Biding time at the threshold

I met with my life coach last night one final time. He's a cool guy; I recommend him to anyone needing a little direction. He asked me how things are going. I told him what's brewing:

• I am registered for a calligraphy and a drawing course at ACAD. The calligraphy course is for fun and cuz my handwriting is embarrassing. The drawing instructor is this Chinese guy. John Chong, who apparently is an excellent Classical draughtsman. I am HOPING that he's really good and that I can take lessons with him. (Um...I'm a little unsettled by the painting on that page; I hope his stuff is generally much better than this. Otherwise, I may not pursue anything past this one course.)
• I am in the Unseen Art show for another week, and then the Art Point Society has invited me to apply for membership in September, which I am going to do, and as a member, I have the right to put on a solo show whenever the space is available (once a year), so I am thinking about a solo show already. Probably next April or May kinda time frame.
• I am teaching a drawing workshop (tentatively titled Drawing Volume and Light from the Still Life) on November 7 at the Calgary School of Art. Depending on how that pans out, I will a.) make some money, b.) potentially get some students. I am hoping to teach a regular drawing and oil painting class.
• I am hoping to go to Studio Escalier next summer. Geoff is hoping to go, too. If I don't do that, I may go to the Art Students League for a month or two or three. I want to get SOME kind of instruction next year. (And if I am not asked to remain after my job contract finishes, I may well end up at the ASL full-time.)

Anyway, it feels to me as though I am on the verge of doing good things, but they just haven't started yet. Which is fine. I can use this time to work hard on my skills, on some pieces. For instance, I need to get a drawing up at the Calgary School of Art to advertise my workshop. I have started it, but you do ONE thing and it takes up all your time and suddenly it's 9:00 and you haven't drawn yet and you're already dog tired and looking for a shower. That's what happened last night. Met with HAMMER, and got home around 7:00, ate, walked my dog, then suddenly had no time to work. That's why I want to be doing this full-time. Otherwise, I won't get very far, because I have so little time to devote to it.

Drawings of Sasha and Jason

Here are some of my most recent figure works. I am aiming towards greater accuracy in recording the figure, and trying to internalize the entire process so I can work from sight, without external measuring devices and ultimately without a "method." I have already abandoned external measuring, using only the occasional plumb line to check angles. (This flies in the face of the sight-size method, but I didn't want to go there anyway!) I am also skipping the envelope now, and diving more or less straight into the block-in. This CAN create some problems with proportion, or fitting a figure onto the page exactly where I want it, but I figure those will come with time, and actually, I haven't had a huge problem with that recently.

Generally speaking, I've been starting with a shoulder, working out the size of the head and torso, then moving on to the lower body and legs. I think I'd be better to define limits around the figure (for example, drawing a line for the shoulders and then a line for the legs, to set the size of the entire body), but so far, I've been lucky to hit the proportions within an acceptable size.

I've also started drawing in my notebook instead of on individual pieces of paper, as I've been thinking more of just working on figure drawing as opposed to turning out "pieces." I am not working in colour (at least for a while), just getting back to working in pencil to capture a basic likeness. I alternate between thinking, "man, I ought to be able to become very proficient with this" and "holy crap, this is so difficult, I'll never have time to learn it all." I figure that with another 20 years of work, I'll have something to say about the figure, by which time I will be 60...but then, I'll be 60 in 20 years regardless, so might as well have something to show for it!

Anyway, here are the figures. I haven't been dating them until this past week, so I can't remember the exact order, but it's not important anyway.
[I will replace these crappy photos with better-quality photos as soon as I can get around to it.]

I'm Teaching a Drawing Workshop Nov 7

I'm slated to teach a basic still life drawing workshop at the Calgary School of Art on November 7. I'm really excited about it, and honoured to get the chance to teach there.

The most exciting thing for me is to be able to introduce the style of drawing that I learned from my teacher in Taiwan - to the best of my ability, and with influence from other remarkable artists (such as David Leffel and Richard Schmid). From what I have seen of the art scene in Calgary, there is not a huge number of people drawing Classically, and for those who do, there is not a lot in terms of instructors to help them along. A number of people are self-taught, which is incredibly admirable, and yet I can see some people making mistakes that I think are holding them back. So I hope to be able to pass along some information that can fill in some gaps they may have in their training.

