Working from sketches as opposed to photos.

[Sharon Knettell]

Originally Posted by Mari DeRuntz

Sometimes when you work from life the "concept" in your mind does not work on the paper and many, many drawings die as you're working out your subject.

And then some sketches catch it--that divine connection between your mind, your subject, your maker--and the painting has the potential to be immortal.

That is so true. I am glad you brought it up. I have dozens and dozens of sketches that just did not ring quite true and are in the waste pile. It is difficult get the right balance of design and content.

The painting I did "The Age of Mallory " went through many evolutions, distance from figure, eye levels, details of costume, subtleties of pose before I knew I had what I need in a drawing.

My latest model, is now in school, so she can come only once a week. I took a photo of her. How dead it seems in comparison.

As to working from sketches, not many of us have the training to do it today. I know I don't.

Mari, thanks for posting that Annigoni painting, to remind us just how beautiful and grand portraiture can be. The drawing of the hands is so utterly beautiful.

[Richard Bingham]

Originally Posted by Sharon Knettell

As to working from sketches, not many of us have the training to do it today. I know I don't.

Sharon, given the level of your work, I fiind that statement intriguing. What sort of training do you envision as being necessary?

I would say that I very rarely work directly from the life, "painting what I see". Almost everything I do is "frankensteined" together from sketches, memory, imagination, photo references, and the great difficulty I have is to make it "flow". The usual flaw is a sense of being contrived, or a "wooden" aspect, even if glaring errors of scale and perspective have been avoided.

(What a great topic!)

[Sharon Knettell]

Richard,

I rarely make enough of a detailed study of the figure before I paint.

Howewer I do some rather comprehensive charcoals to estimate the size of my canvas, and complete the design. Then I do quick color studies.

I find that they are not informative enough to paint from, and are useless references for color.

I quess I am simply unequipped enough to make things up in my head except some flora, perhaps clouds but never figures. I have to have someone in front of me.

[Michele Rushworth]

Richard wrote:

I would say that I very rarely work directly from the life, "painting what I see". Almost everything I do is "frankensteined" together from sketches, memory, imagination, photo references, and the great difficulty I have is to make it "flow". The usual flaw is a sense of being contrived, or a "wooden" aspect, even if glaring errors of scale and perspective have been avoided.

That's hard to do, isn't it! That's why a lot of people think it's easier to work from life (aside from being a lot more fun, too). You never have to "make something up". It's all there right in front of you.

Sharon wrote:

Then I do quick color studies. I find that they are not informative enough to paint from, and are useless references for color.

I do color studies for every portrait and find them very helpful for working out the composition. If I took the model or other reference away there's no way I could complete the painting from the color study, though. I use the study mostly to "test out" compositional ideas. I'll even do this halfway through the painting. If I want to change something I'll change it on the study and see if it works. Tom Nash told me he uses his color studies for the same purpose.

[Sharon Knettell]

I should have been a bit clearer. The drawings are not very useful to paint from. The color studies are merely a quide when you are faced with the horror of the blank canvas. They are simply a map, a pointer, that is about it.

[Richard Bingham]

Originally Posted by Michele Rushworth

. . . it's easier to work from life . . . You never have to "make something up". . . .

I can't disagree with that, Michele, but with all due respect for the value of working from the life in all cases, it wouldn't be amiss to note practically none of the great master paintings we study and revere were painted that way. Not the Sistine ceiling, not Rubens' epics, not Tiepolo's monuments, nor Titian's grand works . . . it would be far easier to point to the few instances in which the masters worked directly from the life. Not even Vermeer's small jewels were painted directly from the life situations they portray.

Even John F. Carlson cautioned against painting "true to life" landscapes, as "life" so rarely presents ideal situations of composition, scale and color to a single view. Higher art is born of judicious "editing" on the part of the artist.

[Mari DeRuntz]

Ah, Richard, you've opened the door to the great balancing act of all realism, whether you work from life or exclusively from your imagination.

In the greatest works that have survived to our time (the "old masters") there is always a symphonic balance between "what you see," the realism in front of you that Michele is referring to, and "what you know," meaning, what you know of anatomy, modelling form, schemas the masters used to construct the head, how light falls across the form conception of a sphere or column or cube. In this second category is the most profound concept: invenzione. The charm of the Dutch pub scene will never top the blinding invenzione of Michelangelo.

That's hard to do, isn't it! That's why a lot of people think it's easier to work from life (aside from being a lot more fun, too). You never have to "make something up". It's all there right in front of you.

Has anyone claimed it's easier to work from life? More fun? I had a session today where I would have been happy to have cut my wrists afterwards. But as with any other work, there are good days and there are terrible days.

It is also easier to buy a jar of mayonnaise at the grocer than it is to make a weekly batch of aioli. But the difference is extreme and well worth the good focused work it takes to learn the mechanics of the emulsion, even taking into account all the broken sauces, wasted eggs and wasted olive oil.

However, I do not intend to deteriorate this thread into another argument of the virtues of working from life vs. working from photographs. This thread can remain a positive resource of examples of those greats who do use "alternative" sources, like drawings, color sketches, compositional studies, clay models, drapery studies.

[John Crowther]

Originally Posted by Mari DeRuntz

It is also easier to buy a jar of mayonnaise at the grocer than it is to make a weekly batch of aioli. But the difference is extreme and well worth the good focused work it takes to learn the mechanics of the emulsion, even taking into account all the broken sauces, wasted eggs and wasted olive oil.

Wonderful metaphor, Mari, and hardly a deterioration of the thread, IMO. On the contrary, it seems very much to the point. -- John C.

[Sharon Knettell]

[QUOTE=Mari DeRuntz Has anyone claimed it's easier to work from life? More fun? I had a session today where I would have been happy to have cut my wrists afterwards. But as with any other work, there are good days and there are terrible days.

It is also easier to buy a jar of mayonnaise at the grocer than it is to make a weekly batch of aioli. But the difference is extreme and well worth the good focused work it takes to learn the mechanics of the emulsion, even taking into account all the broken sauces, wasted eggs and wasted olive oil.QUOTE]

Working from life has ruined many days for me. I have sat in a blue funk for the rest of the day wondering if my days were better and more profitably spent as a bagger in a supermarket. However I like the randomness of the result of good and bad days on a piece.

Somehow, pieces from my imagination have led me down all the stale old paths, making a vanilla vision of all the faces I knew in the past. I like the challenge of a slightly askew nose, the actual asymmetry of faces, the subtle play of light that changes like quicksilver at the slightest change of an angle.

Yes, homemade aioli is a gift of the Gods.