Techniques & Studio Art Practice

How to buy a brush

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 13:00:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

These are the tenets of our brush-buying:

     Ignore categories
   Buy in person
   Buy quality

Ignore categories

I frequently oil-paint with watercolor brushes. In fact, I would oil paint with a broom if I thought it would give me the result I wanted.

However, it was not always thus. For someone who dreaded school every day of the long years of secondary education, lest an unwitting infraction of an unwritten rule result in a trip to the principal's office, the categories in which paint brushes are typically arrayed in art supply inventories implied boundaries not to be breached.

While neither professionals nor serious hobbyists are likely to be hindered by such things, anyone new to the wide world of art supplies might assume that brush categories are part of some greater "right way" of doing things. And while it's true that in a mass-market-averaging-sort-of-way various brush categories are more or less suited to certain media and techniques, the bottom line (i.e., the greater "right way" of doing things) is simply a matter of "whatever works."

Buy in person

Even though painting is classified as a visual art, that classification focuses on the viewer. From the artist's standpoint -- at least the standpoint of this artist -- painting is a tactile art. And the paint brush is the tactile tool by which the artist is engaged.

I buy brushes on the basis of a tactile examination of the tool. I would like to be able to buy brushes on the Internet, but I have to grasp the brush, make strokes with it in the air, and thumb its bristles. A brush is the baton by which I conduct the orchestra of thoughts and feelings and substances that join in the music of my painting.

Every characteristic of a brush -- the way the contours of its handle balance weight and weightlessness when joined with hand and eye, the smoothness of the handle's finish, the thickness and responsiveness of its bristles, etc., etc. -- must meet in terms of touch so that the brush is both present and altogether absent, just as the hand becomes an invisible extension of mind and heart (invisible because it becomes one with them, disappearing in the achievement of their purpose).

Buy quality

Quality is best judged by experience with a style or brand of brush. Price sometimes indicates quality, but not always. Experiment with brands and styles, and don't be afraid to pay for the privilege.

How do you look when you hold a pencil?

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 13:00:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

This installment of Studio Windows looks in to the studio windows instead of outward through them, but learning how to see with an artist's eye is still the focus.

In school, where words and numbers were infinitely more important than the making and viewing of artworks, I was taught to hold a pencil in a vise-like grip between the thumb and middle finger; the forefinger being placed on the pencil to steady it. So strict were these requirements that in the hush draped over our first grade classroom the teacher paced up and down between the wooden tables where we strained and bowed our heads above our work, and struck our hands with a wooden ruler if she spied us holding the pencil incorrectly. With our nerves sharpened to a piercing point, we learned to move the pencil about the paper, making symbols that we didn't even know were pictures.

To draw with a pencil, at least the way I do, I not only sharpen it like a scalpel, but hold it as I was taught at school. This is the result:

Detail from unfinished pencil drawing
of the Manti Temple

To sketch with a pencil, however, it is usually best to hold the tool under the palm of the hand, and between the thumb and forefingers. In this arrangement, the vise-like grip of writing or drawing loosens, and the origin of motion naturally moves from wrist, to elbow and shoulder. The larger radius of motion also usually requires a larger surface on which to work, even a larger space in which to do so. This is the result:

Detail from a pencil sketch

The way the pencil is held while sketching facilitates visual summary, and significantly affects the mind's view and expression of what it sees.

The way in which a person holds a tool changes what can be done with it, because it changes the way the mind sees, knowing that it must render within the tool's limitations. Seeing as an artist sees involves groping for visual expression from within the blindness at the end of whatever tool the mind takes up in order to render a visual interpretation of something.

Picking up a brush and thinking pencil-used-to-write or pencil-used-for-math produces a very different result from picking up a brush and thinking something like pencil-used-to-sketch. (I mention pencil because a pencil is not only one of the first implements we pick up as children, but because the intense training associated with it affects the way we pick up such tools ever after.)

My third-grade teacher (who did not strike our hands with a wooden ruler) taught us art, and because she didn't like to discard all the crayon bits we produced, she took the fragments home, melted them, poured the liquefaction into rectangular bar-molds, let them cool, and brought the larger, chubbier, clunkier crayons back to school to be used up. Because of their shape and size, we could not hold them in the "pencil manner."

The lesson? To broaden the way you see, particularly when the tool you use in rendering is too familiar, change the way you hold it. You might even change the surface on which you draw or paint. For example, the following is a charcoal sketch on dry joint-compound, troweled onto a panel to suggest the uneven and rugged surface of the daub part of wattle-and-daub. Drawing in such conditions can help in the discovery of what one's eye and hand are capable of creating -- far beyond the narrow limits of pencil-used-to-write or pencil-used-for-math.

Untitled charcoal sketch of a cityscape

International Competition Features Artists at Al Young Studios

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 19:29:00 +0000

The 9th International Art Competition and exhibit, sponsored by the Church History Museum, will feature three oil paintings from artists of Al Young Studios. The exhibit opens Friday, March 16, 2012 and lasts through Sunday, October 14, 2012.

The original oil paintings to be included in the exhibition were selected from among 1,156 entries.

I Will Send Their Words Forth (Jacob the Teacher)
by Elspeth Young

A Damsel Came to Hearken (Rhoda)by Ashton Young

The Miracle of Forgiveness
by Al R. Young

"We'll start the war from right here!"

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:00:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

As part of the first wave of Allied troops to go ashore at Utah Beach on D-Day, and upon being informed that--because the landing craft had drifted off course, the 8th Infantry Regiment and 70th Tank Battalion were more than a mile from where they were supposed to be--General Ted Roosevelt personally surveyed the unexpected circumstances into which misfortune had thrust him. He did so while walking with the assistance of a cane and armed only with a pistol.

Having determined that the topography of the area was suitable for the landing of those waiting to follow the initial assault, he returned to the troops waiting where they had come ashore and declared: "We'll start the war from right here!"

His stirring invitation to courage is truly inspiring, but it is his example that provides valuable insight in any attempt to do likewise when confronted with a problem.

First, it seems doubtful that with the rest of the invasion waiting at his back the General really had much of a choice to do otherwise than he did; at least, not without potentially costly consequences to his men and to the invasion as a whole.

I do not say this to disparage the magnificence of his words and actions; indeed, my point is just the opposite: To the degree that General Roosevelt may have felt compelled to do what he did in the face of such circumstances, his heroism is the greater. To do what he did is courage indeed when circumstances seem unpropitious, when no real alternative presents itself, and when those in your charge are counting on you to lead them to victory.

