Seven Steps to Paint the Perfect Portrait

After a dozen classes regarding painting portraits, I've come to some conclusions.

If you've looked at some of my paintings from those classes, you've probably drawn some conclusions, as well.

Not to be dissuaded by any of those thoughts, know that I will not be stopped.

In fact, I am more determined than ever to conquer this topic and herein present my list of seven steps that will bring one success in the art of painting a picture so that it looks like the person whose painting you are trying to do, even if I'm tempted to poke out my eyes with my paint brush handle.

Here you see, from top to bottom, class #1, #2 and #3, as you study my guidelines.  One more class to go with this one!

1.  Determine whose picture you want to paint.  (It will help if they have just one eye,  a very small nose and can keep their mouth shut the whole time you're working on the painting so that you don't have to worry about all of those teeth!)  Being bald solves a lot of issues, too, or at least a band of cloth of some sort to wrap around their head that covers most of the hair, eyebrows, forehead and ears is a blessing!

2.  Determine just to paint their face.  The more you can stay away from clothing and arms and hands and feet, the less you have to fret about.  Also, if they can comb their hair over their ears, you won't have to spend a lot of time trying to figure out all of the ins and outs of ear canals and lobes and, heaven help us, those ornate earrings that belonged to a Victorian great-aunt or great-grandmother.

3.  Let the person who is sitting for their portrait know that they have to sit completely still for eight to ten hours.  Some studios and class settings allow for breaks for the sitter every twenty minutes or so, but I find that about the time the break is called is when I've just decided to finish a freckle or add an eyebrow.  Better they bulk up ahead of time and just sit for the whole thing.  I may take a break, but I don't want them to move from the preassigned spot...once they move, some tend to come back and face a completely different way.  Too confusing.

4.  Remember, you're not painting a face.  You're not painting a nose.  You're not painting and eye.  You're painting shapes and shadows and highlights and tone and value and color and texture, and you're capturing mood and expression and probably twisting your back and your arm and your neck into contortions that will lead to sore muscles and a headache, and an overwhelming thought that having taken a photo would have been less trouble and more satisfying!

5.  You are going to want to pose them in that antique chair, the one with all of the animal carvings and intricate shapes and designs.  Do yourself a favor...put a white sheet over the whole thing. If you have any thoughts of painting any part of it, don't.  Draping is so much more effective and you can cover that area in one or two brush strokes that way, rather than spending the remaining years of your life trying to get that darned antler armrest to look like what it should be instead of a piece of deer scat.

6.  Let the instructor, or other class member who paints better than you, take over your brush at any time they are available.  Just nod your head up and down a lot as they guide you through the finish.  If they look like they are going to stop and give you back the brush, ask questions quickly.  "What would you do with that eye?" Or, "Do you see any problem with the forehead?"  About twenty questions should do the trick.  The last question could be, "Do you know of a good place to buy a frame for this?"  They might have one in the trunk of their car!

7.  Once done, hide the painting for about seven years.  It'll give it time to dry and the sitter will appreciate the fact that, once they do see it, they look younger.


In the meantime, go back to landscapes and seascapes...you know, where trees and waves and rocks and weeds all look the same.              

Eye Caramba!

Portrait #1

I know I promised a look at the final product of my first portrait painting class a while ago, but I keep having problems with my eyes!

Not my own eyes, my eyes that I paint on the pictures.

It's not easy.  Seems they have shape and volume.  I thought they were mostly saline solution!

And then I got confused when our instructor noted that we don't see the eye's orbit, but have to remember it in order to draw them correctly!

"Orbit," I blurted out, "my eyes go around in my head?"

She was quick to answer, "In your head, most likely yes!  In the heads of others, they have an orbital shape and you  have to draw and paint them with that shape and space in mind."

Art is becoming difficult.

Once I was happy to draw and paint.  Now, I have to study anatomy and phrenology just to get someones face on canvas!  The next thing you know they'll be telling me that everyone's eyes are different and that will be too many things for me to think about!

I got so engrossed in  painting eyes that I forgot to post that last painting and actually went on to do another.

Portrait #2 Value Study

Yes, the second one had different eyes.

You see, she was turned to the side, so one only has face on one side of one eye.

And, while the eyes in the first painting are mainly straight on and have face on each side of them, the woman in the second painting is looking away from me (what's that about?) and now I have to look for the side of the eye that protrudes from her face....yuck!

