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Last week I posted Part 1 of the process of giving birth to a Coloured Pencil painting, and now we continue with Part 2.

 

That's how I look at the process actually, it's like giving birth to a child. A 'child' which has 'gestated' in my mind for sometimes considerable time before I ever set pencil to paper. The idea has to germinate in the fertile soil of a creative right-brain environment, before I can make the necessary decisions to actually commit the idea to the page. Sometimes of course an idea will ferment instead of germinate, or it might sit dormant for a long time and then suddenly it 'pops', and I know exactly what I want to do with it.

 

We left this particular painting at the 'finished draft' stage. The composition has been worked out, colour fields established, contrasts of value and colour and light have been roughed in. As I mentioned last week, I often set a painting aside at this point, for at least a few days, and then I pull it out again. This allows me to see any glaring inconsistencies while they're still relatively fixable.

 

Here is the finished draft, right where we left it last week, at the end of step 3.

I did hide this one away for a week or so, and when I came back to it I realized there was a problem with the balance of inside bridge width vs outside bridge width vs strip of background to the right of the bridge. The composition was basically split in half widthwise, with the contrast between the dark interior and lighter exterior and background being of equal width. Also, the strip of upright boards at the bridge entrance was basically the same width as the strip of landscape to the right. Not the greatest division of space. It immediately screamed out to me to 'fix it' !!

 

Step 4 ...

 

And so I 'fixed' it ... by the simplest of means - I cropped off a portion of the right-hand side. The painting ended up just a little narrower, but it now has a more pleasing visual balance, width-wise. I only removed a relatively narrow slice, but it was enough to make the difference it needed. Now the dark area inside the bridge is just a bit wider than the combined areas of the exterior bridge siding and background, and the background is slightly narrower than the bridge siding.

 

You can also tell I've done more work on developing all the colour areas, and started building some texture in the various areas. The dark areas have been deepened, and some blending has been done - mainly with a paper stomp. It's a good way to blend in the early stages, since it drives the colour particles into the paper and establishes a good base on which to build further layers.

 

Also note that in the finished draft, the top edge of the railing in the foreground pointed directly to the right front corner of the paper - I found this a little awkward and distracting, and the cropping fixed this area too. I actually exaggerated the line a bit more, and you can see now that the foremost section of the rail is actually a little wider than it was in the draft (step 3).

 

Light layers of coloured pencil can be erased quite well at this early stage, but after more layers are added it becomes increasingly difficult to remove the colour. Thus it is extremely important to 'plan ahead', and to catch any problem areas early on. This planning involves a certain amount of skill, which develops over time - ie: being able to 'look ahead' and see in my mind's eye what the piece will look like after more layers of colour have been added. How do I know what it will look like later? The simple answer is - years and years of practice and experimenting, and keeping accurate records of the various stages each painting goes through.

 

I call them my 'step-paintings', and I have scads and scads of these 'step-by-step' records in the computer, and many printed out as well, where they are displayed in their own portfolio. With that, if someone asks “how did you do that?” I can pull out the portfolio and actually show them. It's also a really good reference tool for me, as each new piece attempts to tackle some new challenge or limitation. Keeping a visual record of how I approached those challenges can make a future work more successful than if I'm constantly trying to 'reinvent the wheel'.

 

The close-up detail of the foreground grassy area shows how the organic shapes are gradually developed. At this stage it's still mainly just squiggles and overlapping loops and whorls done with the pencils, with a few staggered lines thrown in too. Darker areas of shadow in the grass have been suggested with a warm dark tone, bearing in mind that they are still not in full sunlight - as you can determine from the shadow area on the guardrail. There are still lots of light areas left to work with in the finishing stages. It's more important to 'suggest' the grassy forms, rather than to try to depict each blade and leaf etc. Let the viewer's eye 'fill in the gaps'.

 

Step 5 -

  

Now the spatial relationships have all been worked out, and adjusted where necessary. The colour pattern has been established. The value pattern is evident.   Step 5 involved working on all areas of the painting, developing layers of colour, and areas of texture, and emphasizing value contrasts for best effect.

 

FINISHED PAINTING

Here is the final completed version, ready for framing. I think the best way to explain all the little details which were looked after in the finishing stages, is to show a few close-up details of various parts of the painting.

