THE SANDS OF TIME...

IT'S been a busy year and I haven't found the time--no, make that--I haven't made the time--to create any new blog articles until just now. When I get back in the saddle again like I want to I will probably back-post my articles to keep in line with my absurd goal of having one published for every month of the year.  

One of the things that have kept my attention elsewhere was completing my first ever painted illustration, an acrylic on canvas board, 18 x 24 inches. Although it didn't start out to be an homage to one of my favorite novels, The Sands of the Kalahari by William Mulvihill (Putnam, 1960), or its subsequent 1965 film starring Stuart Whitman, that's ultimately what it became.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

It took me 27 years to complete the painting. Wait, ha ha, let me explain. 

I initially sketched it back in 1998. It was going to be a portrait of my brother Gary. Then for reasons I don't remember I put it into storage. Then this Summer I read that the Curtis Center was having an "open lab" in July and August, totaling five sessions, so I quickly signed up, grabbed my old sketch, and along with a brand new set of acrylic paint and some never before used brushes (by me, I mean), I drove on down.

There were ten of us in the open lab. Seven were oil painters (either landscape or still-life), one was a mixed media dabbler, and one an acrylic abstract doer, and then there was me, a guy with relatively no painting experience. You would think that an illustration fan such as myself would have delved into painting a long time ago but the medium has always intimidated me, plus I don't like messy paint cleanup--I've colored too many walls in my life to believe that cleaning art tools are any less of a hassle than house painting tools. 

Our lab host was Elizabeth Rouland, a professional artist, printmaker, oil painter and teacher (here's a link to her website, which I heartily recommend visiting). She had the unenviable task of giving us tips, advice and encouragement, all while doing her best to not impede our painting time. I'm pretty sure that I speak for everyone when I say that her knowledge of the medium was extremely helpful to us, and her presence came to not only be greatly appreciated, but greatly valued. And yet even with her support by the time the last session was over I still had not completed the face in my piece, or for that matter, inserted the baboons, so I was forced to go home and easel-up in my own small office. Surprisingly, I was then able to paint both baboons in one take, but I ended up fussing over the man's face and his right arm (seen on our left) so many times that the paint began to build up in bumpy layers. Too dark, too light, too pink, too red, too yellow, too brown. The man's left arm seemed nearly perfect though, so I refrained from touching it up further, but I could never match its color properly to either the face or the other arm. I also fussed with the shirt too much, nearly ruining it in the process. I also tried unsuccessfully to transition the sky from light blue to dark blue, ending up instead with one solid tone. Aargh! My wife finally told me to stop fussing altogether and she was right. So I stopped then and there and came to grips with what I had completed. The man's face, which now doesn't look anything like my brother's, isn't exactly to my liking (I see flaws aplenty) but I keep reminding myself that this was my first effort in this medium, and that I should be better the next go around. Right now I see my simple but flawed tribute to The Sands of Kalahari as a building block to a hopefully stronger foundation. 

Here are some things I learned during my acrylic rite of passage:

1. When I started to paint all of the trepidation I had about doing so began to slowly fade away. I discovered to my astonishment that I actually enjoyed the process of painting, from mixing colors to applying different brushes to creating detail and values. Even the dreaded clean-up turned out to be relatively easy (oils are another thing of course!). And when I made an inclusion or an alteration, like adding a fearsome baboon and stretching the mountains towards the forefront, there was an undeniable sense of having achieved something positive. It was exhilarating actually.

2. Mix enough paint for each area that you are working on. That way you don't have to try and recreate the same color after the fact when you decide an area needs more attention (I bought a single 6.5 x 8.5 inch Masterson Sta-Wet Handy Palette Box but quickly learned I needed a second one to hold even more paint--note: Masterson does make a larger version).

3. Rendering extreme detail, like one does easily with a pencil, is really difficult with a brush. One has to be cognizant of that fact when attempting to do so. Here's my advice for acrylic users: buy yourself an acrylic pen (or two or three). They come in different colors and also in fine point (that's how I signed my name on the lower right side). And although I didn't try it for myself, they should be applicable for certain kinds of detail work.

