Doubt

For me the mood of this blog has been generally upbeat. Even the discussions of failure have had an optimistic tone. I'm not faking it. I have been in a good state of mind regarding my art and life since starting this blog. I probably would't have started it had I not been.
                           
Enter doubt. Being critical of ones work is different from doubt. Striving to see your own work objectively and making adjustments is a positive thing. Doubt lives at a deeper and potentially more destructive level. It may simply be Winter setting in - less daylight making it harder to see bright spots in my work. But the feelings are real. Doubt starts you questioning the whole enterprise. Your abilities, your motivations, even your basic premise all become suspect.

Seated Male Nude, oil pastel, 10" X 9", 2013

Note: I don't feel nearly as bad as the model appears to feel in this drawing.

I think some self doubt is helpful. I have known artists who just plunge ahead with little or no reflection or doubt. I can't say it's good for their work.  The challenge is to not let it bog you down or take over.

Simplicity

This drawing works for me. It does everything a female nude needs to do. It took five minutes and cost me half a million dollars. I will explain in a future post.

Figure Study, oil pastel, 9" X 6", 2012

Male Gaze

I recently came across the term "male gaze". It was used in the context of describing mans motivation for depicting the female nude throughout history. At first I thought what a quaint and simple way of explaining a complex phenomenon. But if pressed I don't think I can come up with a better or more concise explanation. Heterosexual men like to look at naked women.

Reclining Nude, oil on linen, 8 5/8" X 17 1/2", 2010

For most men, to deny there isn't at least some sexual undercurrent when viewing a nude woman would not be truthful. To do so would be to deny eight million years of human sexual evolution. But we have to separate these instinctual feelings from the process. When confronted with a female (or male) model in pose my brain quickly goes into work mode. Body parts become shapes and shadows. It's almost impossible to view the work any way but critically.

The role of the nude in art, both male and female, has changed throughout history. In todays digital world we are exposed in print and on line to a tidal wave of overtly sexual images. In my opinion most of it manipulates and denigrates us as human beings. I like to think an "innocent" nude drawn or painted from life elevates our humanity. In some small way it can act as a counterbalance and refuge to a shallow and course world.

Private Sessions

The stereotypical artist/model dynamic is of the virile artist seducing his willing but naive female models. Reading art history one would think all the great painters had affairs with their models. I'm sure many did (and still do) but my guess is the myth exceeds the reality. I can't imagine how, even for a moment, women put up with the misplaced male sexual ego. In a working studio environment the idea of "hitting" on a model is ridiculous.

In the spirit of full disclosure I have had one lengthy affair with a model. This dalliance resulted in two pregnancies. (OK - it's my wife. Sounded good though didn't it?). I always refer to this as the first drawing of our daughter.

Nine Months, pencil, 11" X 7", 1991

I have worked from quite a few models over the years. In my private sessions I work with just a handful. My studio is small. The environment and nature of the work are intimate. I would describe a healthy artist/model relationship as one built on trust and respect. For me when a model is in pose they are in charge. If the model isn't comfortable I couldn't possibly do any meaningful work.

I hold the profession of figure model in very high regard. Offering oneself so others can pursue fulfillment is nobel. It's a rare drawing or painting that does justice to any model. They suffer countless bad likenesses on paper and canvas - many by my hand. To me there is dignity in a simple nude - a directness and innocence that's rare in this life.

First Love

I've always thought of drawing as my first love. As far back as I can remember drawing has been a refuge. It might have something to do with its tactile and intimate nature. Your brain isn't engaged so much as your heart.

During the warm months of 2010 and 2011 I painted outside doing a series of cityscape oils. The process was very public and the subjects complex with ever shifting shadows. By the fall of 2011 I found myself craving solitude and simplicity. I withdrew to the studio and spent six weeks working on three silverpoint drapery studies. How often in life do we get to return to our first love?

Drapery Study, silverpoint on prepared paper, 11" X 9",  2011

Doing these drapery studies was a pure joy. Fabric has long been a favorite subject of mine. Looking at art history I'm not alone. Combining a nude with drapery seems logical.

