Yesterday on my various social networking sites (as I’m sure everyone is painfully aware) I blogged about being in a new gallery, and deciding to experiment a bit with one of my pieces.

I decided, since I had a few old frames left over from another project, that the best thing to do would be to destroy the ever-loving hell out of one of them. Story of my life…

Ultimately, I chose to work over a frame based on a piece of art I did this spring called “Infection”, which looks something like this:

infection

Instead of just a standard frame, I decided to try and have fun with it.  To that end, I took one of those old frames and beat the crap out of it.

Now, that actually is simplifying the process just a bit.  But I did get to use the phrase “beat the crap out of it”, so I still consider that a win.

I sanded a few choice spots on the frame, somewhat randomly.  They are in a rough path from the top of the frame to the bottom, but not a line per se.  After a little sanding, I took my Dremel tool and, using various tips, “ate away” at the frame.

After getting rid of the sawdust, I added a few colors of ink and (heavily) watered down acrylics to the raw wood areas, giving it, frankly, an awful, infected look.  Which, unlike waking up Saturday morning after a night of drinking, is what I actually wanted.

I then took a black mat and tore the top black layers up a bit. I used a scratchboard tool that is, more or less, a bunch of random sharp wires, and roughed up the mat in spots to match the frame. Again, I added ink and acrylic.

I did also fool around with the Dremel and the glass, and I think with some practice it could work, but it was becoming a bit too “obvious” so I abandoned that. Maybe with the proper tools, or an acid on the glass, the effect might work better.

So here, below, is the final product.  I took a few pictures from different angles, and as always let me know what you think. I’m trying to decide what the best price to sell something like this would be too, especially since it’s a “one of a kind” piece.

infection frame 1

infection frame 2

infection frame 4

infection frame 3

I like seeing how art evolves, from the beginning of the thumbnail sketches all the way through the final product. I think you can literally see an artist’s though processes as they work through issues, try new things, and complete what their vision is.

In my case, it might be more like watching chaos unfold in front of you.

I created a video/slideshow of my cover art for author Brian Keene‘s novella Scratch, which was recently released by Cemetery Dance Publications. It hopefully shows the genesis from the initial thumbnail sketch through the final product, and as always let me know what you think.

I never just charge into a piece for the sake of doing art, I always let it mull around in my head some first. Sometimes I have a pretty good idea and I just need to smooth things out. Other times, there’s a lot of thought in what the scene portrays, who’s in it, what’s their motivation, did they just do something or are they about to, so on and so on. If you don’t think about the overall work ahead of time, you’ll end up with a mess.

I tend to think of everything in a scene as being it’s own layer. It will have it’s own world to live in, it’s own feel. In turn, it will get other textures and influences from other layers, and in turn influence those other layers. Before too long, everything is interacting with everything else, and you have a scene.

But that’s part of my nature too. When I’m thinking about something, I see it in my head in three dimensions. Something that doing sculpture long ago helped me with was seeing things in my head that way, and now I spin them in all different directions until I find the right image to work with.

I’ve seen quite a few bad covers lately where the artist is obviously only thinking in a flat, boring way. They get some idea for a character, and in their head that character and all of the surroundings live at one level. So when they do the artwork, that’s how they think. Everything ends up flat, with no fading, no differences in contrast or color, and no indication that what’s they’ve created is it’s own world.

I think that’s important as an artist, especially as an illustrator. No matter what your style is, be it a realistic style or something more abstract, you are still pulling the viewer into your world, and they have to buy it. If they see it as a flat piece of art, they won’t be moved to explore your world, and, if it’s the cover, you as the cover artist didn’t do a good job of selling the work.

The cover I just finished (more or less, there are a few tiny tweaks) started out as more of a flat piece. So I started spinning it my head, changing angles and perspectives, and there’s this subtle voice in my head that keeps saying “nope. nope. not that one. nope.” Until it clicks, then I start whittling it down to the real image. Then when I get it set in my head, I ask myself how I can make it better, more dramatic, and more interesting.

