A Change of Scenery

You never know where an idea for a painting will come from, but I get them all the time. One resource I use for inspiration is combing through my art books. When flipping randomly through a catalog or monograph of a particular artist, I sometimes encounter an image that sparks an idea for a new painting.

Below is a work by the 19thC. painter Frederic Edwin Church, titled The Vale of St. Thomas, Jamaica, dated 1867. This painting depicts a rainstorm passing over a lush tropical river valley. I love the magical quality of the light captured by Church.

While studying this image, I had an idea to reinterpret Church’s painting through my creative lens, and paint an allegory about the negative consequences of modern capitalism. Instead of rolling hills of lush tropical vegetation, I would show massive piles of cars and other consumer goods. The river would be replaced by a freeway full of traffic, and the palm trees would become billboards imploring to buy more.

I chose to start with a violet color for my under-painting. I did this because I felt it would compliment the colors I would add later, and this would hopefully make the painting more vibrant.

I steadily added more colors and details. I also made minor modifications to my composition. For example, I didn’t like the original size of the billboard in the lower right corner, so I repainted it larger, and gave it a bit more foreshortening.

The advertisements on my billboards borrowed the branding of companies like Walmart, IKEA, and Home Depot. These recognizable logos now had words like “BUY”, “MORE”, and “STUFF”. Seen repeatedly across the landscape, these imperative words felt like a mantra of consumerism. I liked this idea so much that it has become part of my visual vocabulary. A number of my recent paintings have included billboards with the word “MORE”. It seems apropos to my critique on capitalism.

Owing to the dark mood of this painting, I decided to call it The Vale of Sorrows, mirroring the title of Church’s The Vale of St. Thomas. Although I hadn’t matched the skill level of Church, I was fairly happy with my painting. Maybe someday I’ll be able to develop my painting ability to a level where I could consider myself an equal to Church. I can only dream.

A Whale of a Time

As an artist, I am always striving to advance my craft and technical ability. I try to challenge myself and seek ways to improve my skills, so my art can flourish. No doubt every artist wants their latest creation to transcend their previous efforts. I believe this is what compels us to continue making new artwork. We optimistically hope that our next piece could be our masterpiece. Of course there are good days and bad days in the studio. We sometimes encounter roadblocks along the way. But ultimately, over the long haul, it is very gratifying to witness the unfolding of our art.

Last year I had an idea for a painting I wanted to do. Not only did the concept interest me, but it seemed like a good technical challenge and this intrigued me. I wanted to paint an enormous whale, shown underwater, suspended above a landscape of sunken cars. The primary technical challenge I foresaw with this project would be to capture the appearance of sunlight filtering through water. I had never attempted anything like this before, and I was not sure if I could convincingly paint the shafts of light streaming through the water, and dappling across the whale and cars. The painting would also need to be quite large, in order to convey the immensity of the scene. I often find it frustrating working on large canvases, as the painting surface tends to bounce and flex a lot as I am painting upon it. I therefore decided to stretch my canvas over a large, cradled panel, constructed from a 4x8 foot sheet of plywood. This would give me a solid painting surface with no bounce.

I began by creating some small color studies to figure out my composition. My idea was to portray the whale in profile, with its immense body casting a shadow upon the cars below.

I then made a large charcoal drawing of my idea on paper. This allowed me to determine the tonality and the amount of visual information I wanted in my final painting. I wasn’t interested in depicting a specific species of whale, I simply wanted my creature to feel “whale-like”. The charcoal study helped me determine the size ratio I wanted between the whale and the cars below it. It also helped me figure out how the vehicles would appear strewn across the ocean floor.

After completing my charcoal drawing, I began working on the full size painting. Here you see me creating the under-painting using a wash of transparent yellow. (Note the adjacent reference studies on the wall.)

I gradually built up my painting, adding layer after layer of greens and blues. I would refer to my color studies and charcoal drawing for reference. Figuring out the lighting proved to be the most challenging part of the project. I found that subtle shifts in contrast made a big difference in how convincing everything appeared.

I call this painting Leviathan. I’m fairly happy with how it turned out. The scene is enigmatic. It prompts questions more than it gives answers. For me, this painting is an allegory about climate change, which I consider to be the most significant issue we face today. The sunken cars represent a fossil-fuel based society that has been obliterated by rising sea levels. The whale is the lone surviving witness to the aftermath, or perhaps it is the metaphorical elephant in the room, signifying an enormous problem that no one is willing to confront.

Refining an Idea

Many artists would say the creative process is rather unfathomable. We may know what it feels like to create, but it is a difficult thing to describe in words, or explain precisely what is taking place. All I know is that it can be a very gratifying experience, and I feel so fortunate when I create art.

