Techniques
Working on a secret portrait
1I know it looks like I’m not doing as much here, what with the filling up of the space with crap out how it sucks to have a good painting. I know some people were like, “Yeah, I totally GET that,” while others were all, “Boo fucking hoo, jackass.” Cie la vie.
It remains that it IS hard to follow up. I suspect much of a book I’ve been meaning to get, Art and Fear, is about this very subject. I’ll probably read it and be thinking in my head the whole time, “Yeah, yup, uh huh, totally, exactly, YEAH, that’s me,” on and on. It’s a good ego stroke. And if there’s something I like, it’s to be stroked.
So, anyway, I do have something to say that actually ties in to the title of this post. I’m working on another portrait, but I can’t reveal it. Though the recipient, I guarantee, won’t come here… I suppose I can wait. Thought I don’t like to not have regular posts.
So far, I’ve done my color study in The GIMP (Photoshop-like app for Linux), I’ve done a charcoal drawing, and I went a little further with this one and something I’m trying to see if I can get my on-demand drawing skills back up to where they used to be.
(Back when I was in the Navy and single and bored and living in the barracks, I drew. And drew. And drew! It got to where I could whip out any ‘ol picture and make a really good drawing/likeness – in PEN – in the first pass. Those were the days of drawing for hours each day. Those were days that are looooooong gone.)
Instead of doing the drawing from my computer screen (how do YOU do commissions when all you get is a JPG?), I printed it out on my laser printer. I like to use it because it’s black and white and lets me do my drawing without the distraction of color. Oh, and color laser printers are farking expensive.
So, anyway, I tells Maude, ya see, that Doris told me that Ethel tells her that she overheard Frankie and he said…
Oh, sorry. I like to ramble at times.
I did a charcoal drawing directly on the canvas, trying to match the size of the printout exactly. Then, using tracing paper, I traced the printout and laid it over my charcoal drawing. Hmmm, I was pretty close on most things, but was off on a few key things – one of the eyes, the angle of the nose, and the neck line. But I was pretty close overall, and mostly pleased with myself.
[stops for applause, takes a bow]
Charcoal, in case you don’t know, comes off the canvas in a stiff breeze, unlike graphite (your trusty #2 pencil for you non-artists). I use a paper towel and it wipes right off. So I twisted the paper towel and selectively erased some parts and came back in with the vine charcoal and gave it another go. Then replaced the tracing paper to see how well I did. I got everything but one eye this time. Back at it again and I think I got it nailed.
I think this method keeps me honest in my drawing skills but also lets me quickly troubleshoot problem areas.
And, in all honesty, the first time I came through with the tracing paper I ended up wiping the charcoal off of the ENTIRE CANVAS. Ouch. It was that bad. The next time through, I relied less on measuring and more on just looking, feeling. Use the Force, Luke!
A coat of fixative to secure the charcoal in place and we’re set for a first layer of paint.
After the reveal, I’ll upload the process pics (yes, I have process pics!).
Thinking about ditching ivory black
0Since doing my last painting in Burnt Sienna, Yellow Ochre, Ivory Black, and Titanium White, I’ve been giving thought to the limitations of that palette – both good and bad.
First, I felt my colors were really low key. But that forced me to focus on values more than color, which I definitely need. But I wanted a little more variety, more options in what I’m mixing. So I started to dig.
I Googled my palette on Google Image Search and came up with several examples of people using this palette, but also some people using additional colors. So I peered down the rabbit hole and continued my search through the maze. Slowly, the maze started to simplify and I came to some conclusions.
Mostly, I need to switch blacks. Ivory black was good but very dull. “These Are Days” has a couple of dull spots where I came back in to fix the value with Ivory Black vs. my original mixture of Alizarin Crimson and Ultramarine (“colorful black”). The colorful black was nice and shiny and didn’t dry as purple as it looked when it was wet.
I discovered that Payne’s Gray is (essentially) Burnt Sienna and Ultramarine. And it has a slightly purplish tone to it when you mix in white. That would have done wonders for the girl’s sweater (which, you can see, was actually a light purple, not yellow, but I couldn’t mix purple without blue, and Ivory Black insisted on making a neutral gray).
Then I wondered to myself, “Self, what about green?” Hmm, without blue, it seemed I was in a pickle. Then my rabbit hole ended on a thread about copying Velasquez – a limited palette of Titanium White, Ultramarine Blue, and Burnt Sienna. That’s it. You mix your black from Ultramarine and Burnt Sienna. You mix your greens my washing blue over the underpainting – done in Yellow Ochre.
A ha! There’s that sneaky little devil. I knew I’d find you, green!
Seems that ditching black altogether and mixing Payne’s Gray for myself from Ultramarine and Sienna is the way to go. Very simple, very clean, and might do wonders for me. Still won’t do orange very well (Burnt Sienna and Yellow Ochre don’t mix to a very orangey orange), but that’s okay. I don’t need it right now. And I’ll be able to do some good stuff for my next painting, concentrating more on values and less on color.
So long, Ivory Black, and thanks for the fish.