The most basic thing, and yet of utmost importance, is how to hold the pencil. At the painting workshop I went to, David Leffel stressed the importance of holding the brush properly. He said this is primary, and everyone should learn or re-learn how to hold it properly. (Similarly, when I was studying Kung Fu in Boulder, Colorado, my shifu said to me that even after 25 years of practice, he was still refining his straight punch - the most basic element of the fighting system.) Specifically, I see artists holding a pencil to draw the way they would hold it to write - which is fine if their paper is close to horizontal, but if their paper is standing up vertically, it is very difficult to control. You should hold the pencil differently when you stand your paper up! (Likewise, I recommend holding it differently when doing the large block-in motions versus the smaller actions of hatching or drawing tight detail.)

Secondly, I'll discuss size and placement of the subject, and mention the modern tendency to make everything really large compared to the overall size of the piece. This is a personal choice, but I prefer a more condensed area of interest and smaller objects. And I'll talk about holding the pencil and making large lines during the blocking-in stage.

After that, I'm going to focus on drawing volume and light. In fact, I'm thinking of titling the workshop "Drawing Form and Light from the Still Life." Then, I can use that title for an oil painting workshop, a charcoal workshop, a portrait workshop, or whatever (ie: "Painting Form and Light from the Still Life," etc.).

I have to think of what else I will talk about. Most of the time will be devoted to helping students as they work, and I think I will set aside about an hour for a demonstration, so it's not like I need 6 hours' worth of talking points. But I should make sure I have enough information to pass on. And probably summarize the points on a handout. I will share that information here when I get it down.

Oh, and I already have the composition that I want to use for the picture. I made the original sketch in my journal, and have been working on nailing down the composition, but haven't turned out a piece yet. (I've also had difficulty finding the actual physical objects I want to use for it.) I don't want my students to copy one of my artworks - although I absolutely do intend to turn it into a finished piece.

And I also need to make one other piece as soon as possible, to hang as a promotional piece at the Calgary School of Art. (The piece I wanted to take over is too large.) So I am going to make something, hopefully starting tonight, to frame in an existing frame (so no extra cost), and take it over next week sometime. [Um...or I may go buy rain pants tonight, which could put a crimp in that plan.]

My thoughts on making this piece (I’m considering a charcoal + pastel drawing) are that it should communicate strongly across the entire floor space of the Calgary School of Art. When people come in, I want them to see it immediately and say, “Wow! What’s THAT!?” and run over to look at it, and then say one of two things: “Can I buy it?” or “I want to take a class from this guy!” (Well, OK: to be honest, I want them to say BOTH of those things!)

I think the way to do that is to use very high contrast (i.e.: chiaroscuro) with intense chroma at the focal point, and then enough detail to satisfy their eyeballs once they have forgotten why they originally came into the store and are gawking at my piece. I already have an oil sketch that is close to this, just needs a darker background, higher chroma, and more “stuff.” (I’m debating using this actual painting, although I think I ought to use a drawing of some kind to represent me for this workshop, since it’s a drawing workshop. And hopefully I can bring in an oil painting – maybe this one! - when I get the opportunity to offer a painting workshop.) I'm hoping that someone will want to buy it and that I can have it sold and then replace it with another one, which I hope will also sell. I'm HOPING that my promotional pieces will keep changing, and that I will have plenty of workshops and a couple of classes to offer. I'd love to be able to teach a drawing class once a week and a painting class once a week, and a workshop once a month or every two months. That would make me very busy, but in a very good way. In fact, it might be rewarding enough to keep me in Calgary for some time. I sure hope so!

abstract vs. realism

I've been debating with myself whether or not to pursue abstract art at all, and perhaps been going at it in an fair way: I've been searching my understanding of each and what profit it brings to me, as an artist and as a person. This sounds fair enough, I'm sure. It did to me when I began the process. I figured that if I couldn't come up with a good enough reason to explore abstract art, then I would stick to realism. After all, I know that realism is more difficult, more challenging, and I know that the study of realist painting and drawing brings a deeper understanding of its subject matter: reality.

What I didn't count on was the sheer impact the best abstract art has on me. And now that I see it, I ought to flip the last sentence of the preceding paragraph around for the benefit of abstraction: that the study of abstraction leads to a greater understanding of abstraction.

I think this is not a minor concern.

After all, what struck me most during the David Leffel workshop was the amount he talked about the abstract in his art. Here is a man who is probably known best for his still lifes and his very real-seeming objects (peaches you could pluck off the canvas and eat; not because they are photo-realistic, but because they are so damn lush), and he was talking about the lights and darks doing a yin-yang dance. Or composing pictures to the rhythm of dum-dum-da-DUMMM! (What is that? Some piece by Mozart.) Not to mention that in his book, he points out that abstract art is very representational (paint splotches are nothing but paint splotches), whereas realist art is very abstract (paint splotches are apples, bottles, peaches, and people).

