Natalie Hunsaker | Artist

Whitaker Day One: A Couple More Tidbits

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Mon, 23 May 2011 05:32:00 +0000

The Sturdy and Economical Shipping Crate:
After wrapping the painting in thin foam (can find in Home Depot--I think he said in the carpet aisle?), then measure the precise dimensions and cut accordingly. Whitaker measures in mm since it's so easy to get messed up by tiny inch fractions. If you get the measurements right, there will be no jostling of the painting, so this is all that is really needed for proper protection and you're ready to go with just that! Here's the simple construction for a shipping crate (sides are 1/4-inch plywood, tops/bottoms are 1/8-inch). :

Oiling Out the Dull Spots in a Painting:
Most people use WAY too much oil for oiling out. Use only a little--Whitaker mixes his by making a 50/50 split with Oleogel and linseed oil. He puts a tiny amount on his fingers and rubs it in (he says it's like oiling a gun, but I've never done that so it didn't help me much--but I add it here in case it will help someone else). It should dry in a day:

Whitaker Day One: Mulling Lead (Flake) White

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Mon, 23 May 2011 05:08:00 +0000

Whitaker uses 50/50 linseed and walnut oil. Walnut oil, he says, is harder to mull but makes the paint flow better off the brush (how it should flow is personal taste, though, so do your own experimenting):

Be careful not to raise any dust as you slowly mix it in:

It will look gritty:

If you're doing just a small batch, you can mull it with the knife, but the mull itself works much better for large batches. You'll notice, too, the rather worn-looking glass. This is done by adding carborundum powder to the glass (there are different grits, but they're all the same for this purpose), which must be repeated or the mulling will make the glass smooth again. The rougher glass is helpful in aiding the mulling process:

Simply move the mull in circular motion until the paint takes on a smooth consistency. With Whitaker's proportions of linseed and walnut oils, his ends up with a wonderful, stringy, smooth consistency:

To save time, Whitaker will often use a commercial Titanium white for mixes and darker areas. However, this white is the truest white of all whites so if you really need to nail those highlights, this is the way to do it! Another great thing about true Flake White is that it's a more transparent white, which creates some wonderful effects.

Happy mulling!

Whitaker Day One: The Perfect Palette

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Mon, 23 May 2011 04:48:00 +0000

If you want a great palette, just go down to a local craft store and buy some birch plywood. It's light and thin (only about 1/8-inch thick). Be sure to get the one that is the least warped and has the best grain. Before you actually cut the wood, however, be sure to make a mock up in cardboard.

The trick is to put the thumb hole on the opposite side of the palette in order to make it balance on your arm without having to hold it (commercial palettes put the thumb hole on the near end of the surface so your thumb is under constant strain to hold it up).

Make sure that it matches the length of your arm and sits comfortably on your forearm. And lastly, make sure the thumb hole is big enough to go around the base joint so that the pressure is on your entire index finger and hand instead of just your thumb knuckle.

When it's all worked out in cardboard, and you're ready to cut the real thing, simply use a dremel tool or 1/2-round file for the edges. Taper the thumb hole to match the angles of your hand.

Stain with a simple mixture of whatever oil paint you want (Whitaker uses burnt and raw sienna mixed at about 50/50). Then do a lot of sanding to get it perfect.

To finish it off, buy a can of spray shellac because it's only soluble in alcohol rather than artists' oil paint solvents. Over time, the palette will still build up and become rather grey; but that just makes it even better.

So take it for what you will, but this is coming from a guy who has been through a lot of palettes (you'll notice many of them had hole placements that caused thumb strain over the years):

Whitaker Notes

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Mon, 23 May 2011 04:22:00 +0000

Almost three years ago, I was fortunate enough to study with William Whitaker. He allowed me to come for an entire week in his studio, and then again for a few days the following summer. Shortly afterward, however, he announced he wouldn't be taking any more students--perhaps because I had convinced him teaching was a drag! :)

So you can imagine how excited I am now. Since I have recently moved to Utah, I live only 30 minutes from his studio. To my surprise, he was cordial enough to invite me back on a more regular basis. This means I will have the incredible opportunity to study under him 1-2 times a month! What an undeserved honor.

Since Whitaker is always talking about the importance of following your heart, we had a good laugh when we went to Chinese for lunch and got these fortunes (mine on top, his beneath):

Hopefully I can be the artist he seems to think I'm capable of being.

Anyway, in the next couple posts, I'll detail my notes from Day One.

Then, when I get time, I'll go back and post the notes from my first two visits from a couple years ago. Enjoy!