Nude with Drapery, oil pastel, 11" X 8",  2011

Fear of Failure 101

I think one of the biggest factors keeping artists from progressing in their work is the fear of failure. For the visual artist failure can cut particularly deep. Ones art is an expression of self. If it doesn't live up to expectations it can hurt on some profound level. But we have to keep things in perspective. When a drawing or painting fails what actually is lost - a few lines on a piece of paper or some dabs of paint on a canvas? I mean really - what is there to be afraid of?

Failed Nude, oil pastel,11 1/2" X 9 1/2", 2012

I dug the top image out of my failure stack of drawings. It may not look too bad in this format but it belongs in that stack. I somehow thought working a two hour pose on a piece of cheep sketch paper was a good idea. I fought the paper the entire time, the paper won. Recognizing and accepting defeat late in the session, I used the last ten minutes to do the sketch below. To me it possesses a life totally lacking in the upper image.

Nude, oil pastel, 5 1/2" X 8", 2012

Every time I step up to the easel or sit with a drawing pad I want to do good work. OK, I want to do great work. That's the goal. But success doesn't lie in fixating on that goal. Success can only be found by working in the moment without expectations of success or fear of failure. My sense of self worth is inextricably tied to my art. But it isn't tied to any single drawing or painting. It is tied to the life devoted to making them.

It Never Gets Easy

Awhile back at the start of a group session someone asked if drawing the figure ever gets easy. My immediate response was no and if it does you're not trying. Then, of course, I had an engaged and smooth drawing session. "Easy" wouldn't describe it but my lines were confident and the drawing flowed. Sessions like this are rare. Usually there is a struggle involved.

Reclining Nude, oil pastel, 9" X 13", 2012

I like to think I'm always trying to raise the bar. When my work becomes too familiar, or I feel in a rut, I try to mix it up. I'll try a new method or material - something to stay fresh and engaged. My approach is fairly scientific. I try to introduce just one new variable at a time. Progress can sometimes feel slow but even small changes can lead to large complexities. I want to explore these in some depth before moving on.

For me easy means routine. I like routine in the morning making coffee. Routine in my art means boring. Drawing and painting have never been easy for me. When that day comes I'll hang it up.

Always From Life (III)

It would be hard for me to overstate how exhilarating it is to work from the live nude. I'm always nervous and maybe even a bit scared when starting a figure session. Fear of failure is probably the source. Whatever the reason it's a very strong emotional state. All your senses are heightened. This heightened state can lead you to free expressive work or freeze you into being tight and timid. I've been both places.

Reclining Nude, oil pastel, 6 3/4" X 11 3/8",  2012

I confess to having become an absolutist regarding working from life. Using a photographic image removes you from the subject and and makes it nearly impossible to connect in any meaningful way. For me even a minor reliance on photos can pollute and take the life out of an entire work. Ultimately the benefits of working from life don't just outweigh the negatives they trump them.

Being an absolutist on any subject is probably not a good idea but it's where I am right now.

Always from Life (II)

When I started using oil paints some twenty years ago I had grown tired of leaning over a drawing board working from photographs and low relief objects. I wanted to expand my horizons - to paint from life in real time. This is how I worked for the next two decades.

Then a few years back, frustrated by a lack of progress with my figurative work, I tried a couple of photo derived paintings.

Amy, oil on linen, 17" X 19",  2009

I'll call this a "hybrid". The mug, hand and cigarette pack were painted from life and the rest using a photo. It doesn't look half bad in this format. The problem for me was that working from a photograph I wasn't painting the person at all. I was painting a photograph of a person. I can't really verbalize the disconnect I feel toward these photo derived works. I can only say there was just no joy in approaching a painting this way.

This brief detour served to verify and strengthen my decision to work exclusively from life.

Always from Life (I)

In the heading of this blog I state that all posted drawings and paintings were done from live models. I'm going to break that rule the next couple of posts. I want to explore my progression from using photos as source material to working exclusively from life.

In the 1970's I often used photographs as an integral part of my work. I used old family snapshots and pictures I had taken to do a series of graphite drawings and watercolor paintings. These works had trompe l'oeil elements and depicted a flat or very narrow picture plane. Looking back I now refer to this as my "obsessive phase".