The conclusions that I came to while debating the benefits of devoting my time/Life to the pursuit of realism v.s the abstraction that *I* do (a.k.a. bear vs. shark):

Realism:

• Requires mastery of colour, edges, values, perspective, composition


• Requires an understanding of light


• Requires (and develops) the ability to see clearly


• Leads one to study anatomy, perhaps other scientific areas (botany, etc.)


• Open to the pursuit of 'arty' or socio-political themes (for example, "identity")

MY Abstraction:

• Requires mastery of colour, value, composition


• Allows me to create beautiful compositions and colour combinations that do not necessarily exist in Nature (or at least, I don't need to worry about setting up a reference)


• Open to the pursuit of 'arty' or scientific themes (for example, microbiology)

Obviously, realism (the shark) wins this battle, while the poor, weak, puny-headed bear (abstraction), having been ravined by the shark, limps away with its tail between its one good leg and its stump (the other leg being in the shark's stomach; this makes a lot more sense if you've read the novel).

What it boils down to in my mind is that it seems to me that the pursuit of realism will turn me into a more enlightened human being, with a greater skill set. There is very little in terms of pictorial elements, or anything else that I am interested in studying, that the pursuit of abstraction will demand of me (and thus, in which I will improve) over realism. The only somewhat dubious advantage that pure abstraction seems to offer is that I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want without reference to anything. (Whether this results in something that is relevant to anything is another matter. Likewise, whether this pursuit of the Self is beneficial to my person, as total self-interest is my definition of evil. I'm not saying that abstraction or abstract Art is evil, but I AM saying that the self-congratulatory nature of Artists who are supposed to come up with something entirely original, unique to them, and not derivative of any other Artist who has ever lived that Modernist art engenders is dangerous.)

On the other hand, I simply love some abstract Art. Not much, but some. Most of it, I find empty of anything meaningful, and many abstract artists don't even attempt to make something of beauty. My own opinion is that installation art, video montage, found art, appropriation and the like belong to an entirely different category of activity. I agree that they are arty, or art-inspired, or even use some of the materials and techniques of the arts, but they aren't art. They may be political activism, social commentary, psychological studies, sociological experiments, but if they are not concerned with seeing accurately, crafting beautiful objects, and furthering the understanding of the artist, then they aren't Art. I don't mean this to be divisive ("I'm an Artist and you're not"!), but rather to clarify. I see no enrichment of the Arts by opening up the definition to whatever anyone who calls himself an Artist produces. After all, we don't believe that anyone who calls himself a doctor can call anything medicine. Or that anything spoken by anyone who calls himself a politician is a law. We don't allow any person to claim to be a pilot, then hand them a jet. Or let whoever calls himself a general lead an army into battle. And yet we do accept that anything produced by an artist is Art, and anyone who wants to be an Artist can claim to be one. And there is so little training in art schools any more, and it is so unrigorous, that academic qualifications no longer count for anything.

And when I brought out one of my pieces for the upcoming show, it did strike me as a worthwhile use of my time, and I hope to produce other such worthwhile things. (Worthwhile because, in my opinion, they are beautiful.)

So I've decided I am going to work on some more abstract pieces, and try to get a solo show, and try to make a splash in the local art community, but I will also try to see it simply as a fun exercise in composition and colour, nothing too serious for any of us. And maybe I'll come out with some worthwhile pieces.





(...And if I don't, I probably won't pursue it much after this.)

Richard Schmid's painting DVD

When I went to the David Leffel workshop in LA at the end of June, one artist whom just about everybody talked about (including David Leffel) was Richard Schmid. (I'll let David handle his own relationship with Richard Schmid, other than to report that Mr. Leffel asked rhetorically and in praise, "I mean, who paints like that?") And one of the gentlemen at the workshop, who was kind enough to drive me back and forth the first couple of days ended up lending me his Richard Schmid DVD, The Captain's Portrait. (Which, now that I have copied, I can return.)