Second, Roosevelt showed up to the conflict with only his personal resources: Integrity, wits, experience, preparation, and other qualities of character. He also showed up with all of his personal limitations and vulnerabilities. When it comes down to it, that's all any of us really have with which to face the moments of our lives. And whatever resources we may think we have beyond those that are strictly personal (resources analogous to regiments and tank battalions), even assets can constitute not only strengths, but weaknesses or vulnerabilities that must be factored into our conduct.

Third, the General did not lose his head. He did not engage in an emotional response to circumstances demanding reason.

Fourth, Roosevelt studied his situation, and when he announced to his men that they would start the conflict from where they were, it was not bravado. It was, instead, the simple and informed declaration of the only thing they could do -- and succeed.

Leadership is the use of one's character for the good of others.

The diptych easel

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 13:00:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

I built the Diptych Easel several years ago in order to complete a commission to create an entablature featuring a diptych consisting of two, 4 ft. x 8 ft. painted panels. Even though the easels were created for a specific commission, the design can be modified or adapted as needed.

Each of the two matching easels in the set leans against the wall. And since the lightweight framework of each easel is (when in use) clamped to the back of a 4 ft. x 8 ft. sheet of 5/8-in. plywood, the plywood doesn't so much rest on the easel as become part of its structure and stability.

I might have simply leaned each plywood sheet for the diptych against the wall of the studio, but I wanted to get the panels up off the floor so that I might paint more conveniently. Unused wall space in the studio was also a premium, which is part of the reason the top of each easel stands 2 ft. out from the wall -- allowing access to windows and furniture behind the paintings.

The following diagram shows the front view of the top part of each easel. Building each easel in two parts (an upper unit and a lower unit) simplified the problem of storing the easels when not in use. This two-unit approach also made it possible to use 8-ft. long stock (readily available at home centers) to achieve more than 8 ft. of height in the framework..

The top unit consists of five pieces that are fastened together by nut-and-bolt so that disassembly is simple, and does not damage (weaken) the framework. These pieces include: Two vertical sides, two braces constituting the X between the uprights, and a single brace mounted across the top of the easel.

Front view of top unit

The 1x2 upright of each side is perpendicular to the plain of the panel.

The following photographs show the fixed arms, atop each vertical side, that rest against the wall. The elbow for each of these arms is sandwiched between two pieces of 1/4-in. hardboard, glued and stapled to the 1x2s of the vertical and horizontal members.

The angle at the elbow (at the upper left of the image) is 94 degrees

Detail of the horizontal arm atop each vertical side

The disk resting against the wall at the back of each arm is covered in cloth to protect the wall. The disk is fastened by a grab screw installed in the center of the disk.

The following diagram is a front view of the base unit for each easel.

The following photograph presents a detail view of the assembly of the 1x2s and 1x3s of the base.

C-clamps (see the following photograph) were used to secure each panel to its easel. The cord draped over each X-brace was secured to the wall as a precaution against the easels being pulled away from the wall.

Tips and Techniques: The Perfect Black

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 13:03:00 +0000

For artists, like me, who lean to the Caravaggistic in lighting, the phenomenon of the perfect “black” for a mood-setter within a painting, can be a bit of a pigment puzzler. While many artists have a favorite black as part of their palette, I purposefully pass by the black section of the paint tube world—perhaps it’s the loyal watercolorist in me—but I just don’t accept the idea that black is simply #000000—zero color. In my book, black is as rich and full as any other color, and as deeply reflective as white can be.

In 2006 while working on the concept for my first truly tenebristically lit painting, A Lamp Unto My Feet (picture below), I found myself checking out copious works on color theory from the library, hunting opinions from the Renaissance to the present for “the perfect black"--the ideal pigment to envelop the viewer in a richly darkened background. I didn’t want a glossy black, or a matte black, or a non-colorfast black, or a brittle black--the list goes on. After much reading, however, I still felt wary of one cure-all black pigment. The result: The genesis of a Studio secret:

Mix equal parts raw umber and Payne’s gray, and you’ll have a deliciously lush “black” every time—“perfect” for base coats of black, such as that which I needed for A Lamp Unto My Feet. (This particular mixture is pictured, above, from the time in 2010 when I was painting Go Forth To Meet The Bridegroom.)

Even this blend, however, isn’t complete on its own. True to form, my father provided the other part of the “perfect black” recipe: glaze, glaze, glaze. No black is truly perfect at our Studio without glazes of pure color—usually based on the other elements in the painting, but often comprising transparent glazes of ultramarine blue, quinacridone rose, or olive green—and generally all three. Tried for years in painting after painting, it's a tried and true recipe--my own "perfect black" ever since.

The Spirit that moves artistic endeavor

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

Late one Saturday evening, after a long and intense week of painting, I came across these images while browsing through the Studios' archive. As first one and then another of these pictures filled the screen, I found myself instantly captivated and rejuvenated as I stepped into the miniature worlds inside each frame and found myself surrounded by nameless shapes and infinite hues.

The few minutes I spent looking at these pictures were as restorative as a stroll in the park. Even though I had spent a week rendering such things by means of paint blobs at the end of a brush, I wasn't even loathe to muse upon the techniques and phases by which I would approach the task of painting these images. I knew, of course, I would not paint them, but not because I was tired: I simply had other things to paint, more suited to the kind of visual stories I like to tell.

I never cease to be amazed at the resilience of that Spirit that moves artistic endeavor. It never tires. I do, but it doesn't. Somehow, no matter how many thousands and thousands of brushstrokes will be involved in even the tiniest painting, that Spirit embarks with boundless enthusiasm and remains undaunted. It never flinches at the number and complexities of problems encountered along the way.

No matter how much I plan and prepare, there always comes a point at which that Spirit is ready to begin or re-commence, and, at that point, it does not matter how much or how little I know about what lies ahead: It is simply time to be up and doing, and no other course of action or inaction will suffice. And, like the few minutes I spent lost in wonder with these simple images, that Spirit is also the Spirit that provides beauty everywhere, and is just as much about rest and renewal as it is about striving.

Photograph by Ashton Young

9th Anniversary of the Women of the Bible Collection

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

By Elspeth Young

John Steinbeck once said: "We do not take a trip; a trip takes us." Throughout the years in which I have been a professional artist, I have found that every painting is a “trip,” and that each artistic endeavor is an exodus to new realms of understanding, delight, challenge, and opportunity.