Grandma & Grandpa, graphite on paper, 9" X 7", 1975

Bobbie With Parrots, watercolor, 5 3/8" X 6 7/8", 1978

Working from photographs can be alluring and addicting. It vastly expands your potential subject material while simplifying the process of making a picture. Composition, value and hue are all established to some degree. Your goal becomes to "copy" or interpret the photo in some compelling way.

In my estimation many of the drawings and paintings from this period were successful. They transcend the photograph and take on an inner life of their own.

A Wink and Nod

I often get a nervous wink and nod when people learn I work from the live nude. Having never been exposed to a life model situation people make assumptions about what happens there. At the very least it must be a bit "naughty". But the gap between what most people think happens at a nude session and the reality is wide. In my experience the overwhelming majority of artists are there to improve their drawing or painting skills. No other setting comes close in this regard. When the model goes into pose your work becomes the focus.

Nude Studies, oil pastel, 8 1/2" X 11",  2012 (Dupont Figure Group)

A nude model session is a world unto itself. It is one of my favorite environments. I've worked plenty of clothed sessions but there is a certain "edge" missing from the room. Nudity has a disarming affect. You have to leave your shyness or ego at the door. The model is revealing their exterior self while the artists are making public their inner selves and abilities.

Backs

Working in group sessions I often change locations in search of interesting angles. As a result I frequently find myself "stuck" behind the model. All the prime working locations in front are taken. Being stuck isn't necessarily bad. To find the essence in a back pose you really have to look. Looking is good.

Nude Study, oil pastel 6 1/4" X 9", 2011

Back study, oil pastel, 9" X 7", 2013

Nude Study, oil pastel, 5 1/2" X 5 1/4",  2010 

At first glance there isn't as much going on in the back as there is in the front. If there is good raking light and you really look there is actually a lot going on.

"Oh You're an Artist"

In theory society revers artists and puts them on a pedestal of sorts. In the real world artists are looked at with a good deal of suspicion and often not without cause. You are somehow the "other". I never refer to myself as an artist. When asked what I do I simply respond I'm a painter. Then I have to clarify that I paint pictures not houses which usually elicits the response "oh you're an artist".

Seated Figure, oil on linen, 7 3/4" x6 1/2", 2007

The title "artist" is used much too freely. There are lots of artists who don't make pictures at all. You could be a cook or a bricklayer and take your work to the level of artist. I'm a painter. I aspire to be an artist.

Complexity

In any complex endeavor learning something new opens more doors than it closes. Each time I feel I've learned something working from the figure, more questions arise than are answered. About two years ago, frustrated by a lack of progress with my figurative painting, I decided to return to drawing. My intent was to simplify the process and hopefully re-establish a positive learning curve. I ended up drawing almost exclusively for thirteen months. Taking this step "back" has proven to be very helpful.

For me the most basic elements to be considered when working on a drawing are: Composition, line and value. "Simple like that" as an old colleague used to say.

Reclining Nude, oil pastel, 8 1/2" X 13", 2012

When you add color things get very complicated very quickly. Now you start dealing with hue, color "temperature", saturation, texture and and and. These variables can so complicate things it's easy to lose sight of the basics. Composition, line and value are the armature on which to build a painting. If these are weak, the whole painting will collapse.

Nude Study, oil on canvas, 8" X 10",  2013

Pace

I was a distance runner in high school and did some cross country bicycling after college. I am very aware of the need to find an appropriate pace to attain a long term goal. Working from the live figure has forced me to change my decades long approach to painting. How often one works and at what level of intensity are important. Five, six, sometimes seven days in a row no longer works. In addition to physical and mental hurdles the figure poses logistic and financial obstacles I hadn't encountered doing still life or cityscape paintings.

Figure Study, oil pastel, 6 1/2" X 9 1/2",  2013

Figure Study, oil pastel, 12" X 8 1/2",  2013

Figure Study, oil pastel, 11" X 8",  2013

These drawings are just a fraction of what I did in a recent one week stretch. By the last session I was fried. Mentally and physically my edge was gone. I was aware in real time of overreaching but was incapable or unwilling to put on the brakes. Working from the live figure is providing a more than ample supply of new and complex challenges. That's a big part of what makes it so compelling.

