My good friend Kirk Alberts suggested making my blog partly about design and art techniques, so I thought I’d give it a try.  This one’s on Photoshop’s Warp abilities.

One thing I missed from using Corel PhotoPaint all the time was the warp abilities that Photopaint had.  There were certainly ways around that in Photoshop, and maybe I just missed other easier ways.  It might have been that I didn’t like how they worked.  But I use it quite a bit in CS3, and it’s fantastic.

One thing I do a lot is use textures.  More often than not, those textures are further manipulated into whatever I need them to be, and often that’s on a flat (looking) surface.  But I find that sometimes that I need to texture a curved object, and make it look like the pattern is actually following the way it should.  That’s where warp comes in.

Let’s say I have a shape like this, that is really a snake (believe it or not) :

Now, that’s not really an exciting snake, but let’s grab a skin I created and see what I can do:

This is kind of a square peg in a round hole sort of problem, since the skin is a flat texture and the object is round.  We can overlay it and mask it and do all sorts of fun things, but it’ll still look like a flat paste on a curved object. Whatever shall we do?

Warp to the rescue.  All you have to do is put the skin layer over the black shape layer, and select the skin layer to transform it (CTRL T) like you normally would when you are resizing something.

[Note from the cheap seats: drop the layer opacity on the skin layer just a little, maybe to 90%.  Then you can see the underlying layer a little better.]

While it’s still in transform mode (in which you can still see the tiny box handles at the corners and sides), right click on the object.  A new menu pops out, and one of the choices is "Chicken-Hair-Pulling".

Ok, obviously it’s not, but since you thought I was going to say "warp" it’s funny anyway. Once you select warp/chicken-hair-pulling, a new framework appears around the skin layer, like so:

Each line and each dot on the grid can be grabbed, and pulled any which way you want. Wait, that sounds a bit… harassing.  Note to you people, no going out and grabbing things and pulling them which way you want.

Maybe I should say, the grid allows you to manipulate the layer freely, pulling it in any direction you want. In the case of the snake shape, it allows us to match the curve of the snake with a flat texture:

Now, in my case, I decided to use the texture multiple times over the whole shape to give it a better sense, but your mileage may vary.  You can manipulate one texture until you like what you see, or you can use multiple layers and either clone, heal or smooth them out to match later. After entirely too much work for an animal that’s mostly covered by water (yeah, I am silly sometimes and far too anal retentive on art) mine looks like this:

It gives a nice, wrapped sort of feeling to the texture, and makes it look much less like just a slapped on, taped on paste job and more like a realistic animal.  This is a curvy, organic creature, and any sort of flatness would throw the whole thing off.

The technique works pretty slick for any sort of round or organic object, and it’s easy enough to finish it off with shading (freehand or otherwise), mask and layer tricks or even just by itself if that’s what you need.  I combined it with a different shot, and darkened for effect (from a story it’s based on).

I’m not quite finished moving things over from the old server, hopefully that will be done this evening.  Adding links, putting in art gallery pages again, all the stuff that makes moving a website so wonderful.

At least installing Wordpress again was easy enough.

I don’t get to art museums and galleries enough, but it can really give you a different impression of a piece of art.  In this case, last week I was at the Phoenix Art Museum and saw the piece here, Pollice Verso (Thumbs Down) by Jean Leon Gerome (oil, 1872, 38″ x 59″).

First off, I do like the piece overall.  I think it has a good use of color, a very nice balance in composition and a good use of the light and dark shades to create a good contrast.  But I’ve always been a big fan of really detailed paintings, and this one offers that up by the boatload.  Even with the smaller image above of the full version, you can see where Gerome spent alot of time creating a detailed, realistic scene.

In real life, in the art museum, you get to appreciate that detail far more than you can in a small 600 pixel wide image on the screen, or even a 4 inch wide version in a book.  When you can stand in front of a piece that’s almost five feet across in front of you, you can see details that you could never see in the book.

At the bottom of the page here I’ve tried to give you an idea of some of the details you miss normally.  You see the intricate design of the victor’s arm mesh.  You see the representative designs on the gladiators’ helmets, very difficult to see in the full image onscreen.  You can see the humanity in the crowd, the the lack thereof of those who deciding the fate of those in the arena.  You also get to see history, and not just what’s represented.