Usually that leads to me picking the absolute hardest thing I can think of doing. Which sometimes frustrates me, but hopefully afterward makes me a better artist. The best example of that is “In the Wrong World” based on a Peter Straub story I did for Cemetery Dance last year:

In the Wrong World

I spun that around in my head until I thought it would look cool, then I remembered that it’s a really difficult perspective to pull off. Way high, at an angle to everything. On top of that, I completely changed my working style from doing everything in layers and textures to doing everything as a painting. Everything has a stroke, either direct paint or a smudge stroke with a paint brush tip (save for the photo on the wall and the texture on the mirror).

Both changing my style and my working techniques, as well as such a rough perspective, was almost idiotic to try and pull off all at once. But I went for it and, despite a few flaws here and there, I think the emotion of the piece speaks for itself. Several have told me that it’s my best piece (I don’t think I have a “best piece”, only decently done parts of pieces), so I might be on the right track with it.

Overall, I think all artists, in fact nearly every piece on the earth, has some kind of flaw, even if it’s so tiny only they ever know it’s there. The trick with really good art is that those flaws don’t detract from the work itself, and often even enhance it. Artists sometimes just want to create art, but that’s not how I approach it. I want to move someone to some emotion, to ask questions of themselves and of the work, and hopefully give them reason to think about the image for a long time after.

Since January of 2010, Jason Sizemore and MG Ellington over at Apex Magazine have given me the opportunity to talk on their blog each month about art, and how I create it.  Now, so far, it’s been mostly rants about the things I see wrong with art and with the various genres I’m a part of.

I thought I would sum them up as they are so far, as I’ve done quite a few now.  Please make sure you visit Apex Magazine and support the small press, and leave lots of comments for discussion over there.

Here they are, in order, once a month starting in January:

My God, What a Stupid Looking Cover

WTF? Really? You can’t just tell me who the artist is?

Sure you can steal from me! Art? Sure! First born? Why not?

Why the hell would I help you? You’ll steal all my ideas!

Here at the end of all things

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of—Hey! Why aren’t you mowing the lawn?

Practice is for losers

Yes, I can do that same piece of art over and over and over and…

I’ve been very anxious to show everyone this, and now, upon the release of the novella, I can do just that. Below I’ve attached a number of pieces of art that I did for author Brian Keene’s book Scratch, just released from Cemetery Dance Publications.

Scratch, if you don’t follow Keene’s work (and his followers are Legion), is the story of a giant snake. One that gives our characters quite a bad time.

I have to say, working on such an in-depth and extensive project was a daunting idea at first. But working with an author like Brian, who is so open to ideas and so helpful with the ones I came up with, was just fantastic. All the fine folks at Cemetery Dance are very supportive and wonderful to work with as well, and overall this was a great experience.

Now, the art itself is spread quite thoroughly throughout the book, and while the esteemed Mr. Keene doesn’t think that the art alone gives away the story, it’s certainly a possibility.

So, fair warning. The art is chock full of spoilers.

One more time, for those Keene fans (and others) who haven’t read it:

SPOILERS!!!!

If you’d just like to see what the art looks like, please enjoy the full gallery below. Every image in Scratch is there, please let me know what you think.

If, however, you’d like a bit more “meat” with it, follow along below this (and to the next page) for comments on how I created the art, thoughts on it, and so forth.  REALLY spoiled then, and I mean it.

After this, there’s no going back, because the rest below contains

SO MANY SPOILERS!!! NOT KIDDING!!!

Without further ado, follow along to the next page for my insights.

Read the rest of the entry »

Sometimes, I shudder to post new ideas or new techniques that I try. I never know if they really work out, if they are ok but just need work, or if they are so awful that the sun will shrivel up and we’ll all die.

But, I also think that as an artist I always need to push ahead, to grow and to get better at what I do.  Posting the results on my website, while giving the distinct possibility that some new editor or fan might run away screaming, also forces me to learn and to adapt much more quickly.  I can’t hide behind the flaws, they are there for the whole world to see.

