Clara Lieu's Blog, page 40

Disconnected

I felt really disconnected and out of it when I went to the studio yesterday.  It’s been a few days since I’ve been to the studio.  On top of that, I haven’t worked on these figure drawings in over a week because I was busy working on my first mezzotint plate. It was one of those studio sessions where I really had to force myself to get to work.

I’m questioning whether I can sustain working on the figure drawings and the mezzotints at the same time for this reason.  Both bodies of work are stylistically and technically so different from each other, and I’m not sure that I like the idea of feeling so mentally fragmented between the two series. For now, I’m going to put the mezzotints aside, so I can ponder whether or not to go ahead with them. I’m meeting with one of my colleagues this week, so I’m hoping to get some feedback about the mezzotints then.

Artist Grants

I had some down time this morning, so I checked in on my grant list. I always keep a list of grants I’ve applied for, and a list of grants that I want to apply for in the coming year. I mark up my calendar with deadlines, to be sure that I don’t miss anything.

I thought I would share my list of individual artist grants that I routinely apply for. Many grants are very specific about what they are looking for, so please note that this list is specific to my profile as an professional Boston based artist.

Massachusetts Cultural Council

John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation

Pollock Krasner Grant

Awesome Foundation

Adolph & Esther Gottlieb Foundation

Creative Capital

Harpo Foundation

Ruth and Harold Chenven Foundation

Elizabeth Greenshields Foundation

Berkshire Taconic Community Foundation, Artist’s Resource Trust

The Puffin Foundation

Do I commit?

Now that I’ve finished my first mezzotint plate, I’m ruminating about whether to move ahead with this series. Normally, this wouldn’t be such an important decision, but the high cost of working in mezzotint is making me think more than twice. With a 4″ x 5″ plate costing $35, and a 7″ x 12″ plate costing $120, I can’t imagine that I can afford to work larger than 4″ x 5.” If I go through with it, I know that the compulsive part of me will want to make 50 prints.   I have to think through very carefully whether I want to make this commitment or not.  Are the visual effects that I’m getting in the mezzotint worth the cost?

I worry whether these mezzotints will have enough of an impact.  All of my work for the past several years has been large in scale, and I wonder whether I’m discriminating against these mezzotints because they’re so small.  I suppose they will have a different kind of impact, one that is more intimate and quiet than the figure drawings I’m making right now.

What do you think, do I move ahead with this series of mezzotints, or do I keep experimenting with other media?

Fourth State

I’ve been so eager to work on this mezzotint that I went to the studio twice yesterday! I love the process of proofing and watching the image evolve as I work the plate. Since this plate is a test piece, I decided that I wanted to push the details and articulation as far as I could in this plate. I stayed very faithful to my reference photograph, trying to pick up all of the specifics that were there.  I think the fourth state was actually trying too hard to copy the reference photograph, and I probably should have stopped working on the plate sooner. This was a good exercise though, better to go too far and then pull yourself back rather than wonder how things could have been.

I think that my favorite state was the second state. In the second state, the image is more suggestive and ambiguous and therefore feels more dimensional. I’ll know for the future to stop earlier in the process to retain this quality.

Second state, below

Third state, below.

Fourth (and final) state, below.

First Mezzotint

My pre-rocked mezzotint plate arrived from Graphic Chemical two days ago. I was really excited about getting to work on the plate. I tried to forget that I was working on a 4″ x 5″ plate that cost $35!  I started out very lightly, sketching in a basic outline with a pencil on the surface of the rocked ground.  The ground seemed very fine, so I was very conservative when I started scraping and burnishing into the surface of the plate. Since I can’t add blacks back into the image, I figured that it’s better to scrape less, print a proof, and then see how far the image went.