To watch Richard Schmid paint, like watching David Leffel paint, is a delight. And he doesn't fail to surprise. Also like David Leffel. The biggest surprise in watching these two painting heavyweights is the almost careless way they apply brushstrokes. Nothing that either of them did (in the 1 Richard Schmid painting demonstration and the 2 David Leffel painting demonstrations I have witnessed) seemed beyond what I could do, or you could do, or anybody could do. Which reinforces in me the belief that mastery of painting is an excellent ability to see, not an exceptional adroitness with the painting materials. (Although, of course, one needs to be able to handle paint well, too - which isn't easy.)

Anyone who has at least one hand and one eye can start a portrait painting the way Richard Schmid does in this video: he whips up a batch of fleshy-coloured paint, and slaps it on the way you would attack a home decorating project - and with nearly as large a paintbrush. After that, it's a matter of seeing well enough to know where the details go, and understanding enough about light and colour and anatomy to know where to put more brshstrokes that any reasonable adult could make. The great mystery isn't in his hands - it's in his mind.

Which is a great lead-in to my next topic: abstract vs. realism.

Accepted into Unseen Art Show, August 8

I just got the message that I have been accepted in the Unseen Art show at ArtPoint Gallery, on August 8. I spoke to the organizer, an extremely friendly lady named Elizabeth. She said she would like to sneak me into the show, even though I'm not really an "emerging artist." (I thought I was!) She said that I really should be in a gallery instead. That was extremely flattering to hear. I haven't approached any galleries, and more or less assumed that I am not ready for that yet.

...But it does make me think that if I could get into a gallery, maybe that would be a way of partially supporting myself in New York. I'm not sure what the rigors are of working for a gallery. It seems to me that you need to somewhat crank out the product. Which could actually be a very practical way of making me work harder and learn faster! On the other hand, if I am working realism and figure/portraiture at the Art Students League, and I envision getting together with other students after class and painting at home, maybe hiring models together, or at least working on still lifes (that's my dream while I'm there: to get a circle of hardcore Classical painters together, to hang out and paint together with them, have crazy dinners, have shows, have crazy adventures, fall in and out of love, get drunk, have spats, publish our ideas, etc), then it would be hard to make the time to work on my abstract stuff, too. It's a difficult balance.

Last night, Sherry agreed that I should spend more time on my abstract art - since, she said, it is more recognizable and "special." I agree to some extent, and it may be the ticket to making a splash, which would help me to support myself through my art only. I think it is a much easier way for me to make a recognizable contribution, since my realism is still developing.

I think the only reservation I have is that if I spend all that time on abstract stuff, then my realism (which is much harder) will suffer. And the way I see it, abstract/conceptual art is the pursuit of the ego, the self. It may be one way to further understand oneself (I'm not sure...), but it seems more likely to be a path towards self-glorification, or, at best, an entertaining distraction. It seems to me that abstract art at its best is pretty (or maybe ugly, or possibly shocking), but there's not much else behind it. I'm not sure what the artist as a human being would learn from painting abstract art, nor what the spectator would glean from viewing abstract art. (I'm also not sure what the value of being shocking is in itself, nor am I interested in advancing a political message through my art - certainly not my abstract art. A lot of what is called Art these days incorporates things that I am not interested in pursuing: social commentary, political activism, etc. I am interested in a certain kind of aesthetics: the pursuit of beauty.) Abstraction seems at the core to be an artist convincing the public to accept his or her point of view. Of ramming (perhaps gently) one's style down the throats of the public. (I do enjoy some abstract art, and I wouldn't even call it a guilty pleasure, because I don't feel guilty about it, but it seems to be the artistic equivalent of a Twinky dinner.)

The pursuit of realism, on the other hand, can lead to real wisdom and understanding of the world. David Leffel says this, and I agree. At the very least, it demands that you see clearly, which is a rare thing in and of itself. It causes you to see relationships accurately, and if nothing else, forces you to understand how light works. Realist painters need to understand light (ie: physics, to some degree), colour, space, balance, movement - not to mention the purely artistic concepts of composition, edges, brushstroke, etc.

On the other other hand, though... I simply like my abstract stuff, and that seems to be enough justification on its own... It seems somewhat ridiculous to think about such things - but then again, it's my life I'm talking about, what I decide to devote my time doing, and I want to make the most of it.

where to go from Calgary?

For the past three years, I have been searching for a place to study. Since there is no Classical painting instruction in Calgary, I have been at a crossroads. I have given serious thought to the following:

• Academy of Realist Art, in Toronto
• New York Academy of Art (still VERY interested!)
• The art academy in St. Petersburg, Russia, where my teacher went
• Palette and Chisel, in Chicago
• Mims Studio, in North Carolina
• Gage Academy of Art, in Seattle (where Juliette Aristides teaches)
• Studio escalier (for a summer intensive; hoping to go in summer 2010)
• Other places

I have thought of moving to Thailand, or Mexico, or Peru, or somewhere else that is cheap, so I can simply paint all day without having the distraction of work.