Pencil study for Lydia (2003) by Elspeth Young

Today commemorates the ninth anniversary of the beginning of the Women of the Bible Project—a collection of oil paintings celebrating women of the Old and New Testaments. Among the many things I've discovered on this particular artistic journey is how much of the extraordinary can be found in the every-day.

One of the most delightful parts of each painting is the hunt for the perfect model. While Vogue and Cover Girl search for models whose perfection lies in an unattainable airbrushed and digital flawlessness, my search for perfection has been a search for the soul within. At the outset of this project, I decided that I wanted to paint ordinary women from all walks of life and circumstances—not surreal figments of my imagination. At the time, I even wrote that the object of my search was to find “real people with real flaws and defects that, I think, make them all the more beautiful . . . real people with real struggles and real heroism.” In casting a painting, I search for beauty both at and under the surface; a countenance bright with the luminescence of that which is inherently divine in everyone.

I spent countless happy hours hidden away on the 5th floor of a university library, surrounded by copious volumes and skinny paperbacks filled with insights into the manners and customs of Biblical peoples. With field sketchbook in hand, I carefully copied everything I could find and began creating a collection of notes, sketches, and musings. I pored over face after face among the brilliant photo essays to be found in National Geographic — a gallery rich in stories of the kind of real-life courage I wanted to portray in my paintings. My hope was to learn enough from arm-chair travel to prepare me for the daunting task of finding the same story etched in the faces of people who lived nearby.

My first model resulted from a visit with Dr. Camille Fronk Olson, professor of ancient scripture at Brigham Young University and the mentor who, along with my parents, first encouraged me to paint women in the scriptures. As we looked through the student photographs among her class rolls for that semester, we came upon an ethnically-featured, dark-eyed freshman named Amy.

She was surprised at my request when Dr. Olson asked her about modeling for a painting, but was wonderfully willing to accept the part of Shiphrah—the Hebrew midwife who partnered with Puah in saving infant Hebrew males from Pharoah's decreed genocide. As it turned out, I could not have asked for a better model.

On February 1, 2003, with camera and inexperience in hand, I snapped 74 pictures of Amy, draped in costume and "playing pretend"—as she put it. She was not only generous with her time, but with her own insights into the subject. Since that first photo shoot, I have learned that as models step into the story they not only express their empathy and understanding by their countenance, but by their actions, which, of course, lends an indispensable realism to the way the figure(s) are posed.

Study for Shiphrah (2003)

Many pencil and oil sketches, pastel drawings, and conceptualization-hours later, I commenced and then completed my first oil painting in the project—The Protector—only the fifth oil painting I had ever painted.

As part of this commemoration of the anniversary of the Women of the Bible Collection, I recently interviewed Amy—now a university graduate, wonderful wife, and capable mother of two—regarding her experience as a model nine years ago, and how her involvement in the painting might have influenced her perceptions of herself and the scriptures, as well as any other impact on her life's experiences.

Perhaps more remarkable to me than anything else was the influence of Shiprah and Puah's story on Amy's own experiences in childbearing. Inspired by these noble, God-fearing midwives, Amy chose midwives to deliver her own little ones. "I think," she said, "that I became more convinced of the love that women can show for each other in that especially difficult time because of this story from scripture." She also said she was "amazed at the strength of these women, and their loving compassion for the Hebrew mothers; all the while they needed to take care of their own needs and protect themselves from the hand of Pharaoh. I love to think of all that we can accomplish if the Lord is on our side."

Another influence on Amy's life has been those times when people have recognized her as the model for the painting. “I’ve been told my whole life," she said, "that I look Middle Eastern,but I didn’t expect my professor to pull me aside, and say that’s how I looked, and, ‘Oh, would I like to model for some paintings?’ It sure took me by surprise that day!”

Amy also said that “after the book [Women of the Old Testament (2009), featuring The Protector] was published, my women’s church organization held an evening meeting to talk about a few of the women mentioned in the book. Shiphrah was one of the featured segments. I blushed, and quietly leaned over to the woman seated next to me and whispered, ‘That's me.’”

Unsure of Amy's meaning, the woman supposed that Amy felt a particular affinity for Shiphrah’s character. "No,” said Amy, “that's really me." A closer look at Amy, and the painting, and the woman's hand shot up and she exclaimed, "We have the model right here!"

Amy was only the first of many to be surprised by my request that they model for a painting. “Are you sure you want me?” has been a strangely typical response because very few people realize just how extraordinary they really are. I have truly found that, "We have the model right here!" in the humble, devoted women we meet every day.

The circle of creativity

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 13:01:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

Some time ago, I received an inquiry from someone asking about the business end of being a full-time artist. The first question on the list asked how to go about selling one's artwork without "taking too much time away from the creative process." The question is surely high on the list of any artist who "turns professional," and if it isn't, it will be.

A lifetime of endeavor can be devoted to answering the question, but the following excerpt from my attempt to reply may be useful as a beginning:

Over the years, I have had to persevere in re-defining "creativity" so that my personal definition includes work involved in delivering originals and reproductions to the public. That effort really does take a very great amount of time away from what we usually think of as creativity. And the only way I know of to deal with that "lost time" is to define creativity in such a way as to include all of the "non-creative" work.

As a professional artist I am not simply creating when I paint. I am creating whenever I do anything that helps establish and further the cause of the studio. That means that taking out the garbage is as much a part of my work as painting, sewing costumes, bookkeeping, filing, washing the windows, or writing a blog post.

Having a studio is not simply having a place to paint or draw, but a place where the necessary support services cluster around what is typically thought of as the creation of artwork.

If the definition of "creating artwork" were thought of as a circle, and everything inside the circle is what the artist does to create it and everything outside the circle is what the artist depends on someone else to do, then the artist must consider everything inside the circle to be part of his or her creative endeavor; otherwise, the cognitive dissonance involved in spending time "away" from painting, drawing, etc., can be overwhelming. Of course, not everything inside the circle requires the same amount of time, but, given that distinction, everything inside the circle is of equal importance.

Like the top, middle window in the following photograph, the business end of studio art may neither look nor feel like all the other facets of an artist's endeavors, but it is essential to the symmetry of the whole.

Photograph by Ashton Young

Bracket for the A-frame Easel

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 13:02:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

Because the angle at which the A-frame Easel holds a panel cannot be changed, we recently built a bracket that adds this functionality to the basic easel. The sides of the easel hold panels at an angle of 76 degrees; however, Elspeth frequently prefers to paint with the panel at or near a 90-degree angle.

