskoite as weak as some of the green earths I have tried in the past.

Linseed Oil, Part II

2011-10-23T09:03:00.000-07:00

Using the best oil possible is key not only to making paint with the best handling qualities, but also ensuring that a painting ages gracefully. While linseed oil naturally yellows a certain extent over time, an inferior oil will be far worse. In the picture above, the unsightly brown goo is nothing more than linseed oil that has separated from the paint and oozed out of the tube. What is surprising is how awfully brown this modern oil has become.

Over the past month, I have set aside some time to improve my homemade linseed oil. My goal was to speed up and improve the process of refining the raw oil.

The key to speeding up the process was finding a more effective method of removing the heavy fatty acids, or mucilage contained in the raw, unfiltered oil. These impurities are the key cause of unsightly yellowing seen in oil. I wanted to filter the oil mechanically, without the resorting to the strong chemicals used in the production of commercial oil.

In the past I have cleaned my oil with water and sunlight, this method was time-consuming and had to be done in warm weather. Other historical practices suggested washing the oil with a mixture of sand, salt and water. This was also time consuming and repetitious.

A variation of this method substitutes sand for a mixture of diatomaceous earth and cristobalite. These are simple forms of silica, used as a harmless filter medium. The calcined form is easy to find unadulterated, as used in pool filters. The process is new to me, other artists such as Tad Spurgeon have been making their oil using this method for some time.

I mixed one part D.E. with two parts raw flax oil, added a pinch of salt and three parts water. The jars containing the oil were put in a warm spot and shaken periodically over the course of a few days, to disburse the mixture.

The early results were dramatic. Most of the filter mix has settled to the bottom of the jar. The heavy fatty acids have become trapped in the boundary layer between water and oil.

The oil was siphoned off the top, filtered and the process was repeated again several times with fresh ingredients. Salt was used only in the first cleaning.

Not being completely satisfied the oil was good enough, I put the oil on the roof and washed it a few times over several days with water.

Looking down through the jar shows an almost clear oil, very little mucilage remains.

The appearance of the oil has definitely changed.

The oil was put into a newly-built glass box on the roof, to briefly sun-bleach. It will then be set aside for awhile to age, before being put to use.

Woodcut Experiments

2011-10-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

I had a chance to revisit my first color woodblock print the other day. After some more trimming of the four separate color blocks, I went ahead and made a new proof.

On the earliest proofs, I had issues with the ink, transferring weakly to the paper. This proof incorporates some very helpful hints and tips given to me since I started experimenting with printmaking. By repeating the application of ink for each layer, I was able to get deeper colors as well as black. To get a solid-bodied black took a lot of applications, which did result in some lost detail from that block.

I am still in the process of working out the arrangement of colors that best suit this picture.

2011-10-03T14:10:00.000-07:00

Fall has arrived, and the local college has begun offering live model sessions again. I try to attend these as often as possible, even though most of my recent work doesn't involve people.

Sketching the figure is a great way to loosen up, and keeps my figurative skills from getting stale.

Storms

2011-09-20T13:55:00.000-07:00

I'm still feeling the effects of the recent hurricane that swept up the US east coast. The storm came very close to where I live, and I lost electricity for about a week.

The night before the storm hit, the first bands started passing over us, but there wasn't much in the way of severe weather or rain. There were a lot of interesting things going on in the sky, so I decided to go out and do an oil sketch.

I did this picture very quickly, on some scrap gessoed board. The paint did not adhere well to the raw gesso, but I was able to get something down.

The thing I love about storms are the dramatic clouds. The kind of tropical weather that makes for an interesting sky is not easy to capture, everything moves too quickly. The challenge of this oil sketch, was to compose something in real time, on canvas, that would work.

More Printmaking

2011-08-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

Onset by record-setting high temperatures, I've stayed mostly inside over the past few weeks. This was a good opportunity to try my hand at more printmaking.

For the next project, I wanted to make relief prints. This technique has always appealed to me for its simplicity and directness. Having seen a demonstration of color block printing, I wanted to try that method first.

I purchased a basic set or carving tools back in the fall, so I already had most of what I needed on hand to get started. For this picture, I decided to make the print as a woodcut.

The design I chose was in keeping with my usual subject material. The scene was a view of a marsh off of a bridge, so it wasn't practical to paint on location. I simplified the picture into masses of only four colors, and began to draw out the design.

With this style of printmaking, separate blocks need to be carved for each layer of color. I would need to carve four blocks in total.

The first plate I carved was my black, or "key" plate. This is the basic design, minus the color. It will be printed last. The purple areas, are from wood that has been stained with some pen ink. This allows me to better see the areas that I have carved.

The finished key block, already covered in black ink. I'm going to test print (proof) this print to see how it looks.

And the result. The final image is always a reverse of the block. This was printed on light Japanese paper.

The next block is a complex layer of clouds and water reflections, colored a deep blue. The wood block was overlaid with a clear piece of plastic containing the design. I will trace the outline as best I can onto the wood before I carve this layer.

The finished blue plate is pictured, along with another plate meant to be part of the sky. Both plates are inked and ready to proof.

This proof shows the three plates combined together. I will still need to finish and proof one more plate, get some better paper, and work on my technique. Right now the prints are too splotchy. Once these issues have been worked out, I can think about doing a run of final prints.

Drypoint

2011-07-22T12:22:00.000-07:00

Over the past year I have had a growing interest in printmaking. There are a lot of different methods of printmaking, so I wasn't sure what would be best suited to my style.

The most common form of printmaking practiced by artists has been some form of intaglio, such as etching or engraving. These techniques are for the most part an extension of drawing that play into the strengths of well-trained artists.

Drypoint, is such a technique. In contrast to etching or engraving, that partly rely on chemicals to create an image, drypoint is direct. The artist scratches out the image directly onto a plate with a sharp point. The burr created on either side of this impression holds the ink in place to print. Compared to an etching, a drypoint has a warmer and richer appearance. Its major drawback, is that it wears out relatively quickly. The delicate burr is worn down with every print that is made. Realistically, only about 20 impressions can be made before a drypoint is worn out.

Intaglio prints require an expensive etching press. Since I don't have access to one, I considered making drypoints a dead end.

To my surprise, I discovered that there is a way to print drypoints without an etching press. Websites such as this one cover the process in detail. This technique will only work with drypoints, other intalgio techniques still require the fancier equipment.

A metal plate is usually the basis of a drypoint print. Plastic, such as acrylic or plexiglass, can also be used. This has the advantage of being inexpensive and easy to cut. One can also see through clear plastic to a drawing on the other side.

I began by drawing out a loose outline of the image onto the plastic with a pen. The image will be a long-valley landscape scene.

After this was established, I began inscribing the lines into the acrylic with my drypoint needle. The black paper backdrop allows me to better see the work.

Once all of the lines are inscribed, the plate can be inked. The object to the top left is a dabber, for applying ink. I applied a large amount of ink, until the plate is completely covered.

The excess ink is wiped off of the plate using gauze, and torn phonebook pages. By wiping the image more or less, the final appearance can be tweaked. I took care to select what areas I wanted to highlight in the image.

The paper is dampened before it is printed. It was soaked in a tub of water for fifteen minutes.

The paper is then removed from the tub and placed in a towel to soak up excess water.

I used this old book press to make my print.

The plate is placed ink side up on a piece of mdf. The paper is then positioned on top.

A few sheets of felt are added over top the paper, and act as a cushion in the press. The print is finally ready to go in.

I was a bit disappointed to see how weak the final image came out. I haven't given up on this technique completely. With some experimentation, I hope to get some better results.

Summer

2011-07-15T08:10:00.000-07:00

A recent work in progress, this was my first big project on gessoed oak panel. I braved the sauna-like July weather, and ventured out to a brand new location. For this painting, I'm still relying on my full palette of hand-made pigments.

This picture started off with a lot of promise. Then I started having a series of "off" days, and the picture suffered as a result. Especially in the foreground. I'm going to set this one aside for awhile and return to it.

More Studio Upgrades

2011-07-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

I've made some additional changes to my studio, to make it better and more flexible. Making a new easel was just the first step. Ever since I moved into the studio, I've wanted to return to doing portraits and working from live models.

To be able to handle portraits, I needed a way to sit a model at eye level. The plywood platform that I built can be seen in the photo. This raises a seated model just up to the right level so that I'm not looking down on them as I stand and work. The platform has a box-frame on the inside to support the weight of the model sitting on it. At some point, I will paint the platform so that it doesn't stick out so badly.

To the rear you can see a curtain rod I put in to sit behind the model. This hangs from a rafter on the roof, and it can be moved around and adjusted. The curtain can also be taken off and changed so that I can adjust the color of the background.

I've tried out the current setup a few times and are really happy with it.

A New Easel

2011-06-27T09:13:00.000-07:00

I've been kept busy lately, upgrading my studio so that I could start doing portraits. One area in particular that I felt was lacking, was a nice studio easel that wasn't too unwieldy.

At first I browsed through the offerings in art supply catalogs, but ultimately decided to make one for myself. I had some scrap poplar sitting around that was intended for making artist panels, that didn't make the grade. While it isn't the best material for this purpose, it was lightweight, already in my possession, and the price was right.

