Photo Series: Spectrum Fantastic Art Live 2017

Alessandra Pisano, momentarily overwhelmed while accepting the Rising Star award

I went out to SFAL this year with no booth and no real mission other than to reconnect with friends and to enjoy our community. For me, that is the one thing that only a convention (and only certain ones at that) can deliver. Since I was flying solo for the weekend, free of responsibilities and surrounded by people who inspire me, it seemed like creating a photo journal of the trip would be a good project.



I found this brought on an interesting inside-but-also-outside feeling. For example, having a good time at a late night party but still wandering off occasionally to see what else is happening and catch any good moments I might otherwise miss. My thought was I could try, as a conscious effort, to observe things from a bit more of a neutral distance. Inevitably though, I found the story that my photos were telling to be playing heavily to my social comfort zones. In other words, I often hang out with certain folks at these events and they were showing up disproportionately in my shots. If there's anything I feel I missed out on, it was not getting a wider representation of people, friends and strangers alike. In the end though, it's a document of the show as I saw it: a story of aspirations, friendships, and the massive tapestry of respect and admiration which holds our very special community together.



See the full set on my Flickr

Talking art at the Alamo Drafthouse
opening night party

James Gurney giving a lively demo

Mark Nelson (left) fliping through his
originals with Daren Bader

Booth neighbors Laura Garabedian (left)
and Mariya Prytula  chatting mid show

Lingering audience members getting an
up close look at some J.A.W. Cooper originals after her demo

Making dinner plans during a brief
lights-out

Dawn Carlos (far right) preparing to
turn a T-Rex loose on the life drawing session

Donato Giancola sketching

George Pratt painting at the
Illustration Academy booth

Voler � Thieves of Flight

Laurie Lee Brom presenting a gold award
to Brom. It's a rare and touching moment to see an award
presenter honor their spouse

Newly minted Spectrum Grand Master Bill
Sienkiewicz at the award show afterparty

Lauren Panepinto and Jerry Trapp fixing
up amazing cocktails for what would be the shortest

lived room party
I have ever seen (busted up by The Man)

The gorgeous newly designed Spectrum
Award, sculpted by J Anthony Kosar, sitting triumphantly on Bill
Carman's table

Con besties Travis Lewis and Alessandra
Pisano

Some down time in the mezzanine

The late night crew heading back to
hotels after closing down the Alamo Drafthouse bar

Spectrum 24 award winners

Looking At The Big Picture

David Palumbo



As I enter the home stretch on my upcoming two-man show (Skin and Tonic, May 4th at Reh's Contemporary in NYC), I've been giving more and more thought to the role size plays in how we respond to images. To say that the scale of an original affects how we experience it is about the most �water is wet� observation one might make about painting, but I'm thinking more specifically about what works at what sizes, why, and how does this relates to commercial work, gallery work, and digital sharing.  Bigger is generally more impressive, but so much of my work is very small and I feel the small works have their own kind of magic.



I was reading an old film-era photography book recently and there was a chapter on shooting Polaroids. Since Polaroids have a fixed reproduction size, they pose unique challenges versus a traditional photo which can be printed much larger. If your image is going to be rigidly set at a few inches tall, you need to compose with this in mind and the recommendation was to look for clear, bold shapes and patterns. This reminded me of one of the key guidelines many card game art directors advise their artists to follow: to prioritize shape and contrast in making sure that an image reads clearly. In card art, this often extends to story telling as well. In other words, the small image works best when it is graphic and the message is concise.



Of course, bold graphic images can work well at any scale. The whole concept of working out compositions through thumbnails is rooted in the premise that if it works as a postage stamp, it will work at any size. I wonder though if some images actually do work best when small. As an example, using extremely shallow depth of field (1) in photography has become fairly popular in recent years, to the point of widely used (overused?) smartphone filters that simulate the effect by just throwing heavy blur on the edges of an image to achieve that look. On a smartphone screen, having your subject pop out in clear sharp detail only to fade into dreamy hazy blur can be very striking.  Bokeh filters (and also vignetting filters, which darkens the edges of the image) are designed almost exclusively with smartphone views in mind and they help to clarify focus and simplify what may be a busy image that you hold in the palm of your hand. Blown up large however, these effects may detract from an image. Even worse, images with that fake iPhone bokeh added will look bizarre and obviously doctored. Relating this to painting, I feel a parallel can be drawn to rendering focal areas tighter and peripheral areas with more abstraction. I personally think contrast of render is essential in any painting to give it life, but it certainly seems to work best when we can appreciate that contrast. Our field of vision must cover enough space to see the transition (as oppose to having to turn your head to see it), otherwise it feels disjointed or unfinished.