This photograph shows the bracket in use (at the top of the panel).

Photograph A

With the panel resting on the ledge, a C-clamp holds the bracket in place so that its arm extends over the top of the painting.

The following photograph shows a close-up of the front of the bracket.

Photograph B

Photograph C shows the bracket from the side and designates its three pieces: (a) arm, (b) brace, (c) stop-block. As shown in Photograph B, a C-clamp holds the arm (a) against the center plank of the easel. Another C-clamp holds the brace (b) against the bottom of the arm. The stop block (c) is a piece of 2-in. stock also held against the bottom of the arm by a C-clamp.

Photograph C

The arm of the bracket is first secured against the center plank of the easel. Then the brace is secured to the bottom of the bracket-arm, the panel is placed on the ledge of the easel, the top of the panel leans against the brace, and the stop-block is put in place (but not so close to the surface of the painting as to damage it).

Photograph D shows the 2x2 bracket arm. The angle at (a) is 76 degrees, which matches the angle of the easel (see Fig. 1 in the A-Frame Easel blog post).

Photograph D

Photograph E presents the front of the brace that attaches under the arm. The purpose of the brace is to provide a stable backing for the top of the panel during brush work. The trough, created by the space between the two 1x2s on top of the brace, stabilizes the position of the brace perpendicular to the arm, and therefore parallel with the easel's ledge. The brace is made of 1x2 and 1x3 stock. Pieces are glued and nailed, and the small 1x2s are also fastened with grabbers.


Photograph E

31st anniversary of the studio

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 13:01:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

January 6th is an anniversary at Al Young Studios; the anniversary of my first attempt to set aside and equip a place dedicated to creating artwork. We celebrate the beginning of that ongoing effort because the task of configuring, equipping, maintaining, using, and improving a fine art studio is an amazingly multifaceted and demanding endeavor; at least, it has proven so for us. It's an endeavor that never ends.

My journal entry for January 6, 1981, says simply: "This afternoon, I started building a drafting table – which I hope to complete tomorrow." At the time, pencil drawing was my primary medium, and a drawing table was the largest and most involved piece of equipment I lacked. I had been drawing for many years, but I did so by "camping out" with my drawing board and tools on a dining table or a desk, on the floor, or wherever I could find a place.

Today, as we take a moment to look back at the beginning of "the studio" part of Al Young Studios, and focus on the fact that from the very outset (as the journal entry says) do-it-yourself has been an important part of "the studio," I'm convinced that a major part of any artist's life is discovered and attained only by do-it-yourself.

The artistic gift seems to inhere in the ability to see what's missing in the world and to be able to supply the want. Having these abilities often means that not only must the artist make the missing artifact, but the very tools by which to make the artifact. Such is the work of creating a studio.

The drawing table mentioned in the journal entry was not only homemade, but made from scraps -- another foreshadowing of the artistic life. The 2x4s in its base came from the wall that had recently been removed from the garret where I worked as a freelancer. The tabletop came from surplus remaining from a brother-in-law's restaurant.

The table served very well for many years, but like all custom-made equipment, it has been modified many times to accommodate both artist and projects. And when I became involved in lithography, the table and accessories changed even more.

The drawing table as it appeared in 2001, having been modified to accommodate not only my drawing technique, but slabs of Bavarian limestone used in lithography.

Creativity and garbage in the Magic Kingdom

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 13:09:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

I have been to Disneyland only twice: Once, in 1957, as a boy too young to remember much more than fright at the sight of alligators swimming toward our boat for the sole purpose of eating me, followed by water buffalo approaching us in hopes of dessert. The second visit came in 1988 when Nancy and I took Ashton and Elspeth to visit the park while I attended an industry conference nearby.

I was working in an advanced product research group at the time, and having been primed by intensive inquiry into such topics as creativity, user interface design, error handling, etc., my experience at Disneyland once again caught me entirely by surprise: Disneyland is actually a dreadful place to visit. Imagine saving up precious vacation time to visit a super-crowded place to pay for the privilege of standing in line, enduring heat and glare, noise and -- above all -- garbage.

If anyone were to describe such a place without naming it, and then ask whether I wished to go there, my refusal would originate not in my brain, but my autonomic nervous system. On the other hand, my reflexes would respond enthusiastically at the mere mention of “Disneyland.”

What makes the difference?

The answer: Good design. Of course effective promotion is also important. Cruise lines, for example, seldom advertise itineraries in terms of the low incidence of various disasters and illnesses to which passengers may be exposed; instead, they follow the well known adage: “Sell the sizzle instead of the steak” -- let the aroma and the crackling of juices dripping into the flames beneath the grill play upon the senses, and all the work of selling is done.

The importance of expectation can hardly be overestimated in terms of visitor response to Disneyland or anything else; nevertheless, it is ultimately the experience with the thing desired that matters most. And in terms of our visit to Disneyland, it was the genius inherent in its design that entirely captured my imagination. The imaginative ways in which lines were configured remains a marvel of diversion from the reality of boredom induced by waiting. Noise and everything else are features of the park exploited in one way or another, but, to my mind, the penultimate design achievement focused on garbage.

My fascination began with the realization that no trash was in evidence, and yet almost everyone was eating something, purchasing food, or just finishing a snack. The eating alone would have produced enough used cups, plates, plastic forks, and half-eaten hot dogs to transform the Magic Kingdom into a dump within a couple of days. In thinking about the garbage problem that must have confronted park designers, these possible solutions came to mind:

Fail to recognize the problem

Ignore it

Prevent it

Allow it and remove it

Turn it into an asset

Failure to identify a problem usually results from insufficient homework. Lack of imagination, insufficient experience, too little time, ignorance of the creative process, and other factors can cripple a design project from the outset.

Ignoring a problem is always dangerous, but sometimes the wisest thing to do. Few decisions are more momentous, and require the best wisdom and greatest integrity that can be brought to bear on the situation. Some artifacts or deliverables can be improved over time (iteratively) while other products offer only one chance to “get it right.”

Preventing garbage at Disneyland would have turned a world-class amusement park into something akin to a living room -- not synonymous with magic or fun in my experience.