 

First, the primary focal point - the little vignette of background showing at 'the end of the tunnel' ... this passage has the sharpest contrast in values, from the dark interior of the bridge to the bright light tones of the background landscape. It's also the most interesting portion of the far edge of the marsh, with buildings and trees visible in greater concentration than you find in the background strip on the right side of the bridge. It's little tricks like these which help draw the eye to the center of interest.

MAXIMUM 8 TONS - focal point detail  ... 

 

Next we see a close-up view of an assortment of textures ... from the weathered boards on the bridge exterior, to the rough concrete support in the lower right, to the semi-smooth metal of the guardrail ... then there's the smooth reflections on the water surface, the coarse vegetation growing by the water's edge ... as the distance increases the details decrease, so you don't really see much texture in the background or in the far field - just patches and bands of forms and colours.

MAXIMUM 8 TONS - detail of textures

 

And finally, here's a view of the roadbed and the grass and other plants growing beside it. The rough texture of the road bed was developed much in the same way as the grassy area - random squiggles and overlapping loops of colour. Here again it's a matter of 'suggesting' the texture, rather than trying to depict every little stone and pebble.

 

 

Close observation pays off in building up these important details. If necessary, just sit and stare at the area in real life for awhile, let your mind absorb the nuances of light and shadow which create the textures.

 

This ability to first observe the area in real life is one of the main reasons I only use my own photos as reference. If you haven't actually been to the spot, you will not have the chance to absorb these little nuggets of visual information, and you will be restricted to just what you can see in the photo. And photos are not always as accurate or detailed as we would like them to be.

 

The final stage in finishing this painting is to go over it with a fine-tooth-comb, so to speak, and make sure that all passages are adequately blended, to create that 'painterly' look and feel which distinguish them from 'just a drawing'.

 

No, I'm wrong - the actual 'final' stage, after all this checking and blending has been done, is to apply a coating of spray fixative. Actually, I'm still wrong - the real 'final' stage for me is to scan the image into my computer records.

 

So there you have it. This particular painting was started on March 15, the final draft was completed on March 21, it was then set aside for 2 weeks. Step 4 was completed between April 8 – 14, step 5 between Apr 14 – 16. Then it was set aside for a few more days, and the final adjustments and blending in step 6 were carried out between April 20 – 24. Just short of 6 weeks from start to finish. Total time - approximately 30 hours. That's relatively average for this type of work, but some paintings can take far longer. Some paintings I've actually timed have logged as much as 80 – 100 hours, and I'm sure there have been some which have taken even longer than that. Lately though I find the total time actually seems to be decreasing as I gain more experience and understanding of this very versatile and fabulous medium.

 

I'd love to hear your comments on this painting, or on the process of creating it. The labour pains were well worth the final result. It is, after all, one of my 'babies', and I'm quite happy to share it with the world. I gestated it, birthed it, nurtured it, watched it grow and develop, and now I have the pleasure of seeing what it has become. What more could a parent want !!

 

And now it's on to the next one :) Because after all, as any artist can attest, 'the next painting will be my best ever'.

 

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Because the Coloured Pencil medium I use is not all that commonly seen, I'm frequently asked how I do what I do. In other words, how do I create a very painterly piece of art using only pencils? That is the topic of today's blog, for whomever might be interested.

 

Going from a blank piece of paper to a completed Pencil Painting is a long and laborious and sometimes tedious process, but I find the end result by far outweighs the restrictions this creates. No, I'm not able to create as many paintings per year as an artist working in watercolour, for example, when most times a painting is started and completed in a single sitting. Even oil painters tend to be more prolific, again often being able to complete a painting in a single day - other than the drying time, that is.

 

With Coloured Pencils, even though the process may be long and arduous, each stage it goes through has its own charms, its own problems, and its own rewards. At least that's the way I've come to see it, over the past 40 years or so since I started doodling with these 'sticks of pigment'.

 

That is what they are, really, just sticks of pigment, in a solid form. The pencil becomes just another 'brush' of sorts, a means of delivering the pigment to the paper. Once I started seeing it in that light, many many moons ago now, it became clear to me that these 'sticks of colour' would play a large part in my future destiny. When I'm working now, because I've been using them for so long, the pencils feel like an extension of my hand.

