Announcing the publisher of The Book of Giants

By Petar Meseldzija

I have a great news to share. John Fleskes from Flesk Publications has agreed to publish my Book of Giants!! Needless to say, I am very happy and excited about this news which, by the way, has accelerated my work on this project. There are still some drawings and paintings to be finished, and some stories to be written, but the digital book dummy is almost finished. In 2010 Flesk published my book The Legend of Steel Bashaw in English and by doing so made my breakthrough on the international Fantasy Art market possible. The Book of Giants will be the second book of mine published by them.

10 Things...Painting Like a Writer

Flow...one of my stream-of-consciousness pieces...but even when the elements barely relate, it still has to work compositionally



Greg Manchess

Creative picture making is like creative writing. While studying books about writing, when an author describes how to construct compelling sentences, I hear it as if they are talking about building a picture. I often replace the word ‘writer’ with ‘artist’ and find new clues for simplifying an image to get to the point.



The creative process is universal. Studying other creative fields helps me learn better picture design.  This opens me up, and allows me to understand painting from a writer’s perspective.



The list below comes from Roy Peter Clark’s excellent book about writing, “How To Write Short.” Roy explains how CBS Radio correspondent, Peter King, uses a set of strategies for getting straight to the point on air. King's list gives advice about composition. Only, for me it was visual composition.



Here's King's list compared with my strategies for good picture design, with visual examples.



Writing:

Ask for help in identifying long, complicated material. Look for the expert who can take material like science from complicated to comprehensible.



Painting:

Research subject matter. Read-up on your subject and rely on authorities that have worked with it longer than you have. Act like a reporter observing details to describe to a reader...in this case, a viewer. Study other artists' work who’ve tackled the same subject, and be aware of their working methods.

Harold Von Schmidt...a great moment of Revere's Ride, researched right down to the length of the musket, and the motion of the horse

Writing:

Select the most important piece of information. Like an archeologist, a good writer can find the hunk of gold hidden beneath the surface.



Painting:

Identify the one thing you must get across. Show the point that describes the most. Don’t be distracted by luscious storytelling from the text. It's all communication, but painters do it differently. You don’t have to tell the full story in the painting. It is not required. Let go of the rest and let the visual instill curiosity in the viewer, to keep them coming back. 

Mead Schaeffer captures the spirit of 18th c. highway robbery, explains nothing and captures everything

Writing:

Decide what can be left out. Even famous musicians must learn what notes to leave out.



Painting:

Edit extraneous details. Don’t explain too many details of the character or their clothes, or their attitude, or their family history, or the food they like, or the landscape, or their weapons, or how they raise their children, etc. Less is more.

In this case, lots less...but, in Mead Schaeffer's portrait of the Count of Monte Christo he barely gave us 

the facial details, yet it's plenty

Writing:

Zero in. Tight writing demands focus. Writers are encouraged to think of picture postcards, to look for the single image to imprint on the reader.



Painting:

Be direct. Sound familiar? I'll tell you flat out: composition. Use cropping to create depth. Unless you’re telling something about a character involved in their landscape, get in close to the subject. Allow the viewer to be a part of the composition. If your p.o.v. is too far back, the viewer is merely an offstage observer. And no, you don’t have to push in so close we’re staring them in the eye.

Dead-on compositional skills from Herbert Paus...I can feel the pilot about to be ripped off the edge of the wing 

in the next half second...and I can't stop looking at it

Writing:

Excerpt the most telling quote. Writing teacher Donald Murray’s famous dictum: “brevity comes from selection, not compression.”



Painting:

Find the moment that communicates the story. Melodrama oversells the point. Find a nuance, or even a bold, exciting moment, but don’t paint it like you think it actually feels. Go a step farther. Realize that anyone can paint up a sneaky killer, or the oversexed vixen, or the growling monster. To be truly scary, for example, macabre goes a long way. However, don’t be subtle about your composition. Keep it striking, even when expressing a softer passage.

Donald Teague...we don't even get to see the fist, but the guy is down...strong composition and perfect story-telling

Writing:

Translate jargon into common English. Think NASA abbreviations: EMU (extravehicular mobility unit) = spacesuit. Cut to the chase.



Painting:

Keep it simple. Allow the viewer to get involved by simplifying complex images. You can easily overwhelm with elements, too many lighting angles, or complicated perspective. Simplify. Simplify. Simplify. Even in a battle scene, the viewer must be able to find their way through the activity.

