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.

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

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 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.

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…

When I go to make a print of something to sell, I tend to revisit what the piece looks like.  If it’s a color piece, I usually just make sure it will print correctly and move on.  In the case of grayscale art, often I’ll look at it and see if I can enhance it with color.

Most of the time, I’ll give a grayscale piece a “duotone” effect if I think it will make it better.  Not always, but just when I think the piece will be better off with a touch of color than just the black, gray and white colors by themselves.

I only very rarely make a grayscale piece a full color work, as I approach full color work in a different way (mostly in my head). The image below, from author Brian Keene‘s recently released novella Scratch, has had a couple of additional colors added, but not the full range of colors, and I think it adds a little something to the mix.

Here’s what the initial image looks like, and in fact it’s how it was printed:

Though the image itself (called “nasty” by friend and fellow artist Kirk Alberts) is a bit of a shock, there’s also some subtlety involved.  In fact, I’ve had to point out the leg and foot in the snake’s mouth to several people.

So, in Photoshop, I duplicated this layer and, using the “Hue/Saturation” adjustment (you can do this a number of different ways), I added a sepia tone to it:

It’s actually not bad at this point, and in fact on many pieces I’ve stopped here and printed it.  But, being big into experimentation, I thought I’d try a magenta version as well.  So, duplicate the layer again and repeat:

Now, this version is.. shall we say… “girly”.

That magenta is way too strong, but if we work with the sepia and the magenta using masks and layer blending modes, we can turn it into the final piece:

By manipulating it in Photoshop, with really only a couple of colors (and black of course), we have a piece that feels far more aggressive than the grayscale one did.  This one (I think anyway) gives you a false sense that there’s really more gore here than is depicted, and strikes home the horror of the moment.

I could spend the time to color every part, to really make each individual part into a color work.  But for me, this might actually be stronger. The viewer’s mind starts filling in the gaps of color, making them often see what’s not really there.

It’s no more bloody or gory than the grayscale version, but it has a certain impact that the grayscale does not.

Opinions?

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.

Now, onto the ridiculous spoilers.  Also, I suppose, some insight on the art itself (at least some of it). I’m not hitting each piece, just the ones that are interesting for artsy reasons.

Also, it’s long-winded, so best of luck.

1. Working the cover

Scratch | Cover, Scratch by Brian Keene, Cemetery Dance Publications

The cover, of course, is meant to sell the book.  In this case that was easy, as Keene’s fans are pretty rabid and tend to pick up what they want as soon as they can.  So I was able to relax a little more and try to make it interesting.

The cover is a wraparound, so for sales you only ever saw the right half of the image. As I thought about it in the months following, I may have changed the approach a bit.  I think the overall wide image is fine, and is cohesive, but as a split it isn’t as interesting as it could have been.

It’s certainly a multi-layered idea, between the wreckage back in the fog and under the water, the reflection of the sky and the characters in the water, and so forth.  I think that gives it a certain depth, and helps add to mystery of it.

As far as covers, I certainly could’ve just slapped a giant snake on it and proclaimed my awesomeness, but I value every bit that I do. I want to stay away from the cliches, the obvious angles and such, and try to bring something different to my art.

2. Dogs and such

nervous curiosity

Now, this one isn’t too exciting for you people, but for me it was a huge step in the right direction. Due to the length of the story, I needed to have illustrations throughout, we’re talking every few pages. There’s not always a lot going on in the story at those spots, so I needed to come up with an interesting image each time that happened.

I realize it’s just a dog. I could have easily just painted it watching the water or something.  But, as I learn how to do my craft, I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t just want to settle for something.  No matter what kind of image it is, I want to rethink it and make it cool.

Here, I wanted this simple scene to be far more dramatic, and I think with this angle it works.  I also don’t get to paint or draw animals too often, and I wanted something cool to do with it. I’m including it because, as an artist, to me it shows that I’m growing into being an artist, and being more comfortable with it.

3. Depth of field

the attack

Along with technique comes experimentation, something I did throughout Scratch.  Sometimes it works, sometimes not, but it’s always good to try and come up with something a bit more unique. If I just did the first easy thing that came up, I’d be boring, predictable, and a crappy artist.

My original thought here was to show the snake from inside the house, the attack as it happens. But Keene wrote the story from the perspective of these two characters.  They don’t really know what they are getting into, so I wanted the audience to stick with Keene’s prose and not really see it either.

By playing with the blurriness of the closer characters and the sharpness in the distance, which photographers call “depth of field”, we’re able to show what happens and still maintain distance from it. The slight blur of the two men draws the eye the sharper parts of the image, in this case in the distance.

Scratch busting into the house is the whole point, but we’re not ready to see it just yet up close. It would kill any of the tension in the story to see it right now, and as an artist I can’t do that to the author or the reader. Hopefully though it at least piques the reader’s interest. Hopefully they reach this point and think, “HOLY SHIT THAT SNAKE IS HUGE! WTF IS IT DOING?”

As I am crazy in the head (or maybe I started out with a different idea), here’s what the house actually looks like in Photoshop. It’s not perfect, but being so far in the distance I made it close and went with it:

Scratch House Close Up

As a side note, it’s also a reminder to me to read the prose when I have it right there in front of me. That jeep, mentioned 145 times on that page (that’s a guesstimate), is something I forgot to add until I nearly sent it off as a final.  Oops.  Lesson here kids, pay attention to what’s written if you’re supposed to emulate it.

4. Subtlety in pictures

Ok, this image appears near the beginning of Scratch, highlighting what the main character, a comic book artist, is working on:

quiet beginnings

Here’s the image near the end, of what our main character is working on after the events of the book have unfolded:

quiet endings

It’s subtle, especially if you’re actually reading the book, but it’s there. Aside from the missing toys way back on the shelf, the art he’s working on is different too.