I’ve also, over the years, read plenty from other artists (on the web, in magazines and books, and so on). Those I’ve learned the most from are the artists who are willing to put their art out for the world to see, warts and all.  You can see their progress from piece to piece, and see how they developed as an artist.

You also see that they are human.  Often, when I see the final art by another artist, I tend to skip the part where they had to learn their techniques.  I see the final product, but when I get to read about their techniques, their process, and especially where they’ve had to learn from a mistake I learn so much more from them.

In that spirit, below is my very first acrylic piece. Usually I’m a digital artist (for many reasons), but I always like trying different media and techniques.  Now that I have a real office/studio, I have the physical space to try things out.

Here, finally, is my very first acrylic piece. I call it, The Thing That Crawled. No giggling allowed.  Though, I guess I wouldn’t hear it anyway.

Or would I….

The Thing That Crawled

I gave the title for this blog first, but it’s only true in certain circumstances (for me, anyway).  I’ve been a creative person (be it writing, art, photography, etc.) for my whole life, but I’ve also had the ability to work with the more technical nature of the world as well. It’s a split in the brain (not literally, though sometimes the headaches feel like it) that can sometimes lead to interesting things, but often leads to chaos.

I try to ignore my technical leanings, as often I am chained by them. Much of the time, I’m seen as the “tech guy” or the “programmer”, when in reality I’d much rather my artistic talents be noticed (luckily, today they have been a bunch). My seemingly abrupt change in direction (coming soon!) will shock some, however it’s only design/art that I want to do from now on.

But, occasionally, the tech side comes in handy. Case in point: earlier I was discussing QR Codes with the owner of the best coffee shop there is (go here, you can even buy their coffee online). Technology that I came across awhile back, and implemented on my business cards last month.

QR codes are images, much like bar codes on most things you buy in a store, that can contain information.  Not just a number like many codes you see around, but lots of information.  QR codes can handle thousands of characters, or, if you want it simple, just a website link.

Here’s mine:

QR Code for darkstormcreative.com

My QR code leads back to my website when you use a smartphone.  Here’s how it works:

1. If you have a smartphone with a camera, like an iPhone or an Android phone, you can download (often free) software for QR codes, usually just called a “QR reader”.
2. Once that’s installed on your phone, take a picture of the image above with that QR reader software.
3. The software will (or should) automatically send your phone’s web browser to my website.  That, in fact, may not help you if you are already reading this.

Right now, I have that code on my business cards so that people with a smartphone can go right to my website. But it could easily be full contact information like address, phone, and email.  It could be a short bio with a link back to the site.  It could be a treatise on modern warfare and it’s lack of Pixy Sticks and gum. It’s up to whomever creates it. My friend uses it on sales labels at a gallery.

You’re starting to see these codes now in magazines, on billboards, even on products.  As a creator, there’s no reason not to put it on some things and push my website. It’s quick and easy, you can just go to qrcode.kaywa.com and generate your own. Then just put it on your website, your marketing materials, or whatever need you have.

If anything, it’s been a great conversation piece.  Either people whip out their smartphones to give it shot, or they start a discussion on the rest of the card and my art, or even technology.  That’s what the business card is for in the first place, to generate interest, and something like this can be a great way to get into the minds of those you want to impress.

Feel free to use mine and pass it on, and all of you (maybe “both of you” is more accurate) should go give it a try.

Opinions?

When I’m not doing art (so-so art, really), I work both as a day job and as a freelancer in web and multimedia design and development. Most of the time, that means I have to turn off the creative side of my brain and slog through whatever code comes next.

Sigh.

But occasionally (and hopefully more often quite soon), I get to work on fun, creative projects with multimedia, and today one of those projects was posted by Cemetery Dance Publications.  They needed a book trailer for Brian James Freeman’s book The Painted Darkness, so I worked on that for them.

Multimedia is always an interesting thing to work on, and there are quite a few steps involved in it.  What I like about it is that it’s not just how something looks now, but how it will look in a few seconds, or even minutes. There’s a choreography that has to go into it, and each piece has to flow together or none of it works.

