Copying art

We draw names in my family, and buy one large Christmas gift for one person. This year, I drew my cousin-in-law, David. As we all get older, it gets harder to find something special to give, because most of us are working, making a decent living, and for the most part buying for ourselves the things that we need and want. So I decided that I'd like to paint him a picture, because that's something he couldn't do for himself; but what to paint? He previously had some Asian-influenced art in his apartment, but my cousin Kirsten said he was phasing that out and going with a pure Arts and Crafts movement vibe. So I went and looked at the designs of William Morris, Charles Rennie MacIntosh, Edward Burne-Jones, and others, and tried to figure out something to paint.

The problem with that movement (which I love probably as much as David does) is that most of the so-called art is actually functional: architecture, a lamp, a chair, a ceramic pot, the tiles surrounding a fireplace, or (in the case of Morris) a wallpaper  or textile design. After all, the famous quote from Morris states, "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." Although there were painters from that era, I am not so cognizant of the entire movement that I knew who to look up, nor did I feel confident in David's preference for one over another. So after feeling frustrated for a while, I decided to study the wallpaper designs of Morris, and to choose one of those to copy in watercolor.

I ended up with one of his many variations on an acanthus-leaf design, this one including a couple of flowers and with some bright, contrasting colors (so much of his work is subtle and dark and therefore hard to copy from a print). Because I came to appreciate the intricacy and deliberation he put into each of his designs, I documented my steps in painting this piece. Here they are, start to finish:

The "drawing" was done as a trace; I printed out a photo of the wallpaper swatch at the size I wanted, did a double-layer of graphite transfer (translation: I scribbled on the back in both directions with a soft-lead pencil) to the back, then laid the xerox on top of my watercolor pad and faithfully traced all the leaves, flowers, and branches onto the paper.

I decided to proceed from light to dark, leaving the background color until last, especially because with that color being intense, it would cover a multitude of pencil edges so I wouldn't have the challenge of erasing them. So I began with the pale blue-green acanthus leaves:

There was a lot of shading and color variation in each leaf, not to mention the introduction of an occasional dot or splotch or another color (pink, in the case of the green leaves).

Next was the intense mustard yellow:

Again, duplicating these leaves entailed at least three separate colors of yellow/brown, and had unexpected highlights of lime green.

Next came the green of the two blossoms and the darker greens and browns of all the background leaves and vines:

These were particularly hard to achieve, since many of the leaves had veining, which I wanted to be there, but to look natural, not like lines painted over the top. In some places I succeeded, and in some not so much! I think Morris himself must have painted in oils, which might have been easier?

And finally, I applied the background by carefully filling all the remaining white space with a deep, rich red. It really makes all the other colors pop, and shades the borders together too:

Then I went back in and added a bit of shading and a few darks, for more emphasis.

I hope that David enjoys hanging and looking at it as much as I did painting it. It was quite a lesson in layout, design, color theory...there is a reason William Morris was a major figure of his day and continues to be lauded all these years later.

"After William Morris," pencil, Paul Jackson watercolors, on 140-lb. Strathmore paper.

Gift tags

People were impressed that I painted my own gift tags this year, but what really happened is that I was so disorganized that I had no other choice. I turned in the grades for my students at UCLA on Dec. 14, and thought to myself, Okay, 10 days until Christmas, plenty of time to get everything done, and then...I zoned out. I suddenly realized, on Dec. 22nd, that although I had gifts for about 85 percent of my people, I hadn't bought any paper or ribbon or gift labels, I hadn't wrapped anything, and I was still missing a couple of big gifts, at least one of which I was supposed to be making myself. I checked my cupboard and discovered I had enough leftover paper and ribbon from previous years to make it work, but there wasn't a gift tag to be found. So, I chopped up a couple of sheets of watercolor paper and spent an evening in front of the TV drawing little bunches of mistletoe and holly, a couple of trees, and a nice wreath for my main giftee (David)—we draw names in my family, get the person we draw something big, and then maybe a small thing for everyone else.

Here are my tags, most of which arrived with their designees last night (we do Christmas on the Eve), so now I can show them:

Uniball fine-point black pen and watercolors (various makers) on watercolor paper. They were fun to make; maybe I'll make it a tradition.

Today's effort

I've been watching a tutorial for Urban Sketching on Sketchbook Skool, and this week's instructor is Liz Steel. While the tutorial is about sketching in situ out in the world, and while Liz is an architect, so you would think her focus would be on buildings, she has a mini obsession, which is taking daily tea and sketching the teacup, whether her own or belonging to whichever tea shop she habituates.

(Here's one I painted a few years back, inspired by one of my mom's collection and remembering the "tea for 30" parties she used to host.)

I always wonder about people who sketch their food and drink, because they do a beautiful job of both the drawing and the painting, but all I can think about is, Aren't those fried eggs getting rubbery? Isn't that toast stone cold and soggy by the time you eat it? I still haven't had that question answered, but I did get a glimpse into Liz's process: She pours the first cup of tea, quickly does her base drawing (including the tea at the proper level in the cup), then drinks the tea down. She finishes her drawing, pours a second cup of tea, paints the tea first to get the right level and shade, and then drinks the tea as she goes along with painting the rest of the cup. And when she's finished, she pours a third cup and enjoys it while the paint dries so she can close her sketchbook.