It is an important point to make a distinction between the size of the piece and how the viewer experiences it too. A billboard is massive but, since you can only ever see it from a distance, it may as well be the size of a magazine in terms of our subjective experience. Most images we see day to day are in a comfortably perceived size range that doesn't require us to turn our heads to see the edges. Even if we might focus around inside the picture looking at different details, we can peripherally see the whole thing at a glance.



In planning for scale, the size of a
room can affect the way we perceive a piece too.  A 30x40 inch painting hanging in a loft style gallery would look positively modest.  In a small
bedroom, however, a 30x40 might command the space.  Knowing how big a piece might feel in its intended display or how close the viewer will be should impact how you approach a composition.

In cases of larger work, truly heroic scale, we interact with the image in a very different way than a normal picture. I used to puzzle over the strange perspective in the above example by Antonio Lopez Garcia. His work typically shows tremendous precision, so things like the curved pipe and that far left perspective that's maybe just a bit funky (feels like it's smushing/distorting) always seemed like odd stylistic choices to me. You can find other similar pieces with almost fisheye effects on the periphery. It wasn't until I saw his work in person that I understood these painting are huge and the distortion is designed to look absolutely correct when the massive painting is towering before you. As you turn your head from one area to another, your relative position to the piece straightens out the curves. The distortion is �correcting� for the fact that the edges of the picture are significantly further away than the center from the viewer's eye.



Another way that we interact with mural sized works in close quarters is to see scenes within the scene. If we can get close enough that we need to physically move about to see the whole image, we can digest it in pieces. The interesting effect in these mini-scenes is, unlike typical images, they have no frame but rather drift into the next portion of the picture and so are closer to how we see the world.  If we try to look at works like The Coronation of Napoleon by David in reproduction, however, we lose this effect because the whole image shrinks to fit in our field of view.  We are simply unable to even see a tremendous amount of the painting because it must be reduced so greatly. And sure, this painting works in reproduction, but only to the same extent that you can also hear a recording of an orchestra through a tiny speaker and appreciate the composition in its broadest strokes. This painting was never intended to be viewed hand held and, I would argue, it can't be. Not properly. Just look at the size of it in the article header up top!  And if graphic punch works well in miniature, I feel subtleties need to be seen large to be fully appreciated.



I feel it's also worth pointing out that the lower half of the image has far more close up detail and areas of interest.  While the top half does create a nice balance in negative space to the busier bottom, the top half is also much too tall for anyone to get close to.  That area is designed and painted with the knowledge that it would ONLY be seen from a distance.

This brings me back to preparing images for my show. In so much of my work, I'm accustomed to planning for small reproductions. Card images, covers, online sharing... In illustration there is rarely a reason for me to go beyond 18x24. For an in-person audience, however, scale becomes a critical component. A word many use when talking about large works is �presence.� No painting reproduced on a phone screen can possibly have the presence of a life sized original. Even if you have a giant 4k display, you'd need a corresponding 4k+ image file to fill it (which living artists are not too inclined to give away). This leads to a peculiar frustration in a social media run world. We've become so accustomed to being able to share our work globally, instantly, and endlessly but, if you work large, sharing online is only a simulation of the experience that you're trying to create. When people say �a photo doesn't do it justice� while looking at original works, they tend to point out color and tonal subtleties. But in my experience, intended scale is one thing that truly needs to be seen in person to be understood and appreciated.

And for as much as the large images excite me, I really do enjoy small.  I find the challenges of it rewarding and like being able to share them widely without the pieces losing presence.  But creating for a limited in-person audience also makes me more aware of how going larger can make certain images really land.  Those joining in at home might not get the full experience but, unlike my commercial work, the primary intended audience is not a virtual one.  In the end, each piece should be designed appropriately for its intended purpose and considered carefully so that the scale delivers the maximum effect.







(1) A shallow depth of field is seen in a photograph when the subject is in sharp focus but the foreground and/or background is out of focus. Extreme examples might show a subject's eyes clearly focused while their nose and ears are heavily blurred. The out of focus blur is also called �bokeh�

Co-Pilots

-By David Palumbo

�If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants�

-Isaac Newton

Taking inspiration from other artists is a core component to the creative process. It's why I feel art in any form is a living and vibrating thing. We feed off of the buzz around us and add our small voice to the sprawling conversation. Whether you need a creative spark or a solution to a visual problem, you can always look to good work for guidance.



I was planning to talk about turning to my bookshelves for help but, as luck would have it, I'm currently spending a week with about a dozen amazing artists. So instead, I put the question to them...

---

Capturing a Mood

"The Sleeping Gypsy" by Henri Rousseau

"In Circes World" by Julie Bell

Julie Bell

Julie first saw this Rousseau painting at about seven years old and she still remembers the feeling of peace and wonder that it gave her. She remembers thinking about being in the desert at night, the temperature of the air, and the deep spiritual bond one can feel with animals and the natural world.