The last time I remember someones eye protruding from their face was when an ice fisherman on my hometown lake pulled a line out of the ice hole too fast and the hook snagged one of his orbits!


Fortunately for him, his brother was there and, within a few minutes, cut that thing out with a pair of pliers.  He was back fishing in no time.

So, all of this time has gone past and I didn't even show you the processes for "Portrait #2."

We were told that this one was going to be a study in gray.  It's called a value composition.  I had no sooner started when our instructor told me that she thought I had great value on my canvas.  "Really," I remarked!  "I've just started it, how much do you think I could get?"

She just shook her head and walked away.

I continued to paint.  The instructor returned and told me to add some color to it.  "I thought we were painting in shades of gray?"

She replied, "Your painting needs help, some color might just do it."

"A few minutes ago," I added, "you said this was a valuable painting.  Now you think it needs help?"

She walked away again.

Above, to the left, "Portrait #2, Study in Gray, with some pinks, reds, greens, yellows, and blues."

Almost done here.

Portrait #3

Portrait #3 was started last week and I did remember to snap a photo of it so you can see it as it develops.  Here it is to the right.

For this one I decided to paint more of the subject and added the upper body and hands!

Silly me, I wasn't having enough fun with eyes...I had to add hands and fingers and fingernails...just shoot me.

To spare you the vision of just how bad my first attempt of hands was, I cut the picture short...if these things don't pan out, I may be cutting this canvas down to postcard size!

Perhaps, "Chin, A Study!"

More next week, as this painting moves along!

Sketch a Sketch

I am in the process of re-writing my instruction  manual on sketching and am letting everyone know that I am ready for drawing classes...before you shout, "About time you took drawing lessons," this is to let you know that I will be teaching the craft.

Over the years, I've come up with a fool-proof way to teach people how to draw.  Even the most die-hard resistor, "You can't teach me to draw," came away surprised that they had a drawing in their hands that they had completed.  True story!  One student fought me tooth and nail during each class session, but once she gave into the idea of listening, it all came together.  I didn't buy it from her, but it was so good that she wanted to take it right home and put it on her
refrigerator!

Just like some other folks, I spent many childhood years wanting to draw and paint. Hours were spent on the floor of our second floor apartment studying under the watchful eye of Jon Gnagy.  Or it should be said, laying on the floor in front of the television, watching Gnagy’s art instruction shows, drawing along with him.  Here's a clip from one of his classes:

http://youtu.be/7YIRcQVkTOw 

When Jon wasn't around to provide "private" instruction, I would spend time copying all sorts of shapes, and dogs and horses, over and over out of the Gnagy drawing lesson books...I had a whole drawing set of his at one time! 
 
Following up on my desire to take art classes in high school, and perhaps from someone in person (as Gnagy was off the air by then and the books had worn out), I asked about taking art classes.  The guidance counselors directed me away from that passion, with the statement that "there isn't room in your schedule, as you need Math, English and Science courses for college.”

When I got to college, someone at the college admissions office said, "You only have Math, English and Science classes.  You need liberal arts courses!" I'm still confused.

At that time, there were two “arts” classes to pick from, "Introduction to Spanish and Spanish Culture" or "Introduction to Oil Painting."

Painting won out.  Not that I had anything against Spanish and Spanish Culture but, after studying French for seven years, I thought I had spent enough time on learning a language that no one else around me spoke.  I will wait for a moment while someone points out the merit of having thought twice about the Spanish classes!

Back at the community college, I spent several years studying with Guy Corriero, a fine oil painter and instructor, and now an AWS (American Watercolor Society) member.  A prolific artist, Corriero's works have been described as "the most colorful impressionistic watercolors anywhere."  You can see his link here on my blog page...he continues to paint many wonderful things.  I heard recently that he painted his kitchen!

Under Guy's tutelage, I learned the techniques of sketching, drawing, oil painting, watercolor painting, critique in studio, not crying when he asked you what your subject matter was, and the joys of painting plein air. 

Monhegan Island, Maine

The think about sketching is that you can do it indoors or out...Monhegan Island is a favorite art retreat for me and the groups that Guy Corriero led there over 25 years. Instruction on the island focused on seascapes, the life of a sea village and, as Guy would walk all over the island to give individual instruction to the students, learning how to let him know where you were so that he didn't run around the island all day long looking for you.