When you are at a museum looking at a piece, more often than not you can literally put your nose inches away from the painting.  You get to see the age in the painting, the cracks that are obvious in the coppery helmet of the man on the ground, and those less obvious on his skin.

You can also see the artist’s individual, painstaking brushstrokes, and you realize that he stood in front of this very painting 136 years ago and put that brush on the canvas. The curve of the paint swath, the gentle rise and fall of the texture in the paint still visible after a century, and then you see history itself, alive right in front of you, you see that it’s not just a picture, but something a person laid to canvas in another time.

Opinions?

Russ

We’re back on a single piece of art this week (since I couldn’t decide on a different topic), this time it’s John Everett Millais’ The Blind Girl (Oil on canvas, 1854-1856, 32 1/2″ x 24 1/2″). It’s one of those pieces where the title really does impact what you see in the image, or at least makes it clear.

It’s an image of duality, of great beauty but of disturbing meaning.  A first glance is a visual feast, showing the beauty of nature, the unusual double rainbow that’s hard to come by in real life, and even the beautiful butterfly on the girl’s shoulder.  But it’s there that you start to realize that the girl in the orange dress can, cruelly, never enjoy the beauty around her. She is blind, and will never know the wonder that it around her. Even the smaller girl in her lap is a cruel twist, as she is fascinated by the environment, alone in her wonder.

Millais really uses a nice color palette and the contrast of the art to set a gorgeous scene.  Bright blue skies, ever flowing fields of green, even the brighter (if worn) blue dress of the smaller girl give such a bright sense to the art that you can’t help but think of a perfect day.  Even the blind girl’s dress is a soft shade of orange, almost teasing her with the brightness she will never see.

For me, Millais’ work always has wonderful detail work, and usually in natural settings. This one is no different, as Millais offers not only great details in the foreground, but a nice, even detail through the background as well. It’s not overpowering, but gives a sense of reality to the work.  What works best is that Millais knew where to soften that detail, knowing that the lack of details in the right areas will enhance the piece.

What I like most in the piece is just the idea that a second look at it, with more information, really sets it apart.  Many might just walk right on by it, noting the beauty of it and moving along.  It’s only on further thought, on further knowledge, that we find out that sometimes even the most beautiful things can really be dark.

Opinions?

Russ

This week, I'm talking about artist Gregory Manchess (www.manchess.com), one of those artists who seems to be able to fit into any genre. Whether it's work for movies or television, books or magazines, or even just fine art, Manchess has a great ability to capture different ideas in interesting and exciting ways.

If you happen to see the latest National Geographic Magazine in the store (February 2008), you're getting a look at Manchess' work.  Along with the cover, Manchess created artwork for the lead story, on the black pharaohs of Egypt.

 Which leads me to my first point about Manchess' art, his ability to capture historical accuracy within an otherwise loose palette.  Manchess' art has a certain “impressionistic” sense to it, with looser brush strokes and the idea that the viewer can fill in some of the details themselves.  But within that, he is able to add enough fine detail (or the hint of it) that you get the feeling of the art being complete, as if this were just a painted version of reality by an artist right on the spot.

Manchess also is able to give nearly any scene the idea of action, of the scene being just a split second of whatever is happening.  Part of that is in the brush style, but much of it is in the way that Manchess uses composition, color and lighting to give the sense that this scene is a moment from life, that life is in progress here and we're getting a glimpse at it.  Even in his still life work, it feels that there is action, and thus emotion, at play.

For me, Manchess reminds me every day that there are different ways to approach art. The image at the bottom here (from the Spectrum poster, “Something Wicked This Way Comes”) sits above my desk at work, and tells me that not only should I always explore different styles, but that with just a flick of the brush here or there any image can become fascinating.  Manchess is a true artist, and one of my personal favorites.

Opinions?

Russ

This week we're back to a piece of art, in this case Franklin Booth's War on the Tiger (ink, 1908). I'm a huge fan of ink and engraved works, and Booth was a master of the pen.  He is one of the most influential ink artists ever, and his techniques and styles can easily be seen among the best of today's pen and ink artists.

I happened upon a book about Booth last week, called Franklin Booth: Painter with a Pen, and I think that's a perfect way to describe his work.  This piece, War on the Tiger, really stood out as soon as I saw it.  It's a great exercise for ink artists to examine, a wonderful piece that defines perfection in inkwork.

