Thursday, September 10, 2009

Gryposaurus, Part 1

Today we continue the behind the scenes look at the new paintings for the October issue of Ranger Rick magazine.

The next creature I needed to visualize was a duck-billed dinosaur called a Gryposaurus (and I misspelled the name). As you can see from my colored pencil sketch, I wasn't too sure what the forms would look like. Even though I was looking at lots of fossils, he looks lumpy and unconvincing. If I went ahead on the final painting, it would only have looked about 10% better.

I think you really learn a form through your fingers (that's why I love museums that have casts of great sculptures that you can run your hands over). By making a tiny sculpture of this particular dinosaur, using Fimo over tin foil and armature wire, I came to know my subject.

I kept checking it against the drawing. That nasal bone is not quite high enough.

I painted it with acrylic, darkening around the eyes. Many animals have dark color around their eyes for the same reason that football players smudge stuff around their eyes: to cut down on glare.

Tomorrow I'll show you how I photographed the maquette and proceeded with the painting.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Titanoboa, Part 2

The next step in the painting of the giant fossil snake was to make a maquette of the snake and the croc out of Sculpey, painted in acrylic. It only took a few hours to do this rough model, but without this step I never would have understood how the forms needed to wrap around each other.

I set up the maquette in a tiny diorama, with a rock and some sticks that I found in the backyard.

The wrestling reptiles are sitting half submerged in a take-out food container which I painted black inside and filled with muddy water. The background is a piece of mat board.

I lit the maquette with a theater spotlight and shot it with a Canon Digital Rebel single lens reflex camera and printed out several variations.

With that information, combined with many photographs of living snakes, I proceeded with the final pencil drawing and then the painting. For more info on this procedure, check out these earlier posts “Technique Nuts and Bolts” “Utopiales Line Drawing.”

Here’s the painting in progress. The pencil drawing shows through in the lower area.

And the final painting, 14 x 19 inches, finished five days after starting the maquette. By contrast to the Cumberland painting, this painting went together pretty briskly. Inset in the painting is the page layout as it will appear in the October issue of Ranger Rick magazine.

I find that the greatest value of the maquette in a case like this is in providing little accidents of cast shadows, like the hand of the dying croc on the snake’s neck, and the tail’s shadow crossing the snake's body farther down. It also helped in the placement of the highlights, something that can be tricky to guess at on an organic form.

Those little unexpected nuances are almost impossible (for me) to invent out of pure imagination but they give the ring of truth that I believe is vital in a piece like this.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Titanoboa, Part 1

For the next week or so, I’ll be sharing the story of the making of six recent paintings that will be appearing in the upcoming October issue of Ranger Rick magazine.

If it’s not on the newsstand already, it will be very soon. The article is about six of the strangest recent discoveries in fossil science.

One of the subjects is the giant snake Titanoboa, the largest snake yet discovered, known from its remarkable vertebrae, which dwarf that of a modern anaconda, shown beside it for comparison. All we really have to start with are a few bones like this.

The rest I had to conjecture by extrapolation from living snakes. How do you show it was over forty feet long? I thought it would be cool to show it in a death match with a crocodile.

There are videos of anacondas killing and swallowing crocodilians called caimans. This usually happens underwater, but I wanted to show the Titanoboa lifting part way out of the water.


So I sketched it over and over again in several pages of thumbnail sketches like these. I liked the one in the upper right, and tomorrow you’ll see that the final painting follows this mental conception fairly closely.

This was the comprehensive sketch I showed the art director. It’s about the size of a trading card, and it's made with water-soluble colored pencils and a water brush filled with black ink. Tomorrow I’ll show you how I went from this comp to the finish.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Why I Wrote Imaginative Realism

Short answer:
To support my blogging habit.

Long answer (adapted from the introduction):
Because it needed to be written. The book explores the question of how to paint a realistic picture of something that doesn’t exist.

It is intended not only for artists interested in fantasy and science fiction but also for anyone who wants to recreate history, visualize extinct wildlife, or simply tell a story with a picture.

Most methods of art instruction assume that you’re drawing or painting directly from observation. When you make a still life, a portrait, or a landscape, you generally begin with the subject in front of you.



