Obamas' White House Portrait

The Obama Foundation produced this behind-the-scenes video of Robert McCurdy and Sharon Sprung painting the official White House portraits of Barack and Michelle Obama. (Link to YouTube)

Mr. Obama's portrait shows him in a dark suit against a white background.

The emptiness of the background removes him from context and focuses the viewer on his expression and posture, because there's nothing else to look at. 

White backgrounds can suggest many things: the contemporary gallery wall, the unwritten page, the mysterious, luminous void. What a white background doesn't suggest is wealth, heritage, power, status, or cultural milieu—all the usual trappings of official portraiture of a former head of state. 

Maybe such associations were impossible in the case of Mr. Obama, and the artist made the best choice, I don't know. 

The idea of the white background isn't new. Photographer Richard Avedon presented many of his subjects against a white seamless. In Avedon's case it often had a leveling effect, cutting through normal distinctions of status or power and making everyone equal. It could even have a clinical flavor that made the viewer examine the way the subject presented himself or herself. 

When director Alfred Hitchcock made the praying gesture against a field of pure white, one wonders why he presents himself that way, and how sincere he is.

When painter James Bama used the white background for his portraits of Western characters, he invited us to study the details of their face and costume, and from those clues to wonder about the character of their working life.

 

Vignetting: Part 2

Let's continue with three more design strategies for vignetting illustrations.

The Form-Link Vignette
In this approach, the figures are shown in full, but they’re linked to each other using props or background elements, thus making a larger shape.

Saul Tepper establishes the domestic setting and unites the family members using the chair, the doorway, and the cast shadow. The man’s head is cleverly silhouetted against the refrigerator, the selling point of the ad.

Howard Pyle uses the thin forms of the smoke and the horizon as a linear scaffolding to hang the separate parts together.

The Real White VignetteIf you stage a scene so that part of it consists of a white material, the vignette looks natural and unforced. The white element might be a snowy field, a sandy beach—or in the case of this John Gannam, a white bedsheet. The two dark shapes at the top of the composition are crucial to defining the shape of the bed.


The white of the tablecloth becomes the white of the paper.

The Spillover VignetteFor this one, think of the white background not as white paper, but as a field of illumination, flooding the subject and pouring over the edges of the form. This spillover effect was pioneered by paperback cover artist James Bama. The edge of the form can be lost altogether as in this case....

....or the edge of the form can be held. Either way, the figure should be lit from both sides, with the core of the shadow in the front of the form.

I did this painting of an asteroid miner inspired by Bama's innovation. The image appeared on a paperback called Out of the Sun by Ben Bova. I posed the model contre-jour in a doorway, with all the light from outdoors spilling over into the side planes of his face and shoulders. Then in the painting I actually lost all the edges of the forms and let them blend into the background.


Read the whole series:
Vignetting, Part 1
Vignetting, Part 2
Vignetting, Part 3
More on vignetting in my book: Imaginative Realism: How to Paint What Doesn't Exist

Thanks to the following this week:
John Flesk, link.
Roger Reed of Illustration House, link.
Leif Peng’s Flickr sets, link.
Jim Vadeboncoeur’s illustrated books, link.
100 Years of Illustration, link.
Armando Cabrera, link.
Illustration Art, link.

Using Acrylic Markers

Utah artist Brad Teare uses black and white acrylic markers to simulate the look of comic pages or wood engravings on large gallery canvases.



Brad started out doing underground comics and relief printing, then painted landscapes and abstracts. His development of this new technique brings together his love of science fiction and comic imagery with his gallery work. Brad is prepping for a gallery show called "Persistence of Paradox" that will open April 20 in Salt Lake City.

James Gurney: What led you to discover the acrylic markers that you have used in your recent paintings?

Brad Teare: I attempted for years to express the dynamism of woodcut on canvas with a variety of techniques. I even tried scraping into wet black paint on a sealed canvas, in imitation of scratchboard, but with little success. Last October I attended the Adobe MAX conference in Las Vegas where the organizers mounted black mylar on the walls of the main lobby. They provided markers and invited people to draw graffiti. The black surface reminded me of the basic premise of scratchboard–starting with black and adding light. I grabbed a white marker and began sketching. As anticipated the experience was nearly identical to scratchboard. When I got back to the studio, I painted a canvas black, grabbed a white marker, and executed my first marker painting on canvas.