These Are Days, darks
0Background / wash
I managed to work in a background wash using a mixture of Burnt Sienna and Ivory Black thinned down with turp. I blocked in the hair using the same mixture.
Laying in darks
I came back through a few minutes later (the background dries quickly when it’s thinned out with lots of turp) and darkened with an Ultramarine / Alizarin mixture. With the background slightly damp, the Sienna mixture mixed with the shadow color right on the canvas.
Pulling out the lights
Finally, I cleaned my brush and, while it still had some thinner in it, pulled out the highlights. In a few places, I used a paper towel to pull off even more paint. I was going for the strong contrast of the lightest lights against the darkest darks.
Goals
I’m pushing contrast in this piece. And I’m simplifying, though it’s hard, man, it’s really hard to stay simple and not paint what I see. But it’s art, not Xerox.
(the shadow at the top is the upper clamp on my easel)
Still plenty to do.
Blue and yellow don’t make green?
0I know there’s a book called, “Blue and Yellow Don’t Make Green.” I’m not talking about that book. Well, sorta, in a roundabout way. I’m here to talk about colors a bit.
There’s this site I read quite a bit that has a lot of info about colors, written by some dude named Bruce MacEvoy. He seems to call bullshit on a lot of theory you see out there, and he’s a little arrogant himself, but what I like about him is that he’s actually done some experiments instead of just spouting theory. I really like how he showed the relationships on a color wheel, and how colors saturate/desaturate in a U-shape pattern when mixed. Then he actually got a mass spectrophotometer to measure wavelengths and plotted that on a curve!
http://www.handprint.com/HP/WCL/IMG/satcurve.gif

Magnificent data, and my #1 takeaway from this is that GREEN is actually a primary color because you can not make a bright green by mixing yellow and blue, and the graph is the proof. The more green you are, the lower the saturation. He even shows a mixed green vs. a tube green on a color wheel to show you the difference. And look how much separation there is between yellow and blue vs. the yellow and red.
I still like the “old masters” portrait palette of ochre, sienna, and black, but I also have been on a “cyan / magenta / yellow are the primary colors” kick, citing professional printing and computer technology as proof that CMYK works. And it does, but we don’t paint in pure, brilliant pigments in a halftone. But the proof is in the pudding, and I am swayed by rigorous, scientific evidence. The only downside I can see is that Bruce uses watercolors where I prefer oils. Not sure how much of a difference that will make.
6 points for a perfect likeness
1I read somewhere that if you get these 6 points placed properly, the rest of the portrait will fall into place. Off hand, I don’t think I necessarily agree that this is all you need… but I think it goes a little deeper.
Six points:
- pupils (2)
- nostrils (2)
- corners of mouth (2)
I think that’s crap. I did a bunch of research for this blog entry and nothing was very conclusive. Though I can tell you by looking at caricatures that those six points aren’t right. You can also tell because a simple mask around the eyes can fool you. I made some rounds to some pretty intense stuff: facial recognition algorithms, art books, plastic surgery sites, and some other stuff that I’m sure I’m forgetting.
Nobody has any answers. Nobody that can prove it, anyway. I thought I had it in the facial recognition software algorithms but it turns out that they have a really low success rate and there are several competing algorithms/methodologies being used. Bother.
Then I used good ‘ol epidemiological evidence: I looked at people. I looked up close. I looked from afar. I looked at old, fuzzy photographs. What I figured out is that the general shadowy shape of your face is really the key. I can show you in a drawing of myself from a photo: you can’t see my pupils, nostrils, or the corners of my mouth, but you can tell it’s me. heck, most of the picture is the back of my head! But you can still tell it’s me.

I would really like to believe that it’s as easy as those 6 points. And, certainly, if you get them way off, the portrait won’t look right. But that doesn’t mean they are the 6 points for a likeness. Instead, I think the underlying bone structure has more to do with it.
The shadow under the brow is very telling for male/female and it’s also very distinctive for race. I think it’s also very unique to the person, therefore essential for a likeness.
The shadow around and under the nose is also very distinctive and also can determine gender and race. My nose is most definitely very “me” and can probably distinguish me from a mile away. But not necessarily the location of my nostrils – more like the way the light falls across my nose.
Finally, the shape of the shadow under the top lip and under the bottom lip are very distinguishable.
Of course, the face has many other bony structures and many other shadows, and you can be bottom-lit as well, but the same general bony and fleshy structures casting shadows around the eyes, nose, and mouth will be very apparent.
Try this: take a picture of yourself where you can’t see the 6 points. Take a picture at a really extreme angle that barely captures your face at all. Then go further and use The GIMP or Photoshop to reduce the colors to only a few – or 2 (black and white). I’ll be you can STILL make out the likeness.
Here’s another experiment: find some old pictures in a photo album where all the facial detail is obscured and you can only see shadows across the face – can you still make out Grandma Jean? Yup, sure as heck, you can.
Keep these things in mind as you try to get a likeness. Watch out for the bigger shapes and get those right – and the details will take care of themselves.
How to be a hack artist, or “amazing portrait secrets!”
0Got your attention? Good.