Color Charts: Major AHA

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Tue, 17 May 2011 05:20:00 +0000

So now that I'm done with the last commission I plan to take on for a while, I finally got around to the project I've been really excited to do: the Color Charts in Richard Schmid's Alla Prima. I know, I'm weird, but really--tedious technical tasks actually do get me pumped up.

However, here's a quiz for you to do if you try to do these charts. Not passing this quiz cost me at least three boards' worth of scraping off and starting over.

In the following charts, the first and last square are the same: 1% and 100% saturation. But which of the two has perfectly distributed value changes in the middle three value ranges?

I wasn’t measuring or using formulas to mix my colors, but I was doing my mixing by doing the 5th value, 1st value, and then the 3rd value--trying my best to get it in the perfect middle. But even though I’d get the 3rd value correct, it just kept looking so wrong after I'd fill in the 2nd and 4th values because when I’d squint to check, they just didn’t seem to “flow” from dark to light.

Now that I’ve taken the time to do these grids in Illustrator where I can control the math and see for myself what is happening, I realize I actually WAS getting my charts pretty darn near 1%, 25%, 50%, 75%, 100%. But the jump from 1%-25%, especially, seemed like an enormous value change compared to everything else because of the way the eye works.

When I took a different approach that looks more even to the eye (especially when squinting), I realized it actually operates on properties of thirds with the exception of the second-lightest value, which ends up being almost a third-step between the lightest and middle value. The calculation in Illustrator ended up like this: 1%, 7%, 33%, 66%, 100%.

Now I’ve realized that the darker the value, the more difficult it is for the eye to distinguish between value changes. So the first one--perfectly, mathematically split--appears to the eye to have much bigger value jumps between the 1% and 25% square than the 75% and 100% square. But if I make the middle square 33% of the fully saturated value instead of 50%, it looks more like an even value split! Weird but true.

Gotta trust the eyes, Natalie. Trust the eyes.

I feel much better about my mixes now; and will finally be able to go forward with my eyes and brain in agreement. I’ve noticed most of Schmid’s charts are closer to the gradations of almost-thirds rather than perfect-quarters, too, so I'm not a complete loony.

When I finish them, I'll detail out all the things I learned in the process. I already have quite a list going . . .

The Blank Canvas

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Tue, 17 May 2011 05:18:00 +0000

Because this young boy died in a tragic accident, along with his best friend and his best friend's mother, this commission has been one of the most difficult I have ever done.

I stared at the blank canvas for probably 20 minutes. I said a prayer (okay, several), and then finally started the block in:

I remembered my greatest teacher, William Whitaker saying, "The first stroke you make on a canvas is always perfect. It's the second stroke and all subsequent strokes that can ruin everything. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is simply leave a painting alone."

I took a deep breath, and then got warmed up:

Once things started to come together, I got a little more confident:

The painting began to have a life of its own at this point. This is the point where you've committed enough that you either have to finish it or start over. So I finally braved the serious stuff:

Several sessions later, was finally happy with it:

I've thought a lot about being a mother through this process.

My children are my blank canvases. Sometimes I just stare at them, frozen, thinking about all I wish to teach them. I say a prayer and start to go forward, one lesson at a time. I remember the advice, "The first stroke you make is always perfect." I look at my beautiful girls and see this is true. They are perfect little beings.

Then I keep going and worry that "it's the second stroke and all subsequent strokes that can ruin everything."

I remind myself that "sometimes the hardest thing to do is simply leave [them] alone."

At this point, I still feel like I am in the bare beginning stages--just a few basic strokes for composition and placement on their blank little slates.

Some day I'll have to turn the brush entirely over to them. They will take on a life of their own. I hope by then they can see what beautiful potential they have and make the last strokes with courage and bravado.

Thank you, Deena, for the honor of painting Austin. It's helped to remind me of the incredible opportunity of motherhood, the fact that anything can change in an instant, and that knowledge that every day is a gift.

Thank you, God, for the honor of raising my beautiful daughters. My own little miracles remind me of Thy infinite goodness.

More Thoughts on Beauty

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 00:40:00 +0000

So I had some time to digest the Lecture on The Banishment of Beauty by Scott Burdick, and I've finally come to my own conclusions of exactly how his ideas have impacted me.

Beauty has, for the first time in my life, become a valid and extremely important thing to fight for.

One concept I spent a great deal of time pondering today is the idea that "beauty is simply truth" because that's the statement that caught my attention. Now I don't think Scott's intent was to define the universe or anything simply by saying that we'll find it if we focus on beauty. But he definitely piqued my interest in the subject.

You see, up until now, I have always devalued beauty. I defined it is as something that was, at best, simply nice to have but not essential. At worst, beauty was something completely superficial. This opinion made it hard for me to value my talents and to rectify within myself the strong desire to pursue art. It seemed so inconsequential in the long-term scheme of things. But this tie from beauty to truth made me take a second look at my opinions.

