Last night was my first night in The Gallery Underground, an alternative art gallery in Fort Collins, Colorado.  This is the second local gallery I’m in (I’m also in the OnDisplay gallery, which I’ll feature soon), and it’s great to try my hand at gallery work.

I wasn’t lucky enough to sell anything last night, but we did (“we” being myself and fantastic artist Jeff Herndon) get quite a lot of traffic in our booth. Most people actually stopped and looked at our work, and we even had a few conversations about our work and how we do it.

I think the experience is important for an artist, not just for feedback (and, frankly sales), but also the interaction with people genuinely interested in the art. Many artists fall on the introverted side of things (ahem… I have NO idea what I’m talking about… carry on), and getting to talk to an interested public helps an artist understand the world just a little bit better.

On top of that, you might even get a few more fans out of it.

Below is what my setup at the gallery looks like, followed by a legend of sorts that shows which image is which. The most popular piece last night was not the “Infection” frame that I featured the other day, it was actually “A Violent Reaction”. Go figure.

Last year, a couple of friends (Mike Oliveri, Cullen Bunn, and a few others) were really talking up using a small writing or sketching book to jot down quick ideas. I’ve carried a larger sketchpad in my backpack for a long time, but I’d considered something smaller to compliment it.  So, I ended up purchasing a Moleskine, one with frames for storyboarding, that fits right in a pocket.

It’s been one of those things that, as an artist, has really helped how I work.  I use it for practice sketching, as well as for jotting down quick ideas. Sometimes it’s an art idea, sometimes a story idea, or both:

Other times, I’ll get some quote or idea running through my head, and I just need to get it down quick.  It can be decently detailed, just a line, or even just a scribble.  Believe it or not, I know exactly what all those scribbles on the right mean:

Since I’m working on both painted and cartoon work, I’ve also been toying with character ideas and sketches.  I’m trying to expand the idea in my head of what a person looks like, since there are so many variations.  I’m also trying more elaborate poses and emotions as well:

I decided with all of my general sketching, a long time ago, that I just have to go with the flow.  Sometimes it’s horror, sometimes it’s a cartoon or a thumbnail.  Often, I’ll jot some smartass remarks in as well.  This is a good example, as the Moleskine’s two frames per page design switched in the middle of the book to a more frame-by-frame setup, and I didn’t know where to start:

A page like this one is a bit of a combination of everything.  Some of it’s an idea for a painting, some of it is really just doodling. The helmet was inspired by a series of photographs from a lost WWII jungle battle, found 65 years later.

The Moleskine has allowed me to easily (and inexpensively) grab a sketchpad and take it nearly anywhere.  Whether it’s a restaurant, the doctor’s office, the car (while I’m a passenger… of course…). It helps keep those quick ideas from getting away, it allows me to practice my work wherever and whenever I get the chance, and it’s simply easy to deal with.

Much of the time, I really just want to sit and do art.  Sometimes, due to life, that’s not possible.  But having a small, easy way out to the imagination is very useful, and can at least bridge the gap between full studio time and dealing with real life.

Opinions?

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.

Family trips aren’t always conducive to finding those unique places that are either interesting, affective or both.  But my wife’s family is from Oklahoma and Texas, and both states offer places that we visit when we are in the area.

Above is one of the empty chairs from the Oklahoma City National Bombing Memorial, and it’s a site I’ve visited a few times now. I’m sure most people out there know the story (or you can find more information here), and the memorial is a beautiful, respectful area in downtown Oklahoma City.

I think as an artist and, more simply, as a person, visiting places like this are important.  Not only to remember what happened before, and to see a part of history, but to simply remind us that we can’t forget that there is true evil in the world.  Evil that must always be fought against.

For me personally, I visited the site a month and a half after it happened in 1995. It was early on a Sunday morning, a little over a week after the building had been imploded to prevent further collapse. It was eerily quite that morning, and the immense power of the place was evident even then.