That’s not to say my multimedia works always come out great, but I hope they work well and people like them.  In the case of the book trailer, I hope that people pick up the book of course, and maybe are intrigued by the possibilities.

I think that’s what a trailer is for… possibilities.  It’s not the final product, but it’s designed to get you there.  It’s a billboard really, something to get you quickly interested in getting the book (or the movie, or what have you).  I see plenty of trailers that are really long, and really involved, and I think that misses the point.  A trailer is to pique your interest, and, if it does it’s job well, should get you to follow where it wants to lead you.

I’m not sure if I succeeded or not, but I certainly hope so.  Here is the new book trailer, and please go check out the book at www.downloadthedarkness.com. You won’t be disappointed.

Awhile back (and by “awhile back” I mean “over a year ago”) I wrote an art blog of Frederic Edwin Church’s beautiful painting called The Icebergs (check out the blog here… I”ll wait.)

I won’t bore you with the specs again (I’ll be boring you with other ways now), but seeing it in person I realized what the specs actually mean.

The Icebergs, it turns out, is a really, really big painting.

Not the largest I’ve seen for sure (a Rembrandt holds that record), but nevertheless this is a very large painting.  That’s something that you don’t get from seeing it on the internet or in a book: the sheer size of some of these paintings.

Seeing it in person, and it being such a large painting, you really get the sense that someone painted this.  I mean, of course someone painted it. But you begin to drop the idea that these are all just pictures in a book, that someone put their love, their passion and their faith into their work.

For one, you can see where the individual strokes are, and also the age of a work when you look at it in person.  You can see the cracks in the paint, and wonder if they will ever separate further:

Most books and sites aren’t going to show you levels of detail like this, and when you see the cracks you start to understand that this wasn’t just painted yesterday.  You see that this was painted (from the time of this posting) nearly one hundred and fifty years ago.

You can also see Church’s styles and techniques vary even in the same painting. Where there is intricate detail in the remnants of the ship, including the twisted wood fibers and canvas:

In other areas his technique is very loose, very fast, and almost playful:

He’s also able to add close-up details, such as this band of blue in the ice:

While he still offers the distant icebergs:

Between the two, he builds fantastic drama in the ice, in the ship, and in the overall piece.  He marries the subtle with the overt, the bright with the dark, and the traditional with the unusual, brilliantly.

My favorite part of all is the ice cave structure and the rocks. There is a mystery here for us to consume, and Church’s use of color leads us into it. Up close, in real life, you can see Church’s individual strokes, some strict and some loose, that give us a beautiful, yet almost ominous scene:

But most of all, I take from my visit one single, important thing as an artist.  One hundred and fifty years after it was painted, an artist like me can stand in front of this massive piece of art and see this:

One hundred and fifty years later someone stands in front of Church’s art, and his name lives on with it.

As an artist, I can’t do much better than people standing in front of my art, appreciating it, long after I’m gone. Then turning around and sharing my work, and my name, with the world.

I was asked while at a gallery over the weekend what my artist’s studio/office looks like, and if I’m comfortable in it.  It’s an interesting question, the environment in which we create the things that we do.

I love seeing other artist’s studios, it gives me a sense of where someone’s coming from.  They run the whole gamut too, from clinically clean to folks who should be on that “Hoarders” show on TV.  I guess I’m somewhere in between, which says as much about me as a person as anything else would.

I have a chaotic mind, something that I’m not sure comes across in my art.  While my work isn’t really clinical, there is a certain simplicity to it, an order that seems to have chaos lurking behind it.

Below I’ve posted a series of shots of the whole office, and I’ve pointed out a few things here and there.  It’s also our guest room, which gives me a great chance to scare the bejesus out of our guests (life has its little pleasures). I also decided that, instead of cleaning it up and making it look pretty, it’s pretty much how I work in here most of the time.

The four shots go around the room from left to right, starting with the north wall.