One of the toughest things about doing inkwork is the balance between the detail work and the contrast of the overall image.  Often inked works will suffer from too much detail, and the overall idea or image that was intended is lost in the process.  In this image, Booth shows how to work with the dark and light images of the overall work, and yet not lose detail where it matters.  The lightness in the lower left corner compliments the darkness of the upper right, and both converge right where the action is, at the tiger.  

In fact, all of the action in this piece is aimed squarely at the tiger.  The people and animals are all pointed towards it.  The inkwork is designed to lead your eye to it.  Even the strong details and areas of light details all converge at the same spot.  This is actually where Booth succeeds, his greatest idea of all.  He's built tension in the image, mostly in your subconscious, and his techniques give you a sense of urgency and of swift action that is difficult to pull off.

For me, again a big fan of inkwork, his draftsmanship is beautiful.  From the delicate linework in the character's clothing, to the detailed look of the far off forest, to the intricately balanced but clean grasses in the foreground, Booth shows a masterful control of the ink and line.  That's certainly an artist's sight, looking at the linework and technique.  But I think Booth gives a nice, clean look to the whole piece, which anyone can appreciate over a messier, but maybe even further detailed piece.

Above all, Booth gives you a sense of the scene and of the action long before you start noticing technique.  This is a moment of truth, the men against the tiger, and within the grasses and natural environment seemingly against nature itself.  You get the excitement of the scene, the tension of the story within, and you can ask nothing more from a great artist.

Opinions?

Russ

On the road of the new and improved (or at least different) “This Week's Art” posts, this week I thought I'd talk about an art term.  Partly for those who may not know what it means, and partly because I get to learn a little too.  This week's art term/word is “Trompe l'oeil”.  No, I can't pronounce it either.  But as an effect in art I think it can be dazzling, and when used in combination with real life objects can be fascinating to behold.

Well, what is it?  Trompe l'oeil is, to me anyway, bringing an alternate reality to our own real setting. The french term itself means, “trick the eye,” which is exactly what it does using perspective and other artistic trickery. It can take many forms, from small paintings on canvas to the largest buildings, and is created to give the realistic illusion of some other reality. 

For example, in the rather ornate church image (at right/above; Jesuitenkirche, Vienna, Austria), the beautiful and ornate dome doesn't really exist at all.  In 1703, Andrea Pozzo created the painting of just the interior of the dome on a nearly flat section of the ceiling. Pozzo created a number of works using the technique, including several more churches in Europe.

Even recently, the effect is being used to enhance what would be otherwise drab walls and other areas.  Artist John Pugh (www.illusion-art.com) has created a number of monumental designs, including several of my favorites.  The one I have here at the bottom of the post, with the columns behind the seemingly broken wall, is on the side of Taylor Hall on California State University's campus (1981).  On this page here, you can see a final image of the “Cafe Trompe L'oeil” in San Jose, California, and an image right below it of the work in progress.

Trompe l'oeil doesn't necessarily have to be enormous either.  Henry Fuseli (aka Johann Heinrich Füssli) created a piece only 49 cm x 37 cm, called, of course, “Trompe l'oeil” (oil, 1750). The image is of a piece of paper with a sketch on it, hanging on a board.  Much like the larger works of the technique, the smaller image can really force a double take in real-life, and make someone stop and look at the art.

There are many more examples of the technique, and for me they are not only fun to look at, but also really make me think about perspective and how it can work in a two dimensional medium.  Many of the Trompe l'oeil artists pull off what many other artists are looking for: getting the viewer to forget for a moment about the technique and getting them to focus willingly on the art, and how it makes them feel when they see it.

Opinions?

Russ

As I mentioned last week, I'm hoping to change things up a little with the art blogs, and offer more than just a “piece of the week”.  I'll be featuring artists sometimes that you may be familiar with, if not in name than in work. 

This week, I'm going to talk about Michael Deas (www.michaeldeas.com), an artist who has done some fantastic work.  Many of those in the horror community have seen his cover of Richard Matheson's Hell House, or of one of the editions of Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire. Nearly everyone has seen his iconic Columbia Pictures logo as well.

Deas has been featured in many of the award compenums, including Spectrum and the Society of Illustrators.  One of my personal favorite images is the Hell House cover, which is striking.  It has a certain darkness to it that's hard to capture, and the chills it invokes are just what an artist is looking for in such a cover.  At the same time, Deas is able to convey lightness in a work, almost an iconic imagery at times that's truly opposite of the darkness he can also create.