The topic of cheating may surprise non-artists. Artists are those whiz kids that could pick up a pencil and bang out a realistic drawing in no time flat, while our stuff was barely above a toddler’s first scribblings, right?
Wrong.
A surprising number of artists actually do most of their work by “cheating.” I’ve seen quite a few methods, including:
- tracing
- gridding (grid method)
- camera obscura
- opaque projectors
- carbon transfers
- digital image printed directly on canvas
I could probably name more but these are the most common ways to cheat. Have you seen those Google Adsense ads saying “your portrait from your picture, just $75, done in 2 days?” Most of these places use one or a combination of these techniques. Amazing portrait secrets, indeed.
- Tracing
Tracing typically involves a “light table” that’s a piece of plexiglass (semi-opaque) on top of a box with a light in it. You place the original on the table and your paper above it, and you can typically see just enough (with some peeking under the top sheet to make sure you’re staying on track) to get a great likeness. Then you finish the shading, etc., on your own. - Carbon transfer
A variant of tracing is using a carbon transfer. You place tracing paper over the original photo and trace, similar to the light table technique. You clearly don’t want the finished product on tracing paper, though, so you would then place a sheet of carbon paper between your final drawing surface and the tracing paper, then re-trace over your lines on the tracing paper, resulting in a perfect likeness on the high quality paper (or canvas, if you so choose). - Grid (gridding technique)
Anyone that’s ever done a “Skillogram” in a crossword puzzle book will be familiar with this technique.
Gridding is BY FAR the most common technique I’ve seen used and taught to students. Heck, it was even a project in an Art 101 class I took in college! What you do here is you either directly grid over your reference image or place an acetate/transparency sheet with a grid on it directly over the reference image (secure with tape or whatever). Then create a similar grid on your final surface, be it bristol board, sketch paper, canvas, or what have you. You can have equal size grids or you can have different sizes to enlarge (or reduce) the final image. - Camera obscura
If you don’t know, a camera obscura is simply a box with a pinhole and a mirror, reflecting onto a glass surface. You can put a grid onto the glass surface to create a variant of the grid technique. Some examples don’t cite a grid, in which this is a variant of the tracing cheat. Some people will attempt to assuage their guilt by saying “it’s been proven that Vermeer used a camera obscura so why can’t I?” Others will say “the great masters would use grids to enlarge their work, so why can’t I?”- You’re not a “great master” of the Renaissance
- The “great masters” spent a great deal of time learning to see properly, and learning to draw properly
- The “great masters” used a grid on THEIR OWN WORK, not on a photograph
- Opaque projector
I don’t remember where, but I read an article about a portrait artist that used an opaque projector. He would take reference photos (his own or the client’s) and place on them on the projector, which would project onto his canvas. Here’s the trick: blur the projector entirely out of focus, then lay in your foundation colors. When dry, focus 1/4 of the way and paint in additional details. Do it again at 1/2 focus, 3/4 focus, then finalize at full focus. Voilà ! Now you have a perfect likeness, even with subtle colors and maybe even a perfect replica of that difficult sofa pattern! Amazing portrait secret, huh? - Digital transfer
A decidedly modern way to cheat at drawing is to simply send off your photo to a lab that will print the image onto a canvas for you. You just take it home and paint directly over the printed image with oil paint, pastels, etc. Another amazing portrait secret.
My thoughts on “cheating”
I’m sure that professional artists (defined as working artists that are making money) can pump out some fairly high quality images pretty fast using these techniques. These techniques probably make the artists a lot of money – and for a lot of people, making money as an artist is very fulfilling and they don’t mind the cheat. Then again, I’d hesitate to really call them “artists,” and I’m sure that’s bound to really irk some people that use these techniques. But that’s how I feel so take it for what it’s worth.
Does it matter?
We’ve all seen those Google ads promising a quick portrait in oils from your photo. I really believe that most people are completely satisfied with the end-product and really couldn’t care less about the method employed getting there. If it does matter to you, then look at some samples of the finished product compared to the reference photo. If the likeness is dead on, without a stray hair’s difference between the original and the final “work of art,” then move on. You can tell by the lifeless gaze, the carbon copy work if the artist employed a cheat as the primary method of doing the portrait. The old adage applies, “you get what you pay for.”
Okay, smartie-pants, how’s it done, then?
What *I* do is the sight-size method. I hold up my pencil and relate, compare, mark out guidelines, and gradually work up a portrait. It is not easy and it takes a long time. I dare say that because it takes a long time, I would have to be much better than I am now to do this as my full time job. And therein lies the hitch: do it the “right” way and create some beautiful works that you can really be proud of, or “cheat” your way to success and profits. Perhaps there’s a middle ground.
A great way to “learn to see” is to actually step back and do the basics, which I’ll cover in a future article, including blind contours, modified blind contours, full contours, and moving on to advanced stuff like doing the Bargue plates (you can see examples at the appropriately entitled site, Learning to See).
I’m going to do a series on “cheats,” actually employing each cheat that I can (I’m not sending off to have a photograph printed on a canvas) and hopefully I can get some people to post their results along with me. Barring that, hopefully someone tries the technique and gets hooked, wanting to learn how to do it right and sets off on their own art adventure.