This was not a small undertaking. A very basic easel can be thrown together in a weekend, something with more functionality can take much longer to build. I wanted my easel to be as adjustable as commercial models, and that would require fabricating lots of moving parts. For this kind of job I would recommend at least some woodworking experience and decent basic tools.

There are a lot of plans online available for easels. Ben Grosse r's website was a good starting point. I used a lot of his ideas and made some changes of my own.

The type of easel I built is known as an H-frame easel because of its shape. The main frame was the first piece I put together.

The basic H-frame under construction

Complete.

The finished frame is loosely mated to a base, and supported from the rear. Two-piece rear support "buttresses" are hinged and adjustable, so that the frame's angle can be changed from vertical.

Each top support has a hole for a bolt, that can be loosened and slide along a channel routed into the bottom support.

Finally, the easel must have a top and bottom clamp to hold the artwork. The bottom clamp locks down against the frame with bolts, onto a piece on the other side. This slides a long a channel cut in the middle.

The bottom clamp, with a locknut.

The top clamp is the final addition to the easel. It also has a channel built in so that it can slide along the middle.

The top clamp viewed from the underside, showing the channel that allows it to slide along the middle.

This clamp also has a threaded fitting, so that it can be locked in place once adjusted.

The finished easel, in the studio, ready to make art.

Tonalism, Revisited

2011-05-20T11:42:00.000-07:00

I was pleasantly surprised to find a brand new book on Tonalism at my local library the other day. I am a bit of a fan of this style of artwork. While I was looking over this book, I was struck by something I had thought about before, why is it that some artists are households names, while others fade into obscurity?

In the case of the great masters, their fame is obvious: the genius of their work is easily observed by most people. There are some cases where an old master is lost or falls out of fashion. If an artist’s work has merit, they tend to be rediscovered at some point, even if it takes hundreds of years. These are not the kinds of artists I am thinking of.

The obscure artist tends to be unknown even to many art lovers, relegated to a mere footnote in some book. Their paintings are probably in the catalogs of small regional museums, lacking the clout to draw in the “big names” of art. Fans who visit these museums may discover that they are in storage and not on display. Obscure or unfashionable work is commonly sold off, often for firesale prices.

Obscure artists weren’t usually pioneers or innovators, merely participants in larger art movements. For this reason they tend to be ignored or dismissed as unoriginal. Even a relatively small art movement, such as Tonalism, had many of these followers. Their work can be inconsistent. I have chosen a few artists that caught my eye from the book:

Charles Warren Eaton, The Pine Grove

Charles Warren Eaton, River Landscape

Charles Warren Eaton, Winter Solitude

Lowell Birge Harrison, Moonrise on the Beach

Homer Dodge Martin, Wild Coast Newport

James Henry Moser, Fireworks Across the Potomac

John La Farge, Sea and Rocks Near Spouting Horn

Alexander Wyant, Pool on the Ausable

Sketch Class

2011-05-03T09:33:00.000-07:00

I was recently told about a sketch class that was being held locally, once a week. Open to the public, one only had to pay a small fee to sttend.

For those of you not familiar, a "sketch class" is a chance for artists or anyone to get together and sketch a model in an impromptu set of poses. The poses vary in length, and are usually short, not being longer than a few hours. It is an excellent opportunity to hone one's skills, experiment with technique, and try to stay loose.

The first time I went, I was pleasantly surprised to find the overall level of the class to be very similar to what was offered in Florence. I havent done much figurative work for awhile, but familiar feelings arose almost immediately. The same general mistakes I used to make back in my art school years, resurfaced. I only had a few hours to work, so I had to try to correct these problems quickly and get a complete statement down on paper that was effective. It was an excellent challenge.

These sketches were mostly done in charcoal.

I even tried doing an oil sketch, painting directly on paper, coated with real gesso.

Making Panels Part II

2011-02-21T11:15:00.000-08:00

Once the panels have been cut to final shape, they can be smoothed and prepared for gesso. I usually sand the panels with a moderate grit sandpaper, making sure that the edges are smooth.

The moisture in real gesso sometimes causes the wood grain to swell, the amount depending on the species. Because gesso is rigid, this can lead to cracking later on. To prevent this, the panels are rubbed down with alcohol, which raises the grain of the wood, Once dry the panels are given a final sanding.

Now I can start coating the panels.

First, the panel was given a few coats of size, made from hide glue. I used rabbit skin glue for this task. The glue was added to water in the correct ratio by weight, and allowed to sit over night. As you can see, it swelled considerably.

The glue was heated until all of the pellets have broken down into liquid. I continue to only use warm water in a sink to heat my glue, a glue pot being overkill. Once liquified, the glue is passed through a sieve, and its ready to be used.

The panels were given several coats of size, front back, and on the sides. The following day, gesso was applied

Real gesso is a mixture of hide glue and an inert white pigment, that is porous. The ground is absorbent, so it readily bonds the layers of paint to the panel, while at the same time isolating the two. There is more than one suitable choice for this material. I have chosen to use calcium carbonate, in the form of chalk. Chalk from the Champagne region of France is one of the most pure natural chalks that can be found.

I saved the leftover glue from sizing my panels, as a base for my gesso. The correct mixture involves adding chalk at 1.5 times this volume of glue.

First the glue must be made hot, then the chalk was slowly added. I stirred gently, taking care not to do so too vigorously. Stirring gesso too enthusiastically will introduce tiny air bubbles into the mixture. Once these bubbles are on the panel, they cannot be filled or removed, no matter how many additional coats of gesso are applied. Once all of the gesso was been added to the glue, it was allowed to soak in for ten minutes.

The panel are given a coat on each side, to seal them effectively. Its important to try to make the coats as even as possible, and to make sure to apply the same number of coats front and back. Glue and gesso put stress on the wood, that can lead to warping and bowing. An equal number of coats should minimize this stress.

After the coat is applied, it needs to be allowed to dry. This took from twenty minutes to an hour. Then the next coat was be applied and so on. Coats should always be applied in opposing directions, i.e. a coat across the short side should be followed by a lengthwise coat. Five to ten coats should be sufficient to get a good surface. Some artists prefer to apply many coats and then sand the gesso until it is ultra smooth.

Once dry, the panel was ready to be used for paint. Tempera can be used on the panel directly. With oil paints, gesso is too absorbent and hard on brushes. An isolating layer should first be applied. I coated the gesso with a thin layer of glue size. Each panel should be given a week or two to dry, and then is ready to be used.

Making Panels

2011-02-04T13:42:00.000-08:00

Over the next few weeks I plan on making an assortment of panels for painting. As discussed in my post on painting supports, panels have a variety of pros and cons. I have come to the conclusion that overall they are the best kind of support for works of small to moderate size. For larger works, I will still rely on canvas.

I recently located some furniture-grade, quarter sawn oak boards. These boards were kiln-dried, but had been aged 4-5 years. Oak was the most popular wood for use as a painting support in Northern Europe. It is a fine wood for use as a painting support, as a visit to any museum containing these pictures will demonstrate.

The boards were first cut to the right shape and size. Any final sanding or planing could be done at this time.

A larger panel necessitated joining more than one board together. The lap joint I cut into the boards is a traditional and effective method of joinery. Both halves are from the same board, but have been flipped so that if warpage does occur, there should be a counter effect.

Still Life

2011-01-23T11:10:00.001-08:00

Still Life, Objects
Oil on Canvas 9" x 12"
This painting is available. Contact me.

To inaugurate my new studio, I decided to paint a still life. I'm not really much of a still-life painter, but I thought it would be fun to follow a traditional formula. I wanted to see how a new "old" painting would look using the same pigments as the old masters.

The red in the apple is the newly finished Cinnabar. The jar was found by my grandfather underwater, it was very opaque and had a complex patina. I used Lapis lazuli, Azurite and Malachite to get the different shades. The lemon was a mix of Lead tin-yellow, and Naples yellow for the warmer areas of shadow.

Winter

2011-01-11T11:43:00.000-08:00

Winter Stream
Oil on Canvas 10" x 8"
This painting is available. Contact me.

Vermilion

2010-12-23T18:52:00.000-08:00

Vermilion is a bright, intense red color that has been used by artists since ancient times. It is a color that was indispensable to the Old Masters, for its strength and flexibility.

The color that is known as Vermilion today is only superficially comparable to what was used in the past. The modern color is made from Cadmium. Real Vermilion is made from Mercuric sulfide.

The naturally occurring form of Mercuric Sulfide is the mineral Cinnabar. The majority of mercury found on Earth is in this form. It has been mined for thousands of years as a source of mercury, as an artist's pigment, and even for natural medicine!

Most cinnabar is not of high enough quality to be made into a bright pigment, so a synthetic form was necessary. Ancient Chinese alchemists developed a process to synthesize cinnabar in the laboratory, and that was the beginning of Vermilion. These methods eventually found their way to the west.