One of mine: Last Battle of the CSS Alabama...think rhythmically when composing...allow the figures to move in

 and out of the space, which allows the viewer's eye to flow through the picture

Writing:

Search for and destroy redundant elements. Adverbs are a good target, especially those that reinforce instead of modify, as in ‘totally severed’ or ‘deeply rooted.’



Painting:

Vary elements. Repetitious passages dull the senses. So vary color, value, shape. Give the painting a balanced rhythm of elements. This is especially true for repetitive shapes in the landscape, particularly trees in a forest, or cloud shapes. And this includes repetitive folds in clothing. Use a playful, lyrical sense in designing objects.

Sergio Martinez wouldn't dare repeat forms, even with forms that do repeat...look at that tree....his drawing is consistently rhythmic, and that adds interest

Writing:

Play the role of the common reader. Would your writing make sense to your family or the mailman? Plumber? Rocket scientist?



Painting:

Become the viewer. What would you want to see if you were looking for the right cover of a book or  painting to enjoy? We know what strikes us, intrigues us. We see it everyday. Especially as artists. Learn to give your work a fresh eye. Pretend you haven’t seen it, or look at it without preconceived ideas of what you will see. You are already an informed viewer. Create from that point of view.

Wham!...Thomas Blackshear hits you right between the eyes....and holds you there

Finding the Piece

- by Cory Godbey

My very dear Muddy Colors readers-- I have returned. This entry marks the Third and Concluding Act in what will probably be forever remembered as the GERARD WEDDING TRILOGY series of guest posts. My first post was on the importance of personal work. The second post featured an interview with gentleman adventurer and swordsmith David DelaGardelle. This third dispatch tackles my process of planning and not planning.

---

How much time do you spend planning a piece? For me, this process means working through thumbnails to think through composition, reference gathering, figure studies, and character sketches. From there I move on to digital roughs based off the most workable thumbnails and go from there to the actual drawing. I want the drawing to do the heavy-lifting and to get it there it takes a lot of planning on my part.



What I don't often plan so thoroughly is the painting stage, traditional or digital. Once I've got my values figured I'll have a basic idea of what I'm going for and then I dive into the piece. Sometimes I need to do color studies, but if I can, I like to just jump in and see what I find. It's an enjoyable challenge for me to discover the color along the way. If the piece is part of a series, then most likely the overall palette has already been defined, but I still get to shape the mood as it strikes me. For me, this way of working keeps things fresh and encourages me to expand beyond my usual palettes.



What follows here is a look at my workflow for planning an image. Just a simple overview of refining the idea, working through the drawing, and ultimately finding the piece.

Thumbnail. I hit on the idea quickly enough.

There were some other ones I liked but this was the main thumbnail from which I worked.

Digital Rough. The little rabbit did not make the final cut.

He did show up in another piece in my Lyrebird collection though. 

Something was bothering me about the girl looking off and I wanted her to engage us a bit more.

That, and the rhythm of the dragon's body felt more natural to my eyes flipped.



After settling on the rough, I gathered research and shot reference photos.

Drawing. The first pass, an under-drawing.

The second stage. This is probably my favorite step.

Dragon, detail.

At last, the finished drawing.

Just look at this weirdo, detail.

Digital painting. 

Drawing scanned and ready to go. I like to block out all my shapes.

Then I take all my main elements and make sure they're layered.

Easier to tinker with later on.

For this piece I really didn't have a specific palette in mind, just started playing.

I'll often do a separate watercolor to preserve the original drawing, as I did here for the background.

Working digitally affords me that luxury.

After some time I hit on something I liked though it wasn't quite there yet.

The next step. 

It took pushing the values more before I started to become satisfied.

Lightening the sky and darkening my figures just a touch did the trick for my eye and arrived at mood I really liked.

Final.

As you can see, my goal is always to research and plan a drawing so that I know all the ins and outs (and what-have-yous), but when it comes to painting I like to leave it a little more open. I'll tinker. I'll mess with it. Whenever I can spare the luxury, I'll take my time to find the piece and enjoy the trip.

---

Oh, Muddy Colors, how I've enjoyed this series! Once again a monstrous thank you to Justin and Dan for inviting me to fill in. You can expect your regular Gerard posts from now on, though I may be popping back in from time to time.



As before, you can always see more of my work over at corygodbey.com, or find me over on Twitter / Instagram / Facebook. 



One last note: Earlier this month I set ablaze my yearly Fire Sale. If you're interested you can discover all sorts of treasures on my shop before they burn up.

Inking — Part 2 of 3

By Paolo Rivera

MAGNETO #1 COVER. 2013.
Ink(ed by Joe Rivera) on bristol board, 11 × 17″.