Alternatively, the design might have sought to constrain eating and drinking to specified areas in order to facilitate trash management. Such an approach could have created things like rules, making trash-handling not only visible, but prominent. Imagine a policing effort, complete with penalties for infractions and rewards for more responsible behavior. Instead of stepping into a magic world where Mary Poppins utters a sentence and clutter magically disappears, visitors would have been confronted with infrastructure. Regardless of what such a park might have offered, its spell would have been broken. Real magic takes care of trash all by itself.

Design activity at this level is informed and responsible, but unimaginative because the original problem remains not only visible, but prominent. Successful design transforms problems into assets, woven into the design so deftly that without them the whole design falls apart.

It seemed to me that two simple things made garbage-handling in the Magic Kingdom truly ingenious:

First, every “elf” with a broom and dust pan wore a polo shirt with Disneyland emblazoned on it. Second, every elf smiled. As a result, wherever trash appeared outside of where it belonged, Disneyland and magic were already on the scene to take care of it. In the real world, smiles are almost never associated with the creation of trash, and whenever an accident occurs, resulting in something to clean up, all the fun stops.

Since my experience at Disneyland, I can't claim to have actually been a better designer, but I believe I've had a clearer idea of what design and development ought to achieve. It's still easy to feel threatened by design problems. It's easy to label a problem as a problem and thus keep it in tact throughout design and implementation.

The name we give to a thing is a declaration of what we intend to do with it, a statement of how we intend to act toward it. For a problem to undergo the transformation that is part of truly creative design, we have to find another name for it. This renaming is the essence of creative design. To achieve it we have to be believing: We have to believe that the design problems we face are not necessarily inimical to our objectives; that they are, instead, assets.

In most cases, the destructive thing about such problems is the way we treat them. We have to believe that solutions will present themselves; that with all the knowledge, imagination, time, labor, and patience we can focus on the task, problems can be transformed. And we have to be open to the probability that really creative solutions will be simple, even inexpensive -- like the cost of a smile and a polo shirt with a logo on it.

Tips and Techniques: To mix, or not to mix . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 13:00:00 +0000

By Elspeth Young

My every-day pigment palette

I can remember, as a small child, eagerly watching my father get out his palette, paint tubes, medium, and palette knives to carefully mix colors for a day of intense painting. In fact, one of my earliest memories is watching him mix thick oil paints for a wall mural he painted in my bedroom. I watched from the perch of a stool--with my elbows practically in the paints--while he mixed and matched and mixed again. I became so intrigued that my long pigtails dipped right into the colors. (A problem I still battle, now that I have my own paints and palette!)

When the time came for me to try my hand at my own oil painting, I assumed the same strategy of mix first, paint later. It didn't take me long, however, to discover that I had trouble second-guessing both the color mixes required, as well as the actual amounts of paint needed.

Having begun my artistic sojourn as a watercolor artist, I soon realized that my water-coloring habits of mix-on-the-go would quickly control my oil painting habits as well. Satisfied with my homemade alla prima mixing technique, I decided to pour my paint out on the palette and only "mix" with my brush during the painting process--"wasting" (as I thought at the time) none of the precious creative juices on "needless" premeditated mixing: no time or paint wasted. Or so I thought.

Such a mantra was all well and good for small parts of small paintings, but it wasn't long before I realized that my "seamless" strategy was flawed. While I might not waste much paint during a session of glazing or scumbling details, while painting large surface areas of the panel or color patches of a similar hue, I was wasting all sorts of time endlessly mixing and remixing the same color over and over, minute by minute.

So, such became the dilemma at the outset of each painting session: To Mix, Or Not To Mix? My creative energy seemed to rebel at the idea of having to pre-mix colors, as I had seen my father do. But then again, my artistic conscience knew that from time to time, I was wasting precious time throughout the painting session when I mixed colors as I went, a particle at a time.

Example of a "mix as you go" palette

After years of experimenting, I've found a very happy, workable medium for my color conundrum: Combine the two processes. When painting a face, or any other texture which reflects a symphony of infinite color temperature changes within a small area, mix as you go--whether you use just your brush in hand, or a small palette knife as well. Allow the very serendipity of such a color strategy to make the hues painted as varied as nature itself. This enables complete versatility with little waste of either time or paint.

Example of a "pre-mix" palette

When, on the other hand, a good deal of the day's efforts will be devoted to a color "block," take the time at the outset of the painting session to premix some helpful hues in the color range perceived--mid-tones, highlights, shadows, and a few variables in between. I often find that under-layers in landscapes, stone surfaces, pottery, and especially fabrics, are best handled by generous dollops of pre-mixed paint, ready for shoveling on to the panel or canvas. This is an effective strategy for all kinds of painting techniques--alla prima, indirect painting, or wet-in-wet techniques.

So the next time you step to your easel, simply assess what you will spend the majority of time painting that day--large areas where paint will be shoveled on with a painting knife, or small intricate glazes softly blended with a breath of brush. Then mix, or don't mix, accordingly.

(Of course, there are yet more alternatives to these two color mixing strategies. During my childhood years, I always saw my father pre-mix his colors, but it has been many years now since he has used that process. Rather than relying on his brush or knife to mix his colors (either before or during each painting session), he now prefers to let his colors of mix themselves, on layer at a time. Most of the time, he applies color in stages--each color layer is allowed to dry before he glazes new color over the top--a method which allows for a whole world of colors that, quite literally, could not be mixed beforehand.)

Don't stand behind me while I paint

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 13:00:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

One of the unwritten laws of the studio is never to stand behind me when I paint. I'm always backing up (on a sudden and without looking) to take the long view of what's happening to the image on the easel. For every painting session at the easel, I probably walk a mile in the relatively small space in which I work.

For me, the primary reason for using an easel has relatively little to do with applying paint. Instead, it has a great deal to do with the need to easily and quickly view the work from different vantage points, in order to more fully see it and refine it accordingly.

Where and how to situate an easel is far more than a matter of whether its own footprint fits in the floor space available for it, and whether the light falling on the work area meets the artist's needs. The space required for an easel must include the artist's footprints: The space needed for "editing" the image during its creation.

Perspective, in creating a painting, is not just the perspective in the image, but the perspectives from which to view it in order to create it. (Perspectives, incidentally, are not only spatial in nature, but can be mental, emotional, etc., but that is a subject for another post.)

The need for perspectives relates to something W. J. J. Gordon said about creativity: "The most important element in the creative process is Making the Familiar Strange, because scientific breakthroughs as well as visual and literary innovations depend on Strange new contexts by which to view a familiar world." [The Metaphorical Way of Learning and Knowing by William J. J. Gordon (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Porpoise Books, 1971), p. 11 -- While much of the writing in the book is of the case-study persuasion, five pages in chapter 2 present an analogy between an amoeba and the history of British colonies in North America.]