Below are a few photos of the site I took, as my daughter and I walked around.  She took a few pictures herself with our other camera, but she really just looked.  I think history is important for our children to learn, and I don’t think they get enough of it in school.  I also think when they get the chance to see a place that’s important in our history that we should encourage them to see it, to ask questions, and, simply, to remember.

Now that the visitors are all gone, I’m getting back on track with things. There have been a few developments, and there are a couple of reminders here, so let’s get going.

1. My art is featured in an actual, physical gallery locally now. The On Display Gallery in Fort Collins, Colorado, has a number of my pieces. If you are in the area, come take a look. The gallery is located at 324 Walnut St., in Old Town Fort Collins near Halley’s Comics (the great comic shop I get my stuff at).
   …
2. If you can’t get to Fort Collins, don’t forget my online store at Etsy, with prints I’m making here at home of my artwork. Check them out, and while you’re buying a few feel free to let me know if there are other pieces you’d like me to feature there: www.etsy.com/shop/RussellDickerson
   …
3. I have a “ask me anything” form on Formspring. Swing on over, and ask me, well, anything: www.formspring.me/RDickerson
   …
4. I have plenty of social networks you can follow me on, just look under “Contact Russ” over in the right column of the site here. Find me on those sites and talk me up.
   …
5. Last but not least, I have a monthly blog for the Apex Book Company. They normally run on the second Wednesday of each month, and you can follow them at www.apexbookcompany.com/blog/.

Rabbitfield

It’s been a long few weeks, even months really. It could be that artists are a more sensitive type, or maybe I’m just crazy in the head.  But it’s been a long time since I’ve felt hope at all.

Except, for some reason, and for once, my brain isn’t ready to give up and be depressed. While I sit here listening to the beautiful music of Hans Zimmer, something has changed.

I get a vision of the next bit of time in my head, whether that’s weeks, months, or even years, I’m not sure. It’s not the typical dark, depressing image that would usually flow through my brain right now. This time it’s different.

Luckily for me, it’s one of my favorites pieces of art, Caspar David Friedrich’s A Wanderer Above a Sea of Mist.

There are lots of reasons why I love that painting, most of which I cover in a previous blog post (right… about… HERE). It’s relevant now because, as has happened in the past a few times, I’ve reached a crossroads.  Usually that means I have to pick between the monster on one path, or the dark, bloody trail on the other.

But something’s different now.  I can’t put my finger on it, but it doesn’t feel like the same old darkness.

It feels like hope.

I don’t know why, and I’m sure the depression is still strong. But I seem to feel that a new path is there ahead of me now.  One that I may even win on, with a bit of struggle. I look at my art, and I’m starting to see truth in it.  I’m starting to accept what I do inside, torpedoes be damned I’m going ahead with it.

I think a lot of that is just the idea that in life I haven’t been handed much in the way of support. Yes, I know that sentence doesn’t fit with the rant so far, just bear with me. In my daily life I have very (VERY) few supporters. I’ve had plenty of day positions where all I hear about is the bad, never the good.  That certainly drags on a person, makes them feel worthless, makes them depressed and, well, gray.

But, to steal a title of a movie even before my time, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum. I picked up this little thing called a pencil, and started drawing.  Then I picked up a paintbrush, and started painting.  Then, actually, I put the paintbrush down since I had a tiny apartment and the fumes were trying to kill me.

After opening a window, I picked up a less-poisoning ink pen, scratchboard tool, digital tablet, and all the things that I use now. All the things that I use to create my own worlds, my own visions, my own life.

Somewhere along the line, and this isn’t to sound vain as I really am not, but I started getting ok at art.  Even published here and there. I even have two whole fans, people who like what I do and want me to do more.

I realized after that, and after seeing the horrible, unsupportive people in my local life (we won’t talk about the web, where I have FAR more supportive folks), that I’m looking at the wrong end of this life of mine.  I need to turn my back on those people who only want to depress me, to scar what little self confidence I have, and don’t look back.

To listen to those supporters out there, to listen to those who can give me suggestions on how to be better at my work. Not to ignore the world, but to embrace those who are there to help and be constructive, not those who would battle for no other reason than to see me fall.