Pose Kill

No one wants to hear an old painter wine about things that annoy him. So here goes... I work frequently in group settings. They are an overwhelmingly positive environment. But in my experience there is no bigger pose kill than democratic selection. Given the opportunity the group will collectively almost always choose an uninteresting pose. Many times I've watched a veteran model take a dynamic pose only to be thwarted by multiple requests. The leg, the arm, the tilt of the head. Gradually the models personal vision succumbs to group think and becomes rigid and lifeless.

A little stiff - lots of group input

New models often need guidance. Not so good models definitely need help posing. But good engaged models need the freedom to find the right pose. If it works for them the odds are good it will work for the artists.

Model inspired pose, Nude Study, oil on canvas, 9" X 12", 2010

I could extrapolate this phenomena into many collective human endeavors but that would be opening a whole new can of worms. Working from the figure is wormy enough.

Sweet Reality

Carving out blocks of time to do my art has always been a struggle. Life has a habit of intruding. The world was not designed for Bruce Day to draw pictures. If what one does doesn't conform to societies rules regarding lifestyle and money making you are in for a battle. I know this struggle is part of the deal but I'm becoming aware that it may actually be essential to creating anything worthwhile.

Drapery Study with Seated Nude, oil on linen, 20" X 16", 2006-2012

Left to my own devices I will draw or paint every day. This always leads to burnout. I've been there many times.  By never stopping you interfere with some natural cycle. Enter sweet reality.  A sons band competition, a daughters field hockey game, a sudden illness, something will distract. I used to feel frustrated and often angry at these distractions. Is it possible that the spirit in a successful work is there not in spite of the hardships but because of them?

Warm Ups

Nearly all model sessions I attend do some warm up or gesture poses. I would define these as any pose under five minutes but probably 30 seconds to two minuets are true gestures. I do a version of these in private sessions. They are intended to loosen up your arm and get you mentally engaged. At a recent group session the model requested gesture poses as a means of getting into the session. A good model doesn't just walk in, take their clothes off, strike a pose and hold it. They, as much as the artists, need to "get into it" to do good work.

One minute gesture

Five minute poses

Ones and fives

At a recent open session when gesture poses were announced I heard an artist mumble "I hate gestures". Viewing his work a couple of hours later I would say it was a bit stiff. I like long poses but am very aware of the necessity of warm ups. One shouldn't run a race without some stretching. At the risk of overgeneralizing I think all my best drawings and paintings have started as gestures. If you capture an energy early it can form the essence of a successful work.  It's virtually impossible to inject that energy later.

15 minute oil pastel

I start all drawings like this. Even drawings I spend hours or days on started this way. Often I like these quicker studies better than the "finished" product. Luckily time ran out on this pose. I really like it just like this! (Especially the tucked top foot).

Model's Eye View

Late in 2012 I became aware of a Sunday night session in Richmond, VA that used three models at once. I had worked from two models several times without much success, so the idea of three bordered on the absurd. Wanting to break out of my comfort zone I decided to make the trip.  The sessions were held in an old firehouse with a theater stage at one end. I had attended two previous times and drew with everyone else from the floor looking up at the models on stage. This time, however, with the encouragement of the model coordinator I positioned myself on stage behind the models.

Figure Session, oil pastel on toned paper, 11 3/4 X 15 1/2, 2012

Talk about being out of my comfort zone!  I was invading their space. But the models couldn't have been more welcoming.  Probably out of fear I was very focused right away wanting to catch as much as I could in a short three hours. At some point I started including the artists. Unlike the models they were in a constant state of flux. People changing locations and shifting positions.

Overall the evening was very stimulating, rewarding and comfort zone expanding.

The Blog Monster

When I started this blog nearly two months ago I intended to post roughly once a week. I'm only posting on topics I find interesting and not on some self imposed schedule. But like a child with a new toy I have been posting at twice that rate. I have no previous experience with this media. The only thing comparable is my handwritten personal journal.  I use it to make observations and keep a chronological record of my figurative work. It has proven to be very helpful.

