How I Work: Process, Part I

Over the past several years, I've taught a couple of weekend pastel workshops as well as an annual, 6-week long class about color use and theory to local artists. Whether I'm teaching or exhibiting at an art show, I get a lot of questions about how I work. Both patrons and students are often curious about how one gets from the point of inspiration to the finished result of a framed pastel piece.

With this in mind, I'm going to begin a series of posts that will offer some insight into my creative process. Winter is a quieter time of year for me when I can quietly work in my studio as the snow drifts past my window, and this seems like a good time to respond to some of the most frequently asked questions that I've encountered to date.

This first post will offer a step-by-step peek behind the scenes of one of my most recent cityscapes, The Downtown Line.

Because of my background in music theory and performance, I tend to speak in "musical terms" when I describe my art making process. There are so many commonalities between the two disciplines that it just seems like a natural fit to me.


To start with, here was my source photo from this past summer in downtown Chicago. Just prior to beginning my career as an artist, I was -- believe it or not -- a web site programmer and designer. And before that, I worked for Walt Disney Feature Animation doing the color on their animated feature films. Both of those careers gave me a ton of computer skills and these skills have served me very well in my artistic endeavors. I use Adobe Photoshop software extensively in the planning and creation of my artwork. It's extremely useful for cropping, rotating, and salvaging less-than-ideal source material (for example, things that have been underexposed).

There was bad lens distortion in this photo because I had to take a wide angle to capture the scene, so my first instinct with this idea was to crop it because I was most interested in the channel of light and how it framed the individual boarding the bus. After I did that, I began a series of thumbnail sketches to get the picture into my mind. As the name implies, these "thumbnail" sketches are small and simple drawings to help block out the large components and shapes of the piece.

Some of my thumbnail sketches, done in charcoal, together with my initial "color chords" for this piece

It's so important to get the piece into your mind's eye. This is critical to the success of a piece....As I tell my students, if you can't visualize it ahead of time, then how do you expect to create it on your paper? After I'm comfortable with the thumbnails, I then create what I call a "color chord." This consists of the darkest, medium-dark, light-dark, and lightest colors within the piece. I choose a small quantity of pastels that will serve as the main values of the piece and I do my best to stick to just these few pastels to get as much of the piece done as possible. This simplicity in color and value gives works a cohesion that you cannot achieve if you fracture your work into a million little different shades and hues.

My handful of pastels. For simplicity and cohesion, I will ride these as far as I can into a piece before I introduce any new hues or shades. And, yes, that is a cookie sheet. As I work on various pieces, I keep my pastels on a cookie sheet.

The next step is to sketch in the rudimentary armature of the piece. This is not a detailed drawing. Instead, it's a vine charcoal rendering that captures the placement of the major components of the piece. I used to torture myself with grids and precision, but I did not like the resulting tightness in my artwork. It looked strained. Not good.

The initial charcoal drawing on my pastel board

Some artists trace their photos and some use projectors. I do neither. I take a lot of pride in the work that I do, from start to finish, and I never use such mechanical aides. Everything that I create is drawn freehand. To me, the skill of drawing is integral to making art. I find it difficult to respect the work of those who lean on projectors for lack of drafting skill. And the ability to draw well is especially relevant with pastels, which are simultaneously a drawing and a painting medium (A big reason why I enjoy working in the medium).

The first block-in of the main colors

After I'm satisfied with the feel and accuracy of my drawing, I start to block-in the main areas of the piece with my initial and limited selection of pastels.

The piece begins to take shape, with only a few areas of blank surface remaining

The photo above shows the piece at about 80% completion. Sometimes, the initial block-in of colors will go really fast. But the last details of the piece always progress more slowly. This is where I'll start to refine the colors and ensure that the transitions are smooth while sprinkling in highlights that help a nighttime scene such as this to read coherently.

Almost done...

Here, the piece is almost completed. You'll notice that I've signed my name even before it's truly done. I have a funny way of handling this. I'll sign a piece when I think it's "in hand," meaning that I don't think there's any conceivable way for me to mess it up and lose my grasp upon it. So I don't necessarily wait until the piece is complete before I'll sign it.

You can see The Downtown Line in its completed state within the Cityscapes area of my site. In my next post, I'll discuss the pastels that I use and offer a few snapshots of my studio space.

Winter, for Real

Winter Solstice, 12 x 24 pastel on board. A new piece inspired by our current season.