I’ve decided to walk in the shoes of Friedrich’s wanderer, to find out what lies in the unknown. It won’t be easy, it may even be the most difficult thing I’ve ever attempted.  But I think it’s time to put aside this dark life, and strive to become what I so desperately want to be.

I read a quote by Theodore Roosevelt recently that’s really stuck with me, so I’ll end with that. The time to choose a path has come.

“It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”

I don’t do recaps too often, since, really, you could probably just scroll down and see it all anyway.  But there are a few things happening away from this site, so I thought I’d highlight them.

1. My Flickr “sketch every day” project, which is at least getting an OK start.  I don’t think my Teddy Roosevelt sketch came out too badly, and the giant lizard man and his friend were fun: www.flickr.com/photos/47005555@N07/
   …
2. I have a new online store at Etsy, with prints I’m making here at home of my artwork.  Check them out, and while you’re buying a few feel free to let me know if there are other pieces you’d like me to feature there: www.etsy.com/shop/RussellDickerson
   …
3. I added a new “ask me anything” Formspring… form. Swing on over, and ask me, well, anything: www.formspring.me/RDickerson
   …
4. I’ve added a few new art blogs below, including works by Thomas Cole, Norman Rockwell and Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres.  Check them out and as always let me know what you think.
   …
5. I was recently a guest artist for the very first time, at the fabulous VisionCon in January.  It was a great time, which I also have an entry about below.
   …
6. I have plenty of social networks you can follow me on, just look under “Contact Russ” over in the right column of the site here. Find me on those sites and talk me up.
   …
7. Last but not least, I have a new monthly blog for the Apex Book Company, where I talk of nothing but butterflies and tulips.  Though, I may be mistaken on that last part, since the titles of my first two were “WTF? Really? You can’t just tell me who the artist is?” and “My God, What a Stupid Looking Cover“. Follow them monthly at www.apexbookcompany.com/blog/

I don’t like to do resolutions at the very beginning of the year, I think they can be disingenuous and are likely to fail.  But I find myself in a unique position: everything seems to have all come to this point.

Usually, I see these points and try to act, often missing out for various reasons.  But I think this new year brings a different feeling, one I haven’t felt in a long time: hope.

After a very long last year (filled with both highs and lows), I’m at a point where I can take destiny into my own hands.  I’ve decided to do just that, and, as the man says, “Though the road may wind, yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye follow them, even unto your salvation”.

I can see a number of things on my horizon, and a number of things I pledge to do to help make it happen. Though I may sometimes may get hampered by life this year, I intend to:

1. have a brand new, full piece of art done every month

2. do sketching of some kind every day

3. Do at least one art blog a week, and (hopefully) keep the brand new monthly Apex Blog for the year

4. Launch a webcomic strip with a good friend and author

5. Complete (and hopefully sell) a full children’s book with another author

6. Complete a full graphic novel with a UK author

7. Change the daily life so that it’s not so stressful and not so technical

8. Have fun with life, family, friends whenever possible.

———————

That’s quite a bit to accomplish, but I’m off to a good start.  I just came back from my first time as a guest and being in an art show, at the great VisionCon (more on that later), and here is the first of the daily sketches.

Time to get this show a’ rockin’.

I’ve been to a handful of conventions over the years, and through those I’ve always been just an attendee (save for KillerCon last fall where I was on my first panel). Today I’m leaving for VisionCon, and my first shot at being a guest.

I’ve been to VisionCon before, last year actually.  I was an attendee, and in the middle of last year I was asked to be a guest and be in the art show.  I think it’s a great chance to get my work in front of a lot of people, many of whom may never have seen it before.

Now, being who I am, I also tend to be overly nervous about things.  Along with being a guest, I’m bringing a number of small things to sell.  Prints, bookmarks, and so on, and the idea of coming back with all of it instead of selling any is always present.

I’m also the type of person that wonders if anyone will even like my work at all.  Of course, I wonder that every time I show someone any work of mine, but there’s a certain added pressure in my head since I’m a guest.

The attitude I’m leaving home with this morning is this: there’s no way I can control what people think, and I just need to take a deep breath, have fun and love what I do.