That’s how I painted this picture of a skull. (Oil on panel, 12 x 12.5 inches, 1980)

……or this plein-air landscape (9 x 12 inches).

The task is to learn to observe the subject accurately and arrange it into a pleasing design. Even if you’re painting from a photograph, the challenge is essentially the same. You learn first how to see and then how to paint what you see. This kind of observational art training enables you to capture a likeness or to render a landscape.

But it doesn’t help you much if you want to paint a mermaid, a Tyrannosaurus rex, a Civil War battle, or a scene from an ancient civilization.

A NEW APPROACH
For that, you need a whole different approach. You can’t just go out in your backyard and sketch a spaceship or a scene from the Odyssey. You might find some images on an Internet search, but those are just other people’s notions of what your scene should look like.

This problem always puzzled me as a young artist. I liked to sketch from observation, but I couldn’t find many books that explained how to develop my imaginative muscles. For a while I kept two separate sketchbooks, one from life and the other from imagination, and I felt as if they were done by two different people.

The first instructional book I cowrote was called The Artist’s Guide to Sketching (1982). Around the same time I got a job as a background painter in the film industry (Fire and Ice, 1983). Later I painted science fiction paperback covers and illustrated for National Geographic magazine. All the while in my spare time I was sketching and painting from life outdoors.

I started to discover that my separate skills of observation and imagination were beginning to grow together and to reinforce each other. I embarked on writing and illustrating Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time (1992), which is an imaginary but realistic world shared by humans and dinosaurs, presented in the form of an explorer’s sketchbook.

Along the way, I have researched the art instruction methods from fifty and one hundred years ago, when imaginative art was taught more systematically. I have taken those lessons to heart in my professional approach and have shared them with art students across the country.

I also have shared many of those insights on this blog. Your feedback has pushed my understanding much farther, and your encouragement about doing a book got me started. It was a very long process to compile the information into a 224-page book with 400 illustrations.

WHAT'S IN THE BOOK
What the book contains is a distillation of the time-tested methods that I’ve found to be most helpful for achieving realism in imaginative pictures. They apply equally to professionals and to beginning art students.


It's not a book about figure drawing, anatomy, or perspective. It’s not a step-by-step guide on how to draw dinosaurs. It’s also not a recipe book for a particular paint technique, although all these topics are addressed in passing. You might use a traditional technique such as watercolor, gouache, oil, or acrylic.

Or you might prefer a digital program such as Photoshop. My own art media are traditional: pencil, paper, pens, paint, brushes, cardboard, and modeling clay. Regardless of your medium, there are no shortcuts to research and planning. The methods in the book will save you time in the long run and yield much better results.

This book is designed to show you how by taking you behind the scenes. You’ll see the preliminary steps, the blind alleys, and the adventures that went into the making of various imaginative paintings. Every page spread covers a separate topic that builds on previous material. You can browse it like a magazine or read it straight through. The chapters are organized by subject: sketches, history, people, dinosaurs, creatures, architecture, and vehicles, concluding with a look at the various professions that are looking for artists who have developed these skills.

The section on composition is different from most other treatments of pictorial design, which tend to be based on abstract formulas of line, shape, or geometric proportions. My approach is centered more on tonal organization in the service of a representational image.

Because the art vocabulary in English lacks some words to describe key concepts, I have had to invent several terms such as clustering and shapewelding to describe compositional principles that artists often think about but lack the vocabulary to talk about. You’ll find those terms defined in the glossary in the back of the book.

To keep the price down to $24.99, our publisher, Andrews McMeel agreed with us to produce the book in softcover. But they used the very best paper and printing technology, and the pages are folded and stitched into signatures to make the book extremely durable.

"Jim's book, at once encyclopedic and anecdotal, belongs beside the taboret of every narrative painter. It is a comprehensive step-by-step guide to authoritative painting and visionary storytelling as well as a lively visual testament to a committed artist's life lived fully and passionately. I heartily recommend it to all my students."
—Charles S. Pyle
Director, School of Illustration
Academy of Art University, San Francisco

"Gurney’s Imaginative Realism is a goldmine for artist’s wanting to create images that sing with authority and delight the viewer with rich otherworldly visuals."
—Erik Tiemens
Concept Artist
Star Wars: Episodes II and III


IF YOU'D LIKE TO ORDER
The books are on the boat on their way to the warehouse, and we expect to get the very first shipment by the end of the month for our mail order store and for the book tour in October.