Real vermilion has developed a bad reputation as not being stable. Vermilion was often adulterated with inferior products by unscrupulous vendors. Depending on the process used to create it, synthetic vermilion will vary in its stability. Vermilion has been known to darken when exposed to direct sunlight for long periods. In general however, it has proven very stable over time.

Cinnabar is not affected by these issues, so I chose to use it as a basis for making Vermilion pigment. Chinese cinnabar is of very high quality. I purchased it in the form of small pieces and not a powder, to ensure it was genuine. Cinnabar crystals have an unmistakable greasy appearance similar to quartz.

Because Cinnabar is mostly mercury, it is important to take appropriate safety precautions while it is being handled.

An example of roughly ground cinnabar. This was washed over and over again to remove impurities. It was then dried, reground and then washed again. The jars contain the pigment in different series of being washed.

Once dry, I mixed the final color into oil paint:

Cadmium-based colors superseded those of mercury only in the early 20th century, so the majority of art created by man will contain real Vermilion. Real Vermilion is stronger and more intense than cadmium, and will tolerate more extreme color mixes without losing its chromatic purity. It also tends to be much warmer.

An example of Vermilion, from the painting Mars et Rhea Silvia, by Peter Paul Rubens.

New Work

2010-12-14T18:36:00.000-08:00

The Marina
Oil on Canvas 10" x 14"

A small painting I completed a few weeks ago. Its a wonderful opportunity to be able to make my own paints. At the same time I recognize that its going to take me a while to become accustomed to the character of hand mixed paint, which is so different from something that comes out of a tube.

A New Studio

2010-12-02T09:26:00.000-08:00

A while ago, I was very generously offered a new studio space. The studio consists of its own dedicated separate building. Before I could start using the space, I wanted to have everything set up just right.

My preference is always to work from natural light if possible. Before the invention of electricity, buildings were built to maximize light from natural sources. They were oriented so they faced the poles. With more modern buildings this is not always the case; making the best of the lighting is tricky.

I was fortunate to have spent enough time at Charles Cecil studios in Florence, that I knew what changes to make to the studio.

The best natural light comes from a single, high-facing source, preferably to the north. Northern light is the most stable throughout the day. If you can't use northern light, you may have to deal with shadows and highlights that vary considerably from hour to hour.

Another goal should be to minimize the amount of light reflecting around the studio. A high facing window reduces light reflecting off of the ground or surrounding buildings. Cutting down on the number of light sources simplifies the image, making the artist's job easier.

The 19th Century studio of George Inness. Note the single, large window light source.

The studio before I moved in had more than ample light. The windows to the right are facing north. The other windows will need to be covered.

I don't own the studio, so I couldn't make any major changes to the structure. I needed to use non-destructive means to block the light. The windows didn't have shutters, so they were covered by paper and cloth. The cloth was either attached directly to the wall, or hung from curtain rods.

The complete studio. A few things may need tweaking down the road. Everything has been covered, except the north windows immediately in front of the work. The lower windows have been blocked off halfway as well.

The light piece seen extending out from the top of the skylight, is a piece of foamboard. This directs the light down towards the workspace, cutting down on reflections off the opposite side of the ceiling. Ideally, the whole studio would have been painted black or draped with curtains to cut down on reflected light, but this would not have been practical in this case.

I set up a quick informal still-life, to observe the quality of light with real objects.

More about Painting Supports

2010-11-11T21:13:00.000-08:00

Rigid panels have been used as painting supports for millennia, and are an excellent alternative to canvas. There are oil paintings done on panel that are still in excellent condition after 500 years. The greatest flaw of canvas is that it is not rigid, and the condition of many older paintings have suffered because of this fact.

Panels can be made to have a wonderfully smooth surface that is excellent for painting in detail. For those that desire a more textured surface, canvas can be glued to the panel, for the benefits of both.

A lot of materials are suitable for use as painting supports. I have organized some of the more popular choices into groups.

WOOD

Wood is one of the oldest painting supports, having proven itself in use over thousands of years. Many different species are suitable. Historically, Poplar was a common choice in Southern Europe, Oak in the north.

Wood has some drawbacks. It can rot, and be attacked by pests. Wood is not always dimensionally stable, and can warp. The susceptibility to all of these problems will vary by species.

With the right preparation, these issues can be minimized. Wood should be aged properly to ensure that it is dry and acclimated to its environment. This process used to take up to ten years. Nowadays, most woods are kiln dried, which does not always ensure a wood is completely dry. I try to work around this issue by using old or reclaimed wood.

Panels made from wood were usually braced in some manner to make them stronger and to resist warping. There were a variety of ways of doing so. Ongoing research by conservators suggests that these methods may do more harm than good. Braces can't stop a panel from eventually warping, and in the process put extra stress on the wood.

I have chosen not to brace my panels. The method I have adopted instead is to size and gesso the panel equally on both sides to ensure it is sealed. This is based on historical recommendations and backed by modern research. I use wood that is as close to quarter sawn as possible. This is wood that is cut down the center, so that the grain runs parallel along its length, making it more likely to be warp resistant.

Plywood is made by gluing many thin sheets of wood together, in alternating layers. This makes a solid sheet that should be stronger and more warp-resistant than the same wood in regular form.

Plywood suffers from drawbacks unique to its construction. Boards can warp, plies can de-laminate, and the glues used to hold plies together can leach out and cause damage to the paint. The quality and price of modern plywoods is all over the map. I've had a lot of issues trying to use plywood as a painting surface with traditional gesso. Soon after making them, my panels developed micro-fine cracks, caused by the wood grain swelling from moisture. This is fairly common, from what I understand. I would suggest doing your own tests and experimenting, before using plywood on anything you consider important.

ENGINEERED WOOD PRODUCTS

Products that have been manufactured using ingredients derived from wood. Their benefit is that they are more dimensionally stable than wood, should resist warping, are widely available, and inexpensive.

Hardboard, aka Masonite, is a type of dense fiberboard. It is made from wood fibers that have been compressed under extreme pressure, until they are bound together. No glue is used in this process. Hardboard is strong, dense, and has no grain.

Hardboard panels have been in use long enough to get an idea of their longevity, with mixed results. Some vintage paintings are in good shape, while others have not fared well. "Tempered" hardboard, has been coated with oil to make it more weather resistant. There are cases where this has reportedly leached into the paint surface and ruined it, so tempered products should probably be avoided.

The majority of premade "archival" artists panels are made from some kind of hardboard. Without knowing specifics about how a panel is made, I would think twice about using them for anything but smaller, more informal works.

MDF or Medium Density Fiberboard is made from ground wood fibers bound together by a glue or resin. It is weaker and less dense than hardboard. The resin used to bind the wood fibers poses a health risk as it is usually formaldehyde-based. Protection should be worn when working with MDF.

MDF is a relatively new material, so long-term permanence is still open to debate. How long the resins that hold the material together will last is a big concern. MDF is relatively soft, so it can be dented easily, especially around the edges. It can also swell if exposed to water. I would recommend sealing MDF on all sides before use.

METAL

Metal has been used as a panel support on a limited basis for centuries. Rembrandt used copper for some of his smaller works, and these are still in excellent condition. Provided that there is a sufficient bond between the paint and metal, it is in many ways the ideal surface. Metal is rigid, stable, and expands and contracts relatively little. The drawbacks include the added weight and expense of many metals such as copper, and the possibility for corrosion unless sealed from the atmosphere.

Tonalism

2010-10-29T09:39:00.000-07:00

This post is devoted to a style of painting known as Tonalism, that has had a large influence on my approach to making landscapes. The name refers to the use of a simple unifying color, or tone throughout a painting to create a sense of mood. Common subjects include twilight, sunsets, moonrises, nocturnes, and misty atmospheres.

The tonalist style was uniquely American, beginning in the mid to late 19th century as an outgrowth of the French Barbizon school of traditional landscape painting. The period signifies the emergence of the United States on the world stage, a country that was still very young at the time and had not matured artistically. The style was short lived, lasting only a few decades, and was notably eclipsed in popularity by Impressionism.

What has always appealed to me about tonalism are its soft and meditative qualities. Pictures made in the style have a subtle sense of mystery that draws in the viewer.

Probably one of the most famous painters associated with the style was George Inness. His early work was fairly tight, but as time went on, he began to develop a looser more atmospheric style, focused on conveying mood.

George Inness, Summer Landscape

George Inness, Sunset on the Passaic

He is one of the most expressive painters of sky that I have seen, particularly his ability to render the powerful fury of an approaching storm.

George Inness, Étretat

The general softness of tonalism makes it well suited to oil painting. Only one artist in my experience, Edward Steichen, was able to capture the same qualities in other media. His career began as a oil painter, but he quickly moved on to photography. Steichen sought to merge the experience of both media together. By experimenting with technique and highly modifying his photos, he was able to create great tonal photographs.

Edward Steichen, The Pond—Moonlight

Another big name was James Abbot McNeill Whistler. Whistler was influenced in his mature years, by the minimalist art of Japanese prints. He created many innovative works, his most famous being a serious of Nocturnes.

James Abbot McNeill Whistler, Nocturne: Blue and Gold

There are many other fine examples of this style of art, even some are contemporary. I plan is to incorporate elements of the style in my own work as well.

