Mention painting wet into wet with watercolour, and many a person seems to have a vision of a wildly spreading chaos like this: (video link)
Whereas wet-into-wet can be a tightly controlled technique. It all depends on how you wet the paper and how you apply the paint.
If you’re on totally dry paper, carefully wet a specific shape, and then apply paint within this area only, it won’t spread out into the dry paper. As I’m doing here with a shape that’s excessively wet to illustrate the point: (video link)
(My apologies, do not adjust your glasses, the focus does get a little fuzzy at one point in the video.)
It also shows how a good flat brush gives you a very sharp edge or line and control. Note too how I’m using my little finger to steady my hand on occasion; it’s not something I consciously do, though I know I do it only if I’m painting sitting down.
I love the “look like a scientist” line, that if you want accuracy in a drawing you need to look at the subject in a different way. Look like a scientist, not everyday looking. Learning to look is as much part of learning to draw as mark making.
It’s also about persistence and developing on what you did before. Too many adults pick up a pencil, give drawing something a go, and then give up because it doesn’t have the degree of realism they imagine they should be able to produce effortlessly.
The “it must look real” in order to be good or worthwhile art is a can of worms, not least because there are many forms or styles of drawing, realism being but one. Rather than saying “what is it?” try “tell me about your drawing”.
You’ve heard the motivational speech: keep at it, practice more and you’ll get the results you wish. But will it?
Repeating the same thing again and again isn’t going to get you anything but a pile of similar results. It’s not only about regular practice, it’s also about how you approach it. You need to look critically (constructive not destructive self-critique). Assess what you’re pleased with and what not, where the successes are and failings, where you want to be and where you are. Then work out what your next practice piece should be.
This week I’ve been practising painting a sheepdog in acrylic inks, with the aim to have detailed realism in the face, getting increasingly expressive outwards. I’ve a specific subject, style and medium, not a vague “I’ll practise painting dogs”.
I’ve various reference photos printed out to check details, but not with the aim of copying one photo. I think of it as a visual dictionary where I look up specific things as I’m working and to crosscheck my visual memories of sheep dogs I’ve met. I do it whilst I’m painting and afterwards.
I chose acrylic inks, working on paper, because they’re transparent and can be used like watercolour but without the danger of lifting existing layers of colour (or mixing them into mud which I still do too readily). Earlier this year I painted sheep dogs with tube acrylics on canvas and didn’t want to do that again just yet (which is not to say I won’t ever again, just that it’s not what I’m doing this week).
The photo below shows where I tried and tried again and tried again. Each has bits I am pleased with but none works overall for me. I like the nose on the leftmost dog and the sense of snout on the rightmost. The ears are too big, making her look like a puppy. I’m happy with the sense of fur in all three, but also the looser wash on the leftmost body.
The background on the centre piece came about when I tried to dab off a bit of excess ink and instead created a blob on the until-then-white background, so I repeated it to make a background. I think it distracts, it’s too busy, but maybe cropping in tightly would solve that. On the rightmost one I used tube white to re-establish the white of the background around the ears, and was reminded that you can’t get back to “paper white”, you have to start with “painted white” if you want it to match.
What will I do next? I feel I need to focus in on individual parts instead of doing the whole, spending time painting some noses only, to get the shading, sense of wet-ness, without the distraction of the ‘other bits’. These three paintings will stay propped up where I can see them for a bit still, as encouragement to keep going.