Despite the troubles I see in my daily life (especially this week), I am pretty lucky that I get to use my energy to be creative.  I get published here and there.  I have projects in the works with a few excellent authors, and those projects are all very different from one another.  I get asked by great conventions to be a guest.

Taking a step back, things actually look pretty good. No matter what happens this weekend, I have the honor and privilege of getting to do something I love, and seeing friends that I don’t get to that often.  I can’t really ask any more than that.

I don’t often get to art museums, so I make the most of it when a chance comes up (save for the Denver Art Museum, which is only an hour away). I think, though books and the web can certainly show you art you’ve never seen before, that being in the museum in person gives you such a different view of things.

In this case, on the aforementioned trip to Hartford, Connecticut, I was lucky enough to get time to visit the Wadsworth Atheneum, a beautiful art museum with some wonderful works of art.

The building itself is a very imposing, castle-like structure from the front:

Just the exterior design is enough to get your attention, but inside is a beautiful, well designed museum. With wonderful turn-of-the-century architecture (1800′s-1900′s), and wonderful niche carvings throughout.

Within an interior hall you can see a nice ceiling stained glass, and overall you just get a sense of class from the building itself. Even before we get to the works of art inside.

One thing I might add, I always ask the front desk first about photography.  Every museum is different, and each have their own rules with photography.  No flash is almost always the case, but if you have a decent camera that can shoot without one (mine’s a Canon SD880) then you’re set.

I think the museums appreciate the question too, that you are willing to ask about the rules first before trudging ahead.  I’ve had several nice conversations about art with docents and staff as well, even to the point that they will give you tips and pointers on which times are best for the more popular pieces.

Now, there were quite a few unique and beautiful pieces that I could mention, but don’t really have space.  I intend to mention a few in the coming weeks, but for now here are a couple that for their own reasons are even better in person than on the web or in a book.

First up, and just sort of quietly hanging out on a simple wall, is this great Norman Rockwell piece, The Young Lady with the Shiner:

It’s a Rockwell that I’ve seen quite a few times, in quite a few books.  But in person, Rockwell’s mastery is really evident. You get a sense of life from it, and of course the obvious sense of humor.  You can also see far more vividly Rockwell’s techniques, which reproduce smaller in print and are harder to see:

I also came across another piece that I’d been thinking of doing an art blog on in the past.  I could never find a large enough image to show on the site, but now I’ve seen it in person.  This is Frederic Lord Leighton’s Hercules Wrestling With Death for the body of Alcestis:

What you don’t get from a book or the web is the sheer size of this work.  Where the Rockwell isn’t too big at all, this piece is seven or eight feet wide and five feet tall.  It’s a huge canvas, with immense detail, and one that gives you more of an idea of this scene happening in front of you than a small web image can show you.

You can also get a better sense of Leighton’s styles, where he changes them within the same picture to get different effects.  In this case, you have a grizzled old man, with a strong, almost harsh brush:

But just beneath this rougher technique is a softer, more supple approach with the women.  The technique here is soft enough to really contrast with both the old man above and the rough, textured fight to the right:

These are things that are more difficult to see in a book, not just the larger sense of a work but the imtricate details and techniques that really set an artist and their work apart from others.

Aside from the traditional arts, you also often find gems that you don’t expect.  In this case, the images below might end up influencing my work far more than even the paintings above:

What caught me entering the museum was not just a painting by the Hudson River school, but an entire room dedicated to them.  Thomas Cole especially has always been one of my favorites, and to see a whole room alone of just his art was fantastic. Here is Cole’s Mount Etna from Taormina, another painting that is huge:

What you miss, again, are the details.  Cole almost lovingly added the smallest of details to the work. Where the overall composition is often Cole’s strength, it’s the details that show how much he loved his work:

In my own work, I often add things and situations that don’t necessarily add to the work. They are just details that I think are cool, that add something else to a work that others might not bother with.  To stand in front of this 150 year-old painting, to see the individual paintstrokes of Cole’s love for his work, was worth the whole trip.

Opinions?