Ultramarine, Part II

2010-10-20T21:23:00.000-07:00

Natural Lapis lazuli is a beautiful stone , but in raw form a mediocre pigment. As I covered in the first installment lapis lazuli is not homogeneous. The brilliant blue color comes from lazurite, the other constituent elements being impurities. Only the very highest quality stones create a rich blue when crushed into a pigment. For centuries artists and craftsman had to make the best of the dull, ashy blue that was often a result.

A comparison of different grades of Lapis Lazuli.

Then sometime around the 13th century, alchemists developed methods to extract lazurite from its impurities. This involved adding the pigment into a melted pastiche of wax, resins, and linseed oil. The resulting blob of material was kneaded in a solution of water or weak lye. The pure pigment was released and could be collected. The work was time consuming and came at a huge expense.

Many recipes along these lines still exist. Among these, the most detailed was written by the artist Cennino Cennini in the early 15th Century. His book, Il libro dell'arte, or The Craftsman's Handbook is a charming guide to how art was made during the Renaissance. A whole chapter is devoted to pigments, including a very detailed recipe for lapis.

Cennini's describes a "plastic" to be made from beeswax, mastic, and pine resin. He calls for one pound of lapis powder to be used in the recipe. I had a lot less, so I adjusted each quantity accordingly.

Once I weighed out each ingredient, they were melted together in a saucepan.

I poured the plastic into a bowl, then added my lapis powder. I proceeded to knead the still liquid plastic until the lapis was evenly dispersed. Like kneading bread dough, one must cover ones hands with something so it does not stick. In this case Cennini says to use linseed oil, instead of flour. The plastic cooled quickly and began to form a soft, solid ball.

I let the plastic sit for 3 days, per Cennini's instructions. Each day I took it out and kneaded it again.

After this time had passed the plastic was placed in a bowl pull of warm dilute lye and kneaded again like bread. Because lye is caustic, I took precautions to protect myself. Cennini recommends using two round sticks while handling it in the lye. I used two chopsticks.

While kneading the plastic, the pure lazurite should gradually be released. Once it has settled on the bottom, the plastic can be removed, and the lye poured off from the fresh pigment. The first extraction is the purest and finest. Cennini recommends using fresh lye to repeat the process again in a new bowl. This will continue until all of the blue has been extracted from the plastic, and it becomes worthless.

I consider my attempt a partial success. While I was able to obtain some very fine pigment, the plastic began disintegrating in the lye almost immediately. I was not able to repeat the process many times, as Cennini recommends. A lot of small pieces of wax and resin ended up in the pigment, and will have to be removed somehow before it can be put to use.

I will need to do more research before I try this method again with my finest lapis.

Charcoal

2010-09-30T09:48:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I started making some new charcoal. The first batch that I had produced earlier in the year made for an excellent drawing charcoal, but failed as a paint pigment. I'm working on refining the process, so that it can be used for both.

The trick is to bake the wood just right minus oxygen, so that it is mainly reduced to pure carbon. The wood should be allowed to breathe just a little, because it will outgas as it bakes. Allow too much air and it will be reduced to ash.

I gathered up willow branches, allowing them to dry several weeks in advance. They were stripped of all of their bark. Using the trimmers, I cut them into many small pieces.

I'm considering building some kind of retort to burn the wood in the future, but for the time being, I'm relying on the same methods I used for my first experiments.

The willow sticks were stuffed into a stoneware bowl lined with foil, wrapped again with foil, and the top of the bowl was covered. It was placed in the hot wood oven.

The charcoal fresh out of the oven. I would guess it is about 80 percent charcoal at this point.

A New Mortar & Pestle

2010-09-20T11:26:00.000-07:00

Just a small update-I've purchased a new mortar and pestle, this time made from granite. Dark granite is stronger than most materials, and not much more expensive. I think it will be better suited to grinding hard minerals than the marble or porcelain I was using previously.

More about Yellow

2010-09-09T13:30:00.000-07:00

A bright yellow is an important addition to any artists palette. Modern yellow pigments are synthetic, based on mineral or organic mixtures. These colors, such as Cadmium yellow are permanent, and incredibly bright. For a painter wishing to achieve natural effects they demand caution and restraint, otherwise they can become overpowering.

On the other hand, there are less intense and more subtle historical alternatives that are still available today. These are all mineral-based. Natural organic colors such as Weld, are not lightfast, so I would not consider them.

Orpiment

Orpiment is a bright rich yellow, based on the natural mineral arsenic sulfide. The presence of arsenic makes it very toxic. In fact the mineral was once used as a fly poison.

Orpiment was a common feature on palettes going back to ancient times. It was a popular color in Italy during the Renaissance, but was not the preferred choice in Northern Europe. By the 19th century, Orpiment had been wholly replaced by alternatives.

Orpiment's other major flaw is that it is incompatible with lead and copper based pigments. This means it cannot be used in mixtures containing lead white, for instance. I feel that this is far too limiting, so I will not be using this color.

Lead-Tin Yellow

Lead-tin yellow is a synthetic bright opaque yellow, made by combining lead and tin oxide. Most varieties tend to be on the pale side. The color was most popular during the 15th to 17th centuries. Because it contains lead, it is highly toxic. It is also relatively expensive.

An example of lead-tin yellow, from the painting Equestrian Portrait of the Duke de Olivares, by Diego Velázquez.

Naples Yellow

Naples Yellow is also made in the lab, by combining lead and antimony. The color varies depending on how it is made, but tends towards a deeper, more orange opaque yellow. It was gradually adopted as a replacement for Lead-tin yellow, probably around the 16th Century. It is highly toxic.

As lead has been gradually phased out of most products, genuine Naples Yellow has become hard to find. Most colors sold today going by the name are imitations. They are convenience mixtures that lack the beauty or permanence of the real thing. When purchasing the color one must ensure that it is genuine. Real Naples Yellow is expensive, so a low price should raise suspicions.

Ultramarine, Part I

2010-09-01T11:16:00.000-07:00

There is one natural blue pigment that is considered without peer: Ultramarine. A common color on European palettes by the Middle Ages, it is the color of the blue skies of the Renaissance, of Leonardo. Its name comes from the Italian oltramarino, "beyond the sea," as it had to be brought across the Mediterranean to Europe from the other side of the known world. Real ultramarine is made from the semi-precious stone Lapis lazuli, which is only available from a few locations around the globe.

The very best Lapis lazuli comes from the remote mountains of Badakhstan province, in northeastern Afghanistan. The Sar e Sang mine has been in operation for more than 6,000 years. The rock was probably first exported to Ancient Egypt. Marco Polo visited this mine in 1271, during his trip across Asia.

Lapis lazuli is a complex silicate rock, containing mostly lazurite but also calcite, sodalite, and pyrite. The highest grades are more intensely blue, and have smaller inclusions.

The gold speckles are pyrite (Fools' gold).

Lapis is a difficult material to mine. It is labor-intensive to grind and purify. These factors, along with the formidable remoteness of the mine and the rock's lengthy transport, made Ultramarine incredibly expensive. Worth more than gold, the high cost put it out of reach for many artists. It was often reserved for special subjects, such as the robes of the Virgin and Child. The asking price of a painting was often based merely on the quantity of ultamarine used.

The issue of cost was taken seriously enough that the French government offered a reward to anyone who could synthesize it cheaply. In 1828, Jean Baptiste Guimet won the prize. The synthetic ultramarine he developed quickly superseded its natural counterpart and is still in use today.

Real ultramarine is distinguishable from the synthetic variety by a less intense saturation. It has a glowing, gemlike quality stemming from its crystal structure. The effect is striking.

The painting, Bacchus and Ariadne, by Titian, serves as an example of how beautiful Ultramarine can be in the right hands. This painting was part of a series of restorations done in the late sixties. Its unveiling was controversial. The public did not associate the new colorful look with Titian, the sky in particular. Some critics suggested that this was the result of careless work by the restorers. I will not enter into this debate, but I will say that, having seen the real color, this may be what the painting looked like when it was new.

Given the high cost of finished pigment, I have decided to make my own Ultramarine from scratch. In the next installment, I will show how this was done.

A Visit to Stancills

2010-08-22T18:52:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I went to visit Stancills Mine in Perryville, Maryland. Stancills has been family run since its inception several generations ago. They produce a wide variety of products based on the sand, gravel, clay and other materials mined there.

The high quality of their clays has attracted potters from all over the east coast. The family is very supportive of artists and has cultivated a relationship with their many visitors over the years. When I saw pictures of the red clay others had gathered there, I knew I had to visit.

We were given a tour and allowed to collect freely from many different piles of clay surrounding the mine. I grabbed anything that caught my attention. Reds, a green earth, and a fistful of nice looking yellow.

When I got home, I set out to see what I could make with my new samples. The unrefined nature of the clays meant I needed to sort them first if I wanted to get the purest color. After being fully washed, sieved and dried, I could compare them.

On left is a cool, violet red. On the right, a warmer orange. Everything else was somewhere in between. I decided to work with the middle range first.

I was impressed by the strong staining power of this clay, it left a mark on anything it touched.