For me, one of the most rewarding aspects of the creative process is that it allows for a constant state of discovery. Every painting begins as a mystery. I may have an idea for a composition, or the mood I am after, but I have no idea what the final result will look like. This is because I allow things to evolve as a painting comes to life. The image will begin to reveal itself to me and I respond to what I see taking place. In other words, I let the painting inform my subsequent actions as a painter. It’s an exciting process. It can be frustrating sometimes, but it can also lead to a pleasant surprises, such as when a painting turns out better than initially conceived. And I find this method of working often inspires ideas for yet more paintings.

Last year I began working on a painting of an immense structure resembling an oil refinery. My idea was to show a dense maze of scaffolding, holding tanks, overlapping pipes, and smokestacks. I wanted the overall composition to resemble a view into a deep canyon gorge that receded into the distance. I had no idea how this image would eventually look like, but I was intrigued to find out.

I started by blocking in my composition using a light wash of grey paint. I chose this color to give a cold, steely feeling to my painting.

I then began adding darker tones to define shapes and carve out space. I decided to introduce a series of walkways spanning the two sides of the canyon-like space. I thought this would help create a sense of scale to the scene. I continued to add more visual elements until things became satisfactorily dense. Even though I had painted the details rather loosely, I liked how from a distance everything felt very tight and intricately rendered. The structure sort of resembled the facade of a Gothic cathedral.

I call this painting A New Religion. My reason for this title comes from how so much of our economy for the past century revolves around our dependence on fossil fuels. It permeates our world. I view its influence and impact upon our society as being akin to a major religion. This would mean that oil refineries are the cathedrals of our age.

Having a Ball

This is a brief documentation of the creation of my latest painting Critical Mass. This work depicts a floating planetary mass of cars. It is an allegory about rampant consumption and excess. The image is meant to be whimsical, and yet mildly disturbing.

My initial preparatory study (shown below) was executed with a cool color palette. I wanted to capture the feeling of cold steel glinting off this big sphere. However, as I began working on my full-sized painting, I chose to use a warm yellow, believing this could make the image more alluring.

Painting all the cars proved to be fun. The scintillating colors made it resemble a giant ball of candy. Creating the background, however, was more challenging. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be a solid color like my study, or something more atmospheric. To test this option, I photographed my painting and made a digital collage, adding a cloudy sky from a Thomas Moran painting.

I decided to have my planetoid of cars suspended within a hazy void of noxious air. This proved more difficult than I expected. I had to repaint the background at least four times before I arrived at something that looked mildly interesting. Below are some stages of this progression.

Admitedly the final painting didn’t turn out anything like what I had originally conceived. But I suppose this is what compels me to continue painting. I’m always pursuing that elusive goal of capturing the image I have in my head, but ultimately being surprised by the final result.

A Tall Tale

My painting Dominion shows a a massive skyscraper towering over a vast city, stretching to the horizon. It envisions a time where the growing disparity between rich and poor has resulted in the wealthy elite living in a citadel of luxury, while everyone else lives crammed in squalor below.

Here is how this painting came together. I started by making some small color studies. The composition would be very dramatic, with an immense structure jutting into the sky. I would accentuate the height of this tower by having it extend past the top of the frame. To reinforce the discrepancy in living conditions between the two economic groups, the skyscraper would gleam in the sunlight, while the city below would be lost in shadow.

I also made a more detailed preparatory drawing using a colored pencil.

I hadn’t yet decided upon my color palette, but I knew I wanted there to be some golden undertones in my painting, so I started the under-painting with washes of gold and yellow paint. I then decided to reverse the gradation of my sky so that it became brighter at the top, instead of towards the horizon. This gave a lift to the sky, letting it flow upwards. The tower would therefore need to become darker than the sky in order for it to stand out.

I then began working on the sprawling city towards the bottom. I decided to leave certain areas empty so my gold under-painting would show through. I liked how this added a dynamic feeling to the composition. The only thing I struggled with was the horizon. I didn’t like how the city ended so abruptly. I opted to taper the horizon gradually, so the buildings would fade into the distance.

Finally, I needed to resolve the tower. Up until now I hadn’t determined how I was going to paint this structure, but I knew it had to look immense. I studied photos of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai as reference. Rather than driving myself crazy painting every single window in my tower, I decided to paint it very loosely, with only hints of detail. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.

Mining a Creative Vein

A few months ago I began planning a painting of an immense open pit mine. My idea was to portray a deep gorge, terraced with roadways leading all the way to the bottom. This pit would be full of activity. Mining machinery would be drilling, blasting, and fracking the rock walls. Dozens of cranes would be hoisting supplies up and down the steep sides. Metal pipes would snake their way to the top, merging into a thicket of smokestacks and refineries. I wanted the space to feel so vast that it would resemble a bunch of ants scurrying around.

