Sunflower Study

I have always enjoyed sunflowers.   They have so much character.

Fresh, lively, tall and strong, sunflowers are full of energy rich seeds for birds and other wildlife.  And I love the artsy, withered petals that remain as the seed heads mature.  Their twisted shapes are intriguing, and full of subtle colors--maroon, violet, gold, burnt sienna, yellow ochra, thin veils of purple, and deeper shades of purple in the shadows.  After enjoying a stroll through a sunflower field at Seven Islands Wildlife Refuge, a favorite natural area near my east Tennessee home, I have a collection of images of sunflowers of all sizes, shapes and maturity levels, giving me plenty of inspiration and reference for painting.

Flowers are perfect subjects for practice and for playing around with different ways to interpret color and light in watercolor.  Above you see that I taped the paper to a backboard and set it on a table easel.  I also printed both a color and a black and white image of the subject.  The black and white image often allows you to see the values more clearly and encourages the use of your imagination in defining areas of light.  

To create the background, I wet the paper with brush strokes of clear water, and brushed on a wash of Winsor Newton New gamboge, Arylide yellow and Cerulean blue.  As I worked, I allowed these colors to blend naturally as they moved on the paper.  After this initial wash dried completely, I added color to the sunflower,working around the petals and the leaves, letting colors blend wet in wet.

I added color to the butterfly early in the painting so I could see how it looked with the background and all that rich sunflower yellow.  When I saw the butterfly on the sunflower in the field, I thought its pale under wings would not show up well enough to create a nice center of interest in a painting.  But, I was pleasantly surprised as the butterfly began to take shape in this study.  

Above you see I have lightly scrubbed the outer edge of the butterfly's wing to allow it to blend more with the background.  I have also lightened the area along the top of the butterfly's wing and the tip to give the impression of light.

What we generally refer to as the bloom on a sunflower is really a large inflorescence or sunflower head that contains 1,000 to 2,000 individual flowers joined together at a receptacle base.

Links and resources:

Posts with paintings of butterflies and flowers, the most recent post will be first.

Brother's Plant--Part III

This sketchbook spread started out as a field sketch practice, an attempt to sketch a subject that will be still, unlike the birds I enjoy painting.  It gave me much more.

In addition to the memories that unfolded, it pulled me deeper into this prolific and hardy plant, its beauty, shape, shadows and color.  I still wonder how it manages to withstand the cold winter.  I learned that this has something to do with its ability to store water and a unique metabolic process that happens when the temperature drops.  But in my brief research, I didn't learn enough to explain it to anyone.

I am often drawn to the visual detail of a subject, so much so, that it is sometimes hard for me to shift my focus out, allowing the loose sketch work its magic.  I love this aspect of art, especially in watercolor.  It is a challenge for me to hold on to this awareness as I paint.

When I added detail to the left group of flowers, I wasn't happy with the result.  It pulled my eye away from what I found to be the most captivating part of the sketch, the top and right group of flowers that spilled over the side.  The overall effect was "too busy".

So for this occasion, I pulled out my soft scrub brush and "erased" the added detail.  I liked this area much better flowing loose with just a hint of shadow and shape.

Above you see the area after it's been scrubbed.  And below, the same area with replacement color added.  I couldn't recapture the freshness of what was there before, but I did restore some subtlety.  

The final sketch gives me a lot of information for future reference.  Below you see the original sketch created on the patio on the left, the final sketch on the right.  See what you think.

For more information about using a scrub brush visit:  Sketching a Limpkin.  For more about negative space visit:  Search for a Swainson's Warbler.  The first post on this sketchbook spread is:  My Brother's Plant

Brother's Plant--Part II

My unfinished sketch of the pot of hen-and-chicks is moving forward in interrupted increments, as in, whatever time I can grab before and after office hours.  

I discover as I paint, what kind of mood I'm in.  Sometimes I'm satisfied with a very loose and undefined result, other times I want to see more detail.  Most often I like a combination.  In this case, I was drawn to the rosette shapes of the flowers and the spilling over, the cascading of the rosettes as they multiply.  So I printed a black and white copy of one of my photographs and sketched some rosettes in pencil on the sketch page to get a better feel for their layered petals.

Next, I wanted to reclaim some of the rim of my pot from the too-wet wash that spilled over the edge, as well as, the edge of the lower opening of the pot.  Above you see the small size scrub I used.  For more about this scrub brush and the process of scrubbing see the link at the end of the post.  Below you see the result of lifting out some of the paint with the use of my scrub brush, water, and a tissue for blotting.

I created some loosely defined rosettes in the top of the pot with negative painting, that is, painting the space around the petal rather than the petal itself.  This is fun.  I believe negative painting and softening edges are two of my favorite approaches to painting.

Below, you see the page spread as it looks today--still unfinished, but becoming more of what I want to see on the page.      

For more about using a scrub brush visit:  Sketching a Limpkin.  For more about negative space visit:  Search for a Swainson's Warbler.  The first post on this sketchbook spread is:  My Brother's Plant

Painting a Loggerhead Sea Turtle--Part II

A fun painting to create, but also one that offered some challenges.  For one thing, I didn't know I would be away from it for an entire month and failed to write down the pigments I had initially chosen.  The second was my unfamiliarity with creating sea foam on the beach--uncharted territory.