Elspeth talks about this kind of approach to problem-solving in her blog post entitled "Turning the problem upside down".

Sometimes as a child I would stretch out on the floor and spend a while just staring up at the ceiling, pretending it was the floor, and that I could walk there upside down. (Children are wonderful examples of what it means to see with fresh eyes.)

When we look at something primarily for the purpose of naming it, we usually stop looking at it the moment we can "tell what it is" (as these quotation marks indicate, we even talk about this kind of seeing as though it were definitive, as though knowing the name for something were the only thing we need know about it.) But if we can hold onto the childish wonder for the shapes and the colors of what we see -- shapes and colors for which we have no names -- then we can see with an artist's eye.

Photograph by Ashton Young

"Still here!"

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 14:49:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

In episode 14 of the 8th season of Monk (Tony Shalhoub's television series about a world-class detective battling severe psychological disorders exacerbated by the murder of his wife), detective Adrian Monk wins his 12-year struggle for reinstatement as a member of the San Francisco Police Department. But after only a few days back on the force, Monk is inexplicably disillusioned with his own hard-won success. He consults his psychiatrist, who points out that Monk is not only best suited to be an independent consulting detective with the SFPD, but that he has actually been happy in that role for 12 years -- years that Monk perceived as an ordeal.

As the realization sinks in, Monk exclaims: "Why didn't you tell me I was happy!"

Like Monk, it is possible to be successful and not know it. How we define success has a profound influence on our stamina and ability to achieve and then tolerate it. For example, success may consist of something as simple as having one more day in which to do the kind of work you enjoy doing.

As a studio artist, one of the best descriptions of success that I've ever heard comes out of the Great Depression of the 1930s (see Go Forward With Faith: The Biography of Gordon B. Hinckley by Sheri L. Dew [Deseret Book, 1996], p. 520). A farmer scrawled it on a sign found hanging from a solitary staple on the rusted barbed-wire of his fence:

     Burned out by drought,
     Drowned out by flud waters,
     Et-out by jackrabbits,
     Sold out by sheriff,
     Still here!

Far Away In The West by Ashton Young

The Substance of Hope featured in December 2011 Ensign

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 00:25:00 +0000

Elspeth's painting of Anna the Prophetess, entitled The Substance of Hope (pictured left), is featured on page 33 of the December 2011 Ensign Magazine. The painting illustrates the following quotation from Patrick Kearon:

"We learn from Anna’s experience that we can live faithfully through all weathers if we are consistent in our fasting and prayer and if we do not depart from the temple in our hearts. If we haven’t yet had the opportunity to travel to a temple and receive its blessings, we can still enjoy the blessings that flow into our lives when we worthily hold a temple recommend. Prophets have repeatedly invited us to hold a temple recommend even if our circumstances do not allow us to attend the temple. We can lift ourselves from dark moments and into the light of gratitude through our temple worship and through testifying of Jesus to all who look for peace and hope."

Click here for more about Elspeth's painting, or for a list of available prints and giclees.

New editorial calendar

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 13:24:00 +0000

Starting with today's blog post about our A-frame Easel, we are initiating a new posting schedule and editorial calendar.

We will continue to upload content under the following labels as it becomes available. These labels continue to be the "news" portion of the blog:

     Art prints
   Book of Mormon art
     Completed paintings
     Exhibits
     Framing
   High Valley Collection
     Manti Project
   The Messiah Collection
     On the easel
     Pioneer paintings
     Women of the Bible Art

Each Friday a post will be added to one of the following labels:

     1st Friday of the month - Equipment and materials
     2nd Friday - Inspirations (new label)
     3rd Friday - Studio Windows
     4th Friday - Tips and techniques
   5th Friday - Creativity (new label)

The new label, Inspirations, features the kind of content appearing in our 2012 Calendar and Journal, also entitled Inspirations. The blog posts under this label are not copies of the content of the 2012 Calendar, but augment it; providing perspectives, ideas, and encouragement for the professional artist and hobbyist alike.

Creativity, another new label, features insights and suggested reading gleaned from research and experience.

We've also added the label Anniversaries for posting content on significant studio dates:

   January 6th - First art studio (1981)
   January 18th - Women of the Bible Project inception (2003)
   April 18th - Manti Project inception (2006)
     June 5th - Al Young Studios groundbreaking (1997)
     August 1st - High Valley Project inception (1977)
     October 22nd - Al Young Studios founding (1998)
     November 25th - alyoung.com launched (1998)

The A-frame Easel

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 13:22:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

Building studio equipment isn't always an option, but when it is, it can save a great deal of money and provide custom solutions that can be adapted to the many ways in which technique and projects change over the years.

Of the 13 easels that are part of the studio's equipment, three were purchased new, two came to us second- or third-hand, and the remainder were designed and built in the studio. The purchased easels include two of the suitcase-style travel models that can be set up easily enough, but require graduate study in order to reconstitute as a suitcase. (You get extra credit if you can transport them without a drawer falling out.) The third is a collapsible, aluminum-tube, table-top easel that accommodates small work. Fortunately, we found each of these on sale. Interestingly, however, the purchased easels receive the least use of any we have.

The A-frame Easel is the first free-standing easel I built. It is Elspeth's favorite, and continues to be one of our primary workhorse easels. It was built in 1992, to serve as a free-standing easel in what would be our new studio. (It's the A-frame Easel because I built it in an A-frame that served temporarily as my woodworking shop for small projects, while our home and studio were being built.)

We've modified the easel from time to time since then (adding storage compartments and other features), but the basic design presented in these diagrams has served well. Its framework is made of 2x6 Douglas Fir. And except for the feet of the two vertical sides, grab screws are used for joinery. A jigsaw was used to cut the pieces.

The following diagram of the side view of the easel presents dimensions. A major safety consideration was to ensure that, given the height of the framework, the length of the runners would keep the easel upright. The use of 2x6s added weight. (I do not like easels that bounce back in response to mu brushwork, which is sometimes quite vigorous.)

Fig. 1
Side view

Each runner is made of two 2x6s, and the base of each vertical side is mounted into a runner by means of a mortise and tenon joint. To simplify the task of creating the mortise, I cut it from the inner face of each side of the 2x6s constituting a runner (see Fig. 2).


