Some days, nothing works out the way you planed. But……if at first you don’t succeed, or if at second, third, and fourth you don’t succeed (see above) then pour yourself a nice big gin and tonic and sit around listening to sad songs (I prefer old Motown, the Temptations Since I Lost My Baby and the like) and feel sorry for yourself and seriously consider writing novels (ewwwwwwwwwww) or anything that doesn’t require having to come up with illustrations, and then take two aspirin AND START OVER AGAIN.
Yes, dear readers, I preloaded my post today before I went to France and it’s a good thing I did because it turns out that I hate blogging on my iPad with a PASSION but before we continue with our previously recorded program (still in NOLA, watercoloristically speaking) here are some pics I took on the aforementioned iPad to show you the beautiful weather in Paris:
My hotel room in the 6th arrondisement came with this:
I took these pics with my ipad and boy do I hate blogging on this thing. So that’s all the Paris I can give you for now, but do read my friend at ParisBreakfasts for her report on my arrival on her home (Paris) turf!
For today please enjoy the following tale of watercolor redemption, and take heart. Sometimes it’s necessary to paint ugly in order to get to the less-craptastic stuff.
Let’s get back to this:
The problem, it dawned on me after four really awful attempts at painting a most beautiful garden in New Orleans (see above), was that I had gotten hold of the wrong concept. My original idea for this garden was that I would illustrate it in a format that I call a “squint”.
The format had worked well for me throughout Le Road Trip, where I used squints frequently:
These squints — the long, narrow strips of paintings that I used (above) were a lot of fun to do and I think they are vey successful when it came to illustrating France. For the Damn Garden Book I had planned on using vertical squints, rather than the horizontal ones in Le Road Trip:
This is my thumbnail sketch for a two-page layout using vertical squints. But as you can see (way above, those crappy 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th attempts) it was NOT working for me in regards to this fabulous New Orleans garden I was trying to paint.
And then I realized that I’d gotten the wrong point of view. Not only were the squints not going to work, but I’d been painting the garden from a very boring full-frontal point of view. You see, the most important feature of this garden path that I’d been trying to paint is the garden gate that had been imported from France, but I’d been depicting it straight-on:
Oh lordy, this stinks. It does no justice to the story I am trying to tell about this garden. It looks fake fake fake fake.
Luckily, when I was visiting this garden in New Orleans, I had taken many reference photos of this gate so I went back to the drawing board and re-did this gate from an entirely different perspective:
So let us begin again.
First, I apply masking fluid with my trusty toothpick in the itty bitty bits:
I use the tip of a paintbrush to apply the masking fluid over the bigger bits:
When I failed to draw a pleasing mulberry tree branch in the upper right hand corner the first time…
…I erased it and drew it again, but it was still too gormless to keep:
So on the third attempt I got a decent-looking branch drawn, and I sketched in leaves.
I put masking fluid on those leaves and I’ve ever done this before and I have no idea how it will turn out. We’ll see. But I’m already a bit discouraged. This picture as given me a lot of trouble and I’m in a bad mood. So, while the masking fluid dries, I go make myself a cup of tea.
I want a fancy-colored sky here because this illustration is more about mood (it’s New Orleans, baby!) than meteorology.
Quickly, I do the wet-in-wet background foliage:
Even when the paper is only damp, you can get nice little bleeds:
For brick work I mix two colors of Grumbacher paints with two colors (brown and burnt sienna) of Windsor Newton, for richness:
See how there’s a Triscuit in the middle of this picture?
For the Tahitian Dawn Bougainvillea in the foreground I dab pink, orange, and red in wet blobs:
I lay down a base color for the garden path:
The stuff behind the garden gate will be tricky:
Now, for the rambling roses that are big pom poms of bluey-pink:
So far, so good. Now, all I have to do…
…is peel off the masking fluid and not screw up painting the gate.
To heighten the rich brown color of the wooden gate I mix blue…
…and brown directly on my paintbrush…
…so when I apply it to the paper I get a wonderful bluey-browness here:
Now for those mulberry leaves, which I have no idea what I’m doing, I pray to the big DoG that I won’t blow it this late in the game:
Exhale. They look OK.
For the lantern I intend to use an old trick I’ve been using for years.
You have to use Grumbacher paints for this trick, because you need the chalk that makes their colors so matte. I first apply a layer of yellow Grumbacher, and then I make an edge of darker orange and I let it dry thoroughly:
Using very clean water, I then use a wet brush to pick up the paint in the center:
And we are DONE:
I hope you can see how the lantern “glows” from the way I “erased” a bit of the yellow/orange paints. I decided to leave certain planes of the garden gate white — that is, blank paper — because I think the white bits make its unusual shape pop more this way. It’s also very attention-getting and this gate is really the subject of this picture in the first place.
Oh yes, I am much happier with this point of view than the one I tried, and tried, and tried, and tried to make work before. Right?
I will still be on the road next Friday, so there won’t be a “live” post here, but I could maybe take you on a tour of my work space / studio, which is where I keep my paints, paper, feathers, files, and threads:
Yes, long before I painted gardens, I used to embroider them.
So if this sounds interesting to you please leave a Comment below…or otherwise I’ll just wait until my return on May 24 to throw something together if I’m not toooooooo jet lagged. Studio tour? Yes or No?