Color Tests

I spent the weekend in the lazy way. Cleaning and reading. My apartment is now gleaming and glistening with the vague scent of seasonal all-purpose cleaner clinging to the air. I have given myself a gift.

Now I’m back to my work of a picture book dummy.

I think it would be prudent to play with colors before going into the final illustrations. Actually I think don’t think it’s just prudent. I think it’s a no-brainer. There’s nothing I love more than referencing my own art while I’m painting. My table is usually surrounded by sketches, so adding thumbnail paintings to that is the perfect fit.

Sunset Sketch

The Process

I avoided working for a bit. I spent a bit of time touching up the paint of the frame for my last illustration. I picked out an audiobook on Libby. I started a load of laundry. I got the polish off my nails. I cut up a horrible painting for high quality scraps. I dragged my table over to the window for optimal light. (The days are hot and I’m keeping most of the blinds down to conserve air conditioning energy. The windows get warm!) I set up my paint supplies. Then I washed my hair.

When I finally hit play in Malcom Gladwell’s Outliers, I realized there was nothing else I could do to procrastinate.

I grabbed the first scrap of paper. I swirled some paint around on my palette. With a sudden surge of inspiration, I realized what color I wanted to start with. I shoved my hand into my paint bag. The critical tube of paint was buried. I spilled the gallon ziplock onto the floor around my feet. There it was. A deflated tube of acrylic gouache. The color I couldn’t seem to mix perfectly or find in traditional gouache. The one I’ll buy again and again. Misty Green.

That’s how I got into the thick of it.

I sketched quickly. The tiny illustrations appeared messy and vibrant under my brush. I abandoned a pencil and went straight in with paint. Two piles developed on my table. One that slipped over most of my working surface was mentality marked ‘Necessary Wrong Directions’. The other smaller and neater one was thought of as ‘Perfect’. Hours slipped by. My worries and questions slowly melted to triumphs and answers.

Then my mom called. She’s on her way over. That’s when I noticed the air was hot, my XXL Snoopy shirt hung off me like a tent, my hair had air dried into a frizzy mess, the day was gone, and to top it all off I was thirsty.

My mom arrived with an everything bagel flavored croissant filled with cold cream cheese to spilt. I made us iced coffees while my kitchen table sat covered in papers.

Something from the ‘Necessary Wrong Direction’ pile

I prefer methodical, slow, and detailed work. Breakneck speed illustrations hurt my mind and leads to sloppy work. I don’t worry about the thickness of the paint or if something is dry like I usually do. I’m not even thinking about proportions.

The trade off is that the speed leads to compelling moments of surprise color combinations. I can churn out idea after idea after idea. Almost as quickly as I think of colors than a fresh illustration is sitting in front of me.

I want to think my way into colors, but development simply takes time. There are no shortcuts in lieu of work. The real answer is scraps of papers, high hopes, wrong directions, fresh ideas, and most importantly, time.

***

I’m now working on the final illustrations. I’m screaming thanks to my past self for exploring and researching. Most of illustration is just exploring. The final illustrations are my favorite part, so I used to rush to them. Unfortunately, I’m finding it less and less rewarding to jump into a painting with little planing.

Note to self: plan your little heart away.