Fig. 2 The tenon cut into the base of a vertical side appears above half of the mortise cut into a 2x6 runner-half. The other half of the mortise is cut into the inner face of the other half of the runner (not shown)

The following diagram presents a front view of the easel's framework. Each horizontal member is a solid 2x6 running from side to side, and mounted flush with the front surface of each vertical side. The center member is mounted flush with the front surface of the two upper, horizontal braces so that a painting can rest anywhere on the front surface of the easel.

Fig. 3
Front view of easel. The width, from one vertical side to the other, is 34.5 in. Overall height is 101.5 in.

The foregoing diagram shows a horizontal brace between the runners into which each vertical side of the easel is mounted. This horizontal brace is mounted near the front of the runners. Another brace (not shown) is mounted between the runners near the back of the easel.

The ledge and tray shown in the following photograph is a single unit that "floats" between the two vertical sides. The ledge on which the painting rests is made from a piece of fluted-stock (approx. 4 in. wide) typically used in finish carpentry. The profile of the stock works well for drying-shelves where we store works in progress as well as finished paintings.

Photograph A

Narrow runners, mounted to the inner surface of each vertical side of the easel, make it possible to adjust the height of the ledge and tray. It's a little inconvenient to have to remove the painting (and make certain that nothing spills or tumbles to the floor during adjustment), but it works well enough, particularly if the cost of a crank-adjustable easel is prohibitive.

Paint-tube storage (the rectangular compartments to the right in the photograph above) is also provided by a vertical compartment attached to the outer surface of one side of the easel.

Photograph B

This photograph of the back of the easel shows the paint-tube storage compartment mounted to the side of the easel (at left in the photograph ). A shelf mounted across the middle of the easel provides storage space.

New painting features forgiveness

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 00:13:00 +0000

The Miracle Of Forgiveness by Al R. Young is the newest oil painting to be added to The Messiah Collection and the Women of the Bible Collection of original artworks from Al Young Studios. Forty five fine-art print styles and sizes of this new image are now available at www.alyoung.com, ranging in price from $4 (4x5 poster print) to $682 (full-sized reproduction giclee).

Click here to see a larger copy of the new painting, read the artist's commentary, and look at the selection of available prints.

Based on John 8:2-11, the image features the moment of forgiveness granted to the woman taken in adultery. The Miracle Of Forgiveness is the 19th image in The Messiah Collection (since 2003) and the 42nd in the Women of the Bible Collection (since 2003). It is also the 154th image in the Studios' commercially available fine-art portfolio.

The 45 open-edition prints of this new painting bring to 1,827 the number of prints and giclees available at www.alyoung.com -- exclusive retail outlet for artworks produced by the artists of Al Young Studios.

New painting added to The Messiah Collection

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 00:03:00 +0000

So They Brought Their Little Children by Elspeth Young is the newest oil painting added to the Messiah Collection as well as the Book of Mormon Collection of original artworks from Al Young Studios. Twenty seven fine-art print styles and sizes of this new image are now available at www.alyoung.com, ranging from $4.05 (4x5.25 in. poster print) to $185 (full-sized reproduction giclee).

Click here to see a larger copy of the new painting, read the artist's commentary, and look at the selection of available prints.

Based on 3 Nephi 17:11-13, 21-25, the image features a young mother presenting her infant child before the resurrected Messiah. So They Brought Their Little Children is the 18th image in the Messiah Collection (since 2003) and the 11th image in the Book of Mormon Collection (since 2006). It is also the 153rd image in the Studios' commercially available fine art portfolio.

The 27 open-edition prints of this new painting bring to 1,782 the number of prints and giclees available at www.alyoung.com -- exclusive retail outlet for artworks produced by the artists of Al Young Studios.

New painting added to Women of the Bible Collection

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 23:47:00 +0000

Here Bring Your Wounded Hearts by Elspeth Young is the newest oil painting added to the Women of the Bible Collection of original artworks from Al Young Studios. Thirty nine fine-art print styles and sizes of this new image are now available at www.alyoung.com and range from $4.50 (4x7 in. poster print) to $443 (full-sized reproduction giclee).

Click here to see a larger image of the new painting, read the artist's commentary, and browse the selection of available prints.

Based on Romans 16:1-2, the image features Phoebe, to whom the Apostle Paul entrusted delivery of his epistle sent from Corinth to the saints in Rome, and of whom he wrote as being a woman exemplary in compassionate service to the sick and afflicted. Here Bring Your Wounded Hearts is the 41st image in the Women of the Bible Collection (since 2003), and the 152nd image in the Studios' commercially available fine art portfolio.

The 39 open-edition prints of this new painting bring to 1,755 the number of prints and giclees available at www.alyoung.com -- exclusive retail outlet for artworks produced by the artists of Al Young Studios.

Inspirations: 2012 art calendar and journal available

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 16:30:00 +0000

Al Young Studios' new art calendar for 2012 features 53 artist commentaries and 157 images (60 original artworks by Al Young, Elspeth Young, and Ashton Young; 55 sketches by Ashton, and 42 works by other artists).

The spiral-bound booklet serves as a personal journal or an appointment calendar. Printed in full color on heavy paper.

The 2012 Calendar is entitled Inspirations because the artist commentaries feature inspiration and encouragement that continue to influence our work. Much of the commentary applies not only to creativity (or problem solving) generally, but to the task of bringing a greater richness to daily life.

The 42 artworks accompanying the commentaries feature these artists:

Albert Bierstadt
Albert Samuel Anker
Albrecht Dürer
Carl Heinrich Bloch
Carl Larsson
Daniel Ridgway Knight
Diego Valazquez
Edmund Blair Leighton
Edwin Lord Weeks
Georges de La Tour
Gilbert Stuart
Henri Matisse
Howard Pyle
Jacopo Pontormo
James Tissot
Jan Vermeer
Jean Baptiste Camille-Corot
John L. Maas
John William Waterhouse
Jonh Singer Sargent
Maxfield Parrish
Michelangelo Merisida Caravaggio
Minerva Teichert
N. C. Wyeth
Orazio Gentileschi
Paul Jean-Claude Cézanne
Peter Paul Rubens
Rembrandt van Rijn
Vincent van Gogh
William Harnett
William Morris
William-Adolphe Bouguereau

Winslow Homer

On the Easel: Elspeth nears completion of latest painting

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 19:59:00 +0000

Elspeth blocks in Caroline's costuming

Since early February of this year, Elspeth has been working on a painting of Mary Elizabeth and Caroline Rollins—two pioneer sisters who bravely saved what they could from a violent mob who destroyed the early Church’s printing press July 20, 1833. The painting depicts both teenage girls with the precious galley pages of The Book of Commandments which they salvaged while they were pursued by armed members of the mob. In desperation they sought refuge in a nearby cornfield--an occurrence Mary movingly described in her published autobiography.