This blog is a different creature. From the first post I was aware of a potential audience. It's no longer strictly personal. I'm trying to make each entry coherent and am thoroughly enjoying the process. But I'm becoming concerned that it may be actually tapping and sapping my creative reservoir.  I will have to be aware of keeping my main focus at the easel and drawing pad.

Anyway, after a two week hiatus from drawing due in part to over blogging, here is an oil pastel from an open model session at The Art League in Alexandria, Virginia.

Seated Nude, 9 3/4" X 9 3/4", 3 hours

Turned On

In order to do a meaningful drawing or painting I have to be excited or turned on by the scene in front of me. There has to be a core or essence that excites me. In my experience a successful work has to capture that essence to fully resonate.

Since turning my attention to the figure almost two years ago, I've done only a handful of non figurative works. This set up turns me on. The simple composition. The pickle/pepper greens contrasting with the deep red background. The strong shadows and translucent glass.  I like this subject so much I've done three versions.

Pickles and Peppers III, Oil on canvas, 18" X 22", 2013

Talk about being excited. At a group session last year I set up around the side of the model and was immediately awe struck. I really was. I had forgotten my pencil sharpener or something and had to go across the room to fetch it. I was excited like a kid called in for dinner wanting to get back outside to play ball. The torso twist. The mussel and bone structures. The lighting. I was hooked.

 Nude Study, oil pastel, 2012

Working from a live female nude can be complicated for a heterosexual male. I'll tackle that topic in a future post.

Hands

Expressive, complex and hard to draw.  Hands have been a favorite of mine since art school.  One rarely gets a good expressive hand pose with the live model.  When you do you usually have just one chance to catch it. Coming back from a break in a long pose, the hands are never the same. This session the model was holding her glasses. She was breaking every 20 minutes. Each time she resumed the pose her hand was slightly different. As luck would have it, I was struggling with the scale of the hand so I just kept redrawing it. I ended up with a lively sort of composite hand.

Figure Study, oil pastel, 11" X 9", 2013

For longer more detailed hand studies you always have a free live model.  Being left handed I've done countless drawings and a few paintings of my right hand. Here are some ball point pen studies taken from a sketch book done sometime in the 1980's.

Hand Studies

And a longer oil study from 2001.

Hand Study, oil on linen, 9" X 11", 2001

Using one's own hand as a model has obvious limitations.  Unless you are working in a mirror you always have a looking away view.  It is still a good practice tool.  Much of the fear of drawing hands can be alleviated by practice. First break the fingers into planes then individual fingers.

Past vs Present

Three posts ago I used a 39 year old drawing to make a point about being in the moment when working on a drawing or painting. Looking at that drawing made this comparison too obvious to pass up.  A male figure study from 2011 paired with the male figure study from 1974.  A thirty seven year gap.

   

Male nude, 2011 

Male Nude, 1974

I wouldn't say the 2011 drawing is "better".  It has sharper, more confident line work and the pose is more dynamic. But the older drawing has an atmosphere and sense of calm that make up for any technical shortcomings. Overall I would say the drawings are comparable.  Not sure what this says about my progress or lack of progress drawing the figure over the last 39 years.

Explicit

Working from the live female nude I have been confronted with a pose like this many times.  I am drawn to foreshortened angles.  They almost always offer a high level of complexity and difficulty.   Head first or feet first, I like foreshortened poses.   A problem with feet first poses is they can become too "explicit".  Meaning they can feature the vagina prominently.  With the exception of a few drawings, I routinely reject these poses and choose something more modest.

A recent evening I scheduled a two hour session with a long time model.  My aim was to do a small (9" X 11") oil sketch.  I try to do these regularly to keep fresh and to experiment with my palette.  Often the model and I spend a great deal of time and effort finding a good challenging pose.  This evening, however, the model "fell" into this pose right away. She was comfortable and I was in a very confident and relaxed mood. The only issue I could see beyond the difficulty factor was the vagina.

I decided to go for it.  After a failed first attempt I adjusted my angle a bit and settled into painting.  Here is the result.  Is it shocking or inappropriate?  I honestly don't have a clue. I very much enjoyed doing the painting.