I put a 4x5 foot canvas onto my easel and got to work.

Unfortunately I soon realized my painting was not working as I wished. It felt too cartoonish. It didn’t have the grandeur or magnitude I wanted. So I stopped and proceeded to sketch out my idea to get a better sense of the roads and machinery, and the quality of light I was after.

This preparatory drawing made me realize my current canvas was MUCH too small. It would need to be twice as big to contain all the details I envisioned. I wanted my viewers to be overwhelmed by the immensity of the scene. This realization prompted me to stop working on what I had begun. However, after a few months of working on other projects, I reconsidered this decision. I figured since I had already invested time and energy into the painting, I might as well try and finish it, in spite of the deficient size. I could always attempt a larger version in the future.

I therefore reworked my painting to emulate my preparatory drawing. I also looked at the work of the artist Thomas Moran for reference. I liked how he could create drama in his paintings by varying the light and shadow within his landscapes. I tried to create a similar sense of drama in the gorge.

I call my painting Fool’s Gold. The term comes from the geologic mineral pyrite, which is an iron sulfide that superficially resembles gold. Sometimes when people discover a deposit of pyrite, they mistakenly believe they have struck it rich.

Fool’s Gold is an allegory about the folly of humans. We consume raw materials at an alarming rate, and we seem oblivious to the unsustainability of it all. We dig ever deeper in our frantic quest to consume more and more. Left unchecked, I fear we will be confronted by an unwelcome conclusion. We are in effect digging our own grave.

Digging Deeper

Artists are known to occasionally riff off of the work of their predecessors. This isn’t intended as mimicry, but rather to pay homage to artists they admire. I imagine most artists have their heroes. One painter I greatly admire is Frederick Edwin Church. His skill humbles me. Below is one of his better known paintings, Cotopaxi, from 1862.

I know of a few contemporary artists who have referenced Cotopaxi in their work. (Sandow Birk and Alexis Rockman are two that come to mind.) I wanted to put my own spin on this image. If I squint at the painting, the lower half resembles a cross-section of the earth, with numerous subterranean caverns. As a child, I would draw pictures with caves and tunnels beneath a landscape, similar to an ant farm. I decided to rekindle my adolescent whimsy in a new painting.

I first created a roughly painted sketch of my idea, something simple and loose that I could refer to while working on my painting.

While I could refer to Church’s painting for the portion above ground, I hadn’t determined how I would depict the lower half of my composition. Instead I would to let the brushwork in my initial underpainting guide how the image would resolve itself.

The upper portion developed quickly. I opted for a more saturated color palette than Church for this area as I wanted it to be the most vibrant part of the painting. One obstacle I encountered was how to transition between above and below ground. This transition needed to look convincing. How could I achieve depth and yet have a distinct edge where the landscape appeared sliced open? Even a lake would be shown as a cross section.

My concept was to portray the world, long after the human species had gone extinct. The only evidence of our existence would be the fractured remains of cities buried beneath the bedrock. The earth would be shown born anew, after having cleansed the surface of our presence. At this future point in time, we have become nothing more than a fossilized memory, locked in the geologic strata of the earth.

I began adding a series of subterranean chambers filled with crumbling buildings. However I didn’t know how I would make city ruins be visible in a dark cave. Initially my idea was to have a golden light illuminate the caverns, but this proved to be problematic. I tried painting this, but I felt they might be misconstrued as pools of lava or fire. Even though I liked the intensity of the gold color, it seemed too overpower the composition. I needed the underground region to feel quiet and subdued. I wanted the painting to reveal itself in stages. The volcano and smoke filled sky should be seen first, and then the buried remains below. I decided to repaint what I had done and start over. I made the caverns dark so they would recede into the pictorial space. And simultaneously I brightened the bedrock so it would appear flush to the canvas surface.

I’m not sure if the finished painting (shown below) was ultimately successful at capturing the essence of my initial preparatory study. It turned out OK, but not entirely satisfying. I think someday I may want to revisit this concept and see if I could better capture the vision I have in my head.

A Long Journey

Every painting has its own evolution in the studio. Some are born easily, essentially painting themselves. Others require round after round of uncertain explorations, followed by periods of reflection and trying to ascertain where the painting wishes to go. The final painting may look effortless, but beneath the layers of paint may lie untold hours of frustration. This process of creation is not always a pleasant experience, but I find it fulfilling.

I painted the image above in 2009. At the time it was a rather unusual departure from what I had been making. I eventually put it aside and moved on to other projects. However years later, while showing my art to a studio visitor, I uncovered this piece again. Seeing it with fresh eyes, I was intrigued and decided to revisit this concept as a larger painting.

