R. Davies Art

When people think of the how of painting, the direct method of painting is what many people assume most painters use, and this is largely the case for most abstract and much of realist painting. The indirect method is currently making a comeback, and I may discuss it in another post. For now, the direct method, which seems simple, but if done well, is surprisingly complicated. To start, you may or may not have an underdrawing, tone, or underpainting, but you will have a series of brush strokes that are as precise as possible. The paint will be mixed to the exact hue and value--shade, tint, tone--lifted from the palette with the exact size and shape brush needed for the expected mark and deliberately applied by dragging the color on the tip of the brush, not the bristles across the desired area. The artist may twist the brush, press to fan it out, or manipulate it in some other way to get the exact brush shape desired to make the exact mark. If the mark is incorrect or inarticulate, i...

There is something about wet streets that fascinates me. This painting was part of a show last year in which I had several rainy day paintings. All of them sold, including this one. I guess that tells you what people like. The one thing that rainy day painting taught me is to be observant as a neutral observer. Rain slicked streets and objects are patchworks of color. Sure there is a logic to the reflections, but you can only paint it accurately if you can stop the part of your mind that says, "this is a car," and you then put in your symbol for a car. Think of what you see as a collection of marks on a canvas that is your eye. It is not a car, it is a slab of grey over a bit of very dark blue with a hint of red in a grey box. Just put down the right color in the right place, and you will go a long way towards a serviceable image. Sounds easy, right? Well, do as I've done and practice for 35 years and you can get pretty good at it. Or, you may be a natural. Let'...

Today, I use my painting of Crystal to talk about the emotional content of a portrait. Anyone with a modicum of effort can get a reasonable likeness. I firmly believe that. But it is the composing and editing of the vast amount of information that makes a painting feel like it has captured a subject's inner life. This can only be done by careful observation--that is standing back and seeing what the painting says at any one moment. Does your most recent mark head you towards a coherent understanding of this person's inner life or does it head away? This takes practice and it cannot be taught. Some people are simply insensitive to composition and to subtle changes in emotional feel when painting. I know, that sounds mean, but it is simply a fact. Now, I don't mean that a viewer who cannot paint the emotion before them cannot see the emotion when presented by someone who can. Of course they can. That is what makes us human. In this image, I see a very concerned woman wh...

This is a work that started as a pencil sketch. I stood on the curb and sketched this simple view and then snapped many photos, bracketing the exposure to replicate (as closely as possible) the look of the shadows and highlights. It is entirely possible to capture the look of a scene very accurately with a simple camera on a phone as long as you can control exposure in specific areas. On my iPhone, I can essentially change the exposure infinitely (I say that that advisedly as my physics friends would really spank me on that assertion). I change the exposure for, say, the street. I take the photo then immediately check it against what I see in front of me. If it is off, I delete it, adjust the exposure, and take another. I repeat this process for each area. I took a photo with the exposure of the pale yellow area of the building in mind. I took one of the lower part of the sky and one of the middle and one of the upper. I took one of the brightly lighted orange area of the building, a...

This painting is inspired by Sadie Valeri's use of wax paper in her still lifes. In this case, I used the green florist paper that the rose came in. The challenge with still life is to produce something that resembles what we actually see. Many people are unable to simply be in the moment and see what is actually there. We "know" that the edge of an object is hard and we paint that exact and strong edge, but the truth is, we actually only see a hard edge when we directly look at a very small portion of reality that is before us. Edges attract attention. We flit from edge to edge and as we flit, each edge comes into exact focus. If you want to see what I mean, it is easy enough and you may simply say, "Duh!", but it bears examining. Find an object within a few feet (2-5 ft.) and stare at a hard edge. Make it a boundary edge that defines the break between the object and the space behind it. Keeping your focus on that edge, notice how blurry the background is--...

Here is my studio--at least most of it. I use color balanced verilux lights, an old easel my father gave me when I was sixteen, a tool chest from Cessna Aircraft, a glass palette on top of the red tool chest, and a light box for still life setups. Here is the still life setup in action. (The painting sold in my most recent show). Below is a shot of the finished painting.

Salvadore Dali. This whiteboard drawing I did while giving a test in a college English class. (I have an MFA in creative writing and have a book called The Heirloom, available on Amazon.com) Often I find myself bored during a test or long class activity and will open my phone and draw whatever I find. This is a great practice and lots of fun. Dry erase markers are surprisingly easy to use and manipulate. I have also done large chalk drawings on traditional boards. These only live on if I remember to take a photo.