If you’d like to order a signed and personalized copy directly from me, please visit my website store page. Please mail in a check, money order, or cash. We'll hold your check until we ship. We don't do credit cards, and we regret that our Paypal account is only for donations.

We're sorry to our international customers that because of all the difficulties with paperwork, costs, loss and other logistics, we just can't ship overseas, as much as we'd like to. Instead, we suggest that you ask a friend or family member living in the USA to order the book for you, and then they can transport it to you.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Garden Goblins

A fun challenge for creature designers is to create a whole new being that is halfway between a human and something else. Mythology is full of composite creatures such as centaurs and minotaurs that combine parts of humans and animals. You can also infuse trees, vegetables, or manufactured objects with human traits.

Here are some designs for garden goblins. These started with a grocery bag full of sweet corn and ornamental gourds from a farm market.

The corn husks seemed like a logical material for their homemade costumes. I wanted them to look impish, so I also looked at photos of chimpanzees.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Art Out Loud

If you would like to watch five artists on a high wire act, come to New York City a week from tomorrow.

At the Society of Illustrators, five of us will demonstrate our painting methods in an informal setting, where people can come up and watch or ask questions.

I'll be joining four of my admired friends and colleagues: Sam Weber, Charles Vess, Donato Giancola, Greg Manchess (painting above).

Just for fun I'm going to try something a little different. Walt Reed and his son Roger, authors of The Illustrator in America and owners of Illustration House gallery, have agreed to be my models for a series of two quick portrait studies in oil. I'm not only excited to have the opportunity to paint them, but also to chat with them about the history of illustration.

Also, you can peruse the first advance copy of Imaginative Realism, which just arrived from the printer, as well as copies of Dinotopia for sale.

As Irene Gallo has mentioned on her blog post about the event, "Space is very limited and tickets are cheap. Buy tickets in advance, all previous Art Out Louds have sold out." UPDATE: I'm very sorry, but I just found out that the event has just sold out. You were right, Irene!

When: Saturday, September 12, 2009 1-5pm at
Where: Society of Illustrators
on 128 East 63rd Street.
Cost: $10 students, $20 members, $25 non-members. Refreshments included.
RSVP: kevin@societyillustrators.org 212 838 2560

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Cumberland, Part 4: Final Art

I read somewhere that Beethoven worked on his fifth and sixth symphonies side by side, switching back and forth between dark drama and pastoral light.


While I was painting this scene of blood and fire, I was also starting on the art for Dinotopia: Journey to Chandara. Rather than clashing, the two worlds that were crowding the inside of my head seemed to need each other, like Jekyll and Hyde.


Fast forward to 2008. The book tour for Chandara brought Jeanette and me through Virginia, and the timing worked out for us to be there and see the installation of the painting at the Mariner's Museum, the same museum where I had done the research about three years earlier. For naval history buffs of any kind, this place is Mecca.

Since the last time I had been there they had opened the new Monitor center, where they are continuing to work on conserving the remains of the U.S.S. Monitor. The famous ironclad was recovered from the sea floor in the 1970s and stabilized in tanks. Now it's emerging piece by piece under the careful attention of professional restorers. You can follow along on webcam videos.

Part of the new development at the museum, built after my painting was finished, is an immersive walk through of the Virginia and the Monitor, and a multi-media presentation that puts you in the middle of the terrible events of March 8 and 9, 1862.

When my painting was installed on a 10 year loan to the museum, I was touched by all the kind comments that people wrote in a guest book that was set up next to the painting.

I also received a letter from John Quarstein, one of the most respected historians of the Battle of Hampton Roads, and one of my consultants on the project. It was a great honor to read his words of approval: “I think you have created the most accurate and awe inspiring depiction of the death throes of the Cumberland. You have done a masterful job of luminating the story of March 8, 1862.”

The truth is, I could never have done it without the help of Mr. Quarstein, Mr. Ratliff, and the team of experts and art editors at National Geographic who answered all my questions and gave me the benefit of their life studies. These kinds of paintings are never done alone. They really do take the cooperation of a lot of people, and it was my privilege to meet people who have given their lives to bringing the past to life.

Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 1A: The Backstory
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 1B: The Research
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 2: Choosing the Scene
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 3: Acting it Out
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 4: Final Art

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Cumberland, Part 3: Acting It Out

My next job was to die a thousand deaths.

I had to act out the parts of all the sailors in various conditions of
leaping, swimming, nursing injuries, or manning oars. Wearing a navy uniform that I found in a surplus store, I jumped off a platform and writhed around on the ground, trying to imagine what it would have been like for the various sailors who were coping with the tragedy.

My wife took snapshots with a digital camera. One of the photos has a motion blur effect that I used in the final painting. There were something like 90 figures in all, and I wanted to make each one a little actor facing his own terrible drama.

One of the most helpful parts of the research was a visit with a naval historian named Colan Ratliff at the Naval Surface Warfare Center in Bethesda, Maryland. This was an awesome place to visit, but I couldn't take pictures because it's a classified research facility.

Mr. Ratliff, who works deep in the heart of the complex, has built several museum models and drawn extensive plans of the vessels involved in this battle.

From our consultations, and from the approved concept sketch, I made a comprehensive line drawing and sent copies to Mr. Ratliff. His notes, drawn on a sticky note over the photocopied drawing, corrected some of my errors.

I had shown the old-fashioned deadeyes instead of rigging screws and had drawn the wrong kind of gooseneck attaching the boom to the mast. These corrections were going on by phone, mail and email for months after our meeting.

It really helps when a scientific or historical consultant can draw to explain their points, and many of them can.

With all the references and corrections in place, and after nearly a year of
research and roughs, I finally was ready to start the 30 x 40-inch oil painting, which took a couple of months. Most of the time was devoted to painting the various figures.

As I worked, I did everything I could to project myself into the action of the scene: playing the soundtrack to Master and Commander, the Flying Dutchman overture, and Rimsky Korsakov——and reading again and again the eyewitness accounts.

Warfare was such a brutal face-to-face thing in the Civil War. The guys on the Virginia could hear the screams of the Cumberland's wounded men below decks as they drowned.
-----

Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 1A: The Backstory
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 1B: The Research
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 2: Choosing the Scene
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 3: Acting it Out
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 4: Final Art

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Cumberland, Part 2: Choosing the Scene

This is the second part of the story of the making of the Cumberland painting.

With all this background information, I began visualizing the scene with some small color sketches in oil of various possible viewpoints and compositions.

The crucial moment, it seemed to me, was when both ships were firing on each other at close quarters, even as the Cumberland filled with water.

Some of the men were trapped below decks. One man was seen trying to escape from a gunport and was swept back inside by the power of the water. Others scrambled into the rigging. Many jumped overboard and either were drowned or were rescued by the lifeboats. Several accounts noted that the day was beautiful and clear, which presented a problem if I wanted to make the scene appear dramatic.

One of the four sketches is painted in a limited color range, resembling the sepia photos of the time. Historians and re-enactors told me that there would have been a tremendous amount of smoke and steam. I worked up a small comprehensive sketch in oil to plan the basic composition.

One detail that struck me was the account of a fat drummer boy who
jumped overboard and used his drum as a float. You can see him below in a detail of the finished painting.

All along, my instinct had been to view the scene from enough distance
to see the lifeboat and the waterline of the Cumberland. But before I went into full production on the painting, art director Christopher Klein suggested that I produce one more sketch showing a much closer view of the action.

In the oil sketch below, we see the pivot gun crew suffering great losses and yet bravely fighting on, with Morris calling out through his speaking trumpet.

Like all compositional decisions, this one would have been a tradeoff. Getting this close to the action brings the viewer closer to experiencing the psychology and the horror of battle. But if this scene was all that the viewer saw, it wouldn’t be clear what was going on at the water level. We agreed to pull back the viewpoint back just far enough to see the lifeboat action, but a little closer than we had shown in those first sketches.

Tomorrow, we'll get into the nitty gritty of research and acting out the poses.
--------

Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 1A: The Backstory
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 1B: The Research
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 2: Choosing the Scene
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 3: Acting it Out
Sinking of the Cumberland, Part 4: Final Art