Flame Azalea - 7

Well, I've changed my mind.  Remember the issue I mentioned last post about painting the pale stamen on top of the darker petals?  I was marching assuredly along with my Stamen Solution and suddenly realized I was headed for Trouble.  Even though I tried to draw thin, fine lines with the liquid mask pen, what I ended up with was not that.  I ended up with sketchy lines that ended in blobs of goo.  I thought I could eventually paint around (and thereby shrink) the larger than necessary white lines.  In the end I realized that this would make the stamen look outlined.  I don't know whether you can follow this, but at any rate, I realized there is a better way.  I will use white gouache paint to add the stamen on top of the petals.  Gouache is opaque; and though water-based, isn't normally considered a true watercolor paint.  But watercolor artists use white gouache in just such circumstances, when there really isn't any other way to get the job done.  So after I complete the petals, I'll go back in with white to paint the stamen.  Then when that dries, I can add a transparent layer of just the right shade of pale yellow/green.  Sound like a plan?  (I don't have an image to share with this post, since the Plan is in my head and what is now on paper is an absence of liquid mask goo.)

Onward!

Flame Azalea - 6

OK.  Today really is the first day of the rest of my life.  I begin a new schedule, which includes time every day to be creative!  Happy me.  I begin where I left off with my neglected azalea sketch.  The first thing to accomplish is to get it transfered to watercolor paper.  Since it is a complex drawing, this takes a little doing.

The first thing to notice about the flower clusters  - from a technical standpoint -is that the stamen, (which are very very pale yellow, practically white) pop out in front of the flower petals, which are orange.  Since you can't paint white on top of another color in watercolors, the only way to do this is by using masking fluid.  Masking fluid is sort of like rubber cement.  I paint it on wherever I want the paper to stay white.  It dries and creates a safe barrier.  Then I will carry on with the painting, and when the underlying areas are done and dry, I will remove the mask and like magic, the little white stamen will pop out.  That's the theory anyway! 

Here is a photo showing my original pencil sketch (above), a pen tracing of the main outlines (on the right) which I used to transfer the design, and the watercolor paper (below) with the faintly drawn image and the masking fluid already applied.  Can you see the blue lines?  That is the mask.  I found a product that has a pen nib at the top of the bottle, so that I could draw fairly thin lines.  It was much easier than trying to paint it.  Imagine painting with rubber cement.  It is a nightmare and I was glad I could avoid it!

Because of the mask, I will have to paint this piece a little differently.  Normally I like to build up all parts of the composition at the same time.  However the mask cannot ramain on the paper long, and I need to try to hurry to completely finish the areas behind the mask first.  If I wait too long, the mask material will start to fuse permanently with my paper and the painting will be ruined.  How long is "too long"?  According to the manufacturer, that is 24-48 hours!  Yikes!  I guess you know where you can find me tomorrow!!

And so it goes . . .

I am embarassed to notice that an entire month has elapsed since my last post.  Ah well, I do have a few good excuses.  In the last month we've hosted a family reunion, attended another one, endured a car accident (totaled the car, but no injuries thankfully!), nursed our old dog through another down spell, and sent Henry, our youngest, off to college.  I am just now recovering.

At least Andrew, our oldest, is back home.  Politicians eager for my vote are decrying the statistic that more than 50% of recent college graduates are unemployed or underemployed and have moved back in with their parents.  This is shocking for sure, but I am here to tell you we view Andrew's temporary residence in our basement as a great blessing.  He is writing and recording his music, underemployed as a bartender and SAT tutor, saving his money and industriously preparing for a move to New York.  He is also saving me from flat-out depression.  I mean it.  If it weren't for his cheerful presence in our home, I know I'd wander aimlessly from room to empty room, wondering what will become of me now that my Stay-At-Home-Mom gig has ended.  His daily singing and practicing is a balm that soothes more than he can know. And his dedication to his passion is inspiring.

And so I gingerly pick up where I left off.  I find my drawing pen and remind myself what I can do with it.  I doodle and dream.  And somewhere along in there I head up to Henry's room, pen and paper in hand, and visit his turtle, Franklin.  Poor old Franklin, abandoned in this room that looks like the Grinch has just departed.  Dresser drawers are empty and a bit askew, forgotten clothes hangers litter the floor, stray bits of tape mark the spots on the walls where favorite posters used to hang.  There are no more piles of dirty athletic clothes and school books and golf balls and candy wrappes and a backpack spilling its contents on the floor. Uncharacteristically, the bed is made and the desk is tidy.  The emptiness haunts me. 

