USK correspondent Peter Scully is doing this wonderful thing, where he puts up hand drawn maps to great sketching locations.
I think this is the best idea ever. I absolutely want to print out his sketched maps and follow the routes looking for hidden sketching treasure.
Follow his blog to see what other brilliant ideas spring forth from his ginger head.
Rio de Janeiro. This town seems impossibly picturesque. The combination of mountainous coast and teeming metropolis. A landscape like nowhere I’ve been before.
A view like this has to be painted with a keen eye toward simplification. What are the Three Big Shapes? (This is one of my code phrases – mantras I use to keep myself on track). Here, they are Land, Sea and Sky – with the white city being the shape left behind.
This one is my all over favorite sketch from the whole trip. This is winter in Brazil! As a Canadian, this is rather incredible. As the day warmed up and the sun moved, we got Land Sea and Sky in a different set of colors.
The best thing about travelling and painting with the group. Well there are many best things – the great company, the shared motivation to paint, paint, paint – but also, being able to look over at a friend’s paintings and see – wow, that’s what I need to do! Exactly there! This rapid sketch of Sugarloaf mountain was cribbed right out of Omar Jaramillo’s sketchbook.
This last one, a fun experiment. We were walking back from a long day sketching, and Linda Permann dared us to sketch one more – on the beach, in a puddle of streetlight, looking at the dark water. Isn’t that awesome? Sketching buddies that won’t quit, even when the sun goes down. I honestly had no idea if this was possible, so I’m quite happy with the way it turned out.
Every one of these sketches from Rio is something I’ve never seen before. That is what I love the most about urban sketching. Experiencing something new wherever you go.
The second stop on our tour of Brazil was the little town of Paraty, where the USK symposium was held. Paraty is a port dating back to colonial times. I hear it was the launching point for ships full of gold heading to Spain. Today there is continual boat traffic taking visitors up and down the coast on sightseeing cruises.
The part of the town used by tourists can’t be much than ten square blocks. The whole thing has been restored with cute white plaster houses, clay tile roofs and cobblestone streets. There are three big churches for this tiny village, but otherwise it’s all gift shops, small galleries, restaurants and hotels. Beyond a series of chained off streets keeping out everyday traffic there is a normal Brazilian town with the businesses you’d expect in a tourist destination. Bike rentals, the boat tour operators, t-shirt shops and hostels.
On the tourist side, everything is a kind of artificial quaintness. On the real world side, it’s a little more gritty. Normally I wouldn’t pick this town for a sketching location. You’re not going to see any ‘real life’ going on here. But for our purposes, it was an ideal setting. We were able to wander around at all hours, getting from spot to spot in minutes, essentially taking over the entire town for our private sketching party. Quite a different experience from last year’s symposium set against the hustle of Barcelona.
This made it the most productive USK event I’ve been to – in terms of getting my own sketching done outside of my ‘work day’ teaching.
Each morning of the workshop some of the keener painters would be up early. We had about a hour between breakfast and first classes to get a sketch in. Some of the extraordinarily keen would get up before breakfast and paint, then stop back for those Brazilan cheesey puff ball things that the hotel puts out every morning.
The first day many of the international instructors ended up sketching right outside the hotel, just sitting in the street and catching new people as they got up and out. Eventually we had half of the symposium sitting in the street, getting right down to why we were there – obsessive sketching!
One of the fun stories from Paraty. Local people passing by on the way to work would naturally ask what was going on. This day we could say we had sketchers on the bridge from India, Scotland, Iran, Sweden, Australia, the USA, the UK, and Canada – painting together, learning from each other and having fun.
Sketching out in the world, you are always seeing something unexpected. The streets flooding with sea water at high tide was fairly unexpected. But so was this horse strolling through the flood. What happened next was less unexpected. What would be the worst thing a horse could do while splashing by you in a muddy street? Yes, that happened.
This is my first sketch done in Paraty, in the courtyard of our hotel. I think regular readers of my blog will see what I mean by the phrase Silhouette and Subdivide. It’s all encapsulated in this image here.
(For the history of this thought process, go back to my Direct to Watercolor series of posts).
The common strategy behind all of these rapid sketches is to look for the largest silhouette shapes in front of you – such as the broad leaf palms or the egg shapes of the clay pots. Place them down in a single brush stroke. Once you have the composition (it only takes moments to make a few big shapes), you can then look at each shape and see how it can be subdivided with the darker tones of shadows.
