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Who would Santa see doing pastels if he took a turn over Sweden?
Gabriella Jonsson , of Stockholm, that's who.
Her Blog:
Daily Artwork Gallery
The three French brands of pastels, that I know of, are all color-centric. I love that focus. The three are Henri Roche, Pastels Girault, and Sennelier. In this second of my series on pastel brands, we will inspect the renowned Sennelier.
Chemist Gustave Sennelier founded in 1887 what would become the premier artist's paint resource of France. His store front was strategically placed within spitting distance of Paris' great museum and academy, the Louvre and the École des Beaux Arts. Of course, the Maison Sennelier faces the Left Bank of the Seine River, and Gustave's paint lab became eventually "the" place for the Avante-Garde of Impressionism.
Fine colors were purveyed to the likes of Cézanne, Degas, Gauguin, Monet, Bonnard, Soutine, Picasso, Modigliani, Kandinsky, Dali, van Gogh. If the walls of his storied Maison could only speak, how they would celebrate the conversations shared by these giants! The artists interacted with Sennelier in order to fulfill their needs for new colors.
Next posts: Details and critique.
"ideas, experiments and thoughts on painting: pastels, oils and more"
Terrages, approx. 1 and 1/2" long and 1" across , and 6/8" thickI attended a workshop taught by Diane a couple of years ago. I consider her a master of the medium, and an artist whose work I respect tremendously. She is an academic whose grasp of art history and of Modern Art makes her a pleasure to learn from. The workshop covered abstract pastel work, and was certainly a watershed for my own expression in the medium. She is a friend as well as a teacher.
Soft Form approx. 1 and 3/4" long and 3/4"thick
Thin Line approx. 2"long and 1/2" thick
I'd like to clarify that the Ambient series is my newest and most current series. Not that this matters to anyone besides myself.
It's a Sony Cybershot 3.3 Megapixel camera. I'm using the lens that came with it. I usually end up using very small portions of the photos I take, so we are talking about some seriously low-res reference photos. But I like it that way. I think it keeps me from getting too bogged down in details. Once I took some really great reference photos--super sharp, nicely composed, usable just as they were. They resulted in some terrible paintings! Well, not terrible, maybe, but definitely too futzy and detailed for my taste.
I've always been blown away by John Singer Sargent.
Albert Handell--I'm amazed at the depth he achieves in his paintings and how little he seems to have to do to accomplish it.
Sort of. Gonzaga didn't offer classes in pastel, but there were these great figure-drawing classes taught by Bob Gilmore. He still teaches them, actually. It was more like an open studio than anything, and there were a few adult students auditing the classes who worked in pastel, which was interesting. But what really got me started was the gift of a box of pastels from my parents. I took those into the drawing classes and started timidly experimenting with color in my drawings. It was still just line work for the most part. A few years after I graduated I picked the pastels back up again, but this time I applied more of what I'd learned in my oil painting classes, and worked from dried flowers rather than live models. That's when things really started to take off.
I have several hundred pastels and about 30 I use regularly. Most of them live in the boxes they came in and my workhorses sit in semi-sorted chaos in a Dakota box by my easel. I have three sections of pastels which are divided into red/oranges, green/turquoises and purples. The black and my vine charcoal sit in the grooves between the mesh trays of the box. It's mostly Unison, but I have plenty of Schminkes and Senneliers, and a few Diane Townsends and others in the mix.
Well, ideally I'd start with Rowney's intense black, but since they've reformulated their line I haven't seen them available in open stock, so I've had to do without. So let's see. A black (I've been using Art Spectrum's). Also from Art Spectrum, the darkest shade of Flinders Blue Violet. From Schminke, the pure shade of caput mortuum hell (I can't think of the English name but the German one amuses me so I remember it.) Also the Schminke pure quinacridone violet. The rest would be Unison, dark brownish reds, ochre greens, blue greens and purples.
Yikes! That's a scary thought. Well, I suppose it could happen, even in rainy England, so I guess my next choice would be Schminke. They have some great subtle, and not-so-subtle, colors, and a very consistent texture which is great. Sometimes they are too soft in certain situations, but you always know what you are getting. And it doesn't hurt that my local art store has them in open stock, either.