 

When I'm really fully immersed in the process itself, which usually happens about halfway through each piece, it feels like I'm doing it automatically, straight from the right brain, without the analytical left brain putting in its two cents worth and mucking up the works. It becomes a purely creative act. It's the 'addictive' part of the process, and once that stage is reached it becomes difficult for me to stop working - I just want to keep going until it's finished. Which explains why many of my Coloured Pencil paintings are actually completed in the wee small hours of the morning. And then I sleep the sleep of the deeply contented.

 

Mind you, the left brain does have its say too, no doubt about that! Left brains are like that. But the 'left-brain' part of the process comes into play in the early stages, when I'm planning and drafting and selecting a subject & colour palette. It's all this planning, and pre-planning even, which allows that wonderful creative surge toward the end of the process.

 

So let's have a look at this process by examining a recently-completed painting, MAXIMUM 8 TONS.

 

It started with an idea, which they all do. This bridge has been the subject of numerous previous paintings already, but I always find there is 'something more' that still can be said about it. I take numerous trips out to visit it from early spring to late fall, and I've taken countless photos of it over the years, always looking for that next 'different angle' which makes another statement slightly different from the last one. When I do occasionally capture that 'certain something', it becomes an 'aha' moment for me, and I'm conscious of a “this is it!” sort of feeling.

 

 I do work mainly from photographic sources, mainly because of the time factor involved. It can take upwards of 30 hrs for a small painting, and I can't even imagine having to sit there on site for that length of time. For one thing, I'd have to go every day at the same time, and only when the weather conditions etc were the same as my composition, and by the time that happened the season would likely have changed and all the colours would be different anyway. So photos it is. But only my own photos, since the act of photography is really the first step in the compositional process. But that's another topic for another day.

 

So that's how I ended up with this photo which seemed to convey a slightly different feeling about 'my' bridge than any I had worked with before. The creative juices started flowing, the creative wheels started turning, I felt the creative muse land on my shoulder, and I was off to the races.

 

Let's follow the progression of this piece, as it goes from a very faint beginning sketch to a fully completed polished painting.

 

step 1 - partial draft      step 2 - further work       step 3 - completed draft

 

In Step 1, I've started with very light lines in 2H graphite pencil, which you can barely make out in the lower section of the image. This creates sort of a 'map', which just indicates where each element will be located on the page. Then I started laying in colour, again with a very light application at first, using only light pressure on the pencils. The idea at this point is to establish the general layout and colour fields, without getting into too much detail.

 

In Step 2, you can see I've focused on developing the interior structure of the bridge itself, which in turn draws the eye to the focal point, which is that little vignette of distant landscape seen through the far entrance to the bridge. Even though most of the bridge interior will be in darkness in the finished painting, it's important to have that structure 'there' first, like making a skeleton over which to build the next layers. The foreground is still largely untouched at this point, but that will come in due course.

 

Step 3 now shows the completed draft. All areas have been blocked in, all colour fields have been established, all the spatial relationships have been worked out. There isn't much detail at this stage, that will come later as the pencil layers build up. It's like building the foundation first, and then building the house over it.

 

At this point I like to set it aside for a bit, and then take it out again later and see it with relatively 'fresh' eyes. By doing this I'll often spot right away certain passages which need to be redesigned, or might need a slightly different colour approach, or something else which doesn't feel quite 'right'.

 

So that's how it begins. These first few steps might take a day or a week, but seldom longer than that. Once I have the basic plan in my mind I try to 'get it all down' as quickly as possible, while it's still fresh. Then once it's completely drafted I can put it away for any period of time, and when I take it out again I'm able to put myself back into that particular frame of mind again and pick up where I left off.

 

That's it for this week.

Next week we'll look at the remainder of the process, going from the finished draft to the completed painting.

Time for another rendition of my favourite bridge.  Those of you who know me may already be aware of my lifelong feeling of kinship with this bridge, and with the grasslands that surround it.  During the 45 years I lived away from home, my trips back to visit always included a little jaunt out onto the marsh, just to breathe in the vastness of the broad expanse of reclaimed land, and revel in the vibrant dome of sky overhead.  It grounded me.

 

Here is yet another view of the Wheaton Covered Bridge located on the Highmarsh Road which crosses the Tantramar Marsh between Middle Sackville and Jolicure,  near the town of Sackville NB.  

 

Rendered in Coloured Pencil, the challenge I set myself with this piece was to depict the narrow shafts of bright sunlight filtering through cracks between the boards, inside the bridge.   They're very subtle, and I'm  pleased with the result.