Persistence

Working through fundamental exercises in any given field, let alone drawing, can test your patience but the key is to remain persistent. After I read through Dr. Betty Edwards' "Drawing On The Right Side Of The Brain", I learned not only about why the brain perceives the visual world the way it does, but also strategies for a new way of seeing to improve my drawing. This foundation of knowledge motivated me to continue to work in these areas while sparking my interest to learn more from other sources.

I attempted to enroll in several classes and workshops around the Denver area to further my education but I always seemed to be a day late and a dollar short when it came time to enroll. My search continued and I eventually discovered an excellent resource for artists called Smartflix. This website provided instructional video rental for drawing and painting in addition to many other specialized craftwork. I rented videos from there while checking out more from the library. The videos helped solidify the concepts of what I had read in Dr. Edwards' book in addition to new teachings. Now, I had to take this new information and put it into practice.

After several months of working on my accuracy, I gravitated toward portraiture. My interests were pushed further when I was commissioned to do a portrait series of three siblings. I also began two separate series of self-portraits and burlesque performers around this time.

In the autumn of 2010, JQ and I flew out to Washington D.C. to attend a wedding. We planned to spend sufficient time at the Smithsonian Institution. I was struck by two galleries in particular. As you might suspect, the first was the National Portrait Gallery where I marveled over several works by John Singer Sargent while gaining a better appreciation of American artists in general, such as Childe Hassam and Robert Reid, to name a few. I surprised myself developing a newfound love of work I had long disregarded, ultimately realizing the importance of portraiture in American art as not only documentation of history but as an entity of beauty in and of itself. Interestingly enough, the second gallery was the Feer/Sackler Gallery, typically known for its Asian collection. This time, however, there was a gorgeous exhibit featuring the work of James McNeill Whistler. I absorbed visually what I could from the trip, writing down names of interest with the intent of looking them up when I returned home to find out what I could about the artists and their processes.

Of the artists I wrote down, Sargent and Whistler were the most documented regarding their process. From Sargent, I learned of his strong work ethic and how much time he put into rehearsing his material through sketches; he encouraged at least 100 studies of a particular subject before committing it to canvas. Whistler, on the other hand, was known for his remarkable visual memory. He would study his subject intently for a period of time and then turn his back, facing away from the source to recite verbally what he had seen in order to commit it to memory. These two concepts would eventually become the cornerstone in my continuing development as an artist.

Jared 2.0, Back To The Blog: Part II

“I’m gettin’ old, man. Heard the gun for half-time go off when I turned 40. I’m at half-time in my life. My life is half over. And I played a sloppy first half, man.”

-Billy Gardell

Self-introspection had begun in earnest. I was looking at my paintings through the eyes of a critic and what I saw was work that didn’t match my vision. I simply wasn’t producing the caliber of work I was striving for.

The first problem I identified was my drawing ability. I have been drawing ever since I could pick up a pencil. Throughout my life, I’ve been told by friends and family that I was a good artist and until last year, I believed it too, whole-heartedly. Once I began viewing my work more critically, it became apparent my drawing skills were lacking. In the past, I settled for these inadequacies because I always managed to tell myself that I could do better if I wanted to, if I really tried. The reality was that regardless of whether I could or couldn’t, I never made a concerted effort to improve my drawing skills and thus, I had yet to prove to myself that I was as good as I thought I could be.

As I was driving one day, I listened to a radio interview with an author who had written a book exploring whether talent is something inherent or can be learned. If my memory serves me correctly, I am thinking of David Shenk and his book called The Genius in All of Us: New Insights Into Genetics, Talent, and IQ. The particular subject discussed was “Why many childhood prodigies never fully live up to expectations.” He referred to a study where a grade-school classroom was divided into two groups: Group A was told at the beginning of the grading period that they were straight A students, that their work was exceptional, and they were doing very well in class. Group B, conversely, was told their grades were average to below average, and if they hoped to improve, they would need to work much harder. Riding on infused confidence, Group A proceeded to coast through the semester, turning in very average work while Group B worked substantially harder in order to produce better grades. In the end, Group B outperformed Group A. I could immediately see the lesson and how it applied to me. I’m embarrassed to admit that until my realization, I never worked at becoming a better draftsman because I accepted that I was talented and therefore had no drive to work on my skills.