4. Before inserting clouds into your scene practice doing a few on a separate sheet of paper first. That way you won't have to paint over them or waste time trying to fix them when they are not to your liking. In my case the cloud was compromising the diagonal line of my composition and had to go.

5. Getting started in art is an expensive undertaking, and will only get worse because of tariffs. I was fortunate in that I already owned dozens of brushes, several palette knives and several canvas boards (I had acrylic and oil paints too but over the years they hardened and had to be tossed out). The history of these acquisitions began when a former colleague of mine, Nina, held an estate sale of her deceased father's things. Nina was the daughter of Seymour Tubis (1919-1993), a nationally known painter and instructor of art. His artwork is represented in the collections of the New Mexico Museum of Art in Santa Fe, the Library of Congress, the National Gallery of Art and the Smithsonian American Museum in Washington D.C., and the Worcester Art Museum in Worcester, Massachusetts.  Tubis studied at Temple University, the Philadelphia Museum School of Art, and at the Art Students League in New York. During WWII he served as a cartographer for the US Army. After his honorable discharge he continued his art studies at the L'Academie de la Grande Chaumiere in Paris and at the Istituto d'Arte Porta Romana in Florence, Italy. When he eventually returned to the United States he began teaching painting and printmaking in Rockport, Massachusetts, and at the Art Students League in New York City and at the Brooklyn Museum School of Art.  In 1962 Tubis moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where he spearheaded the printmaking department of the Institute of American Indian Arts. He served as chair of the department from 1963 to 1981. When he retired Tubis moved to Denver and bought a home in the Virginia Village neighborhood. That's where his estate sale was held. Everything in his impressive basement studio was up for grabs except for his paintings and drawings, which were all neatly arranged in homemade racks and map cases. I wound up buying a large box of brushes, paints, paper and other assorted art supplies, paying no more than ten bucks for the lot. It was those high quality brushes of Tubis's that I used to paint my first ever illustration. Thank you Seymour, Nina, and Nina's Mom, I will always be indebted.

BELOW are a few examples of Seymour Tubis's varied artwork. Further down are some of Elizabeth Rouland's artwork. (Note: Click on any image to enlarge).

Seymour Tubis. Watercolor and charcoal, 19x25, 1946

 

Seymour Tubis. Etching, aquatint and drypoint on paper, 1949

Seymour Tubis. Etching and aquatint on paper, 1949

Seymour Tubis. Charcoal on paper, 18x24, 1950 

Seymour Tubis. Oil on paper, 24x18, 1979

Seymour Tubis. Mixed media on board, 48x24, undated

Seymour Tubis. Pastel on paper, 18x25, undated

Seymour Tubis. Ink & pastel on paper, 6x9, undated

BELOW are some examples of Elizabeth Rouland's excellent oil paintings (I absolutely love her "canoes floating in tranquility").

Elizabeth Rouland. Oil on panel, 24x30

Elizabeth Rouland. Oil on panel, 24x48

Elizabeth Rouland. Oil on panel, 24x24

Elizabeth Rouland. Oil on panel, 16x20

AND finally, a bonus piece below by fellow lab artist John Hartfield. John specialized in creating colorful abstracts with liquid acrylic paint. He is heckuva nice guy too and it was fun to watch him work.  

John Harfield. Acrylic on stretched canvas, 2025

THE open lab was such a positive experience for me that when Elizabeth said she would be teaching a class in October entitled, "Self-Portrait in Oils," I decided to sign up for that as well. Elizabeth assured me that I could use any medium, it didn't have to be just oil. That was a big relief of course, so now I'm thinking about bringing along both oil and acrylic supplies. Perhaps even gouache.

Here's the class's description:

 

'Selfies have been around since ancient Egyptian times! Since then, artists have snuck their own mugs into everything from illuminated manuscripts to epic religious scenes, and they've painted their own portraits for the fun of studying a free, always available model. Self-portraits allow the artist to to study portraiture with a live model while also capturing a moment in time in their own lives. Through a series of drawing and painting exercises, we will study portraiture from observation using our own reflections in a mirror. By studying the planes of the head, mixing skin tones, and working out compositional ideas through small value studies, students will prepare to develop a larger self-portrait from observation over the six-weeks.'

I can't wait for class to start!

 

[© September, 2025, Jeffersen]