Yoga for the Oil Painter



My experience in Florence, Italy, transformed my appreciation of the challenges and importance of drawing the human figure, inspiring my personal growth and resilience.  I was there for 7 weeks as part of the Florence Academy of Arts Drawing and Painting Intensive. The class was a condensed version of the 2-year course of study, covering the same topics but drastically shortened. Figure drawing was a component of the curriculum, and one that was both challenging and transformative.

Figure drawing of a long 3+ hour pose is a different set of challenges that doing a series of short, say 15 min poses

The class ran for six weeks, from 9 to 4 pm Monday through Thursday. Friday was a free day, and we were encouraged to explore the city's many museums. There were 12 adult students from around the world with varied backgrounds.  The whole program was intense and very guided. This was not like the classes or workshops I had experienced in Boston/Cambridge, where students could pick their subject or start creating art, and the instructor would walk by to offer additional feedback and a little guidance.

Replicating classic anatomical drawings was a great way to start this intensiove class.

This was more like what I envision the military to be. We were provided specific subjects to paint. We were told how to place the subject relative to our drawing or painting surface. We put masking tape on the floor to mark the easel and subject so that if we needed to come back the next day, we would be sure everything was in the same place.

We used masking tape to mark on the floor where our subject and easel were to ensure everthing was always the same positioning.

We were instructed on how to look at an object, what to look for in a subject, how to measure an object's dimensions, and how to estimate its proportions. We were guided on how to start a painting and given a heads-up on things to avoid. It was incredible, and I enjoyed it immensely. However, it was truly like drinking out of a fire hose. There was so much new information and skills in such a short time, and I learned that trial and error is a vital part of mastering art. Embracing mistakes and persistence helped me improve.

We started the course by copying classic drawings of anatomical elements, such as an arm or a hand. The expectation was to replicate the drawing exactly, including the line weight and form. Initially, it was not a very creative experience but rather like a series of technical drills. I recall having drinks with all the fellow students after class one evening, and we shared how the class experience was different from what we all expected. Everyone was very appreciative of the instruction and the learning experience. Still, we joked that our friends at home would be expecting to see lots of elaborate, colorful paintings we would have created after 2 weeks in Italy, when all we had made were a few high-quality drawings of hands and arms. It was very humorous. It really bonded us as a group, as we were experiencing something very special and unique to us, something no one but us would have understood.

After more elaborate drawing experiences, each lasting at least 1/2 a day on a single subject, we moved on to painting. Painting was started very simply, four colors with the simplest still life, a single pear placed in a black box to create the background to make the object really pop. 

The pinnacle of the class was figure drawing,  closer to the end, as it really relied on the skills developed in the previous weeks. I actually had two different experiences with figure drawing in Italy. One was in a very guided class. The other was more open and free, at a drop-in figure drawing session open to the public on Thursday evenings at our school.  This was quite interesting as I was able to be exposed to other artists beyond those in my class, some of whom were highly experienced. In these open studios, there was no guidance offered, as there was no instructor. There was a minimal fee, and attendees would bring their own drawing or painting tools. As I recall, almost all of the students were drawing.

Even a non-artist can tell if the alignment of the human form is off even in the slightest

The model had a handler, someone who would deal with the individual leading the session, handle the business side of things, and certainly book the gig. I found it fascinating that being a life model could be a real job in Florence, Italy. The model would work with the open studio lead to set up the pose. The model would be on a slightly raised platform in the front of the studio, with the students arrayed all around their canvases at about a 120-degree angle.

 They would hold a single pose for the entire session, about 3 hours, so the pose needed to be engaging and developmentally valuable to all students, regardless of their location around the platform. There was a lot of back and forth, with the model making changes - hand on thigh? Hand on hip? Seated or standing? Leaning on a vertical rod? With the light adjusted to show good shadows, revealing the form. 

Once the pose was established, the session would begin. As a beginner figure drawer, 3 to 4 hours in a single pose is a very different experience and expectation from the typical short sessions I was accustomed to.  In my previous experience in Boston and Cambridge, MA, any time I participated in figure drawing sessions, they were a series of short poses, each maybe 15 minutes long, and then the model would change, and a new drawing would start. These became more of a quick sketch, attempting to capture the proportions of the figure, a challenging task in itself, and documenting the most significant differences in value. The shape of the darkest shadows, the contour of the medium values. The expectation of detail and fidelity can be low, since you only have this short period of time for the pose before moving on to a fresh pose, fresh paper, and a fresh drawing.

With a long-form pose, expectations are higher, and the approach is very different. Luckily, the Academy provided us with specific techniques in the figure drawing segment of the curriculum. They offered techniques and methods for each phase of the drawing process. Locking the key points of the figure on the surface,  the top of the head, the lowest point of the figure, usually the end of a big toe pointed down, the chin, breasts, pubic area, and knees. These would all be marked on the paper first vertically and then horizontally. It is the most essential part of the drawing, and having professional guidance was helpful. However, even with the guidance, this is highly challenging.

There are aspects of figure drawing that make it so unique, powerful, and foundational to a visual artist. You do not need to be a trained art instructor to know if your drawing is not reflecting the subject accurately. As a human, it will be very apparent. This is very different from documenting a subject, such as a landscape, where it can be more forgiving. Suppose the relative distance between a tree and a barn is a bit off. In that case, it will not jump out in the same manner as if the distance between the shadow of an eye socket and a nostril is off, even in the smallest amount. You will know immediately. 