This is the logical followup to the ‘colored sketching’ exercise Tea, Milk and Honey that I teach beginners. After you TMH over a few dozen (well, maybe more) sketches, you’ll find you don’t really need the drawing any longer (if you don’t want). My how-to book on Urban Sketching goes back further, to the very beginning of this learning curve, starting with how to see silhouettes and shadows when drawing.
We are just back from the 2014 Urban Sketchers symposium in Paraty Brazil. I can’t begin to explain how great it was without waxing philosophical.
When you’re traveling, every view is fresh. The excitement of exploration gets into your sketches. Your work is tuned up by the heightened perception and the opportunity to sketch without interruption, working one day into the next, without life to get in the way.
Add to this, a group of like-minded artists, who are equally driven to be up early and out late, always on the move, sketching constantly. There’s nothing more motivating, more fun, or more useful for an artist.
At the same time, the big challenge with travel sketching, is that it can’t last. You’re only there for a short time. Every decision to stop and draw something is of course preventing you from seeing another view. You can only be in one place at a time. Eventually you’ve made all the choices time allowed, and in doing that given up infinite other possibilities.
This can drive you crazy if you let it. Can lead to a mentality of rushing around with your hair on fire, sketching madly. Trust me, this is only made worse if your wife is a great photographer. You see so many amazing things you wished you’d noticed at the time.
I did this running-around-like-mad thing last year in Barcelona, and came home with 200 pages of pencil drawings, but not a single painting to show for it. I had plans for what I’d do with all those drawings once I got home – but life being the way it is, I haven’t really gone back to revisit them.
My strategy this year was to pack light and work smaller than usual, so I’d be as flexible as possible – but to paint in color the whole time, even for the quickest of sketches.
The first few days in Sao Paulo were a high speed tour with my friend Liz Steel of Australia and her friend Claudia, who is a Paulista currently living in Sydney. We took advantage of Claudia, having her drive us all over the city, from sketching spot to spot.
I’ve toured with Liz before, and I’m well aware that she’s much faster than I am. When you’re working with someone else, I find you naturally gravitate to a similar pace. Nobody wants to be holding up the others, or wandering around subtly pressuring them to wrap it up. So your either led by the fastest or the slowest person, depending on who’s more accommodating that day :)
I’d planned ahead, bringing a new watercolor travel set with a limited palette selected for Sao Paulo.
My colors consisted of a set of warm grayed darks (all from Daniel Smith) chosen for the urban tropical setting (bloodstone genuine, piemonite genuine and hematite burnt scarlet).
These were tied into a powerful yellow orange pigment (quinacridone deep gold) that represented the sandstone color of the local architecture, and a minty blue-green (fuchsite genuine) the exact color of copper roofs.
Besides this, a cool-yet-strong sky blue (mayan blue) which I hardly used at all due to overcast winter skies, and my new favorite cold-green dark (perylene green) for the palms and tropical trees.
This very minimal set of 7 pigments, were all brand new to me (excepting the perylene green). I pulled them off the rack in a last minute impulse buy a few days before leaving. Colors turned out to be bang-on (to my eye). It was a bit of a gamble, might have ended up on the street with entirely the wrong shades, but my instincts turned out fine.
There’s one case where this palette let me down, this mission style church was in fact a coral pink.Well, to be less flattering I’d have to say pepto-bismol is what came to mind. Having only the limited palette actually improved things in this case.
The result of my experiment is this small sketchbook of Sao Paulo, with a consistent matching mood from page to page. It’s another example of less is more. Having fewer pigments to mix made for faster sketching, and the overall color scheme sets a shared tone for the sketchbook that I quite enjoy looking back on.
I’m just back from the USK workshop in Paraty Brazil. But before I post any of that – I came home to the latest issue of The Artist’s Magazine waiting on my doorstep, which means I can finally show this sketch.
I have this background project – each year around October I’ll do a portrait of Edgar Allen Poe. This year I did it early, on request from the magazine, so it might come out in the October issue.
This is the second Mr. Poe watercolor. I’d done a few before in pencil. Perhaps next year I’ll be ready to do one in oil. I hope this will be a way of checking in with myself. To measure how my approach to painting is evolving.