Although I still believe that beauty can be superficial and therefore distract us from ultimate Truth, here's where the light went on for me:

Beauty is not sufficient, alone, to lead us to absolute truth; but absolute truth is never found without beauty.

Therefore, beauty is valid. Beauty is important. Indeed, beauty is essential. And the part that I play as an artist who is doing my best to create beautiful images is, indeed, essential as well.

Beauty is worth fighting for in a world full of ugliness and I'm happy for the choice I've made to pursue it.

New Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 01:46:00 +0000

Ever had the experience--the Ah Ha moment--that completely changed your paradigm and subsequently your life?

I just had that today with regard to my purpose as an Artist after watching Scott Burdick's lecture on The Banishment of Beauty.

I am not exaggerating when I say this video completely changed me. In fact, it was only last post that I proclaimed my distaste for people's flowery, emotion-laden attachment to their art. And yet, here I am feeling suddenly like I am a crusader because I pursue Beauty in my art.

Here are a few of my favorite quotes from the film:

"there is no limit to the subjects and forms of aesthetic beauty. It can be seen in old faces, industry, and the most unexpected subjects imaginable – sometimes it is merely the play of light itself on a simple object. Tragedy, and even death, can be painfully beautiful subjects in the right hands. "

"It is not hard to make something ugly. Transcendent beauty, on the other hand, is a sparse commodity, something that helps make life bearable and spurs us on to heroic efforts to rise above the horrors of life. This is why beauty has been valued for all but the last century of the history of mankind."

"The beauty of love, of the sacrifice of a mother for their child, of the natural world and all its wonders of earth, sea, mountains, and wildlife, these are the things that inspire and remind us of what is worth fighting to preserve, be it another culture or our own humanity."

"The Impressionists were genius in showing the world a new form of aesthetic beauty, in both subject matter and technique. But this doesn’t mean that ever work that shocks will someday be called a masterpiece. Unfortunately, the lesson was the rebellion itself and soon the pattern of rejecting the past in ever shocking ways to make headlines would soon become the crucial goal. Eventually all that was left to rebel against was beauty itself, and modern art was truly born."

"Aesthetic beauty, while rare, is self evident."

“Beauty is a value as important as truth and goodness. I think we are losing beauty, and there is a danger that, with it, we will loose the meaning of life.” (from BBC Documentary titled "Why Beauty Matters" by Roger Scruton).

"I cannot count the times I’ve been asked in an interview, what 'message' I was trying to convey with my paintings. I’m sure every artist on the faculty here has gotten this question. When I honestly say that there is no message in the sense they are seeking, that painting is above all a visual language, and to translate the positive emotion that beauty can convey into words is impossible, I find these words used against me over and over. 'Traditional Realist painters admit it themselves – their paintings are meaningless, superficial depictions of beauty!'”

"Beauty is not useful in any material sense at all. Beauty is simply truth. The message of beauty is beauty. It is the ultimate circular argument, which is why you cannot argue it in words. It is a thing beyond us, a thing that hints at the divine."

Personally, I'm still digesting his whole message--even leaving room for some disagreement--but I know that something inside me was stirred deeply. And I know from past experiences that this stirring feeling means I'm on to something wonderful.

Thank you, Scott.

My Art Philosophy

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 05:03:00 +0000

I suppose for anyone to figure out their niche in the art world, it's commonly said that he or she must start with a philosophy behind their art--their "why." Trouble is, communicating my philosophy is almost as difficult as finding my style. It just so happens I'm a very practical person and am usually bored by the flowery, emotion-laden statements many artists make about their work.

Lest I sound cynical, let me describe it this way: we've all heard it said that a picture is worth 1,000 words, right? Well, what if I post this picture?

Above is a random image I stole from this site after a quick Google search for "cute baby." Do you have 1,000 words come to mind when you look at it? I know I don't. I think, "Oh, another cute baby photo," and move on with my day. That's only 5 words.

You probably say something similar upon seeing this photo:

But, for me, I see much more in this one because this is my oldest daughter, Brynn. Don't worry . . . I'll spare you the Mommy bragging. It will suffice to say that she was born weighing a whopping 1 lb 4 oz and has spent a great deal of time fighting for her life.

It's all about experience.

In the painting world, many artists pour their hearts and souls into some emotional expression as they paint and then define their art by those emotions. They could talk forever about their work, their experience, etc, but does that come across perfectly as intended? In my (humble) opinion, probably not. A viewer only sees what connects with their experience. If they don't have an experience or an appreciation for what or how an artist paints, far less than 1,000 words come to mind. In fact, they barely glance in the general direction of the piece representing the blood, sweat, and tears of that artist. And, when the viewer actually does have 1,000 words come to mind, what are the chances they are the same 1,000 words as the artist? Practically nil.