It’s been fun assembling all of the various supplies that I need to print, many of the supplies have been sitting around, unused for many years now. I’m going to print on my tiny printing press that I bought back in 1999 when I used to make drypoints in my apartment living room. I’m using blotters that I purchased back in 2008, Rives BFK paper that has been sitting in my closet for several years, and old cans of Graphic Chemical Renaissance Black. I have an obsession with Renaissance Black, it’s a black ink that has a lot of burnt umber mixed into it, so it has a warmth to it that I just love. That combined with the velvety blacks of mezzotint should be an amazing combination.

I always get really nervous before I print the first proof.  You inherently build all of these expectations of what you think the image will look like based on the plate. Sometimes the proof lives up to that, and other times it’s just completely different and not what you expected at all. I was pleased to see upon printing the first proof that the image was still quite dark, which means that my conservative approach to scraping worked well.

I felt much more confident being more aggressive with my scraping after seeing how the first proof turned out. The second state that you see below was better in terms of brightening certain passages, but still has a ways to go in terms of activating some of the other areas. What do you think of these results? Should I move forward and commit myself to a series of mezzotints? Do you see potential here?  Or do I drop this and do something else?

Artist Masterclass: Logistics

Artist Masterclass is a series of conversations between myself and visual artist Sara Bloem. 

SB: As we discussed last week, my primary visual motif and metaphor will be women putting on and taking off clothes. I have done studies of that from photo reference, and I’ve also been trying to figure out what techniques I want to use – how I want everything to look stylistically. There are a number of concerns on my plate right now, but I’ll narrow it down to a few. 1) It’s become clear to me I need to take some good, real-life reference photographs this week. Without reference, everything is too theoretical and scattered. I’m not sure right now who I will use (myself or friends?) and what I’ll be using to take pictures with. 2) I fear that I’m overanalyzing every step as a means of procrastination. 3) I need to establish a stronger plan for how the multiple figures in each composition are posed.

CL: For your reference photographs, I really think you should hire a model, it’s expensive, but it’s worth it. It’s vitally important that you’re behind the camera so you can make compositional decisions while you shoot. If you use yourself as a model for the reference photos you’ll lose control of the situation.

SB: I also did what we talked about way back when I was in your freshman foundation drawing course. I looked up images online of women disrobing, just to see what’s already out there.

CL: What did we talk about?

SB: The importance of starting your research broad and casting the net wide, so you know what’s been done. All the online images of people half in and out of clothes are ridiculous. The people look plastic. The clothes are on them but like, ironed into place. So I know what I don’t want to do now.

CL: Sometimes knowing what you don’t want to do puts you closer to what you do want to do.

I find a process of elimination to be quite helpful at times. I’m curious about the overanalyzing as a means of procrastination that you’re experiencing right now.

SB: I find myself writing a lot of little notes to myself as I get more and more anxious about the project. “What if I did it that way?” “No, I don’t like the thing I just drew, I should make things less.” That’s literally what I write down. But the notes don’t help me as much as actually doing things. I feel anxious because I perceive many challenges along the course of this project. It’s easy to see all the obstacles.

CL: This is going to be your first professional body of work executed outside of a school context, that’s a pretty big deal if you think about it. I think that I always feel anxious about my work, there’s just so much to worry about. I worry that I can’t live up to my own standards. I worry that the work will be awful and I will see nothing but regret when I look back on the work.

SB: Especially after you graduate, and being at school seems like this beautiful, luxurious dream.

CL: There will come a point where you will no longer miss being a student. That sounds weird right now, but in a few years you will feel that way. I don’t miss being a student anymore, I used to.

SB: Why don’t you miss being a student anymore?

CL: I like having months, even years to ponder the concepts in my work. In school, everything you’re doing feels like you’re just briefly sampling appetizers. By contrast, I started my current project, Falling back in 2010.

SB: I can see that. I feel like there’s a simmering process going on right now, as opposed to a full boil before, in school.

CL: So what about the compositions, how many figures are we talking per composition?

SB: I’m thinking 2-3 figures. Last week I was just excited about moving forward with the gestures of clothing and unclothing. But I hadn’t thought about what gestures would bond the different figures within a composition. I do think it’s important to have multiple figures, because I want it to suggest a broader historical scope as opposed to a single personal story.