Mixed into paint this clay makes a nice, deep red. I think this will be a valuable color for painting flesh tones.

Why Make Your Own Paint?

2010-08-09T14:31:00.001-07:00

Artists throughout time have included paintmaking among the many skills of their craft. Sadly, modern artists are largely unfamiliar with the process. There are still good reasons to consider making paint for yourself. How far you want to go in the paintmaking process is up to you. You don't have to make everything from scratch. You will still see most of the benefits by mulling commercial pigments as well.

Making your own paint encourages an intimate knowledge of each material, a choice of what goes into them, and permits their qualities to be altered in any way you see fit. This is a skill that the Old Masters used to get the most out of their abilities.

Think of cooking as an analogy. Most of us have bought or consumed prepackaged food in some way or another. Food prepared this way is predictable and convenient. Would top chefs want to use canned ingredients from the supermarket? Or would they insist on searching out the best ingredients, making the dishes from scratch?

Modern paints are more like prepackaged food. Like the food, artists are forced to accept the recipe the manufacturer has chosen for them. The art market is very small in scale compared to wider industrial uses of paint such as automobiles and plastics. Modern artists use what they are given, not necessarily what is ideal.

There are other benefits. Homemade paint is more likely to have purer color. Manufacturers add fillers to cut the amount of pigment in a given volume of paint, increasing profits. Usually only high end or boutique paints come close to the pigment loads of paint made by the artist's hand. These paints tend to be much more expensive. In this way, making your own paint can represent significant financial savings.

How we experience color in a painting is a consequence of the way it interacts with light. Light is altered as it reflects through the layers of paint on canvas and returns to our eyes. Modern pigments are ground to a uniform, extremely fine consistency, and are chemically very pure. I find the intensity of these paints can be overbearing if the artist doesn't make an effort to tame them. Hand ground pigments will be far more varied in their shapes and sizes of particles. These will refract (bend) the light waves passing through them in a complex fashion. The end result is more naturalistic, and these colors can be used in their more pure form, without becoming garish.

The consistency and handling qualities of paint is known as rheology. Oil paint falls into two categories: long (loose, stringy) and short (thick, buttery). Hand made paints vary in character but tend to be long. Paint would have felt this way 500 years ago. Modern paint is usually very short. It is easy to adjust the rheology of paint while you are making it. Modern tubed paint can only be altered by adding mediums. There is no evidence older artists used that much medium, and it is easily overused.

The downside of all of this is that all of this will take a great degree of patience and work. Smashing up rocks and grinding pigments is always going to be time consuming. Some historic pigments are highly toxic. It will take a bit of time to become comfortable making paint, and will require additional skill. The final quality of the product will also rest on your shoulders. Bad raw materials will produce bad results. Even if it seems daunting, I would encourage all artists to give it a try.

About Lead White

2010-07-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

Lead white is one of the oldest artificial pigments in the artists's palette. It is also arguably the greatest pigment in the history of oil painting, used by humanity for thousands of years.

Lead was once the only decent white available to oil painters. The last century witnessed the introduction of alternatives, first zinc white, then titanium white. The result is that its use has declined significantly. Now that there are alternatives, why would we want to still use lead?

We are only beginning to understand the complex chemistry of paints, and conservation scientists have noted that paintings with lots of lead in them are usually in much better shape than their counterparts. In some cases, parts of a painting with lead are the ONLY areas still in good shape. The consensus is that lead is strengthening the structure of paintings. By contrast, the Smithsonian has recently completed a 30 year study linking the use of zinc white to major cracking, disintegration and delamination of modern paintings.

The great downside of lead is its toxicity. Even small exposures will accumulate in the body over time. Lead poisoning was noted even in ancient times, but little was ever done. Most of the risk wasn't to artists but to the individuals exposed to lead during its production. Little protection was available to workers and they were exposed to large amounts of lead as a result. Thousands would have died in this pursuit. One 1884 source I found suggests most of the lead factory workers were women. These and other concerns lead to its decline. Over the past fifty years developed countries have highly regulated its use. The day may come when its use is banned completely.

It came as a surprise to me during my research to learn that modern lead white is not the same as it once was. From Roman times up through part of the 20th century, the best lead was made with the Dutch "Stack" process. Below is an illustration of how this was done:

Note: Lead is highly toxic. I would NOT recommended trying this process on your own, it is not worth the risk.

Lead white is basic Lead Carbonate. Alchemists discovered a simple way to make this successfully using lead, vinegar and manure.

First Vinegar is added to the base of clay pots. Special pots would have been made for this purpose.

Curled sheets of lead are placed inside the pots, with a spacer in between them and the lead, so that only the rising vapors will contact the metal.

Fresh horse manure was collected from Dutch breed horses, for added authenticity. This was mixed with leaves and filled in around the pots. The pots would have been placed in a special sealed building, in many rows of stacks. The "Stack" is where the process gets its name . I used a large plastic container.

The vinegar vapors contain acetic acid, that chemically corrodes the lead, forming lead acetate. The decaying manure releases carbon dioxide and moisture, which reacts with the acetate making lead carbonate and lead hydroxide. It also generates heat that speeds the process along. It will take several months for the conversion to take place.

The box after two weeks. A significant amount of white has already been produced.

Over a month has passed, and the process is mostly complete. The lead can now be removed, coming off in large flakes. This is where the traditional name "Flake White" comes from. I ground and washed the lead, to remove impurities.

It appears the raw lead I used had copper impurities in it. These were washed out as much as possible.

The pigment was left under the sun several days to dry.

At this point, the lead white was ready to be sold as is or mixed for paint.

Lead produced in this manner has unique properties that are highly desirable for artists. Under the microscope it's particles are larger than modern lead whites. This makes it more opaque and gives it special handling qualities in oil. Lead acetate and other impurities accelerate its drying.

Stack lead white is nearly extinct. One of the only companies I know that still sells lead produced this way is Natural Pigments.

A New Sketch

2010-07-05T09:27:00.000-07:00

A quick tree sketch.

This tree has always caught my attention passing by the side of the road. Mostly by its gnarly surface. I had a bit of vine charcoal left over from my discarded pigment experiments, that I hadn't ground up. Charcoal made from willow was once said to be the best, and I can see why. It has a wonderful forgiving nature and goes on smoothly.

More Colors

2010-06-30T10:52:00.000-07:00

I've been pretty busy testing my scratch-made palette. Here is an example of an experimental picture I did the other week.

In anticipation of painting full time again, my focus has shifted more towards refining the colors I've already made. This is a process with virtually no end. While it requires a lot of patience, its also fun. I feel a little like an archaeologist or treasure hunter. I've been doing a lot of map reading, research, talking to geologists, and driving around filling little baggies with material. Here are a couple recent finds.

I took a road trip to a geologic formation that I suspected might contain quality yellow clays. It was exciting to find this sample.

Mixed with oil, this yielded a deep, golden ochre. This brought back memories of a great color I used back in Italy, named Roman Ochre.

I feel the red ochre I've been using so far is not what I want it to be. Most of the red clays I've been able to find in my state are a little too orange for my tastes. Before I stopped using this color, I decided to try an experiment.

The ochres and other clays get their color from the Iron Oxides contained within them. Iron Oxides are normally a rusty red color. These clays become lighter in color when they bond chemically with water, becoming Hydrated Iron Oxide. Yellow Ochre is an example of this.

If a lighter clay is heated, the water will be released, and the clay will become red again. This occurs in nature, and is also done in paint production. Artists colors of this type are designated by the "burnt" label in the name. An example is Burnt Sienna.

My experiment consisted of trying to do the same at home. I put my red ochre in a crucible, covered it in foil, and placed it inside the family's wood oven.

I watched as the color became more and more red. After several hours, the change seemed to have stopped, so I removed it and let it cool off.

A side by side comparison. The image on the left is the pigment before it was heated. As you can see on the right, the pigment has become much much redder. It still has an orange undertone. I would consider my experiment a success.

Building a Canvas Part II

2010-06-22T13:40:00.000-07:00

The frame complete, I stretched my canvas. It is important to not stretch it very tightly, like one would normally do when working with pre-primed material. This is because the glue size, when applied, will take up the slack and tighten the canvas significantly.

I used copper tacks on this frame, nailed into the backside.

Next I heated up some rabbit-skin glue I had prepared in advance. Instead of using a hot pot, this time I tried heating up the glue by soaking the jar in a sink full of hot water. Someone recommended trying this method as the gentlest way to prepare size. Heat gradually weakens the strength of rabbit-skin glue over time, and overheating it can destroy it altogether. So this should provide a stronger glue and reduce the chance of accidentally weakening it. I didn't know going in how well this would work, but after about ten minutes in the sink, the glue turned liquid like it was supposed to.

I applied two coats of size. I made sure that the coats were complete and deeply penetrated the weave of the canvas. The next day, I could start the oil priming.

For this project I'm trying out the lead oil ground from Williamsburg Artist Materials. It comes premixed, so it just needs to be thinned before it can be applied. Its better to apply a few very light coats rather than one large one. The proper consistency is like a light cream.