Yet in the act of drawing, I am refreshed.  Most times I draw because I have something joyful to give, some beautiful thing inside that wants to be expressed.  But sometimes I draw to heal.  I am looking for that quiet place where bliss abides .  What a gift it is to find peace.  Another reason to be grateful for this journey!  A wonderful adventure awaits if I keep pencil or paintbrush in hand and persevere.   And so it goes . . .

Flame azalea - 5

More of the same today, finishing the tonal drawing of the azalea composition.  Here's how it turned out:



One tricky thing I encountered was the lighting.  As you may recall, this subject is a composite of several actual blossoming stems that I put together on one imaginary branch.  It is botanically accurate and if I hunted around in my azalea bushes, I just might have found a branch just like this.  One thing I have to be sure to do to make it real and convincing is to make the light source consistent across all parts of the branch.  We have only one sun, after all.  In botanical work, by convention we paint the light source from above and over the left shoulder of the artist.  My source photos aren't this way at all, since these blossoms were on three different sides of the shrub, and therefore the shaddows are cast in different directions.  So as I drew them, I had to alter the shaddows to make it read the right way.  You can't really tell from this poor quality scan, but you might be able to notice that there is a lighter side and a darker side to the blossom clusters.  In the end, I hope it will look like I set up my easel and painted this branch at about 10:00 in the morning on a sunny day.  When you see this painting, I want you to be able to imagine the blue sky above, a gentle breeze setting the graceful flower stamens in motion, birds chirping all around.  Spring.

Flame azalea - 4

The next step is to do a tonal drawing to help me see the composition on paper.  What is petal, leaf and stem and what is negative space.  How all the petals turn and fold in the blossoms.  Can you imagine six or seven or eight girls with twirly tango skirts all twirling together and their skirts all overlapping, what that might look like?  That is basically what we are dealing with.  Azalea blossoms doing the flamenco.  So it helps a little to make a drawing that shows what is flower and what is not.  It isn't that pretty because it is all shades of gray; but that isn't the point.  The point is, this will help me make a convincing, accurate, beautiful painting!

So here is the tonal drawing so far:

The scan is lousy because it is a pencil drawing.  But maybe you can get the gist.  Enjoy!

Back to the Drawing Board

I know this expression says a lot.  Something doesn't work the way you thought it would?  Something doesn't go the way you planned?  Something unexpected happens?  It's back to the drawing board to try again.  For me and my art, I take this expression literally.  I have two places to work in my studio:  at my desk and at my drawing board table.  When I am at the beginning of a complex project, I spend time at my desk doing research and studying photos on my computer, and I doodle at the drawing board.  I bounce back and forth from table to desk as an idea is tested, tweaked, and discarded when a better idea emerges.  It is an essential stage because this is when I start to fully understand the nature of the thing I'm working on. How it grows. What is its character.  I go back to the drawing board again and again until eventually something clicks.  I've got a drawing in my mind that starts to work on paper.  I don't mind getting to a dead end and having to start over, because I am learning all the while.  And I know my end result will be better for all the trials it took to get there.  Sometimes I wish I could be this persevering in other aspects of my life, helping me overcome other barriers, real or imagined.  Ah well, at least in this arena I know what works.  I have to go back to go forward. 

Flame Azalea composition

OK so life got in the way of my Plan to Paint.  A strange wind storm two weeks ago left us without power for a week!  Then it took me a week to get things put back together (including myself).  For some reason that whole episode wiped me out and I had zero energy or inspiration to do anything creative.  Until today!

I know this doesn't look like much, but it represents two hours of work.  I'm trying to construct an interesting composition of the beautiful flame azalea just coming into bloom.  Of course, now in July, the flame azalea is just another bland green shrub, blending in with everything else.  But when it first comes in to flower, it is a real show stopper.  I've got lots of pictures and some sketches from back in May and June.  So today I am sketching branches and understanding how the shrub grows.  This way, I can create a branch from my photos and sketches that will be botanically accurate, even though it doesn't actually exist.  It sounds sort of sneaky, but it isn't.  It is art! As I've said before, it is in the composition that the botanical artist finds a channel for creative expression. 

I think now I've worked out in my head how I'd like to portray this specimen.  Let's see if I can get it to work on paper!