CL: How’s this for an idea: hire 2-3 models and have them all pose at the same time. That complicates things, but it would be really interesting to see how they interact with each other in the same space. I think if you shoot one figure at a time you will lose that physical interaction. I have an idea for your camera problem: can you rent a camera? I’m sure B&H in Manhattan must have something like that.

SB: This might be a silly question, but where do you hire your models from?

CL: I met all of the artist models in town through my classes when I used to teach at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts many years ago. There are so many logistics to being an artist, I’m sometimes in awe that anything gets done. I don’t think you’re procrastinating, it just feels like it’s because things take time. After all, you have plenty to talk about this week and you just sent me sketches. As long as you’re putting in the hours you can’t not progress. Don’t compare your progress to what you used to accomplish in school. You have to be incredibly patient after school. You just have to develop a different rhythm. It’s a big adjustment, and it will take time.

SB: Thanks for saying that. Really, I feel 900% more calm right now.

CL: I remember knowing what I needed to do when I was a student, but I was afraid to go through with it. It’s like I needed a teacher to say it out loud to me before I could proceed.

SB: Fortunately, I feel that somewhat less now, now that I’m out of school. I feel much freer when making work.

Ask the Art Professor: How can an artist overcome their financial issues?

“How can an artist overcome their financial issues?”

Finances are one of the tough realities of being an artist that rarely gets talked about. This is surprising, considering what a major issue finances are for most artists. Being an artist is costly. Every artist inevitably has to deal with three major expenses: 1) a studio space, 2) materials and 3) time to work.

Finding, maintaining and paying for a studio space is of great concern for all artists. One of the prevailing myths about being an artist is that you have to move to New York City right after school to start your career. Unless you’re independently wealthy, I couldn’t think of worse advice to give. The young artists I know who did this had an extremely hard time financially. It’s quite common for artists in New York City to find themselves paying for a studio space that they don’t use because their time is dominated by trying to stay afloat financially. Instead, start elsewhere, in a less expensive city where you can be more financially stable. In a context like that, you can gain a few years of professional experience, and build up a body of work before tackling New York City. Living in a smaller city may not be as glamorous, but you’re much more likely to be able to afford a studio space that you are actually putting to good use.

If you really can’t afford a studio space, there are alternatives. When I was a recent graduate, I purchased a small, inexpensive printing press and made intaglio prints and oil paintings in my living room for four years. If you work at a school, you can use the facilities there. When I worked at Wellesley College, I had a sculpture studio, a printshop, a drawing studio, a painting studio, and computer labs all at my fingertips. At times, this situation was tricky to navigate, as I had to work around students and class schedules, and I couldn’t leave my work out. However, these minor inconveniences were well worth it for the amount of money that I was able to save during that time.

Purchasing materials never ends. Every artist has their own way of dealing with this, ranging from artists who work with cheap or free materials to artists who are buying the most high end materials out there. In graduate school I had a friend who always seemed to be showing up with terrific objects all the time for her sculpture work. Every time I asked her where she got her materials, she would reply “the garbage”. At the opposite end of the spectrum, I have a colleague who will only paint with Old Holland oil paints, which cost on average $50 for one 40 ml tube of paint.

I’m intensely organized about what materials I use because I know that any misstep could result in hundreds of wasted dollars. I spend months planning my projects before I invest money in expensive materials so that I am absolutely certain when I make purchases. Whenever I use a new material, I always start out by purchasing a small quantity that I can test out before launching into a full scale project.

Time is the most precious thing you can “buy.” The difficulty for many artists is that they are forced to choose one of two options, neither of which is ideal: 1) being financially stable, but having little time to work on their art or 2) scraping by financially, but having time to work on their art. Achieving a balance that allows you to be financially stable with plenty of time to work on your art is the ultimate dream for most artists.