I have a couple of tricks with the LaCarte. One I learned from another artist or maybe an early issue of Pastel journal. That was if the surface got hit with a drop of water and came off, leaving the shiny white underlayer. In that case I would hit the spot with a bit of fixative and let that dry, then touch up with pastel. It allows the pastel to stick to the surface again.
My other LaCarte trick is for when the texture is too rough. When I first started using LaCarte, it had this great, consistently velvety texture. Then, I started getting batches that were a bit rougher and less uniform. The rougher texture was harder to work with and when it came time to frame the pieces, I found it didn't grip the pastel as well. I had a lot of trouble with dust drifting. At first I just ordered different colors but eventually all the paper I got had this new texture. Out of frustration one day I took a piece of sandpaper and went over the whole sheet of LaCarte. It worked perfectly: I had my old LaCarte back!
Sienna. It's warm but neutral and a good middle value.
Would you believe, an oil painting?
Early in her book, Aristides provides one of the best explanations of the "Golden Mean" I have read. Without getting into the math, philosophy and science here, I'll offer the interested this link (One-Over-The-World web link, everything you could ever hope to learn about the Golden Mean). Cut to the chase and see the application of the Golden Number to art.
But, how did my "intuitive" composition hold up to the "school solution" methods of arranging the elements of my picture? I went to Photoshop to see.
Well, not too bad. I describe myself as "self taught," but I actually have studied a thing or two about art and drawing over the years. It's just fun once and a while to hold these things up to the light of the classical drawing standards and see how they compare.
In the end, I do have troubles with a few things in my painting. The way that the right most line of the building lines up with the boat's housing line gives me fits. In one way, it helps the grouping cohere, but on the other hand it makes it harder for the eye to distinguish the boat from that background element. If I were to re-do this painting in a larger format, I would monkey with that to see what I liked better. What do you artists out there think of that part?
Further, there are some crude aspects to the boat hull and the tall legs of the large building, but I also kind of like the way the pastel mimics the brush strokes of an oil painting and just left it as is.
The main thing is, I wanted to take this piece fresh from my studio and in my less intellectual state of mind, and critique it against the searing light of "perfect drawing" skills as shown in the new Atelier book. In the end, I am happy that my composition is in the ballpark, and I very much enjoy that turquoise color!
Golden Ratio Links:
http://cuip.uchicago.edu/~dlnarain/golden/It started out as a plein air session drawing, on a beautiful sunny day (rare in Hoquiam!). My first efforts at isolating a composition in the studio had me getting in a value scale. Early on, I wanted to get in one boat and the "SHIPYARD" building. The reasons for this were the strong white values of the two objects, and their clear shapes. But the problem occurs in how to portray them both without getting too cluttered and losing focus.
My value scale kept pushing me towards a darkened to middle value sky, which trended away from the sunny day reality. Oh well, that's my Hoquiam, always gray. And I very much liked the tall green-gray structure at the dry dock, but knew at first that it would be a huge distraction from the composition.
I first heard about Henri Roché pastels several years ago from the painter, Wolf Kahn. He spoke about the almost ridiculous difficulty of obtaining them. They were, he said, made according to an ancient recipe by an elderly Parisian lady who, along with her two elderly sisters, maintained the last vestiges of a family business that had catered to many of the great artists of the last couple of centuries. If you wanted to buy some, he continued, it was necessary to appear at her doorstep at a particular time on Thursday afternoons and hope that, if she were feeling well enough, you would be admitted to the sanctum sanctorum, the Lourdes of the serious pastelist. I thought he was exaggerating.Read the whole article here.
The web has a few sites dealing with the world of pastels. Some are resource guides, others provide links to miscellaneous blurbs about pastel. Then, there are periodicals with their web presence, and of course a lot of instructional sites. There are the societies which promote the medium. Don't forget the retailers where we can go to mail order our goodies.
I want to begin linking those valuable web sites, and also the sites and blogs of pastel artists. Then, we will be free to get to our focus on this blog, which will be an ongoing discussion, in proper "Web Two Point Oh" fashion, of the medium of pigment. We want to feature both the artistic side, and the tactile and technique side, of pastels. We will interact and explore. We will laugh. We will cry. Okay, okay, maybe I'm over reaching there. But, this is a social site, and I hope to provide an outlet here for the enduring and incredible interest that art lovers have for the tools that make this whole endeavor work.