I applied two coats in all. Then I looked over the whole canvas for missed areas, and reapplied more primer until I was satisfied I had good coverage.

Building a Canvas

2010-06-14T11:03:00.000-07:00

I just finished a building a large canvas for a commission. The next few posts will catalog the process of making one from scratch.

The main challenge I had in this project was finding suitable wood. The longest dimension was 50 inches, as specified by the client. When I build stretchers, I like to use well-seasoned older softwoods. Older wood was usually grown more slowly than the modern farmed variety. This makes it stronger and more dimensionally stable. Using it often involves reclaiming wood, sometimes reusing planks from old houses or furniture.

I wasn't able to find anything suitable at first in my collection, so I reluctantly went out and bought commercial lumber. Despite very carefully selecting the straightest pieces I could find, and letting them sit for several weeks, they started warping and bowing severely before I could even put the frame together. This was discouraging.

Luckily, I discovered a long plank of softwood, hiding in the rafters. This board was probably older than me, and well seasoned. Even after machining, only one board changed. I went ahead and ripped it into 1 x 2 size boards.

If a stretcher was made with regular 1 x 2 boards alone, the canvas would not wrap neatly around the inside edge. Commercial stretchers usually have a raised outer edge, rounded on the inside. This holds the canvas gently above the rest of the frame. Doing it this way myself would require complicated routing. An easy way to accomplish the same thing is to buy pieces of quarter-round molding and attach them to the edges of each frame bar. The one I like to use is not true quarter round, it is slightly wider on one side. The is called a base shoe.

The base shoe being glued in place. In woodworking. one can never have enough clamps!

The frame was built with mitered corners. Because of the size, several cross braces were added along with corner braces. Each bar used an alternate face, so if warping does occur, there may be some cancellation effect. It is not a good idea to rely on glue alone to hold a frame together, so all joints were reinforced with screws.

The finished stretcher lies in waiting on the canvas, cut to size.

In the final installment, I will stretch the canvas, size and prime it.

Magnetite

2010-05-28T09:57:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, a friend and I got permission to go collecting at a local beach. We were looking for a mineral called magnetite. Magnetite is a type of iron oxide, one of the most important iron ores found on the planet. It can also be used to make black paint.

Concentrated by the waves, deposits of magnetite make up the bands of black sand commonly found along the beach.

As the name suggests, magnetite is very strongly attracted by magnets. So all my friend and I had to do to collect it was find a spot along the beach with a large deposit, and drag a strong magnet along the surface. We filled a small bag.

A small amount of beach sand did get picked up in the process, that I would want to remove. In order to filter the sand out, I added the magnetite to a bowl of water, and dragged a magnet through it.

The magnetite went straight for the magnet, leaving behind mostly sand on the bottom. This was dumped out. I repeated the process several more times until I was confident I had removed most of the sand.

The magnetite was relatively hard to grind into a fine powder.

It had a glittery sparkle, that got finer as I ground the pigment, but never totally went away.

Magnetite mixed with oil, on the underside of the glass muller.

A Test

2010-05-07T13:25:00.000-07:00

The other day, I went out to test my new palette of pigments on a bit of scrap canvas. The subject is a familiar one, a farm that's also featured on the banner of this blog.

The picture was mostly done as a one day oil-sketch, however the blue and green sections consist of thin layers gradually built up over the course of a week. This is how azurite and malachite are best applied.

The colors are mostly to my satisfaction. I'm looking forward to starting a real picture soon.

Green Earth

2010-04-30T11:01:00.000-07:00

Green earth or terre verte is another historic earth pigment. It has been in continuous use for thousands of years, particularly for Medieval wall paintings.

Green earth is an iron oxide pigment. It derives its green color from the addition of complex silicates, such as celadonite and glauconite. The exact color of green varies based on the different proportion of these minerals. The best varieties are mined from Italy. I could have bought the imported color, but I wanted to find a local source. What I never expected, was that my source of this color would end up being fertilizer!

My mother, an avid gardener, suggested I look at a bag of fertilizer she had just purchased. The bag was full of Greensand, a natural product made for organic gardening.

At first I was a little skeptical, so I put the idea aside. I made a mental note to revisit it at some point. A little research and a consultation with a geologist friend gave me the answer I was looking for. Greensand is mostly glauconite, a version of green earth. I went ahead and prepared a sample.

I prepared the green earth exactly the same way as the other earth pigments. I washed the sandy powder. Then I levigated it, collecting only the silt, and set it out on a plate to dry.

The finished pigment. This variety is more of an olive, pistachio variety of green, at least without oil.

I recently bought a new palette. I put on several coats of linseed oil and let it dry.

These are all of the colors I've made so far.

Making Azurite

2010-04-19T19:53:00.000-07:00

Azurite is a blue copper mineral, directly related to malachite. They are nearly identical chemically, only very small but important differences make for the color difference. The two minerals are similar enough that they can often be found surrounding each other in the same rock. In fact, given enough time, azurite would eventually become malachite if left alone in nature.

Nowadays its easy to take for granted the large selection of blue pigments at our disposal. Several hundred years ago choices would have been more limited. Azurite was the cheapest and most available mineral source. It was for the same reasons I chose to make my first blue from azurite.

The color of azurite varies considerably, depending on how it is ground. When it is coarsely ground, like a fine sand, it is a very deep, royal blue. The finer it is ground, the paler it becomes. Painters could choose to take advantage of this quality. To make my pigment, I used the same levigation technique as I did with malachite. This would provide me with several different particle sizes.

The azurite as purchased. This was a nice sample. It was easily ground into a coarse powder.

I added the dilute egg yolk solution.

I decanted the mix a few times into separate bowls. The bottom bowl is leftover. The discolored gray appearance is due to impurities.

I poured off the rest of the liquid, removing most of the impurities. You can really see here how the color of azurite varies depending on how fine the grind is.

I repeated the refinement process several more times, regrinding the powder slightly finer each time.

Update: I was having some problems with the egg-yolk solution. Separating the finest particles from the leftover protein was difficult. I've switched from using egg yolk to a casein solution. I made a textbook tempera casein solution and let it sit overnight. The next day I highly diluted the mixture and then used it to levigate freshly ground azurite.

This change has allowed me to separate the smallest particles much more easily, with less waste. I was surprised by the beautiful new purity of color I was able to achieve.

Malachite

2010-04-04T19:06:00.000-07:00

I don't normally use a green in my palette. In the past, I've made my greens by mixing yellow and blue together. So I thought it would be fun to make a new color, and try out some new preparation techniques at the same time.

The Old Masters would have had limited sources of green pigments. Bright greens would have been derived from copper. Malachite is a mineral form of basic copper carbonate. A cheaper synthetic copper green, known as verdigris, was widely used as well. This was made by tarnishing copper. A sheet of copper was placed inside a jar full of vinegar. The green that formed on the surface could be scraped off and ground into a pigment. Verdigris is considered inferior to the natural mineral, so I chose not to use it.

Malachite has a blueish-green color, very similar to the patina one finds on copper metal left outdoors.

Malachite is lightfast, but sensitive to the acids found in oil paint. This fact has lead many experts to not recommend its use. However, it's well preserved in many Old Master paintings, so there is reason to believe that some of these concerns may be misplaced. There is evidence that in more well-preserved pictures, copper pigments were coated with some kind of protein. This protein formed a protective barrier around the pigment particles that stabilized them. I came across a treatment along similar lines developed by the artist Michael Price, and decided to try it.

The basic technique is a process known as levigation. It takes advantage of the fact that larger particles are heavier and settle more quickly in water than smaller ones. You add water to the pigment, stir the mixture , and then pour off the contents. The larger particles settle quickly and are left behind, the finer go with the water. With this method, one can separate a pigment into a whole range of different particle sizes. In practice, its difficult to get a very precise separation.

By adding protein, we are able to make this method more effective. The source of our protein will be a solution of eggyolk and water.

The malachite is first crushed into a coarse powder in a mortar and pestle. This powder is washed in water several times, then allowed to dry. Malachite is moderately toxic, so I always wear gloves, a respirator, and work outside on calm days.

Crushed malachite being washed in water.

I prepared the water/egg mix.

I slowly added the mix into the malachite and stirred them together.

You can see desired effect as I tilt the bowl. The larger particles have settled to the bottom.

The liquid is then poured off into another bowl, leaving the sediment at the bottom.

The process is continued over and over again, creating more and more bowls full of finer and finer particles. They are left to dry.

After they had dried, I went back and reground the coarsest pigment again.

The malachite is ground on a marble slab with a muller. This was followed by more protein treatment. I ended up repeating the whole process over again three times.

I'm very satisfied with the final color. I feel it was worth all of the work in the end.

Making Walnut Oil

2010-03-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

The Old Masters would have ground most of their own pigments, or in the case of the more successful ones-had assistants do the work them. Along with this they would have had an intricate knowledge of the best ways to prepare each pigment. They could maximize the brilliance and longevity of each color.

Some of the mineral pigments that I'm preparing to make are better suited to different binding mediums. The linseed oil that I've used to mix most of my paints is not really compatible with these colors. So this week I started preparing some walnut oil.