I have considered going back to Taiwan to study with Teacher Clock.

I have thought of moving to Taos, to be close to David Leffel. (I even asked him during the workshop if there was an advantage to living in Taos; ie: could I paint with him? He laughed and I think said no, but said I should visit. But I don't know if he meant visit Taos, or visit him, and if he meant visit him, did he really mean visit him?)

Anyway, after asking David's opinion, I have decided to move to New York to attend the Art Students League, where David's student, Gregg Kreutz, teaches. His style is very similar to David Leffel's (and Rembrandt's...), and it would be thrilling to study with a student of The Master. I figure 4 years there would put me in a pretty good spot to consider teaching, or even opening my own studio. Of course, there is the problem of affording to live in New York without working, studying full-time...but I'll make it happen. (I may end up working part-time, or teaching privates. And will hopefully make some money selling works, and maybe getting scholarships. Or maybe a sponsor. That'd be cool. My mother just told me that she sponsored someone working in Africa: sent her $25 a month for 5 years. Maybe I can convince someone to do that.) I am hoping to get some shows and to sell some pieces, and it has occurred to me to approach our art-buying CEO to see if he's interested in purchasing one or more of my works as a charitable donation, but not sure yet how to do that. I also knew someone in Taiwan who had a sale of works when he was leaving the country. Not sure how he did, but it was kind of a fundraiser-type thing. Maybe I could do that. Not sure where else to sell, though, since I am not in a gallery, and won't be any time soon.

Foot studies and an impromptu still life

Here are some of my latest figure drawings - or rather, sketches from figure drawing sessions:
I did one entire figure (in about 20 minutes), which came out "okay", but nothing worth posting. And as I started in on the shading, I pretty much ruined it...

Speaking of shading, I guess I got a little heavy-handed with these, too, but I'm still posting them:

The pose was quite difficult for me: staring straight into the palm of the foot, in shadow. I was slightly uncomfortable with my setup, too, craning my neck around my easel and trying to avoid staring into the light. But I did the best I could, and these are the results. No excuses: an Artist has to overcome such struggles. It's the end result that matters. (Or, well, it's the learning that matters, but who doesn't like a nice end result??) As Geoff said, the foot is the hardest thing to draw (something along those lines, anyway), and it definitely was challenging for me. Fortunately, my Saturday evening, 3-days-without-coffee depression left by Sunday, and on Monday, I was feeling dandy, as I am Tuesday (today). Let's hope I can keep my spirits up. I am back to drinking coffee, albeit somewhat less, but could there be a coincidence that I haven't had a daily glass of wine since sometime last week?

And the other day, I think Saturday night, I was working on a portrait of Sherry, and after that, around 10:00, I thought, I'm just going to do a little still life painting, just because I want to, and because I have the stuff set up, and I've been working towards getting a nice still life composition, but haven't quite got it 100% figured out yet. (I did a nice little sketch as an exercise in composition, but I haven't been able to get the physical objects to co-operate...need a smaller bowl, I think, and the bowl shouldn't be white, and I just swapped out a smaller vase and it looks better....so it's coming along....Value Village, here I come!)

So this is the end result (...for now: I'm thinking of adding some cool colours (blues, basically) which are entirely absent, since I just did this with the colours that happened to be on my palette: mostly Venetian red and umber and black and white and a little yellow ochre).

David Leffel mentioned challenging yourself to do, for example, several paintings using the same limited palette, but make each painting tend towards one or other of the colours. For example, if you use Prussian blue, umber, yellow ochre, white, and Venetian red (a nice sounding limited palette if I ever heard one!), make one of the paintings favour Prussian blue, one favour yellow ochre, one umber, one Venetian red. So that's what I'm going to do, although I may add in a little orange, since the Venetian red + yellow ochre doesn't seem to yield a very orangey colour. (But I'll try that again first.) Anyway, it's a challenge I am going to give to myself in the future.