Portion of Book of Commandments galley facsimile

Research for the painting has required months of effort (and the gracious help of several experts at the Museum of Church History and Art and the Church History Library in Salt Lake City) during the painting’s pre-production stages. Not only did Elspeth need to replicate period appropriate costuming for the young women, it was necessary for her to re-create actual-size facsimiles of the original Book of Commandments galleys (detail pictured above right) using scans from Wilford Woodruff’s personal copy of the 1833 printing. Elspeth is shown left, blocking-in the costuming of the figure of Caroline Rollins.

1,712 fine-art prints now available from Al Young Studios

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 21:36:00 +0000

Al Young Studios now offers 1,712 open-edition prints through its online art gallery at alyoung.com. This total includes 853 giclee-canvas prints as well as 859 prints on paper in a great variety of sizes.

Artworks featured in the prints include original oil paintings already part of the fine art collections on the site: All 40 paintings in the Women of the Bible Collection, 16 of the paintings in The Messiah Collection, the 10 paintings in the Heroes of the Book of Mormon Collection, and four of the paintings from the High Valley Collection.

These additions to the Studios' product line are part of an effort to offer a complete range of print sizes and styles for artworks from the Studios' portfolio, presenting customers with the widest possible range of sizes to fit their needs, and yet maintain the integrity of each image. (Some customers want the entire image reproduced in a print, regardless of the added step of custom framing or matting. Other customers prefer the relative simplicity of framing in standard sizes, even if it means the image has necessarily been cropped.)

Prints now available in the Studios' product line include a full range of canvas reproductions for standard frame sizes available internationally as well as sizes common in the United States. To accommodate the standard frame sizes, the original images have been cropped to fit.

The new prints also include a full range of canvas reproductions featuring the entire image of each original painting, regardless of frame sizes. Full-image reproductions usually require custom framing (or matting within standard sizes) because the originals are seldom the proportion of a standard frame size.

All of these prints are open-edition reproductions as opposed to limited editions. This not only keeps prices more affordable, but allows indefinite availability of the prints.

The 148 original artworks from the Studios' commercial portfolio include 69 oil paintings, 75 lithographs, and 4 block prints. The lithographs are the only limited editions currently available from the artists at Al Young Studios.

Announcements of new open-edition prints of artworks already appearing on alyoung.com, as well as prints of new original artworks added to the site, will appear on this blog. Follow Al Young Studios on Twitter and Facebook to receive notifications.

An Artist's Eye

noreply@blogger.com (Al Young Studios) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 00:17:00 +0000

By Al R. Young

Photograph of Al's palette by Elspeth Young

Not long ago, we received the following comment:

With your layered or indirect [painting] approach, how do you manage to maintain working from the subject over this time with all the variations of light, weather, seasons, the decay of a still life or busy and expensive models, etc.? Do you resort to photos?

Factors such as media, individual style, techniques, available tools, and the messages (to borrow a term from communication theory) are major influences in how an artist approaches and completes each work. This includes the use of models, photographs, etc.

While some people hold to the idea that using photographs is somehow wrong, I am not one of them. I work from life as well as photographs, and I find that, at least in terms of the way I see and render, the use of photographs enhances the journey and improves the outcome. Much of the production of artwork (or anything, for that matter) requires the appropriate use of available tools for specific purposes at the right time during the creative process. I use photographs as one means of looking (among many), not as a substitute for seeing.

My experience with still life is simply the necessity of being prepared to draw or paint “to the death.” Either you "make it" in time, before the subject withers, or, like the old TV series about Lassie--you wind up with a kennel full of subjects contributing effectively to a good result.

As far as busy and expensive models are concerned, I prefer to search instead for models among the people of my acquaintance. Just as everyone is “ordinary,” everyone is also “heroic,” and I enjoy discovering and presenting the heroic in each of us. That is, in fact, a major part of what our artwork is all about anyway.

My objective in presenting any subject in any medium is to convey something of what I know about it and how I feel about it, and to do so in a way that resonates in the mind and in the heart.

Some years ago, I read fairly extensively about creativity. One of the ideas I encountered was that for some people creativity often starts with a vague idea and involves a journey in which the creator discovers the nature of what is being created. For other people, the journey often starts with a very clear idea of the nature of the completed artifact, and the work of creativity consists in copying the inner vision.

I do not know the extent to which this may be an accurate or true perspective, or, even if it is, whether it is a particularly useful idea. I can only comment on my own experience with it, for it has been on my mind through all the years since I encountered it. At the very least, the idea has provided reassurance, during my own creative efforts, that not to know precisely where they lead or how to get there is no reason to panic and may not even be a reason to quit.

At the outset of any creative endeavor, I find myself intrigued by something; something that wants expression. As I pursue the interest, striving all the while to complete the expression, the expression clarifies as it materializes.

Perceiving something, or seeing it, results from looking for it. Seeing, as one of my professors once described it, is a directed activity; something the mind does, not merely the eyes. I am also reminded of some things the American philosopher Susanne Langer once observed; insights that come close to the heart of the subject:

Citing Felix Cohen, Langer declares: “A question is really an ambiguous proposition; the answer is its determination. There can be only a certain number of alternatives that will complete its sense.

. . . .

The limits of thought are not so much set from outside, by the fullness or poverty of experiences that meet the mind, as from within, by the power of conception, the wealth of formulative notions with which the mind meets experiences. Most new discoveries are suddenly-seen things that were always there. A new idea is a light that illuminates presences which simply had no form for us before the light fell on them. We turn the light here, there, and everywhere, and the limits of thought recede before it.

. . . .

If we would have new knowledge, we must get us a whole world of new questions. (Susanne K. Langer. Philosophy in a New Key: A Study in the Symbolism of Reason, Rite, and Art (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1974) pp. 4-13)

As far as the creation of an artwork (in any medium) is concerned, the insight or freshness in the resulting artifact or expression, depends upon the questions the artist asks of what he sees. Only if the artist loses interest or heart for the journey does the result fall short. And there are many ways of seeing subjects with ever greater appreciation and varied interests.