The process is the same as for preparing linseed oil. The walnut oil will need to be cleansed of natural contaminants before I can use it. I will do this using water and sunlight.

Here is the walnut oil I'm going to be using. This is a decent California brand, bought from the grocery store.

I added distilled water into the oil, shook the mixture thoroughly, and left it out under the sun.

I waited about 3 days. The water and oil have separated. The mucilage and other contaminants are trapped in between the two.

Here's a close up shot. The layer of mucilage is really visible here.

Yuck. A top down shot that really shows the mucilage well. It has already discolored noticeably from only a few days in the sun. This would be a major contributor to yellowing and other discoloration in a painting if not first removed.

I very carefully removed the oil from the top using a pipette. The oil is noticeably clearer now than before. I will repeat the process several more times until I'm satisfied I've gotten it clean.

Piepstone Red

2010-03-18T11:13:00.000-07:00

A small update - I've searched for alternatives to the Red Jasper, and found one in the form of Minnesota Pipestone.

This sandstone was traditionally used by Native Americans as a carving stone for making pipes. This is where it got its name. While I don't find the color as pretty as the Jasper, I can certainly say that it is easier to grind.

It was also significantly cheaper. Another bonus.

The old porcelain mortal and pestle I had been using was straining to keep up. It finally split into pieces. So I went out and got a new stone model that seems to work much better.

Initially, I was disappointed in this color, it didn't seem to handle much better than the Jasper. Part of my theory about the problems I was having was that I wasn't grinding the pigments properly. I thought that the powder was too coarse, this was making it hard for the pigment to bind well.

I went back and ground it again and this was a big improvement.

Red Jasper and Sodalite

2010-03-15T10:07:00.000-07:00

Making paints from natural clays is relatively easy, which is why I chose to begin my project with them. At some point, I knew that I would have to move on to grinding other materials, including minerals. So I've spent a lot of time doing research. Some jewels are relatively easy to find and cheap. I've bought small samples that were historically used as paints to try out.

My work began with Red Jasper:

I'm crushing everything slowly by hand. Jasper is relatively hard, so this was time consuming. I broke the large pieces with pliers, then ground with the mortar and pestle until I had a fine powder.

A pretty nice, deep red color. The Jasper mixed relatively well into a paste with oil:

I tried out some of the Jasper the other day. I wasn't pleased with its handling qualities in paint. It was very gritty in texture and did not seem to bind well with the oil. I've set this color aside.

The next color I tried out was Sodalite. It was much easier to crush than the Jasper.

As I crushed the rock, the color went from a dark Navy-blue, to a light blue-gray. The color also didn't combine well with oil. Cross another one off the list.

Both colors were added to my color chart.

A Quick Update

2010-03-09T11:18:00.000-08:00

The color production goes on-here's a quick update:

A great, intense orange red clay found at a construction site. I collected a few jars...

The silt separated, the color shifted. Less red, and much more orange.

Now dry, I ground the pigment.

And the final color mixed with oil:

2010-03-06T08:24:00.000-08:00

Buoyed from the success of my first efforts, I have continued to work on creating more pigments from scratch. My goal is to have hand-made historic pigments to match or replace everything I currently use on my palette. The only important requirement is that they should be permanent colors. I would like to avoid the highly toxic pigments.

Why not simply buy these colors? There is a niche industry that can still supply them. However, most historic pigments made today are also prepared using modern equipment. These pigments are extremely finely, uniformly ground. These colors lack the unique look and handling qualities of hand made paint.

I have reason to believe that natural hand-ground pigments are much of what made the Old Master's work special. Is it any coincidence that the great search for the "Secrets of the Old Masters" began about the same time modern synthetic tube paints appeared? I don't think so.

For example, people have been analyzing the work of Rembrandt now for over a century, trying to unlock his "magic." Efforts to recreate his style with modern materials fall flat. This has led to claims he employed special mediums, magic elixirs that allowed him to render in a way that is not possible today. Chemical analysis has never shown anything special, yet some continue to persist. I believe it a simple combination of genius and a mastery of the materials used.

Moving on from black, I approached the next set of "easy" colors, the natural earth pigments.

Some clay gathered from the back of our property. The iron minerals in the clay are what gives it its color. To make a pigment, I need to filter it and collect only the smallest particles of clay. I've worked out a method similar to what was done historically to prepare my own.

Some tools of the trade. My first order of business was to sift out organics and really coarse particles. Then I washed what was left over repeatedly with water, passing it between many jars quickly, to collect only the lightest, finest clay particles.

It probably sounds a lot more complicated than it was. The whole process only took about an hour.

I set aside the full jar for a couple hours. The fine silt settled to the bottom. Then I drained the water away, and can set the clay out to dry.

Here is some yellow clay I'm drying to make yellow ochre.

The clay after several days of drying.

I scraped it off and ground the final pigment.

The final color, mixed with oil. I've created a large chart to record all of my different pigments. This way I can also compare and reference the different earth colors as I make them.

Vine Black

2010-03-04T10:59:00.000-08:00

Artists have made black pigments from a huge variety of sources. The majority have been the by product of burning or charring some material. Probably the earliest pigment ever made, is Vine black. Made from charcoal, it is seen on the walls of famous cave paintings close to 20,000 years old.

This will be the first pigment I've ever made from scratch. I researched how vine black was made in the past. I would need to collect some wood and heat it, but cut off most of the oxygen so that it would char, not burn. To do this, I made a crucible by lining the inside of a flower pot with foil. I read that willow is supposed to make the best charcoal. So I gathered and cut up some thin branches, put them in the crucible and covered the top. I put this in our wood stove.

Twigs of willow in the crucible, ready to go into the fire.

The willow out of the fire. I tried a piece out, it makes excellent drawing charcoal!

Onto grinding. Once my charcoal was ground, I washed it in water. Wood ashes contain potash, which lye is made from. This should remove most of it. Once the charcoal was dry again, I did a final grinding.

The finished pigment.

Sizing Canvas

2010-03-02T09:24:00.000-08:00

My adventure into traditional materials begins with the foundation the picture rests upon. Up until recently, I had been using quality pre-primed canvas. Interested friends and family had tried to convince me for years to try sizing and priming canvas myself. I finally decided to try it.

Linseed oil is acidic. If it were to come into contact with raw canvas, left on its own it would destroy it. So it will need to be sealed somehow before the primer. For thousands of years the traditional material was some kind of glue, made from animal hides. Artists felt the best kind was rabbit skin-glue. Here is the process:

A bag of glue I got on a recent trip abroad. The dry glue will usually come in the form of a powder or granules like this.

To make a size, I will need to mix the glue with water under heat.

You want a nice, steady controllable heat to make decent glue. Ideally, it should be around 130 degrees F. Boiling the glue will weaken it. There are a lot of different ways to do this...

Someone recommended a hotpot. I bought an inexpensive adjustable model.

Here you can see the mix in the pot under heat. All I need to do is stir occasionally until the glue has totally dissolved. Once the glue has mixed thoroughly, I can remove it from the heat and let it cool off. As the glue cools, it will harden into a smooth gel.

Here is the size now that it has cooled off. Getting the mix so the glue is just right can involve a bit trial and error.

The little spot in the middle is where I have tested the feel of the glue with my finger. If it feels loose and wobbly, I know that the mix is too weak, I will reheat it and add more glue. If it is more like a hard gel I will reheat and add more water. Then I will let if cool off and test it again...

To apply size to the canvas, I will need to reheat it again into a liquid. Here I am stirring the size under heat.

Once the size goes on, an amazing thing happens. The canvas tightens like the head of a drum. So I don't have to do much stretching beforehand, it does much of the work for me.

Once the size has dried, I'm ready to prime. I use an oil primer on canvas since its a flexible support. The canvas will need to cure for several months before use. I try to plan my projects around this downtime the best I can, so that I'm never without fresh canvas.

2010-02-23T09:43:00.000-08:00

I'm going to take a step away from my paintings for awhile on this blog. I was feeling things were getting a little stale, and there are several new avenues I want to explore and experiment with. For the time being, I'm going to be focusing on improving the materials I use.

Artists can never focus enough on materials. Most of us hope our pictures will endure at least as long as the works we see in museums, that are still giving pleasure to folks all over the world after hundreds of years. The art materials industry is full of reassurances, that the materials they sell are the best yet. Many of these products have not yet stood the test of time. Some notable works less than fifty years old are already falling apart.

Some conservators have come out against the use of many older materials. They argue that a lot of what artists traditionally relied upon was inferior; they had no choice in many cases. The results: fading and shift of colors, cracking, etc. There is some truth to this. Some of the colors were impermanent. Others were very poisonous. Some were so rare and expensive only the most successful artists could afford to use them.

Nonetheless, I've decided to use more traditional materials, producing as much of them as I can. It will be a lot more work, but its the only way to ensure I know exactly what's going into what I use. Here's a case in point:

This is the reverse side of a painting done by my brother about 20 years ago. He primed the raw canvas with a modern acrylic "gesso", made by a reputable company. As you can see, the oil from the paint has penetrated through the primer, into the raw canvas. The acidic oil will slowly eat away at the canvas until it disintegrates.