Does that mean the viewer isn't "enlightened" about art? Despite what some NY Abstract Gallery owners may say, I think not. Not everyone is going to appreciate your art . . . but some people will and that's all that matters.

My point is, although I do have a philosophy behind my art, that's not why I create it. I have large doubts that anyone will spontaneously pick up on my philosophy without reading my blog or getting to know me personally; and at that point, I've communicated much more effectively through verbal language than visual.

But as far as concrete visual communication goes, I connect a lot with painters like David Leffel, who are very practical. He said in his book, Oil Painting Secrets from a Master, that the concept behind one of his paintings was "the movement of light from left to right." Another painting's purpose was about, "purple and yellow." Now THAT is something I think I could try to communicate visually. And yet, even still, one of his patrons said, "Oh, I thought your work was about 'quiet.'"

And that's okay.

Even without perfect communication of some overarching philosophy, I still paint. Why? Because I love to paint. I love to learn about light and how it reacts with stuff. I love to play in the oils and see what they can do. I'm fascinated by the effects you can create with different tools--a brush, a knife, my fingers, a paper towel, sandpaper, saran wrap, etc. I love getting lost in a concept--even if it's a concept that only I will ever fully understand--and how the rest of the world melts away as I totally lose track of time. I even love my failures--okay, maybe at the time I really want to throw the painting across the room--but eventually I love that the failure happened because I improve for the next one.

So what's my philosophy? Well, I suppose it's the same for my art as it is for everything else. It would be this: seek lasting peace in all aspects of your life, pursue excellence in the things that matter most, embrace pain when it's necessary, and then share what you've learned with others.

But if you connect with my art or my blog in some other way, I will clap my hands and say "That's wonderful!"

Review #2

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 00:57:00 +0000

After wasting a few college years being convinced that Fine Art was not a "real" profession, I decided to get back to the roots of what I love. Seeing the work of Marvin Mattelson made me realize there is, indeed, a market for art and clients who want realism. So, I did what any rational artist would do: I rebelled against all the teachers I'd had that taught realism was baaaaaaad while abstract was gooooood--and went to super tight portrait work. At my peak, I was turning out stuff like this painting of Dr. Lew and Cheryl Roht:

Since then, I've fallen more in love with painters who magically blend realism with looser, more expressive brushwork. My biggest hero was William Whitaker, who was kind enough to let me study under him any time I was in his area. I spent weeks under his tutoring (and still do on occasion) and learned invaluable lessons I never would have learned any other way.

As I continued to develop, I studied more and more historical as well as modern realists and am starting to really filter out what I simply admire from what I want to become. I'm still not there yet, so I feel my work lacks some cohesion, but my style is definitely starting to emerge. After playing with the knife and some high-contrast lighting, this recent painting is one of my favorite Plein Air landscapes so far:

My good friend Mara Schasteen convinced me to start this blog to chart my growth from here and I invite you to join me. Hopefully, this journey will be helpful to those of you who are also finding your unique artistic voice in a sea of "anything goes."

Review #1

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 18:49:00 +0000

Since this blog is about my journey as an artist--and I'm already 20+ years into that journey--I better give a short background.

I began as most artists do: drawing incessantly. By the time I was 11, I was selling portraits of dogs at AKC shows to kind people who had pity on my makeshift "lemonade stand" way of selling things. Here I am then:

I was turning out pictures like this after I ventured into color (in this case, Prisma colored pencils):

And by high school, I decided to try my hand at painting. This is one of my first acrylic paintings--an assignment to put together a still life:

I loved to draw and grew up with an image of myself as a stay-at-home mom, running an art business from home in my spare time. Though the details are still being worked out, the only thing about that image that has changed is the realization that there is no such thing as "spare time!"

Opening Day

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 21:03:00 +0000

Sometimes I laugh when I think about all the "mysticism" surrounding the profession of an artist. Why images of berets--or, worse, purple hair and spikes through the lip--are conjured up in my own mind, I will never know. Except it does serve to remind me that the power of stereotypes can still benefit me--especially when I've forgotten yet another important date or delivery and someone says, "It's okay, aren't all artists a little loopy?"

But stereotypes aside, I'm just an average girl on an average journey, trying to figure out what kind of art career I want to have "when I grow up." I thought I should wait until I had it all figured out before I exposed myself in cyberspace; but at the encouragement of my Artistic Accomplice, Mara Schasteen, this blog is actually about that journey of figuring it all out. I hope you enjoy it; or better yet, I hope it helps you on your journey.