Here’s 2013’s PoeTrait.
Attentive readers will know, around this time last year I was working more deliberately. Starting with a pencil drawing below the watercolor. Using the line as a guide, mapping out what was light, and what was shadow. I often found myself telling people “it’s like drawing yourself a coloring-book”. But I was never very comfortable with that analogy. It certainly works – and I still recommend it for beginners. But can you imagine trying to explain that to Mr. Sargent when you show up in artist heaven? The whole “coloring book” thing was always something I’ve been embarrassed about. Even while I was using it to make some of my personal favorite pieces.
The point is – these days I’m just going straight in. Simply drawing shapes with the brush on a blank white page without any planning beyond *looking*.
I’m really not sure if this is a great idea. It’s certainly the high risk approach. Perhaps I’m just an adrenaline junky.
You can see that in the first few minutes the portrait is already there. Bing Bang Boom, a few planes of the head, a few dark eyebrows, and it’s Mr. Poe. If the likeness had not worked out in the first few strokes, I’d have had to tear it up and start again.
I feel like I got lucky with this one. I got away with a reckless charge that might have left me muttering about wasting good paper. But these days, it’s the ones like this that get me excited.
We had a weekend of outrageously good weather. Might have been the best I’ve ever had in the Rockies. Sketching times ranging from 45 minutes sitting in the sun, to 5 minutes leaning on the car while photographers jumped out for roadside shots.
[Welsh Pond] Note: This was 7am so the photogs could get this mirror glass water. I can tell you, watercolor won’t dry on a chilly damp morning. Had to walk back out of the trees and find patch of sun to dry the painting between doing the first wet-in-wet pass and the dark tree line.
One of my old art school chums has become a serious rock climber in the years we’ve been away. On a recent trip back home, she invited us to join her climbing buddies for a day at Grassi Lakes, above Canmore AB.
The ladies were doing rapid scrambles up 35 feet of vertical rock faces, taking only five or six minutes top to bottom, testing themselves against different routes and difficulties. Sometimes ‘hang dogging’ or ‘taking a whipper’ – but mostly making it look easy.
My friend led her first 5.10d pitch on that day, which was cool to be there to see. Much appropriate high-fiving and who-hooing all around.
I think this group of climbing vets wouldn’t normally choose this kind of spot. I get the feeling it’s a lot closer to civilization than they prefer. They’d quite generously picked a place I could hike into without raising my heart rate.
We started early, initially having the spot to ourselves, but by mid-day the walls were crawling with climbers.
There are lanes of bolts set in to the walls, every 20 feet or so around the upper lake, making what I can’t help calling a vertical bowling alley out of the box canyon.
Every pitch was in use. There were old pro’s showing new guys the ropes – (hah! Literally!), hard core mountaineers with ratty dreadlocks and well used gear, next to city people in super hero lycra and matching harnesses. At the foot of the wall patient crag dogs waited, people prepped lunch, (we had smoked sausages, that I bet smell *great* to bears), and significant others swam in the lake while their buff-er partners clung to the rocks. Or mostly, swapped stories and waited their turn.
You have to wonder how long the rock faces will stand up to such popular use. But I guess, this is the way of things. I can see the climbers love the mountains, and people try to be responsible. But at the same time, it seems there’s no stopping the growth of sport climbing in the Rockies. Every year it’s just going to get bigger. I suppose it will push the good climbing further out into the parks – and then there will be heli-climbing. You can’t stop people getting at the thing they love. Which I have respect for in its own way, given what I do.
I’m always excited (and a bit nervous) to sketch something like this. Something I haven’t seen before. Doubly so, when it’s something that won’t hold still for you. You never lose the concern you’ll flounder, be unable to capture what’s happening.
But I think the very new-ness of the thing, the fact you’ve never drawn it before, makes you hyper focused. Plus the pressure to live up to the occasion. The drawings might not be as polished as with more familiar, or more standing-still subjects, but they’re always a living record of a new experience.
They climbed and I drew, might have been four hours, maybe more. I think they were surprised I kept at it the whole time – I was impressed with their physical ability, and clear desire to get just one more run in.
Doing something like this, (drawing or climbing) that locks you into the zone – time just flies, and you don’t get tired. That is, Until you’re done for the day and the long walk back to the car happens in a kind of played-out but self-satisfied quiet-time.