What have you learned about the various brands and types of these markers?
I usually buy empty markers, the Montana Acrylic Marker or Molotow brands, and fill them with Golden High Flow Acrylics in Titanium White and Carbon Black. My favorite marker is the 15 mm square tip from Molotow, but it's good to have a variety of tips for different thicknesses. The thick, square tip has several edges that make a variety of marks, just like you might use a thick bristle brush to get a variety of smaller strokes. I start with a thick tip and work my way toward a thinner tip as I refine detail.

Sometimes, regardless of how many layers of white I add, it can be challenging to get an adequately opaque layer of white. I attribute this to the white separating faster than the black pigment, or to the absorbancy of the canvas. To diminish absorbancy, I occasionally spray Krylon Gloss Acrylic onto the surface. In very broad areas of white, I might paint on Titanium White with a brush. I keep the texture as flat as possible in case I need to restate the blacks.



If someone is curious about them, what should they buy to get started? Any brands to avoid?
Get markers with a wide variety of tip sizes. Some tips will work better on different surfaces. For example, the white 1 mm tip on canvas can give a broken, splattered line if held incorrectly. But the size is perfect for fine detail on a smooth surface. I always use markers that can be refilled since I cover a lot of canvas with my large paintings and need to refill on a regular basis. The only marker I've had trouble with is the 30 mm Montana marker. I loaded it with straight Golden High Flow Titanium White and it leaked quite a bit. I increased the viscosity by adding some Golden Fluid acrylic and got it to work.



What's the difference between the Golden Fluid and High Flow acrylic when it comes to filling the markers?
I recommend using Golden High Flow Acrylics, especially with Titanium White because it's opaque yet highly liquid. The Golden Fluid Acrylic has a thicker viscosity and will cause problems with flow if used straight. But it can be used to add thickness (the paint can thin from not shaking the pens while in use and using up the thicker part leaves a watery remainder). I usually keep a pen in my non-drawing hand so I can shake it and trade back and forth ensuring I use the thickest paint.



What's your basic procedure with the black and white markers?
My favorite method is to paint a commercially prepared, fine weave canvas with solid black acrylic. I then begin to draw with a 15 mm white marker, using the edge for thinner marks. Often I don't even have a preliminary drawing but just dive right into the composition. I use my black markers as erasers to return the canvas to its original black coating. I let the black acrylic dry and then restate the correction with white markers. It is an incredibly fluid and spontaneous method.



Does your background in woodcuts and scratchboard influence the way you approach this technique?
The technique I use with markers is the same I use with wood engraving. A technique called white line engraving entails outlining form in white on a black ground. Eric Gill often used that method, as did Lynd Ward. It suggests that forms are being illuminated by rim lighting. I establish my basic composition with white lines which when printed would look like a negative of a pen and ink drawing. I then add the lightest areas by clearing out those areas, which would print as white. This gives a strong black and white structure. I then add the grays with additional crosshatching. Grays are suggested by modulating the frequency of the lines and the thickness of those lines. A rule of thumb in wood engraving is that one cut makes a white line, two cuts make a black line, and three or more cuts make a gray tone. I use the same precepts with my marker paintings.



What are your thoughts about the aesthetics of black and white on a large scale? How is the effect different from on a comics page?

When I upscaled several comic pages onto 60" x 48" canvases, I was amazed at the increased impact. Some images can have a gem-like charm on a smaller scale, some beg to be large. The explosive strokes of the scratchboard translated well into a large scale and had even more energy.

Your Cypher comic was one of my favorite underground comics. Portraying that character and his philosophy in the gallery world is a real departure from the thick-paint semi-abstract landscapes you've been doing. Does this represent a challenge for your dealer or any of your fans? Does it attract a different constituency?

The Persistence of Paradox show will undoubtedly attract a different type of art collector. But my galleries have been surprisingly patient with my diverse artistic projects. They understand that, like my abstract phase, these projects are profoundly transformative. My landscape gallery and the gallery exhibiting this show are only two blocks away. Their primary concern is my success. I feel fortunate to have such amazing galleries.