It was about lunchtime when I finished this part of the tutorial. Yesterday, at the market, I stopped in the beans and soup aisle to get some small red beans for tonight's dinner; and while there, I gave in to nostalgia and bought two packets of soy-sauce-flavored Top Ramen, 88 cents for two. My ex-husband and I lived on that stuff the first couple of years we were married and on a budget, and I don't think I've had it since. So today, I cooked up a packet in two cups of boiling water.

It was, however, going to be too hot to eat for about 10 minutes, so I grabbed my sketchbook and pen and made a quick drawing; then I ate the sufficiently cooled-off ramen, careful to leave a few mouthfuls at the bottom of the bowl so I could mix just the right colors, and then I painted it. Not quite as elegant as Liz's teacups, but yummy, and fun to immortalize.

Quick urban sketches

These are a few sketches I made recently, two last week, one today. I'm trying to pull out my sketchbook, instead of my novel, when I'm in a situation where I have to wait for something.

These first two are at UCLA, and are fast, continuous-line sketches, necessary to catch students at breakfast before they moved or left. I'm still enjoying the way continuous-line makes you consider how to capture the main shapes without getting lost in the details.

This one I did at the car dealership today while waiting for an oil change. I thought it would be a more extensive servicing, since I've been driving my "new" Jeep Renegade for almost 7,000 miles now, but aside from some top-up of liquids, it was nothing more than oil and filter. So this drawing was smaller and less inclusive of the general view than I had planned when I sat down, but I still feel like I captured a moment. I was sitting in the waiting area, back behind the main floor and at an angle to the receptionist's desk. I loved that directly behind this rather mundane set-up of a desk with all the electronics necessary to her job, you could see a lime green Rubicon parked in the room. So I painted the things that were interesting—the girl, the Jeep—and left the many many office machines as caricatures.

Still Life

I decided yesterday that today I would paint a "real" painting, that is, using actual watercolor paper instead of working in my sketchbook, and with a subject from life. As it happens, I was at the market while having these thoughts, so I picked up a few pieces of fruit that only show themselves around December so I could arrange a still life. I had just been watching Brenda Swenson's contour drawing lesson on YouTube, which featured a few persimmons, and I have always liked her negative paintings of pomegranates as well, so I combined those and added in a lovely pale yellow pear.

I did this as a mostly continuous line drawing while on the fruit; but once I started doing the leaf pattern on the plate, things got tricky, and I ended up lifting my pen quite a bit. Still, the overall drawing has the wonky feeling of continuous contour.

Today I decided to break out the "good" paints as well; I used my designer collection of Paul Jackson paints made by DaVinci. The features I like best about them are their creaminess and intensity of color; and some of them granulate really beautifully as well. I've noticed that they do take a little longer to dry than those in my other paint palette, which is weird, because more than half of those are M. Graham, which have honey in their ingredients list and therefore should stay damp longer. I'll have to ask Paul about that.

Black uniball pen on 140 lb. Fluid watercolor paper, Jackson watercolors, Escoda paintbrushes.

Facebook header

I wanted something doodly to do while waiting on hold with the phone company the other day, so I made myself another Facebook header. I apparently made it a little deeper than the other one, which fit perfectly, because a tiny bit of this one is being cut off. This is quite similar to the Yule card I made for one of my Sketchbook Skool recipients, because I ended up liking the theme of Yule symbols from nature, but I just realized I forgot the most important one—the Yule log! Oh, well...

Uniball Vision fine-tip black pen, watercolor.

I wonder if there is a market out there for custom-illustrated Facebook page "covers" for people and businesses?

Yule cards

One of the artifacts of the Sketchbook Skool experience (that is even more popular since SketchKon brought some of us together) is that they organized a holiday card exchange, wherein you get five or six names to whom you send cards for the holidays, and receive some in return. You aren't supposed to share them until after people have received them, but all mine have been mailed, and none of those people follow my blog (so far as I am aware), so I'm going to go ahead and post them.

The theme was supposed to be JOY, and though that word is a good one, when it comes to religious overtones it has a bad vibe for me. Back when I was a juvenile fundamentalist, some masochistic individual in my parents' church decided that JOY was an acronym for "Jesus-Others-Yourself." That hierarchy haunted me for many unproductive and self-effacing years. So when it came up for this prompt, I decided to turn joy into joyous, and follow it up with yule, with which no one seems to have a problem even though it's pagan and not Christian, mainly because all it brings to mind is a nice cozy fire. (The "yule" was also prompted by my first idea for a card, which was, naturally, a pun.)

These card "designs" were a good exercise in lack of planning for me. Some people got really elaborate, but I decided that I would allow these to be spontaneous and unique, and I would do them as and when I found time. I did prioritize the three that were going out of state, and did the ones closer to home a little later.

Here is one that I couldn't resist for my new penpal in Australia:

This one below went to Salzburg, Austria (each of those trees was made with one continuous pen line)...

And this one to Victoria BC, Canada.

This one went to Tacoma, Washington...

This one to Marietta, Georgia...

And this one, fulfilling the obvious cliché, to Los Gatos, California!

I hope all the recipients enjoyed them as much as I did making them. I did fancy envelopes too, but neglected to scan them, because they featured people's full names and addresses and I didn't think that would be appropriate. But they know who they are!