His work has been featured in many different types of projects, not just in genre work. Many of his portraits can be seen on U.S. Stamps, including Hollywood stars, former presidents, historical characters and more.  He brings each character to life, seemingly not just a picture of a moment in time, but of the essence of the person.

Deas also has an eye for humor, as can be seen in some of his magazine work.  He also worked on a calendar for restaurant chain Chick-Fila, featuring “Cows in History”. 

Overall, I think Deas brings a heart to his work, and offers many pieces that just need to be seen to be appreciated.

Opinions?

Russ

After a busy (and depressing) holiday season, I'm attempting to restart the art blog idea.  This time though, I'm going to work things a little differently. Instead of just a piece of art each week, I'm going to alternate on artistic ideas.  Some weeks will still be about a certain piece, other weeks about artists or books/graphic novels, and other various art-related themes.  Hopefully people will still tune in.

For the first of the new year, I'm talking about Frank E. Schoonover's “Assault on Belleau Wood“, also known as “How Twenty Marines Took Bouresches” (oil, early 20th century). Schoonover was one of the great illustrators of the early 20th century, a student and friend of Howard Pyle.

In this piece, Schoonover shows a battle from World War I (information on the battle can be seen at http://www.worldwar1.com/dbc/ct_bw2eng.htm), and also showcases his wonderful abilities at realism and storytelling. There is a sense of action and tension in the art, as if we are seeing a certain moment in the story. The men all seem to be waiting for the next shot, the one that might have their name on it.

Schoonover does however give the scene almost a moment of pause to reflect on the dead at the front of the scene.  The body towards the left seems to have been there before, but the one in the foreground (right) seems to have just fallen, as indicated by the man directly above him.  Schoonover has succeeded in giving us a realistic moment of time, and includes the complexity that a real moment would have.

I like the composition of this piece quite a bit, I think Schoonover really draws in the story with it.  The open area between the lines of men is almost the line between life and death. The open, lighter area gives way to the dark figure in the center, one that we assume is either hanging on or has died right as the moment happened. The composition also curves in all respects towards the left, as if saying that the men are all moving forward, regardless of what's about to happen.

I can't speak to the color too much unfortunately, there are several versions online and the colors are slightly different in each.  In each though (especially in this version) there seems to be a brightness to the grasses and flowers, to me saying that horror and darkness can invade anywhere.  Even in the beauty of nature, the darkness of war can come.

Opinions?

Russ

This is Franz Von Stuck's Sin (1893, Oil on canvas, 35″ x 21″), which may get my vote for having perhaps the most accurate title of an art piece I've seen. 

I like the color choices and palette here that Von Stuck used, or rather a lack thereof.  He keeps the colors simple, nearly a duotone.  What he does use for color throughout, due to it's similarity, is a feeling of almost looking at the woman's skin even when you're not.  The colors around the outside are similar in shade and tone to the woman's body, and it's a temptation woven into the image. Even when you aren't taking a look at her body, you still get the sense you're looking into something seductive or even dark.

Von Stuck uses the composition well, though it's a simple piece. In many pieces, the artist (any artist) would be tempted to make the woman's head or even the snake's head be the center of attention. The higher contrast would normally be there with the faces, and it would be set in a more accessible place.  But Von Stuck's idea held simply to the inner thoughts of man, that when it comes to sin, you're going to look at the body and damn the consequences.  By placing the more ominous, even the more intelligent parts, to the darkness, and highlighting so brightly the body, the viewer is led to give into the very title of the piece.

The menacing snake (the extra bright closeup to the right) would be a bit much in some scenes, but I think in this one Von Stuck did well by placing it in the shadows.  The woman's face is still of the temptress, but the snake's face is all about evil.

I think that in this piece, Von Stuck has done something that can be very difficult in art: to (nearly) perfectly capture a human emotion.  You (ok, mostly men here I'd bet) are drawn right to woman's body, to the promise of lust, and to the seduction in the darkness of her face.  Von Stuck made it difficult to look away, even with the darkness and the evil so obviously present.  In that effect, he captured sin perfectly.  You know it's wrong, but not even the snake's going to stop you.

Opinions?

Russ