Next time, I will talk about my efforts to size and prime my canvases using traditional materials and methods.

Winter Morning

2010-01-03T14:11:00.000-08:00

Morning, Queen's Creek
Oil on Canvas 20" x 14"
This painting is available. Contact me.

I live on the flat coastal plain, surrounded by the expanding wide mouths of rivers. This is where salt and fresh waters meet, flowing along towards the ocean. The tidal marsh and swamp are ubiquitous-all have their moments. As long as I am here, I will continue to experiment with capturing their magic.

Autumn and Fall

2009-12-01T11:22:00.000-08:00

Stream, Late October
Oil on Canvas 9" x 12"

This painting is available. Contact me.

"Autumn is a second spring, when every leaf's a flower."
-Albert Camus

Nature in transition. My favorite times of year are not the long expanses of hot/cold in the summer and winter, but the seasons in between. For each brief transition, the world is full of changes. This period takes its course, a new equilibrium is met, and we go into a long expanse of sameness.

I wanted to revisit several spots I had painted in the summer, but had mixed feelings about. A different season can put a totally new spin on things. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this piece. This year's fall came early and was unusually short. Fall felt like it ended before it got started. I feel this may be reflected in my pictures.

Sketches

2009-11-23T11:06:00.000-08:00

I think the topic of sketching isn't discussed often enough. I devoted a day last week to doing sketches, so this post is in its honor.

I've yet to meet someone who didn't sketch, even people without artistic "talent." What do most sketches have in common? They're very quick, often informal, and the focus is not so much on results. As an artist, the danger is not doing enough of them. I certainly fall into this trap sometimes. One can get too caught up in churning out paintings. The artist's technique becomes tight: they lose playfulness and spontaneity. Sketching is just the quickest and purist drawing one can make. Every artist, no matter how skilled or experienced, also needs to brush up on drawing from time to time.

Many artists are reluctant to share their sketches with others. They can be intensely personal. A lot of times they are embarrassed or worried about being judged. I'm going to share with you two quick sketches I did of a church downtown. These were done with charcoal and white pencil. I limited myself to only a short period of time to make a complete statement. I'm not sure what I will do with these. Maybe I will use one to make a painting. Maybe it will simply be a record I can revisit later on. Or maybe it will do nothing but sit in the sketchbook. This is part of the fun of sketching.

2009-11-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

The Marina
Oil on Canvas 24" x 16"
This painting is available. Contact me.

Last week there was another full moon, and as always, I went out to try my hand at another nocturne. In the past, my nocturnes have been highly improvised. I would wait until the moon was well developed and shone brightly in the sky. Then I would jump into the car and search the area until I found a particularly brilliant spot to capture. This time, I had a plan in my head before I started.

Recently, I've been moving towards more formal compositions in my work. Laying out the perspective with a ruler in the dark was an interesting experience. I thought a marina woud be a perfect place to highlight the moon. I've spent a little time around boats and marinas, and I always found them very relaxing places to be. The cool breeze and gentle calm of the water is very peaceful. I tried to capture that feeling in this piece.

Finished

2009-10-16T11:54:00.000-07:00

The Forest
Oil on Canvas 24" x 16"
This painting is available. Contact me.

Status Update

2009-10-09T12:31:00.001-07:00

Here's a small update on the status of my forest painting, which I was able to work on a few more days. This picture is taking on a more literal, technical feel than I perhaps envisioned at first. There is always a tug of war going on behind the scenes, between the urge to bombard the viewer with detail, and to hold back and perhaps be more subtle. A highly-detailed technically polished piece can be very impressive and highlight an artist abilities. It can also reduce a pictures ability to express and communicate a specific emotion or idea. I try to make my pictures mysterious, and quite often that is more about what I choose to highlight and leave out of my pictures.

This picture has been a combination of different techniques. In some places I've wiped down lighter areas, in others begun to apply thicker paint. I've oiled out the darkest areas in the shadow of the foreground, and will mostly leave those alone now. The finishing touches on this piece will be to push the contrast higher, especially the trees in the background that are obscured by shadow.

Making Sun-Thickened Linseed Oil

2009-10-06T08:13:00.000-07:00

Linseed oil is made from the seeds of the flax plant. It is the strongest of the drying oils suitable for oil painting. Oil is extracted from the seeds under extremely high heat and pressure. The oil is then refined using strong alkali chemicals. The process is cheap, has high yields, and is done on a massive scale by a few large producers. Most commercial artist's paints are made from this oil.

The traditional process of making oil was far different. It was cold pressed and purified without harsh chemicals, usually just water. The process was slow and had lower yields, so it was long ago abandoned by industry.

I began making my own linseed oil the older way several years ago. It is not difficult, only time-consuming. I buy only organic cold-pressed flaxseed oil. an edible health supplement. The oil should be unrefined, and not have any additives. Before the oil can be used, it should be filtered of impurities.

I pour the oil into glass jars about an inch high. Distilled water is added to the oil and the contents are shaken so that they are thoroughly mixed.

The closed jars are placed to sit under the sun for several days. Our roof has a nice flat shelf to one side, so I put my oil up there.

The oil and water will eventually separate. Impurities such as mucilage become trapped in the boundary layer between the water and oil. I carefully remove the oil off of the top. I filtered this batch about three times over.

Properly cleansed, the oil is placed out in the sun again. I pour the oil into small bowls, place them in an old box, and cover it with glass. I've put little spacers between the glass and box so that air can circulate inside easily.

The sun will oxidize the oil, so that it becomes thicker and will dry faster. How long this goes on is up to individual preference. A month is typically required during the summer to get a thick oil. Every day I remove the glass and stir the oil, so that no dry film can form on the surface

The finished product is crystal clear, and has been bleached by the sun to a pale, straw-color. I'm still amazed at how simple and effective this process is. Used in a painting medium, the oil will dry in a few days, versus weeks for the typical store bought variety.

That's Better

2009-10-01T09:43:00.000-07:00

Here is the second attempt, a few days into the start. When its finished, this painting will highlight the stream of light through the forest at that magical hour. I have to admit, this piece has been challenging. The magical hour really only lasts an hour, so I have to work quickly, rely on instinct and memory. I've had to revise and move around several elements to improve the composition.

Here's some background on my technique. I usually start the picture with an outline, done in thin washes of earth color. I mark down where I want the trees to go, and the ground level. Then I go in and quickly fill the rest of the picture. At this stage its just a mass of light green for the tree cover in the background.

It's better to fill the canvas completely early on, even if its wrong, than wait until later. Everything is interactive. It's far easier to see mistakes when comparing a full canvas to nature. rather than a blank one.

The picture will grow and develop organically over the days and weeks it is worked on. It will gradually be layered with thicker and thicker paint. Areas that I've deliberately kept soft will be selectively sharpened. The trick is doing this in a way that keeps everything cohesive, yet still interesting.

A Bad Day

2009-09-25T13:44:00.001-07:00

No, this isnt a new direction or my latest masterpiece. This is an example of what I do when inevitably a painting goes bad. Not all artists agree on what to do in this situation. Some people I know would attempt to "power through" a bad first day. On occasion I do this and sometimes it works. It can also mean a lot of time wasted away picking away at little problems. Nowadays, more often if things don't come together on the first day, the painting gets "the treatment."

Here's yesterdays bad start, on the ground, having just been doused in turpentine and wiped clean. A little extra color tint has been applied on top. I'll give this one a little rest, and start anew.

2009-09-23T08:14:00.000-07:00

The Law Office
Oil on Canvas 24" x 16"
This painting is available. Contact me.

This picture began as a nocturne–I went out under the full moon with completely different plans, and ended up in front of some law offices downtown.

Some otherwise nondescript buildings are transformed as they recede into the night. There's an air of mystery surrounding them: only the remaining lights tell us there is a building there at all. I've found this effect very flattering in all of the cities I've been to. On a sunny day I would have passed these buildings by.

As an experimental picture, I'm encouraged by the results. I played around with the placement of the lights to make it most effective, and learned a lot about glazing to get the color of the lights against the dark. I'm definitely going to revisit this type of picture in the future.

2009-09-16T08:06:00.000-07:00

The Fallen Tree
Oil on Canvas 10" x 12"
This painting is available. Contact me.

It's often difficult to explain how I choose my subjects. Sometimes, all of the work has been done for me and all I have to do is capture it with some feeling. Other times only a particular object, a clump of trees, a building, a sky on a particular day will stand out, the rest I have to improvise.
I was riding my bike through the woods and this particular spot leapt out at me. This oil study is to prepare for a much larger forest painting.

2009-09-09T13:14:00.000-07:00

Storm on James
Oil on Canvas 14" x 10"
This painting is available. Contact me.

This picture is one of my first storm paintings. Ever since I was a kid, I've been fascinated by the weather. I still love to watch thunderstorms build, from a safe distance of course! Painting them from life in real time is a considerable challenge. This summer storm was fast approaching from the south, I was able to catch it from the other side of the James River. About an hour later, all hell broke loose.