I needed a resource to help me improve. I looked up possible classes and workshops, but they were either filled up or too expensive for me to attend. During an evening making canvas boards with Tony, I explained my recent revelation and that I was interested in improving my drawing skills. He suggested I pick up a book called Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Dr. Betty Edwards who has a master’s degree in art, a doctorate in psychology and a passion for education. In her book, Dr. Edwards breaks down five levels of visual comprehension, followed by basic brain anatomy, function, and visual cognition to provide an excellent foundation of understanding. She then provides various techniques to help counter those obstacles to obtain objective perception; a new way of seeing. All of these concepts are referenced in one form or another in all drawing training material I have found, such as: utilizing negative shapes, determining a basic unit within the image and using it to compare and measure other, larger shapes within the same composition, determining angles, and several other methods. I therefore believe this book is the best place to begin if you are interested in improving your drawing, whether you are a beginning or advanced artist, because it is the most comprehensive.

Understanding brain anatomy and function piqued my interest and after reading about them, I was prepared not only to utilize different measuring and self-checking techniques to develop better drawings, but to continue learning about how we learn and other concepts that related to and transcended the world of art. I also became aware of how much effort needed to be put into practice. Drawing is a discipline- you can’t merely study it and expect to get better without actually working at it. Again, a discrepancy I noticed between reality and my perceived reality.

I began doing the exercises diligently with an eye on revisiting the fundamentals of composition.

Jared 2.0, Back To The Blog: Part I

Nearly two years ago, I hit a creative wall. I felt my artwork wasn’t progressing the way I wanted it to and blogging about it only served to confirm those feelings so I stopped writing. I needed time to rethink my approach to painting.

I remembered my college professor, Earl Linderman, telling the class the only way to get better at painting was to continue to paint. After graduation, I put those words into practice and noticed gradual improvement in my work, particularly in the five years I was fortunate enough to do it full-time, but in 2010 I plateaued. The uncertainty of how to proceed sent me into depression. I was determined to find a solution. I needed to refine my skills to match the vision that was beginning to form in my mind of what my art should look like.

In an effort to cheer myself up, I began watching a lot of stand-up comedy. As I continued to observe and listen to various comedians and their material, I became interested in the development of their career path (a subject I hope to expand on at a later time). I eventually came back to George Carlin whose work I hadn’t seen since the late ‘80s. After combing through all of his stand-up material, I looked up additional t.v. spots and interviews and found one particular interview where he discussed a turning point in his career which he claim happened at about the age of 40. Incidentally, this was the same age I found myself at the time I watched the interview. Carlin went on to explain the change came about from a book he read titled "Psycho-Cybernetics."

A short time later, I picked up a copy of the book, by Maxwell Maltz, out of curiosity and actually found it to be an interesting read. In fact, I recommend it to anyone who is looking to make some positive changes in their life. The gist is that humans are goal-seeking individuals. Once we determine a goal we work to achieve it through a self-correcting system, directed by our own experiences utilizing positive and negative conditioning, and ultimately moving toward the positive for a successful outcome.

I thought about my own situation and realized regardless of the frequency of which I painted, if I was in fact continuing to employ bad habits or other unnecessary or negative strategies, it would therefore follow that I would continue to produce undesirable results. I needed to look at my work with complete honesty to determine what I liked and what I didn’t like about it. Once I was able to quantify the compositional elements into these categories, I could then make the necessary changes. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

To be continued…

Clearing the Cobwebs

A year and a half since my last entry and much to share. I plan to post something substantial soon, but in the meantime, my website has been updated and you can see what I've been working on at www.jaredsteinberg.com and Twitter. Please check back soon.

A Time of Quiet

2009 ended quietly and, so far, 2010 continues the trend for me. I don’t have many new works to show, as I’ve been working on several commissioned projects that will be finished soon. In the meantime, I am taking a step back to revisit the fundamentals of composition, value, painting and storytelling.