As Julie has pursued her personal work in recent years, she describes the world that she is creating as �a paradise of people and animals.� She remembers Rousseau at times to help express that same emotional connection she felt as a child.

"Cape Buffalo" by Bob Kuhn

"Oasis Shade" by Daren Bader

Daren Bader

I've known Daren's work for years and strongly associate it with a vibe of African wildlife and landscape. Whether the creatures in the painting are real or magical, they almost always carry that note. So it made perfect sense when he introduced me to Bob Kuhn's work for the first time and I could immediately see a connection.



Daren takes notes from the colors and design of Kuhn's work, but it is specifically his application of materials that he finds instructional. There is a poetic quality to rough painterly textures that are also extremely accurate. When Daren makes a point to simplify and avoid getting lost in unnecessary details, he'll think of Kuhn.

---

Solving a Problem

"Seascape - Coast of Maine" by William Trost Richards

"The Path" by Winona Nelson

Winona Nelson

Winona doesn't typically paint landscapes, so when working on this personal piece she went seeking some inspiration. She had the composition and concept already fixed in her mind, but wanted to see how some other artists would approach the rendering of rocks and waves. This brought her to Richards, who was definitely something of an expert on the subject.



Studying his pieces, she noticed that he used color gradients to give the forms scale and drama. She also took notes from his brush calligraphy in how he used bold marks and hard, chopped in edges to describe rocky cliffs.

"Legends of Charlemagne" by N.C. Wyeth

"They Came from the Sky" by David Palumbo

David Palumbo

I was recently hired to illustrate a story about the first Spaniards to arrive in Texas and, while reading the story, I had this image in my mind of back-lit figures cresting a hill that had the intense sunny feeling that I remember from trips to Texas and the Gulf Coast. This brought to mind the Wyeth piece.



Looking at that scene, I knew I wanted to play similarly with almost outlining shapes and having the interiors described in subtle mottled color. The hazy fill, hard edges, square strokes, and clear silhouettes perfectly captured the vibe I was aiming for.

---

As Homage

"Rosie the Riveter" by Norman Rockwell

"Lydia the Lawyer" by Julie Beck

Julie Beck

In painting this portrait, Julie saw a clear parallel between her subject and the story told in Rockwell's iconic Rosie the Riveter. Lydia the Lawyer is a contemporary take on a woman working to better her country and doing so in a field long dominated by men.



Julie has always been drawn to Rockwell's way of telling stories through the smallest of details and found creating this homage in some ways imparted the same lessons as a master copy. Studying the details he chose to include and translating them to tell her own story was an opportunity to really explore Rockwell's psychology and thought process. One detail which she found particularly compelling was how Rosie's competence and strength is so perfectly captured though her nonchalant attitude.

"Wild Midnight Falls" by Robert McGinnis

"Captain Flandry" by Dave Seeley

Dave Seeley

In working out concepts for this book cover, Dave knew right away that it needed a classic James Bond look. He pitched the publisher on doing the piece in the vein of McGinnis, who really defined that Bond aesthetic.



This particular cover was his inspiration (though it isn't Bond, it is still 100% McGinnis) and he designed his take with the same emphasis on figure silhouettes in the foreground. He brought in a number of other elements, from the s-curve of the standing figure to the chessboard in the background, to help pay tribute.

---

By Request

"Forgotten Realms" by Keith Parkinson

"The Swallowed Realms" by Randy Gallegos

Randy Gallegos

Sometimes paying tribute to another artist is dictated by the client. In this case, Randy was commissioned for a D&D chapter header that would tie back to Kieth Parkinson's original Forgotten Realms box art. The scene description was fairly specific in some aspects (see Randy's much more detailed account here: http://gallegosart.com/blog//2008/08/tips-techniques-homage-to-parkinson.html) but there were still opportunities for exploration and reinterpretation.



What I find most interesting in comparing these pieces are choices Randy was free to make and how they depict an updated version of the character but still strongly connect to the original. The major costume elements are all there, but small changes of details prevent him from feeling like a cartoon character with a closet full of identical and never changing clothes. On the other hand, the inclusion of those very distinctive white rocks bring us back to the original piece in a way that might seem logically questionable but is absolutely pitch perfect on an emotional level.

Still from The Corpse Bride

"Cobalt and Crimson (Loves Me Loves Me Not)" by Lana Crooks

Lana Crooks

When Lana was invited to participate in a traveling gallery show themed after the films of Tim Burton, her first step was to marathon her favorite Burton movies. This still from The Corpse Bride jumped out at her because of its use of color, which is less expected than Burton's ubiquitous black and white stripes.



