The more time passes, the more I appreciate the mood of this painting. The mood was intentional. The pathway to getting it was a mix of blind luck, frustration, and pushing through the ugliness. And there was a lot of that at the beginning.
We have this big ceramic jack-o-lantern that we use as a porch decoration at Halloween. After that I drag it into the backyard where it sits through several other holidays before my wife insists I move it into the garage. One night, well after Halloween but not yet Christmas, I looked out at the pumpkin which lit by the light of the kitchen window. The lighting on the pumpkin and the shadows across the pavement had a spooky look to them so I took a photo.
I don't have the latest model iPhone, nor was it a "Plus" model that had extra bells and whistles when it comes to digital photography. But it managed to capture an image that I could paint from. Like all photos, it did not capture the subtleties visible to my eye. But there was enough there to provide a cool subject when I revisited it more than half a year later.
Since this was for my Pentalic sketchbook, I first had to crop it into a horizontal format. Although, I love having a bound book of my year's painting that one can flip through, I sometimes feel that the biggest asset of the book is that it would very hard to rip out a page and toss it. Believe me, that urge hits me regularly. This one had an especially rocky start.
Aside from cropping, the first artistic decision made was to turn the talavera pot behind the pumpkin into a solid color. I felt like the second pot was needed in the composition but the bright colors would take to much attention from jack.
I didn't take any process shots. I started with a pencil tracing made from a print out of the photo. I started blocking in shadows and immediately felt lost. Why? Dunno. Thinking back, I would've been better served by blocking in with a light wash. Something about using gouache thickly at first, at least on this painting, was off putting. I pushed on, and once I got the page covered with color, I felt better. At least, I felt like I was at the point where I could attack it with detail, an area at a time.
But, still disheartened by the feeling of really not knowing what I was doing. I decided to stop for the day. I seem to do that whenever I'm working from a photo (which is the case with most of my paintings). The problem is that the feeling of frustration/doubt of my ability etc. stays with me until I return to it.
I realize now that frustration and doubt was amped because I kept comparing my painting with the photo. At a certain point, I have to remember I'm not trying to be a photocopier and just look at the painting. I spent most of my life drawing images out of my imagination. I have to give myself the permission to do the same as I paint.
I stopped again to let things really dry and mentally map what I needed to do. There wa a perspective problem with the bottom edge of the pots not sitting on the ground. I wanted some reflected cool light on the shadow side of the pumpkin, even though there was non on the photo. I finished up with some water color pencils to had some texture and details. Then back to a little paint.
I posted it online and got positive reactions. But looking at it in a different size, I appreciated what I had done right. The mix of colors on jack, the more impressionistic pot behind him, the overall creepiness. I keep saying how I need to paint more often to really start learning and being comfortable. Haven't done it yet but here's hoping.
Meanwhile, it's late. I'm tired. I'm posting without editing.
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