Reclining Nude, oil on canvas, 9" X 11", 2013

The Group

A surprise figure drawing session this week.  August was supposed to be an off month for the group.  Vacation schedules and other summer obligations made it difficult to gather a quorum.  A small core, however, apparently had withdrawal issues and Susan Ishii graciously called a "private" session.  What a delight!  I was only able to stay the first hour or so but the environment was wonderful.  Model, lighting and setting all worked and from what I saw during a hasty exit so did the drawing.

After some five minute warm ups here is my thirty minute oil pastel effort.

Reclining Nude, oil pastel, 6 1/2" X 7"

In the Moment

I'm in the process of doing a fairly detailed cataloguing of my work. The earliest figure drawing I have dates back to my first or second figure class in college. It is of a seated male nude lit from below. It's not the best drawing. I was in the early stages of my studio exposure. What still resonates for me is how in the moment I was doing the drawing. It has taken me nearly 40 years to internalize this lesson. A successful work of art requires being in the moment and connecting with the subject. When you achieve this state you are not guaranteed success but without it you are guaranteed failure.

Male Nude Study, colored pencil  1974

Best I Could Do Under the Circumstances

Being self critical is essential to improving in any endeavor. If you can't cast a critical eye on your own work you won't improve. Flaws in concept and technique will take root and become hard to recognize let alone correct. You can of course take this too far and only see your flaws. This can become destructive so a balanced examination of your work is best. Recognize your flaws and try to correct them but don't forget to realize your strengths and build on them.

Good gracious, just four posts in and I'm already spouting trite clichés.

In recent years I've divided my work into three main categories: Success, miss and failure. The success and failure categories are fairly set. The miss category has subsets: So close, miss and not a absolute failure.

Failed Nude, oil on linen, 2013

                                 
Let's just call this a miss. Mostly due to the dull uninspired pose (my choice not the models) and boring third rate composition. What was I thinking!

Rust

For nearly three years I have been attending a weekly figure drawing session. Anywhere from five to twelve artists show up to work from the live nude. These sessions have helped my work immeasurably. Not just the figurative work but my still life and cityscape painting have benefited. Drawing from the live model regularly keeps you sharp and loose.

This lesson came home dramatically this week. The drawing group is taking a well deserved August recess.  I've worked several painting sessions in the last two weeks but drawing is somehow different. Instinctively I set up a private session with a long time model. I knew I would be rusty but I wasn't prepared for how rusty. My hand felt tight and timid on the page. There was an obvious disconnect between model and paper. It wasn't until well into the second hour things began to connect and flow.

Nude With Robe, oil pastel, 9" X 9 1/2",  40 minuets

Flesh, Failure and Burnt Sienna

Apparently I have to relearn painting every time I paint the figure.  I Started this oil a week and a half ago.  The premise was a painting where you would "feel" the flesh.  I had a 22" X 28" coarse linen canvas and the perfect model.

Day one with model

The first session went well.  The lines had energy and I thought the tight cropped composition would work .... maybe not.

Working day two without the model on the background and filling in empty spaces the painting washed out and went dead.  The canvas drank paint and the composition turned problematic.  Is it possible to feature breasts too prominently?



The second session with the model I tried adding a little burnt sienna to saturate the tan flesh.  It infected the entire palette and now I have a dull brown mess.

Second model session

I have faced this predicament many times over the years.  Continue working a problematic painting or jump ship and start fresh.  There is no clear answer.  I've worked paintings over months even years.   Some result in "successes" and others just consume paint, time and life force.  I suspect this painting is the latter.  I'll give it one or two more sessions to see what if anything can be learned. 

The Next Step

In October of 2012 I started a handwritten journal dedicated exclusively to my figurative work. The hope was that by putting my thoughts down on paper I would learn something. A more deliberate approach to working from the live nude - pausing periodically to write and reflect.  It has been a revelation.

This incarnation brings me into the digital age. I still view this primarily as a personal educational tool. In the unlikely event anyone reading this blog finds it useful - wonderful!

 30 minute oil pastel study from a few weeks back, 7 1/2 " X 7"