The pigment challenge I resolved fairly quickly, glancing over my palette and selecting my likely choices (listed at the end of post).  The beach foam was a journey of trial and error, an exploration into suggestion, knowing that I had my scrub brush and gouache to back me up.  I did not create a separate sketch which would have been a good exploration alternative.  Sometimes I like to just jump in and move through confusion until what I want to see begins to emerge.

A first attempt at creating the sand beneath the sea foam

Life seems to be like this sometimes, new experiences push us to reach beyond what we know.  In the process we learn something new, often with gratifying results.  And its not always that the outcome is beautiful, its that we did it despite uncertainty.  I tackle many things this way, but I also turn to books for suggestions and practice.  Not only did I order a seascapes art book, prompted by this painting (that hasn't arrived yet), but I also bought Blair Witherington's gorgeous book, Sea Turtles, An Extraordinary Natural History of Some Uncommon Turtles.  Unfortunately, this book is out of print, but can be found on the secondary market (with patience) at affordable prices and in my case, brand new condition.

While I described researching new anatomy terminology in Part I of this painting series, Blair's book brought me the beauty, heart and elegance of this mysterious creature, a species that has its roots in the Cretaceous period, 110 to 65 million years ago.  True ancients.

Above I've turned to my scrub to smooth out the hard edges and reduce the clutter in the sand.  The turtle is where I want the eye to go and since I want to enhance her detail, I want the sea and sand to stay smooth and suggestive rather than detailed and distracting.

In the two images immediately above, you see the results of me thinking about and playing around with the beach and foam.  I'm moving back and forth between the turtle's shell and the beach, both requiring a bit of thinking and building.  The turtle's back is partially covered with sand, slung by her flippers as she covered her egg chamber.  By moving back and forth, from one area to the other, I relieve my tension while I'm working on an area of uncertainty.  But it also has a painterly purpose.  It allows me to keep an eye on the unity of colors as I watch the emphasis on the subject change with each color application to the background.

Above, I've added more detail to the turtle's back and sandy areas in the sea.  I laid an initial variegated wash of gray using a mixture of ultramarine and burnt sienna to form the background of sand above the turtle. As I added more details to the turtles body, I realized her golden and rust features would be better enhanced with a bluer shade of gray.  Below, after the area was completely dry, I used a large flat brush to glaze over the top of the painting with a light application of a bluer shade of gray.   To my pleasure, this had the dual affect of enhancing the turtle's shell and popping out the area of light yellow that brings the eye to the center of interest, her face.

To complete the painting, I softened some of the edges of the foam with my scrub brush, used a little white gouache to lighten foamy areas, enriched the appearance of sand on her back with paint splatter using a toothbrush, and darkened shadow details.

And some of the new fun things I learned about sea turtles, sparked by the curiosity that painting this one stirred?  Each species of sea turtle, seven altogether, has a characteristic number of large scutes (shell plates) on their hard carapace (shell), as well as a characteristic arrangement of scales on their head.  They have more flexible shells than land turtles, with the carapace and plastron (under shell) being joined by a bridge of supple cartilage, allowing for more speed and maneuverability as they navigate through many miles at sea.

Watercolor on 9 x 12" Arches 140# cold pressed paper.  Pigments used:  WN French Ultramarine, WN New Gamboge (yellow), WN Van Dyke Brown, WN Burnt Sienna, a touch of DVP Permanent Rose as needed, and WN Permanent White Gouache.  Most of my grays are a mix of ultramarine and burnt sienna.

Sketching a Limpkin in Water

More time please!  A thousand images to paint and so little time.  I could go out in nature every day for the rest of my life and never get enough of it.  And then there's the time needed for painting.  I have enough inspiration right now to keep me busy for months.  

I began this sketch by applying liquid resist to save the reeds and edges of the bird while I added a wash of blue.      

The wash ended up lighter than I wanted, reminding me to make a bigger, juicier puddle of paint next time.  On the other hand, smooth water reflects light and light areas are part of what we see when we look out on water.  When the paint dried, I removed the resist.

Below, I added color to the face and bill. 

When I stepped back from the sketch, I didn't like the brown I had mixed, too dark.  So I dried the paint thoroughly and using a scrub brush, lightened the brown areas.  I then changed the paint mix to a lighter shade of brown, a slightly different mixture of Cobalt blue and Burnt Sienna, with a touch of Van Dyke Brown.

At this point, I shifted focus and spent sometime creating the shading around the larger body feathers.  I applied paint first, then softening the edges.  It's one of those details I enjoy.  It was while working on this less stressful area (meaning I've practiced it more), that I noticed the shadow.  I had completely lost the slender shadow of the head and neck.  Checking to be sure the paint was completely dry before starting, I scrubbed out the right side of the shadow (above).  

Above you see my two most used scrubbers.  The one on the left is about 3/8 in wide and soft, for light scrubbing in larger areas.  The one on the right is made of stiff bristles and works well for tight areas.  The word scrub is a misnomer, really, because the idea is not to scrub the paper, but to lift off the paint.  You want to preserve the paper's surface as much as possible while removing pigment.  The operative word is "lift".  Apply clean water with the scrubber, brush a few strokes with a lifting motion, then blot with tissue or paper towel.  The brush stroke loosens the paint; the blotting lifts it off the paper.    

I added detail to the reeds, corrected the body shadow shape (see top image), and added detail to the rest of the feathers.  To finish, I brightened white areas on the plumage by adding some white gouache.

9 x 12 watercolor on Arches 140# paper.