Another experiment, and I don’t know if it worked or not.  The idea was that the main character has been so horrified and so traumatized by the events in the book that he can’t get over them. Instead of the comic characters from the first image, all he can think about is the snake and the little girl (we’ll get to her in a moment).

I kind of doubt most people are going to catch the difference, but as an artist I wanted to add something else to the book.  It’s almost like a quiet gift, a thank you for coming this far with us.  It’s also an experiment in creating similar art from a similar scene, something (below) that I tried with the endpapers.

5. Little girls and giant snakes

My good friend and fellow artist Kirk Alberts, though liking this one below, said it was also, “nasty”. That’s just like it feels in the story here too.

the final act

I don’t get to paint the climax of the story too often, usually that would be giving things away and I don’t want to do that.  So I reveled in the chance to paint this one.

It’s also an exercise in not just doing the easy thing, or the first thing that came into my head.  In this scene, the two characters run into the room, just in time to see Scratch devour the rest of the family. They witness the little girl’s legs going down it’s throat, a nasty enough scene.

My first thought was to show it from the character’s perspective, jumping into the room only to see the snake rearing up.  It would’ve worked I think, but it lacked the POP! that I like to see in art. I could’ve even made it far more gruesome that way, but I’m a firm believer that things are scarier when your brain fills the scene in with what it can’t see.

So I turned the perspective 180 degrees, so that we see the character’s reaction literally through the horror. Not only is it shocking (and I’ll post the duotone version that’s even more so), but I think it’s also more genuine to the rest of the art and the story.  We’ve been following this character the whole time, we should be concentrating on him and the horror he feels at this climactic point. It would be disingenuous to suddenly highlight the monster of the story when it’s the character we’re supposed to feel about.

6. Endpapers and Civil Wars

For those who don’t know, the endpapers in a book are the papers that are inside the covers.  They are often blank, but in some cases there’s art on them.  Cemetery Dance also commissioned art for those, one for each of the two versions of the book, and I wanted to give them something unique.

In the course of the story, there’s a discussion about the legend of the giant snake.  In the gallery above there is art of a petroglyph found by a river, for example.  What I latched onto was the mention of a rumored Civil War battle between soldiers and Scratch, something that really stuck in my head.

Brian also thought that might be interesting, and after CD agreed we went ahead with it.  On top the idea that the endpapers be this Civil War battle, I also thought it would be neat if the two images were of the same battle from different angles.  Mostly because I couldn’t come up with anything harder to do at the time.

With lots of measuring, sketching, remeasuring, resketching, painting, moving things in Photoshop, moving them each another 784 times, I think I ended up in at least the ballpark of similar.

Endpaper #1: death from below

Endpaper #2: death from on high

End: Wrapping it up

So those are the highlights of the art, and as always let me know what you think of them. Opinions?

Luckily, the On Display Gallery in Fort Collins, Colorado (just up the road from home) specializes in alternative art. I definitely fit in there, and I’ve had a number of good comments from people in the gallery (and a handful of sales).  It’s been a great learning experience, and I’m happy to be in a good place with good people.

As I mentioned before, it’s not necessarily easy for me, as an illustrator, to pick art that someone wants to post in their home. A cover work has a unique feel and point to it, as does interior art, and art for your wall is no different.  There’s a certain feel to a piece that has to work correctly for someone to put it on their wall.

We’ll see how my continued gallery art goes, but so far so good.  Below are the pieces I currently have in the gallery, and there are also postcards and bookmarks of mine there. There is one that I have in the gallery that does not appear below.

If you are in the Fort Collins/Northern Colorado area, or will be through on a trip, go check them out and let me know what you think.

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

To be blunt, I’m not a fine artist, I’m an illustrator. So I approach art from the story side of things, and in fact (as is evident from my art blogs) my favorite pieces by other artists have a sense of story behind them. So I’m never sure how the general public, in a gallery environment, is going to react.

Along with that, and quite possibly my worst issue, is pricing. I have a decent idea of the prices I charge as an illustrator, and based on feedback from publishers I seem to be priced ok. But I just never know what to price prints, matted, or framed works.

Do I price it based on what I paid for the materials?

Do I price it based on the market (without really knowing the market)?

Do I price it based on other works in that same gallery or online?

Frankly, the answer is yes to all of that. Which, understandably, is where the confusion lies.

Being a person that’s evenly split between technical and creative endeavors, I of course have spreadsheets and such that tell me what the prints and pieces cost me to make, how it breaks down over number of prints, how much I’ve made on certain ones so far (not quitting the day job just yet).

But that only helps to an extent. There’s also the value in what was created, that what the person is buying is something that came uniquely from my own goofy brain, and no one else’s. That puts a certain unique value on it as well, that they are getting, really, something that only I can give them. So I get input from others, make notes from other artists online, and generally try to price reasonably.

But then I have to actually pick which works to sell.

That’s the hardest part of all. I’ve noticed many times that, when I put my portfolio out there, not a single person picks the same piece of art as the next. In some ways that makes sense, I have a couple of different styles. But aside from that, everyone has a completely different favorite, and that makes it difficult to pick only a few out of all of them to try and sell.

There are a few at the gallery now that I’ll be replacing. One of them is still unpublished (crossed fingers, I’d love to show everyone that one), and the other two are here in the galleries (“In the Wrong World” in the grayscale art, and “Mama Ain’t Happy” in the color art).

We’ll see how they go, and if anything at least I have quite a lot of work to swap out for them.

Unless one of you two would like to buy them…

Mama Aint Happy