I've also painted plein air in Lyon, France, where I bought my first box of oil paints, while also studying French language, history and culture, and have painted in the Hudson Valley and upstate New York, and in Massachusetts and other areas of Maine.

I do favor the impressionistic style of painting and am fairly adept at the skills that watercolor requires. Other studies of mine included studio classes with Sylvia Springer, a fine upstate still life and portrait artist; Lee Parks, watercolorist and instructor with the Hurleyville Artist Association; James Ziegler, classically trained oil artist; several local classes in pastel, and figure drawing with School of Woodstock instructor Jon deMartin.

I've provided art instruction to individuals and groups, including art programs at Mohonk Mountain House, during “Artists Inspiration” programs, and created a very successful program for 1st graders at Kerhonkson Elementary School in the 1990's that resulted in successful watercolor training for 7-year-old students.  Along with other artists, I contributed art work of my own to the school.  The program developed with First Grade teacher Barbara Cesaratto brought varied art forms to the lives of young children, created an 'art gallery' in that school's library and a full scale outdoor display made of tiles created by the students, among other projects.  I also produced a very successful class around Native American art processes, instructing those same groups of children on how to find materials in nature to make brushes and drawing implements and painting with natural substances, such as berries and plants extracts.

Starting my career with oils, I've had many successes with the medium regarding landscapes and seascapes.  I also studied watercolor and produce an annual series of "Fall Foliage" paintings focusing on individual leaves that has proved to be very popular.

My works have hung in the Omni Building in New York City and are in many private collections across the country, and I've participated in group art shows in the Mohawk Valley and Hudson Valley, and at Mohonk Mountain House, in New Paltz.

So, here's the point.  I'm about finished with the re-write of "The Values of Sketching" and will be using it as an instructional booklet for upcoming classes, for individuals or for groups.  I am also trying to figure out how to "teach" sketching on line, via my blog...stay tuned for developments there.

In the meantime, each drawing or painting really starts with a sketch...if you have an interest, contact me and somehow we'll figure out how I can get you sketching!

A Work In Progress

One of the things that I promised my readers was a tour of a painting process.

I started a seascape back in July.

While I did post the first image of that production, and here it is again in the upper corner as a reminder, for several reasons I haven't given it as much attention as I should.

As a result, I have no updates to show. 

I was thinking about why I wasn't getting around to working on that piece and decided I should just start over and take you through the work on something different and new.

So, I grabbed a stretched canvas, pictured here on the left, and set it out in my painting space.

I had decided that I was going to do a winter scene, as there's the alluring part of leaving part of the canvas white where the brightest snow appears and it's winter so I have a lot of reference material just looking out any window.

The hardest part, some say, is putting the first line on any piece of canvas or paper.  The trepidation is that you'll ruin it right from the start or get it wrong and not know it, and it's much later on before you see where you went wrong.  That's really bad.

However, I had things to do before I could commit to time in the "studio" (not a fancy artist space, just a spare room with a futon in "couch" position) and promised to get to the art as soon as the dishes were done and the place was picked up.

Unfortunately, I left the TV on and between chores was caught up in the Today Show and the local news, but knew that I had plenty of time left in the day for creation processes.

I was on my way back to the drawing room, content that the house looked suitable for the balance of the day, when the phone rang.  It was my brother.  We talk for a few minutes almost daily, I look forward to his chats, and it's never more than 10 or 15 minutes...not a prob.

During our conversation, I was reminded that I had to go to town (remember, no sidewalks leading to interesting and useful shops within a short bipedal commute) to pick up a few necessaries, but wanted to do something productive with the canvas prior to trekking to town.

After a short chat on the phone, I headed to my art space, put the canvas up on the easel and stood back to contemplate its arrangement (horizontal or vertical, hmmm?).  I had to decide whether to focus on the trees I was thinking about highlighting or a full landscape.  I put a light wash over the whole thing, as the white of the canvas was bothering my eyes, and stood back.

While I was cogitating on wide or tall, I noticed that the room was cool and remembered that I needed to bring in more wood for the wood stove.  Didn't want to have all of the embers go out, so I turned my back on the canvas, grabbed my outdoor gloves, and brought in enough wood for the day.  The clock in the basement, where the stove is located, has one of those bird call sounds that chirp or hoot on the hour and it went off while I was stoking the fire.  "Lunch time," is what I heard.