Portrait from David Leffel workshop

I'd like to share some of the things that I learned at the David Leffel workshop in LA, June 26-July 2. David is one of my two favorite living artists (the other being Richard Schmid; sure, I love many other artists, but these two really blow my mind), and I was looking for a workshop with him, and when I saw the one in LA, seats still available, I jumped at the chance. The guy is pushing 80, so I figured, he may not be teaching for too much longer, and I want to have that pleasure in this lifetime. So I went to the workshop (which was being recorded to DVD, and we all get a free copy after it is made, woot!), and bought his book, and bought Sherrie McGraw's book, and looking forward to his next book of self-portraits.

It was a wonderful week of art, lots of ideas swarming in my head. (For example, I heard from another student that David Leffel has a painting based on the cadence "da-da-da-DUM" from - what is that, Beethoven's Ninth? Also, he told me how, in one of my portraits, the dark should be swirling one way, and the light swirling over top, like the yin and yang symbol...) I dove into both of his books (which I got him to autograph - maybe I'll scan his signature, because it is BEAUTIFUL!), and started reading Sherrie's book (which I am now reading in its entirety for the second consecutive time).

Some of the more technical things that I learned from him include the following:

• make your shadows COLOURFUL (add red, yellow, Venetian red, etc). The reason why Classical paintings seem colourful is their colourful shadows (compared to the colourless shadows of the Impressionists, for example).



• The darkest dark (pure black) advances and can therefore NOT be "in the air" next to ("behind") the figure. (How many times have I seen this in portraits!??). The lightest portion needs "air" in which to be able to "turn". (In other words, if pure black advances, it can't be behind the figure, and therefore, the portion of the figure that is next to the black does not have a background behind it.)


• Keep hair and background very close in value.


• Keep everything simple: large simple blocks of colour.


• Paint lightly and allow the underpainting to show through to achieve different colours/values in the skin.


• Make your first brushstrokes in the light carry across the room, and use enough paint to have something to work with (ie: leave a thickness to be able to spread around).


• (not directly from the course, but from reading his book and Sherrie's book): SEE the beauty you want to paint. We paint what we are looking for, so if you want to capture beauty, you have to see it! (Otherwise, you may "only" capture accuracy, for example.)


• Keep asking questions: what if I pair these two colours, these two objects, etc?


• Colours on a single object need a commonality (for example, the green and the red on an apple need to have some common colour: a blue-green and a blue-red, for example)

Finally, this is the last portrait that I started, on the last day, right after the demonstration in the morning. I felt that I internalized some of the things that he taught us.

(I am NEVER going to touch this painting, but will leave it as a reference - and as an inspiration to keep painting.)

up from down

I've been feeling a bit depressed lately, trying to get out from under that weight. It takes a toll on everything, not least of all my art. (My productivity goes down to zero.) So anyway, I'm trying to be more positive, getting rid of all the crap I've built up, working on being more positive. And working on working more. So here are some of my more recent works, including the one more successful portrait from the David Leffel workshop.

I did do a little work last night. Trying to nail down a still life composition. I mean the actual setup of the objects - cuz I have a nice little sketch, but I haven't been able to arrange my real-life objects to mirror that composition. I think my bowl is too large, so I'm going to V-V Boutique today to see if I can find another bowl. (And buying a teapot for work, so I eschew the coffee which makes me into a crazy-man, or more often than not, up-and-down mopey-man).

But while I was sketching the still life arrangement that I had in place, I realized something quite valuable: the sweet spot was too low! I had instinctively placed the orange that is going to be my main focal point about 1/3 the way up the picture plane, on one of the lines where you're "supposed" to put stuff...and I realized it wasn't in the location that *I* like! I prefer what I call the 60/40 composition: place your sweet spot about 40% of the way up the canvas, which is a considerable distance up from 1/3. (OK: theoretically 7%...but in reality, the picture looks almost cut in half, instead of in thirds, and this is a huge difference. And I could be off on my 60/40 ratio, because I've never measured it beyond, well, THIS fits into THAT once and maybe...half again.) I double-checked my sketch, and sure enough: I had placed it according to the 60/40 "platinum mean." Looking back at my new sketch, the objects seemed WAY too forward, almost in-your-face. That's not what I want to achieve. I am hoping for quiet contemplation of beauty. And the difference between seeing a beautiful woman and having her scream in your face is pretty noticeable. When I can, I'll post photos of all these things to show what I am talking about.

So I'm going to revisit that composition, I guess on Friday night or the weekend. I want to create a charcoal drawing of the still life before I do it in oils. Like the most recent charcoal still life I posted, which I want to now do as an oil painting.

I have to figure out cloth, though - as in, how to lay it down, create fold, which way is it going to orient in order the make the most interesting composition?