You've created some videos with a low-fi analog vibe to promote these paintings (Link to video). How do you produce them, and what's your thinking about the aesthetics of the production design?
I had some videos online that related to Cypher, and I thought it would be fun to add QR codes to the actual art so gallery attendees could access the animated imagery on their phones. It seemed to magnify a facet of the Cypher Universe, so I decided to create more imagery specifically for the show. I opted for the lo-fi look because of the grunge aesthetic of the original Cypher project as well as its nostalgic tone. I also liked the idea that with the lo-fi look it's as if you're looking through a veil, with something of greater importance just beyond your grasp. It seemed a good metaphor for the project. I edit the raw footage in iMovie, process with the app filters 8mm and Vintage, then add a voiceover in iMovie if it needs narration.

What are your recommendations for young artists who have a few radically different styles of artwork?
Believe in your artistic vision. How and why you create are the distinguishing factors in evolving a unique expression. The personal qualities of the how and the why will eventually fuse into something truly distinctive. I've always known I had two wildly diverse artistic impulses that I hoped would one day coalesce into a unique style. There are never any guarantees, and art is a high stakes proposition, but I'm grateful that after twenty years of experimentation I'm finally on the verge of a synthesis. You have to have faith that your multiple styles will ultimately magnify one another.



What kinds of imagery will you be exploring next?
I've learned so much from the Persistence of Paradox project. It's a good lesson that you have to follow the muse despite the costs. As mentioned I've been trying to synthesize the more intellectual aspects of wood engraving and woodcut with the more spontaneous, emotional elements of a very loose style of impressionism. I've experimented previously with using marker paintings as an underpainting with my landscapes but viewed it as lost effort. I now see that such drawings are not only a kind of rehearsal for painting, but a subterranean infrastructure onto which I suspend the energetic strokes of multi-hued color. My next project is to fully synthesize the world of marker painting with my impressionist landscapes.
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Links

On Amazon: Cypher comic by Brad Teare

Montana Acrylic Marker

Molotow acrylic marker

Golden High Flow Acrylics (White)
Carbon Black
Follow Brad Teare on Instagram @bradteare
Alpine Art ("Persistence of Paradox" Show venue)
Anthony’s Fine Art (Brad's landscape gallery)
Thick Paint Blog

Painting Secrets from Fitz and Van

Art Fitzpatrick and Van Kaufman, also known as Fitz and Van, were a team of advertising illustrators whose paintings of new car models were so successful that their car ads changed the fortunes of major car companies in the 1950s and '60s. 

When Fitz started as a car illustrator, the standard illustration produced by his competitors showed the car against a white background. 

But over the years the mood and setting became extremely important to create the aspirational mood for the upwardly mobile middle class of the postwar era.

Fitz painted the cars and Van painted the backgrounds. The settings evoked an upscale lifestyle of travel and leisure. At one point one of the agency art directors suggested painting the car in a suburban driveway with laundry on the line. Fitz knew that what interested potential customers was a ticket to the "good life," with romantic possibilities, affluent leisure, and no kids.

They demanded and received huge sums for their work. In the late '50s they received from Pontiac about $5,000, at a time when the average annual U.S. household income was about $5,500.  

They were rare among advertising illustrators in that they were allowed to sign their work with the initials "AF VK." They also had complete creative control over the car colors and elements of the scene. Fitz had direct contact with the senior management of the car companies, which allowed him to go circumvent the usual approval chain of the ad agencies. 

Fitz and Van lived about 40 minutes away from each other in Connecticut. On a typical job, they hired messengers bring the painting back and forth from studio to studio. Van painted the background on illustration board, while the car was painted on a photostat of the comprehensive drawing and rubber cemented onto it so that you could hardly see the join. The interactive reflections came last. 

Most of the smooth transitions in the car were were achieved with a brush in gouache. The rare instances when they used an airbrush included the edge of a windshield or a highlight on a chrome bumper. They called those highlights "skinkles," but they tried not to use too many of them. "Skinkles don't make a car look shiny," Fitz said. "Reflections do." 