As I hopped up the stairs, I took one more quick look at the stretched canvas to "check it out" for possibilities and it looked much like it did earlier in the day.  But, it had more possibility!  And, I liked the vertical position...stronger, I thought, than the horizontal.

I finished up my mid-day meal and then remembered the trip to town!

Out here, in the wilderness, one plans several stops to make the most of the time and effort, and I had four places to go to.  Some groceries, some gas, some house warming items (needed to put some insulation around the door opening, the cold air just seems to be rushing in), and some new windshield wiper blades and washer fluid for my wife!  Sounds simple, but it's half an hour down and back and then time for the efforts.

I got back just in time for a round of phone calls.  Seems the marketers, who aren't supposed to be calling you, call in sequence and it's one "He's not here" after another!

The insulation seemed to be a priority so I took the time to rip off the old stuff and put the new stripping in place.  After putting away the grocery items, I took my time to get the new insulation in place and, while it's not perfect, it's better than what was there.  The best thing of all, I didn't break anything else doing it...that's like a first!

I was so impressed with myself, I had to email my brother to let him know of that success.  Of course, I had other incoming email that had to be attended to.  And then, as long as I was on-line, I had to check Facebook and LinkedIn and look at my blog to see who else might have looked at it, and recheck my email (and there were more), and then remembered an update to a file I was working on.

So, it was about two hours later when I remembered my painting...or non-painting, as it was.

I took the time to go back to the room to look at it and decided that horizontal was going to work better than vertical and I made the great move to change that.

Here it is on the right after that monumental change and effort.  What do you think?

I know what I thought right away!

I was painting a winter picture and was going to leave the canvas white!  That changes everything!  Now, what to do?  How could I overcome this mistake?  What had I done?

You see, an artist's world can be shaken in a moment.  Just one action can be the difference between "feeling good" and "disaster."  I knew what I had to do.  I got out the gesso and painted over the entire surface to make it white again!

Now, of course, I couldn't start anything as I had to wait for the surface to dry.

That was okay, as I had laundry to do and dinner to prepare, and I still had work to do on that computer file I was attending to, so I headed back upstairs content that I had done some more work on this painting in progress.

I got caught up in my computer work and then the news came on.  By this time, it was the evening news and during that time my son came home from work.  He was hungry and I had leftovers from last night.  I fixed him a plate and then figured I might as well eat, too.

I had my dinner in front of the TV and then got into my usual nighttime television routine...news, Jon Stewart, Steven Colbert and, being Friday, Supernatural.

My wife worked late today, showing up halfway through that last program.  I greeted her, fixed her a late snack and then settled in to discussing the day.

I asked her how her day went, "Okay," she said, then she asked what I did today.

"Oh," I replied quickly, "I started a painting!"

She asked if she could see it.  I brought it up to her from the room below.  As she looked at it she said, "What is it?"  I realized I was holding it wrong and quickly put it in a horizontal position.

"I still don't see anything, what is it," she asked?

"A work in progress," I replied.

"What's the progress part," asked she?

"Um," I said, "Sheep in a Snowstorm?"

"Right," said she, "Show it to me again when you've spent some time on it."

As she walked away I replied, "I spent all day on it!"  Sigh....

In Plein Sight

Painting 'en plein air,' outdoors in front of the subject matter, is a great experience. A place of your choice, in a setting that's appealing to you, and enjoying the fresh air is a great way to spend many hours in productive pursuit of art.

However, it can be challenging for many reasons, including weather changes, continual movement of light and shadows, hauling all of the necessary equipment, and at times there's just too much in front of you to paint.

First, the equipment.

Many years ago, packing for a day of painting meant remembering to bring paints, easel, brushes, rags, canvases, turpentine, and wine and cheese. You could find a rock nearby to balance your palette on and maybe you had a towel or blanket to sit on when you took a break away from painting to relax a bit and check out your creation.

You painted under the sun, in full abandon, and hopefully came home with a great painting and a nice tan. I remember some artists who painted in their bathing suits and would take their breaks in the surf.

These days it's much more complicated!