Similar to the evolving color pallet in the film, Lana started with an entirely monochromatic soft sculpture and gradually added color to it. She sampled colors from the still, found corresponding pantones, and mixed dyes to match. She applied them with paintbrush and airbrush, along with colored beads, to perfectly capture the feel of the source.

---

Role Models

"El Santero" by Rafael Tufi�o

"Kingmaker" by Go�i Montes

Go�i Montes

Go�i grew up looking at Tufi�o's strongly graphic screen prints. Their masterful use of bold colors and flat graphic fields left a permanent impression on him and he has always admired the use of negative spaces. In his studio, Go�i has multiple Tufi�o prints hanging which he sees daily while he works.



By his nature, Go�i feels that he thinks in a sculptural and dimensional way. His inclination is to render turning forms and depth, but he contrasts this deliberately with flat graphics inspired by Tufi�o to achieve pieces which exist in both worlds. (you can see Go�i's process for the above piece here: http://www.goniart.com/2015/11/kingmaker-process/)

excerpt from The Incal by Jean Giraud Moebius

"The Children" by Anthony Palumbo

Anthony Palumbo

While I was talking to Anthony about these particular frames of this comic, he mentioned scenes from Blade Runner with a similar vibe. He mentioned earlier paintings of his that showed tight crowds in urban settings. But when I asked how directly he might have been thinking about these panels when starting this painting, his answer was �this is always in my mind.�



This painting was done almost entirely on the fly, starting with one figure (the bald fellow with glasses just left of center) and populating it one by one from there. His original impulse was to keep them relatively similar in scale like the Moebius drawings, but the piece naturally found itself needing more depth. Nods to Moebius can be found in the Parisian middleground architecture and the front end of a Citroen.

"Conan the Conqueror" by Frank Frazetta

"I Am A Barbarian" by Boris Vallejo

Boris Vallejo

In the spirit of 12 year old boys everywhere, a longstanding tradition of classic fantasy art fans is debating Boris vs. Frazetta. The truth is that his admiration of Frazetta's work was instrumental in Boris's decision to pursue fantasy art at all.



In the late 1960s, Boris was working in advertising but his artistic interest was in bodybuilding and painting the figure. It was seeing Frazetta's paperback covers (which were groundbreaking and contemporary at the time) that inspired Boris, very abruptly, to risk his steady work drawing product illustrations for something more exciting.



This cover (for Edgar Rice Buroughs's �I Am A Barbarian�) was one of Boris's earliest paperback jobs. His goal was to paint realism but with flair, and it was the start to a long and impressive career that has since inspired so many others.

"The Circle of Flame" Time Lapse

By David Palumbo

It was about a year ago that I last posted a time-lapse video, that one being a 12x16 inch figure study, but I don't know that I've ever shared a process video for a full scale narrative piece  Documenting something large that spans multiple sessions comes with a lot of additional challenges, so I wanted to include a few notes that I expect people might be curious about while watching:



Materials:

The size of the painting is 18x36 inches and I'm working in oils on gessoed Masonite panel.  My brushes are all square tipped Loew Cornell watercolor brushes and my paints are assorted brands with the following palette: Titanium White, Alizarin Crimson, Cadmium Red, Cadmium Orange, Scheveningen Yellow Deep, Nickle Titanium Yellow, Winsor Green, Cobalt Turquoise Light, Ultramarine Blue, Kings Blue Light, Lamp Black.  My medium is a mix of turp and linseed oil, which I use sparingly.



Process:

The board is prepped and underpainting already in place in this video but you can see the Window Light video (linked above) for more info on that step.  Everything else is shown at 55x actual speed and was recorded in two sessions (with several days between to allow the first layer to dry).  The break between days happens at about the 4:22 mark and you can see me oiling out the board there before getting back into it.  This brings the value and color back and gives the surface just a little bit of glide.  As you can see, the main thing that I'm doing overall is laying in thin fields of paint and building thicker on top of that as my mark making gets more specific and my color/value choices more certain.



Additional thoughts:

The most glaring thing that occurred to me while getting this video together is that, for me, execution is much easier to show and describe than the conceptual stages.  In many ways, I also feel it is easier to do and that the real work is largely done before I'm ready to pick up a brush.  At the very beginning of everything, there are infinite possibilities and every choice narrows that field until the final brushstroke, when it is done and has become a definite specific thing.  In the future, I'll try to find a way to document those earlier steps.  Going backwards, there tend to be massive gaps between a rough thumbnail, some reference photos, and a fully composed painting.  If watching the final execution gives the sense that it has a smooth effortless flow to it, that it builds to completion in a linear and predictable way, that's only because I can never accurately record the improvisation heavy chaos of building my roadmap.



All recording, editing, and music by me.