Fitz would start with photos of the car which were taken in Detroit from prototypes on giant turntables so that they wouldn't have to move the camera. The design of the new car models was so secret that the car makers had their own photographers and labs to take the pictures. 

To achieve the car's wide, low stance, they stretched the actual car's dimensions. Fitz sliced the photos into vertical sections and spread out the slices horizontally. They also moved the wheels outward in the wheel wells and lowered the ground clearance of the car, which placed the wheels higher in the wheel wells.

They preferred to show the car in a stationary position rather than on the road moving. They made an exception to show the car driving with a "strobing" background, suggesting a photographic effect at night. The agency loved the look and wanted more, but Fitz and Van decided to go back to their proven idea of the casually idled car in the upscale setting. One cardinal rule was never to have anyone looking at or admiring the car. 

The settings were based on a huge collection of slides they compiled from their travels. Since the car never actually appeared in the setting, Fitz had to invent how the reflections would look on the mirror-like hood of the car. A given background sets up opportunities for the reflections, not only on the hood of the car, but also on the down-facing planes of the chrome bumper, which picks up the color of the ground.

It was always a challenge to achieve the maximum glossiness of the paint job. Getting a white car to look shiny was the hardest challenge because you're already starting at white. They found it worked best to park the car in shadow, and that's what they did for the 1968 Bonneville. To make sure it was clear that the car's surface color appeared white, they had just a couple spots of dappled light on the front.

These observations come from the new book by Rob Keil called Art Fitzpatrick & Van Kaufman: Masters of the Art of Automobile Advertising. Keil assembled the book over more than a decade of exhaustive research, which included meeting and talking with the the artists and their descendants. The book is full of technical insights and biographical details and gorgeous reproductions, mostly taken from the rare original paintings that have survived. 

Art Fitzpatrick & Van Kaufman: Masters of the Art of Automobile Advertising, by author Rob Keil.

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Vignetting: Part 1

When you want to compose a picture on a white page, you can always place the whole scene inside a rectangular composition.

But it’s often more exciting to let the picture flow informally into the white of the page. Illustrators have invented a lot of different design strategies for “vignettes” or “spot illustrations.”

This week we’ll take a look at the ten different vignette strategies, starting with the first three: “soft blur,” “torn paper,” and “fadeaway.”

Soft Blur Vignette

The most basic kind of vignette is the soft blur, where the full subject appears against a background that gets lighter and lighter until it melts into the white of the page. The shape of the vignette can be mostly oval, or in the case of this picture from Dinotopia, an uneven elongated shape.

In the world of antique photography, vignetting typically refers to a soft blur gradation that either lightens gradually to the white of the paper or that darkens at the edges. Yes, that's my great-grandpa, Frederick W. Gurney, an engineer and manufacturer.

The Torn Paper Vignette

Dean Cornwell often gives the impression of a ragged fragment torn out of a larger composition. He makes no attempt here to draw the bottom half of figures, but instead lets the edge of the vignette cut across a variety of forms.

Here, too, he paints the figures only down to their hands and then tears away everything below that line. You can design a torn paper vignette by sketching up the whole scene in a preliminary drawing, then actually ripping out the essential elements in a random shape, and following that design for the final picture.

On both of these Cornwells, the tan background would have been brought up to white by the printer.

The Fadeaway Vignette

Coles Phillips invented the “Fadeaway Girl,” who was often vignetted in such a way that the colors of her dress—or in this case her car—matched the background color. Phillips left off the outline so that your eye has the fun of filling in the missing boundary.


The fadeaway idea also works against black, as Leyendecker demonstrates in this fashion ad.


Later illustrators like Coby Whitmore played with the same idea, in this case letting the white dress blend into the white page so that our minds complete the unstated forms.
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Read the whole series:
Vignetting, Part 1
Vignetting, Part 2
Vignetting, Part 3
More on vignetting in my book: Imaginative Realism: How to Paint What Doesn't Exist
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Thanks to the following this week:
Roger Reed of Illustration House, link.
Leif Peng’s Flickr sets, link.
Jim Vadeboncoeur’s illustrated books, link.
100 Years of Illustration, link.
Armando Cabrera, link.
Illustration Art, link.