Initially my idea was to have an 8 foot wide painting comprised of two 2×4 foot panels placed end to end. This required me to add a board to my easel to widen the shelf. As the work progressed however, I decided to make it even longer by adding another 2x4 foot panel on either end, doubling the painting’s width to 16 feet. In another quirk of insanity, I chose to make my knotted freeway be comprised of a single continuous road looping over itself. This presented a challenge as the entire image needed to look consistently dense so the composition would appear balanced. And finally, I still had the laborious task of painting several thousand cars.

The process of painting so many cars took me several weeks. It was a mind-numbing experience, yet oddly meditative. Every day I made a little more headway with the painting, but I felt like kicking myself for undertaking such a tedious project. I had to see it through, however. It felt like a compulsion. This is how I came up with my title, Compulsive Actions. Ironically, now that the painting is finished it seems too small. I have a nagging urge to paint it again, but much larger! Heaven help me.

A Means to an End

My painting A Means to an End is inspired by a painting by the Flemish renaissance painter Pieter Bruegel. His painting The Fall of Icarus, created in 1560, depicts the Greek myth of Icarus, a parable about hubris and failed ambition. Icarus sought to escape his imprisonment on the island of Crete by using wings made by his father from feathers and wax. However Icarus ignored his father’s warning to not fly too close to the sun. When he did, Icarus’ wings were melted by the heat of the sun, causing him to fall from the sky and crash into the sea.

Bruegel’s painting depicts an expansive scene, with vignettes of daily life. In the foreground we see a farmer plowing his field, while further in the distance a shepherd herds his flock. Further still are fishermen and ships crossing the open sea. Scarcely visible however, in the lower right corner of the painting, is Icarus plunging into the ocean. His tragic death seems to go unseen by all.

Out of sight, out of mind.

I see the same thing happening today. We are currently doing many things that are proving harmful to the planet, and yet we seem to turn a blind eye to the damage growing around us.. I believe climate change to be our most important crisis, but many of us are failing to heed the warnings to curtail our actions that are adding to the problem.

I wanted to paint a contemporary corollary to Bruegel’s painting, something that could convey the looming threat of climate change. My initial idea was to portray a sprawling urban landscape, with people busily going about their daily lives, while off in the distance beyond everyone’s focus, would be a burning oil rig.

As this was going to be a fairly complex scene, I chose to first create a photo-composite of my idea in Photoshop that I could use as a guide. Once I had settled upon my composition and color palette, I began working on my underpainting.

I chose to emulate Bruegel’s composition, having the foreground sweep across the lower left and have an expanse of water in the distance. Probably the most laborious part of my painting was executing the freeway full of cars. Even though painting it was kind of an immersive, meditative process, I still felt restless to finish it. Once this was part complete, the rest of the painting came together rather quickly.

At a certain point I decided against painting a burning oil rig in the distance. It seemed too specific to last year’s Deep Water Horizon oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Instead I decided to add something more enigmatic: a lone smokestack protruding out of the water, belching black smoke into to the sky. I believed this addition would induce any number of notions as to what is happening, or what is beneath the water.

After making some final tweaks to the foreground, my painting was finished. It may look quite detailed from a distance, but if you were to view my painting up close, you would see that it is quite loosely rendered. I can’t say the finished painting lives up to the vision in my head, but then again, they never do.

Building Upon the Past

I thought I would write a little about my painting Their Refinement of the Decline, as it is about to go on display in a show called “Hello Tomorrow: Bay Area Artists Envision the Future” at the David Brower Center in Berkeley.

My initial concept was to depict an enormous machine that has been constructed to clean up all the pollution and environmental mess we have released upon the earth. Unfortunately, when this machine is switched on, it belches smoke, leaks oil, and creates as much pollution as it tries to contain. It is an allegory of how, when we create problems in the world, we tend to chose short-sighted solutions which invariably create other problems.

The composition for my painting was inspired by a work done by the 16th C. artist Pieter Bruegel, depicting the Tower of Babel.(shown below)

I don’t always make preparatory studies prior to a new painting, but in this circumstance, I wanted to figure out my color palette and to get a rough approximation of my envisioned scene. It may look quite loose but this study contained enough detail to help guide my vision.

Next, I stretched a 4 by 5 foot canvas and began to block in my underpainting. I often like to start with a warm yellow tone for my initial layer as I find it adds a warm glow within my paintings. I then proceeded to add more layers of color to build up my composition.

The scene began to coalesce as I added successive layers of detail. Throughout the process, I sought to maintain a balance between painterly looseness and rendering objects like city buildings, smokestacks and scaffolding.

As it was, I could have easily kept working on this painting for years, adding more and more details. But eventually I opted to wrap things up so I could move on to the other painting projects. Overall this painting took me about three months to complete. And here is the result . . .