Not too keen on steadying palette and goodies on nearby pieces of earth, as we mature, one needs a small table or at least a light folding chair with pockets for glasses and bottles. These days you can become dehydrated out there, who knew that, so water has become the beverage of choice. Now, we have to carry gallons of it and, along with the aforementioned art supplies, we have become aware of how dangerous it has been out there in the wild.

A very good artist will not go out without their SPF50, bug spray, wide brimmed hat, umbrella, and alcohol swabs. Long pants are tucked carefully into socks, in hopes to avoid ticks and perhaps other creepy-crawlers, and a light shirt, hopefully with some SPF protection embedded in it, stays on the artist all day while they are out to prevent the slightest hint of coloration...the only red should be from that tube and placed on the palette for painting only. We also have to remember towelettes for washing our hands between painting and eating, as we learned that lead and other chemicals in the paints can make their way to our fingers, eating utensils, glasses, and bottles and that seems to be a bad thing. Be careful to keep your drinking glass away from your turps so that you don't end up washing out your brushes in your wine and grabbing the solvent cleaner for a quick swig!!! I only did that once and can attest that wine does not clean your brushes well and turpentine has a long way to go to challenge even a cheap Merlot.

One of my biggest challenges, apart from setting up all of the stuff needed to complete a painting mission, is sticking to drawing and painting the subject that attracted me in the first place and not including the entire vista on the canvas. You want to paint a wave crashing against a rock, then do that...no need to include the whole shore, every wave, the seals and lobsters frolicking in front of you, and the Queen Mary sailing by in the background!

What to do? Well, take a picture with your digital camera. You can use it as a frame to focus on what you want to paint, you have it to take home with you, and you can print it out later to use again.

In days prior to the digital age, we could Kodak the moment and have the picture later, but most times it was sketch, sketch and re-sketch, and then use that drawing as reference as you were painting.

Anyway, when you can't muster the energy to pack up and head out on this grand safari, paint indoors. Take a picture of your favorite spot, maybe do a quick sketch, and head to the studio.

That's what I've done recently. I've included here a seascape that I just started...what you are seeing here is the result of about an hour's worth of effort...some lines remain, I've blocked out some rocks, and I'll continue to look at the picture I have to work out lights and darks and the placement of waves and water movement and we'll see where it goes. I'll keep you posted.

I do like painting water and have to do it either by traveling five to eight hours, being landlocked in New York State, or painting from pictures. The great thing about landscape and seascape painting is that you don't have to worry about replicating the rocks and waves exactly as they were, as long as the painting works, as no one is going to say, "That's not what it looks like!"

Okay, I'll amend that. Unless you're Guy Corriero or one of his students who have transversed Monhegan ad infinitum and recognize each little piece of sea glass and its location year to year and know the exact spot of this attempt here, it wouldn't be a big deal.

In comparison, a portrait or a painting of someones home necessitates exactness...nature says, "Grab the essence." Along the vast shore line of the eastern seaboard, forgetting the island habitues in this case, this place could be anywhere.

So, in my little eight by ten room, under a special light, free from UV exposure, I am painting 'outdoors.' No worries about ticks and mosquitoes, I can start the process without lathing chemicals on my skin. The easel is set up, tables and chairs nearby, no lugging, setting up and taking down. I can leave my umbrella packed neatly away, dress comfortably for the day, and maybe even not wear shoes, and keep my wine bottle in the frig upstairs. If I forgot to bring the cheese, just hop up the steps and pull it out. Oh, and I can leave the TV or CD player on and have some company, too.

Easier, yes...but something is missing...the company of other artists, that special smell of the combination of turpentine, oil paints, tick spray and suntan lotion, bugs floating in your wine or crawling around your canvas, the disappearance of that shadow from in front of that rock (how many hours have I been out here), or that great story about how you were almost done with that three by five foot seascape that was going to sell for lots of money, when you took in a deep breath of that salty sea air. Closing your eyes briefly to focus on the smells of the ocean and feeling the gentle spray on your face, you open them again quickly when you realize that it's more than just a spray, more like a bucket of water being thrown at you, and you watch as your easel and painting attached to it are swept off the rocks in front of you, in plain sight of everyone, or should I say, "plein sight," to become one with the sea.

In my case, I was most fortunate...I was just far back enough away from the easel and the coast's end that I didn't go with it and I had my wine glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, at the time, so not all was lost!!!

More to come, as the painting progresses...