In the last post on inking, I covered the thought process behind inking, but not much of the technical aspects. This post (and the next) will cover my primary tools and why I use them. At the end, you'll find a time lapse inking video for my Weird Science cover, the process for which I detailed in October.

Ink:



I use Holbein's Special Black ink, which is waterproof, meaning that once it dries, it's impervious to water. That allows me to go over it with watercolor if need be. I used to use Pelikan Drawing Ink A, but I stopped after I tried the Holbein. (I also use their products for my paints. You can often catch them at comic convention like San Diego and New York where they offer great discounts — that's almost exclusively where I do all my shopping.)

I always pour my ink out into a palette cup with an airtight lid. Having a decent-sized opening to dip into will keep your brush clean (and your fingers too). I also like to let it sit for a bit before diving in — fresh ink has a very low viscosity, which means less covering power. I keep a water spritzer close by in case it gets too thick, or I want a wash effect.

AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #616. 2009.
Ink and watercolor on bristol board, 11 × 17.25″.

White Out:



I use Holbein Titanium White Acryla Gouache, which is an acrylic paint that dries to a matte finish. This is not its intended purpose, but it works really well, especially if you have to go back over it with ink. I use it mostly for special effects and "negative" shapes where it's easier to paint in white than ink around — stars, wires, leaves, etc.

YOUNG ALLIES 70TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL #1
PAGE 4, PANEL 1.
2009. Ink on bristol board, 11 × 17″.
Step-by-Step

Paper:



I ink (and draw and paint) on Strathmore 500 Series bristol board, 2-ply with a semi-smooth finish. It's pre-cut to 11 × 17″ which is standard size for comic art. The 500 Series is ideal because it's cotton-based, which means it's more archival and can hold up well to water. I watercolor on this all the time, and sometimes even do more involved gouache techniques.

Brushes:



I use a Winsor & Newton Series 7 #6 brush for most of my inking work. Most people tell me that's bigger than they prefer, but I wouldn't have it any other way. A large brush holds more ink and, as a result, can supply consistent marks for an extended period of time. It can cover large areas quickly, or provide as fine of detail as its smallest counterpart. Because the individual hairs are longer, they have more "time" to escape from the ferrule and reconvene at the point. The shorter the hairs get, the greater the chance that a small kink at the base can culminate in a splayed tip.



The whole reason we use brushes is their flexibility. A large brush acts a shock absorber for your hand, smoothing out any stray movements into a flowing line. With a tiny brush, every minuscule tremor, especially at slow speeds, is directly translated (and hence recorded) to the paper.

AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #577 PAGE 12, PANELS 4-6.
2008. Ink on bristol board, 11 × 17″.

All that being said, I do own smaller brushers. I usually keep a #2 or #3 around just in case — this is mostly for lettering, special effects, and lines with little variation in width (I'm looking at you, Spider-Man). I have a #2 brush that I purposefully take piss-poor care of — the ends have splayed out in such a way that I can form a small "rake" that creates 4 tiny, parallel lines — perfect for scruffy beards (now at you, Punisher).

AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #577, PAGE 1, PANEL 1.
2009. Ink on bristol board, 11 × 17″.

Alternatives:



When I go to comic conventions, much of the day is spent drawing and inking commissions. While I prefer the traditional brush and ink setup, you can't beat the convenience of a nylon brush with a self-contained ink reservoir. The warm-up sketches below were all done with Pentel's brush pens. I like them quite a bit, although I have to say that their "gray" is much, much darker than their black. Maybe I just have a defective batch? There are 3 colored brushes in the set (black, gray, and sepia), and an empty one intended for water. I just fill that with Holbein ink and it works just as well as the others. You never have to wash the brush; just put the cap back on.

WARM-UP SKETCHES (after Jordi Bernet, Alex Raymond, and Moebius).
2013. Ink on paper, 10.5 × 8.25″.

Brush Washer:



Last, but not least, I find the brush washer to be more important than most people give it credit for. Half of inking well is just loading the brush appropriately. I've found that many who shy away from inking with a brush (preferring instead a pen nib) are dipping the brush much too far into the ink well. When I ink, I keep the ink far away from the ferrule which, aside from making the flow easier to control, gives the brush a longer lifespan. My loaded brush is actually on the drier side — I want just enough ink to keep the hairs together, but not so much that it drips. When I touch the brush to the paper, I only want ink to flow when I move.