I feel like I have been saying the same things again and again, to the point where I’ve bored myself with repetition. So, to quote from the Paul Simon song Hurricane Eye:

When speech becomes a crime

Silence leads the spirit

Over the bridge of time…

… Peaceful as a hurricane eye.

The Future of Art?

I walked into the classroom, the floorboard creaking under each step. Though I had fifteen minutes to spare, there were already at least a dozen other artists gathered and stationed at their easels for the life drawing class. I roamed around hoping to find a spot with an unobstructed view of the stage area and luckily found a gap where I would actually be able to see the model. I marked a spot by setting my large sketchbook down on the ground; territorial pissing.

As I inspected the stage, I noticed a purple drape flowing over a single chair. Nothing more. The model arrived shortly after I set up my easel, and after some discussion with the session coordinator, she disrobed and found a comfortable seated pose as the lights were adjusted to bring out contrast in her figure.

The first sitting lasted twenty minutes and flew by. During the break, I was sharpening my pencils when I looked up to find a familiar smiling face walking in. It was my uncle and it was good to see him there. We talked for a few moments and then he went off to find a view of his own to draw from as the model returned for the next session.

During the following break, we strolled around the room a bit, taking notice of some works by the other artists. One particular setup caught my eye as well as my uncle’s. A notebook computer was set up on some sort of frame, much like an electric keyboard rig. The artist was composing directly on to the computer through some advanced form of Photoshop.

Admittedly, I was a little put off, but my uncle was intrigued. He started inquiring about the setup as I tuned the conversation out to browse other works. There was one particular part I did catch, however, and that was the student’s remark who said this was “just another medium” to work from.

To a point, I agree with his statement. I am certainly not a technophobe but do have boundaries for how I employ certain high-tech tools. In terms of the actual art process, I am more of a traditionalist. I have difficulty enough embracing giclée printing from original work, let alone art that has been produced entirely in a digital format. It is my opinion that the aesthetic qualities lost in translation to a digital format diminish the experience of the viewer; things like texture and consequently, the flattening of light, to name a few. Furthermore, it seems the artist isn’t really challenged within this sterilized, artificial setup. All the tools he or she will ever need are right there in the program: all the colors, tools, format, etc. There is no struggle for the artist to overcome and no reason to find an innovative solution to a problem. The only limiting factor is the artists own skills.

The evening soon ended and as my uncle and I left the building, we discussed our opinions of “painting” with computers. Ultimately, we’re looking forward to more art sessions with our traditional tools. If you have any opinion on technology and art, please feel free to share.

The Art of Self Perception

She held up the drawing to me- a self-portrait. I asked her what she thought of it and she said liked it, yet admitted she could have demonstrated a wider range of value. I agreed.

I didn’t want to say too much. I didn’t want to criticize. That certainly that wasn’t the point. The drawing was merely a mark in time; the beginning of her process. Who was I to judge her perceived self? I explained to her the first time I showed my mug to the public. Mind you, this was not the first self-portrait I ever did, merely the first one I was actually comfortable enough to show.

“Your nose isn’t that big,” someone assured me.

“Your nose should be bigger,” someone else declared.

“Your face is fatter,” I was told.

And so it went. I received an equal amount of praise and criticism from friends and family alike... whether I wanted to or not.

A portrait is challenging enough, but a self-portrait even more so. We know ourselves better than anyone else but can easily get caught up in preconceived ideas about who we are. Consequently, we tend to view ourselves in a subjective light revealing our own biases and criticisms of ourselves through the rendering of facial features in terms of exaggeration, distortion, addition or omission. In some instances, these embellishments are deliberate, but often this is not the case. Not to mention the complexity of technical skills it requires to draw a face in the first place.

This exercise in self-perception is designed for the artist to learn to view the world more objectively and thus, yield a work that rings true with its audience because it comes from a place of honesty. Finding this honesty in a self-portrait takes practice.

It has been over a year since the last self-portrait I painted. After my student presented her work, I felt it was time to do another. So yesterday I drew one (pictured to the right). I think it's good, but there's always room for improvement. We are all just works in progress. Please feel free to comment on any of this.