The first four years after I graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design, I experimented with both extremes. For the first two years I worked more than full-time hours, and said yes to every single job opportunity. I was financially stable, but I didn’t make any artwork for two years. I did sketches here and there, but I was so busy patching together paid jobs that I had no time to create anything substantial. When I started getting serious about applying to graduate school, I knew that I had to reserve large blocks of time so that I could work on my portfolio. I went part-time at my teaching job, lived on $850 a month, and nearly depleted my savings account privately hiring artist models. However, I painted on average 20 hours a week, and within two years had completed my first professional body of work.

Today, I’ve achieved a healthier balance. I accept the fact that there will be periods when I have time in the studio, and periods when I have to sacrifice time in order to take a paying job. I try to constantly move back and forth between the two, so that neither approach takes over. There are certainly compromises. It means squeezing in two hours in the studio after a long day of teaching. I wait, longer than I want to, to save enough money to afford the materials I want. I share a studio space with another artist to cut down on costs. Even after working as a professional artist for thirteen years, I still consider this balance to be a work in progress that I will be continually working on.

Ask the Art Professor is a weekly advice column for visual artists. Submit your questions to clara(at)claralieu.com

RISD Project Open Door

This semester I’m teaching a course for RISD Project Open Door. POD is a wonderfully unique program, whose dual mission is to “1) to increase access to high quality arts learning and careers in art and design for under-served Rhode Island teens, and (2) to provide a community education laboratory for RISD students, alumni, faculty, and staff.” I’m teaching the Portfolio course, which is for sophomores and juniors in high school.

I used to teach at the high school level many years ago, so it’s been a while since I’ve worked with this age group. I taught printmaking for several years at the Walnut Hill School for the Arts.  I also spent several summers teaching in the RISD Pre-College program, and one year teaching at Concord Academy.

Right now we are in the middle of working on an organic form assignment.  Students were asked to take inspiration from objects in the RISD Nature Lab, and to create their own unique organic form. Working with reed and armature wire, students have been creating the structural framework for their form over the past few weeks.

This project takes a lot of persistence and patience, wrapping the armature tightly around the reed is no easy task, and getting the form to be structurally sound can be really challenging.  The toughest part of the project is the very beginning, when the main forms are not established yet. Below are some examples of the completed frameworks.  Next week we’ll be adding tracing paper with paper mache to create a “skin” for the forms. Stay tuned to see the finished works!

Proportions

After many weeks, some of the pieces have finally dried, so I worked last night on cross-hatching the the x-acto knife and some adjustments with the lithographic crayon. I also started sketching in with vine charcoal a second figure into this composition.  It sounds easier than it is, it’s tough to draw a figure on top of another and to maintain the right proportions. I keep getting lost in the figure that’s already there and losing track of the figure I’m sketching in. It just gets more confusing the more figures I add into the composition.

Contemporary Mezzotints

I’ve been reading through Carol Wax’s book “The Mezzotint: History and Technique“, as well as researching contemporary mezzotints online. I also found Davidson Galleries in Seattle, which seems to represent a number of contemporary mezzotint artists.  The pickings are pretty slim, as there are so few artists out there practicing this medium today. What I’ve noticed in looking at contemporary mezzotints is that the majority of them feature dazzling technical skills, but don’t seem to have much going on in terms of their subject matter. The majority of subjects seem to be photo-realistic still life images that are small in scale. I actually really love this Yozo Hamaguchi mezzotint of grapes seen below, but it seemed to be the only still life image that really spoke to me in my research.

Yozo Hamaguchi

I found very few figure or portrait images.  The ones that I did find just seemed to be artful nudes, like the works of Mikio Watanabe.  His mezzotints are technically extraordinary, but in my opinion don’t go anywhere in terms of content.

Mikio Watanabe

I’m still eagerly waiting for my prerocked plate from Graphic Chemical to arrive.  I’m thrilled to have a reason to return to intaglio printmaking.  I worked on a few monotype experiments in recent years, but I haven’t done any intaglio work since 2006 when I was working on the Waiting series.  I really, really want these mezzotints to work out, I think they will provide a nice balance and contrast to the large scale figure drawings I’m working on right now.