I have a standard brush washer, but I attached a steel wire that helps me squeeze out all the excess water. I keep a paper towel clipped to it as well. I'm not just drying off my brush; I'm modulating the water content according to the effect I desire. I also keep scrap paper on the drawing board to help shape and test the brush. Above all, you inking demands predictable results, so always test things out until you're comfortable and confident.

WEIRD SCIENCE #32 COVER. 2013.

Ink on bristol board with digital color, 13 × 19″.

A Baroque Composition

-By Howard Lyon

I love the Baroque. From Rubens and Caravaggio to Bernini and Bach. I love the passion and the movement.  I was visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and was taking with my wife about composition in paintings and explained how the baroque movement took spaces that were normally very solid and stationary and put them on a diagonal, giving them dynamic movement. We went into one room full of great pieces from the era and every single painting in the room had the same basic composition.

I made a simple diagram to show the primary lines of this
composition.  It was basically a strong
diagonal (blue line) going from one corner to the opposite diagonal
corner.  From that, extending out, often
at 90 degrees from that main diagonal, were lines to the other corners (red
lines).  It creates a series of triangles
that don’t ever appear at rest.   It is
used flipped or rotated and sometimes with only one distinct secondary diagonal,
but you will see this used again and again.

Of course there is a lot going on outside of these lines in
any great work of art, but think of composition lines like coat hangers.  They are the form upon which the painting
hangs.

In this image, there are two paintings depicting similar scenes.  The one of the left, by Raphael, is from the
Renaissance, and uses a time tested triangle for its composition.  It conveys stability and strength, as well as
some religious symbolism.  The image on
the right, by Rubens, uses two diagonals and a more dynamic composition. 
Notice how the shapes create a triangular frame for the child.  The main diagonal is often reinforced by lines
running parallel to it.  Look at all the
lines made by the legs, the arms and the cloth that all echo the main diagonal.

This painting, of Mars and Rhea by Rubens, is a great
example.  Look at how obvious the
volumetric light coming in from the upper left is in establishing the secondary
diagonal.  The darker area of Mars’ cloak
against the lighter portion continues the line under the armpit, over the
cupid’s head and down to Rhea’s hand. 
Rhea’s arm, the statue in the upper right, Cupid’s arm and Mars’ leg in
the back all follow the same line, driving in the main diagonal of the
composition.  Around these shapes are
place beautiful curves and accents that play against diagonals.  Great stuff.

Guido Reni is another of my absolute favorites.  I love this painting of St. Sebastian.  I love the movement of the shapes.  Here, the diagonals are implied, your eye
continues them out to the edges of the painting, following his gaze to the
upper left, and the leg to the lower right. 
Those lines both branch out from the main diagonal.

Another Guido Reni. 
Powerful!  Here are some more quick examples:

Caravaggio, Saint Francis of Assisi in Ecstasy

Caravaggio, St. Matthew

Anthony van Dyck varies the composition a little here,
creating less regular triangles, but still using the same basic approach.

We’ll finish by jumping forward a couple hundred years to a
great romantic baroque piece.  Solomon J.
Solomon’s painting of Samson.  Look how
Solomon has twisted and bent the bodies to fit into his composition.  Delilah on the right is compressed into her
space as she taunts Samson.  Even the
axis of the overturned table in the lower right lines up perfectly with the
main diagonal.  The cowering figure in
the lower left helps to start the diagonal the runs up the spine of the balled
up figure on the left.  There are no
happy accidents here.  All of these
shapes and lines are clearly planned. 

This is also interesting. 
I dropped in a Fibonacci spiral on top of this painting and I think
Solomon must have paid some heed to the concept of designing around it.  There are many elements that are bent around
the spiral, or echo it.  I love how the characters shape in the bottom left reenforces the spiral shape, as does the rug.  Samson's tormented face falls right on the primary vertical dividing the painting by the golden ratio.  

So why did I focus on one composition with all of these
paintings?  Well, for one, it is a great
one.  But also to raise awareness in
general of how simple the underpinnings of a successful painting can be.  There are endless solutions to how you can
compose your work, but you might want to give this particular one a try
sometime and see if you have a little more insight to the great painters that
came before us.  I know it has for me.  I will sometimes take the opportunity to really study an old Master when doing a commission.

I love the beautiful painting by Caravaggio.  I was given a commission that called for a group of figures to be seated at a table and decided to turn in into an unlikely homage.

You can see from the lines I overlaid that I used the same composition as the in the Caravaggio, and the other paintings in this post.  It helped me to gain a little more appreciation and understanding.  If you decide to give it a try, I hope you will let me know.  I would love to see it!