This introduces a series of alerts, but knowing how to fix them is another story. Shifting one element will affect everything else. And there is also the technique of erasing and redrawing. It is a constant flowing, lively experience that is one of the most challenging mental experiences I have ever encountered. Because of the fact that you can see, process, and be aware of any errors, and that everything is completely interrelated, and you are dealing with the most fundamental parts of our brain, the human figure. We are hard-wired to process the human form.

Developing the skill to draw the human figure is one of the most profound examples of the learning process. Trial and error. Completing a project with a result you may not be thrilled with, one that has errors, but you start again and do your best. Guidance from instructors or experienced artists can be very helpful in developing techniques and approaches for various aspects of this. Still, a lot of it is just doing it. Trying and failing, and our amazing human brain will develop skills just by doing. 

I often tell people that figure drawing for a visual artist is like yoga for an athlete. It is helpful and applicable to any area of visual art you participate in, as it develops foundation skills. It is something you may not master, but it is good to keep doing, staying focused, and trying to learn and improve. Figure drawing helps calibrate the accuracy of what an artist sees with what they place on the canvas, particularly in terms of proportions, form, and shape. Suppose you master how to accurately document the proportions indicated by the human form. In that case, you will be in a much better place to do so for the more forgiving bowl of fruit still life.

I am very grateful for the intensive, immersive human figure drawing experience I had in Florence, Italy. It revealed the extraordinary artistic and development opportunity this activity offers me as an artist and as an active, engaged, curious person in our physical world.




My Saturation Fascination

While studying oil painting techniques, I found color saturation fascinating. Though some may find it dull, I get excited about topics many overlook. Color saturation in painting is powerful and important, and it fuels a long learning journey.

When learning to create artwork, the color wheel is always a mini-project required by instructors early in their curricula. Open any how-to painting book or start any art class, and creating a color wheel is right there. I always understood the structure of this tool, how the various colors in the wheel progress, and mainly how they relate. However, I was not aware of its most powerful uses until I grasped the concept of saturation.

Color saturation refers to the intensity or purity of a color—how vibrant or muted it appears. A red with high saturation is bright and vibrant, while a low-saturation red is dull, approaching grey. When any color is completely desaturated, it approaches grey.

There are two aspects of saturation that a painter needs to consider. The first relates to influencing the viewer and convincing them of your idea. Here, you are always trying to convey structure, depth, and ultimately, tell a story and evoke emotion. To achieve this, manipulating color vibrance across a canvas is one of many tools available. For example, an object you want to be perceived as distant should be less saturated, with less color. Similarly, elements intended to appear in shadow would also be less saturated.

This is not some rule that artists have agreed upon and created. It instead reflects how humans perceive and process color, based on light physics and the way our retinas work. It’s very sophisticated stuff, and the artist needs to find a way to work with ease in this physics framework.

The other important aspect for the artist is technique, or controlling the saturation of paint on the canvas, which is directly tied to color mixing. Paints straight from the tube can be placed on a color wheel by hue, depending on their relationship to the three primary colors.

Where an unaltered, out-of-the-tube color resides on the color wheel is not always obvious. Raw umber and ivory black are great examples of this. Raw umber is a desaturated yellow, while ivory black is a highly desaturated blue. It sounds very strange when you look at these paints on your palette, but once you mix them, it becomes apparent.

We all know that blue and yellow mix to create green. If we mix ivory black with a bright yellow, we get a paint mix that is a very murky green, and not really a murky yellow. The blue from the ivory black is making itself known.

Raw umber straight from the tube does not resemble yellow to the untrained eye. It is a dull, uninteresting brown. However, if it is mixed with a bright blue, the yellow will once again be revealed, as the resulting mix is closer to green.

There are two main methods to desaturate a color: add grey, or mix in the complementary color (the one opposite on the color wheel). I generally prefer the complementary method because it produces more visually compelling, dynamic results. To use this approach effectively, you need to precisely identify the color positioning of your paint tubes on the color wheel.

A vibrant cadmium yellow will be high saturation, the muted yellow ochre will be less saturated, and the boring, brownish raw umber is the least saturated of the bunch. These general pigments would be used to desaturate the paint mix found on the opposite side of the color wheel, which is violet. So if there were a purplish object you wanted to convey to the viewer, as in shadow or in the distance, you would consider adding yellow to the mix. The super-powerful raw umber, which seems like Dullsville, is often a great choice for this.

I remember when I was starting out, burnt umber and raw umber were always added to the palette—I thought, 'Ugh, how boring.' Why do these uninteresting colors keep showing up? It’s because they are very effective for pulling out color. You very rarely use paint straight out of the tube—it's too much, and it doesn't reflect our world. You need to pull it back into something more useful and convincing.

Understanding the concept of saturation is straightforward, but the reality, as always in life, is more nuanced. Colors from the paint tube are never exact opposites of each other on the color wheel because they are created from a single raw pigment, which has inherent color properties. Therefore, the artist needs to understand how various colors mix, how they play together, and their strengths. It is like understanding the diverse personalities and work habits of your team members.

Learning about these personalities is extremely interesting, satisfying, and a great way to develop your mind.