I'm busy working on new pieces that I will gradually reveal through this web site over the coming weeks. My first exhibition of this year will be at the Mount Nittany Medical Center in mid-February. I've displayed works there over the past few years and it's been a great way for me to kick-start my motivation during these short days of winter.

Like much of the rest of the country, we're currently experiencing colder than usual weather here in central Pennsylvania. For the first time since I moved here four years ago, we've had a prolonged cold spell that has helped to retain a worthwhile amount of snow on the ground. This thrills me because the clarity of the atmosphere at this time of year is unmatched. All four seasons inspire me, but winter is more elusive than other seasons. When things come together on a cold, crisp day the results are often more stunning than what you can see during the more temperate times of year. It just takes patience to recognize the charm of winter.

Shown here is "Winter Solstice," one of my newest landscapes. As its name implies, this was a scene from the shortest day of the year in December. I've had the idea for this piece kicking around in my mind for almost two years now. Ever since I painted Summer Solstice, I wanted to create its opposite counterpart. It took until just a few weeks ago to get the perfect confluence of features: Interesting clouds, a light covering of snow, and a clear atmosphere to enhance the fading daylight.

This piece was inspired by a location near Whitehall Road in State College, Pennsylvania. Although I do a lot pieces on location, these cold days require me to work from my photographic reference material....I've tried painting outside during frigid temperatures, but it's too hard on my hands because there's really no way to work while wearing gloves. Nonetheless, don't assume that it's just a simple matter of "point, click, and paint." I often take ridiculous risks to get The Shot for my ideas, and this scene was no exception. This was an exceptionally cold evening and the wind was howling. Blowing and drifting snow created a glossy veneer of ice on the rural roadways and it was treacherous to be out in such conditions (black ice is the worst). However, I wanted to capture this idea while it presented itself. The good news is that with the weather we've had lately, there will be more opportunities to capture the beauty of these winter days.

New Year, New Easel, New Ideas

Happy New Year, Everyone!

I was blessed with my most successful year ever in 2008. Before starting with my thoughts for this new year, I'd like to offer a sincere thank you to all of my clients who helped me to achieve so many of my goals this past year. Given the chaotic economic events of these recent months, I may be about the only person in America who was sorry to see the year end. But I already have lots of ideas in the works for the upcoming year.

To start with, I'm getting back into the routine of painting. Other than a few landscapes and some commission work, I took much of the past two months off following my last art show in late September. I needed a break to recharge my creative batteries. During that time, I traveled to many great destinations with my husband and picked up tons of inspiration that I've started to tap as I get back to work. I also spent some time with my family, finishing up a mural for my nephew and hosting the holidays at our home for my family members from out-of-town.

To better balance my life and ensure that I'm giving my best to my art, I started to work with a personal trainer towards the end of 2008. This has already helped me immeasurably. I feel more energized and more at ease mentally. Unlike your stereotypical image of a laissez faire artist, I may be slightly neurotic. Slightly. Just ask my husband. Or my Mom.

OK, I digress. But thanks to my trainer's guidance, I'm working towards a goal of participating in the upcoming Bike the 5 Boros Ride in New York City this May. I plan to make this ride as much about getting artistic inspiration as it is about getting a good workout.

Starting next month, I'm also going to work with a good friend and extremely talented fellow artist, Lisa Mitchell, who will offer guidance to me about painting the human figure. In my cityscapes, I remain interested in exploring the narrative element of people within various urban settings. One of Lisa's specialties is portraiture and I'm very excited to have the opportunity to learn from her. Everyone needs "continuing education" in their profession and although I've taken a few workshops since beginning my career as an artist over five years ago, I'm ready to work with someone individually to advance my skills.

My new easel, partially assembled in the shipment packaging, on my studio floor

Over this past year I made some investments in my studio environment. Everything from better lighting to an air filtration system that mitigates the pastel dust (the only bad thing about working with soft pastel). Most recently, I had to replace my studio easel. My old easel began a slow, inexorable death this past September when it began to wear out and could no longer support large, heavy drawing boards for some of my bigger pieces. I purchased a new easel this past month and it's super-sturdy, so I'll no longer have to deal with the nightmare scenario of a piece-in-progress crashing to the floor.

I'm excited about 2009. I look forward to our new President taking office within the upcoming days. I'm also excited to visit some new locations this year, including Charleston, South Carolina and San Francisco, California. Stay tuned!