Acrylic paint comparisons

I am about to start a new series in red, a color I don’t use much, so I thought I would take an inventory of the red paints I have already in the studio before I start making any definite color decisions or purchases.

This swatch-painting exercise caused me to evaluate the qualities of the various brands I have on hand, and I thought my findings might prove interesting to other acrylic painters.

Please keep in mind that these observations reflect my personal preferences; your mileage may vary.

First of all, Golden’s brand, the best you can buy. BUT they are so damned expensive, one purchase can max out your credit card. I use them sparingly, for top-most layers. But they have power-packed pigment quality and an exquisite palette to choose from. They also come in a range of consistencies, the cream-like fluid variety being my favorite as I am a squeeze-bottle aficionado.

Utrecht’s acrylics are terrible. They are super thick (even when not specified as “heavy body”) and can’t be diluted evenly. No matter how carefully you try to water them down, you still get watery patches alternating with undiluted blobs. They also have very poor pigment quality; it would take at least a few layers to get a truly opaque surface (and I was using reds, one of the most opaque paint colors, so cool colors would take even more coats).

That said, I adore Utrecht’s acrylic additives (matte medium, gel medium, and modeling paste); they are versatile, archival and inexpensive.

“Blickrylic” paints, sold as a student-grade acrylic by Dick Blick, have a marvelous texture – just soft enough to spread easily, not watery at all. Plus they dilute evenly if that’s what you want. Their pigments are strong – not as strong as Golden’s, but strong enough for initial layers on the canvas. The colors aren’t anywhere near as beautiful as Golden’s – in fact, they’re fairly flat and generic – but once you start layering with them, your own personal vocabulary will take over and you can come up with some lovely and unique results.

On the other hand, my experiences with Dick Blick’s acrylic mediums have varied. They are great for image transfers (read also my blog entry on this subject, here), but they are terrible mixers with colored paints and they don’t work at all as adhesives.

Those are the three brands I have on hand, and I learned a lot, just from a few minutes of testing the jars on my shelf.

New series in blues and greens

Here is a new series in blues and greens, just completed. There are 6 pieces in all; each one is acrylic on canvas on board, 16" H x 12" W. (Will soon assign titles and have professionally photographed.)

Steps of a Painting: Part 2

It's been since August 2 that I was working on some new pieces and had the idea of documenting their creation (in this blog entry).

I didn't plan to paint at all today. Even though I'm supposedly on "vacation," I've accomplished a lot of art-career-related projects today, and I was just going to sit and relax for the evening.

BUT I made the mistake of watching an American Masters episode on Robert Motherwell. All it took was a few minutes of watching him work in his studio, moving various shapes around, and talking about the fact that to him, abstraction is an expression of the human experience, not simply "design." The remote control slipped from my hands, and I found myself sprinting toward the studio, my heart beating with inspiration and anticipation.

The only thing I had stretched was the two paintings I had started for my Steps of a Painting series. These were paintings that I had a specific plan for, but I was in the mood to just spew paint rather than follow a pre-laid plan. So I've tried to keep on with what I was doing when I started, but at that time, I was inspired by the summer heat and sherbert colors, and today I'm not feeling that at all. It's cold and raining outside, and has been for 3 days, plus my fall semester starts next week.

That's an important realization about my painting: it's such an expression of who I am and what I'm feeling in the moment, that after 3 weeks have elapsed, there's no way I can expect to be on the same track! After all, I'm not the same person any more.

Anyway, I added some more layers to the two paintings: another layer of color and some rows of loops. But I am not at all convinced about continuing with this direction. I might just scrap these works and try something else! I'll add one more layer and see how I feel when they dry.

How I came to love my basement studio at home: a documentary

“Do you think you could use the basement as your studio?”

My husband asked me that innocent question 6 years ago, when we were looking at the house we are currently renting.

At the time, however, I was a studio snob. “No way,” I responded dismissively. How professional would that make me look? When people asked me where my studio was, and I told them “in my basement,” I’d sound like an idiot. Or worse, a hobbyist.

So I did what seemed like the smart thing to do: I rented a space at a mill building filled with artists, located near my house.

It didn’t take long for me to realize my mistake. My studio neighbor on one side was a weird guy who obviously lived in his space (illegal) and was constantly microwaving awful-smelling foods for his meals. My neighbors across the hall were doing heavy-duty renovations in their space, and there was always slamming and banging, day in and day out. They were also constantly yelling into their cell phones, and I couldn’t get their loud one-sided conversations out of my head, even though I blasted music through my headphones.

I tried to stick with it, telling myself how serious and professional I must be, to have my own studio in a building especially for artists. But in actuality, I wasn’t encountering any artists, just a lot of loud and unpleasant neighbors.

Then one early Sunday morning, there was a loud banging on my studio door. My heart jumped; I had been “in the zone” and hadn’t expected such an abrupt interruption. Before I could reach the door, it flew open and in burst a policeman, who demanded, “Where’s Jimmy?”

I answered as calmly as possible that I had no idea who Jimmy was.

“Well, tell him we’re looking for him,” the cop demanded as he slammed back out the door, apparently not taking note of the fact that I could hardly locate someone I didn’t know.

That was pretty much the last straw. After six months of this madness, I asked myself, how bad could it be to work in my basement? Besides, that would free up the money I was spending on studio rent to be better spent on art supplies. So, with a great sense of relief, I gave my notice and moved my art supplies and studio furnishings to my home.

I soon realized that I had misjudged the basement; in fact, it made a perfect studio. There were large windows along one wall, and a door that opened out onto a beautiful backyard. Our resourceful landlords had built wooden shelving units against the walls that happened to be the perfect size for storing paintings. There was also a work-bench built against one wall, with shelves underneath that were perfect for holding works on paper, and many light fixtures and electric sockets throughout the room. The landlords had even left two huge tables down there, which were great supplements to the three tables I already had. And there was a huge sink down there, so brushes could be easily washed.

This studio has allowed me to establish and sustain a most productive working schedule and process. It is quiet and peaceful (ironically, considering my experience at the mill building, those are my greatest needs as an artist!). In the 5 years I have been working down here, the space has been nothing but pleasant and supportive … truly IDEAL.

Best of all, whenever the urge to paint hits, I don’t have to drive anywhere. I can pad downstairs in my pajamas and get to it. (Although I have to keep reminding myself to change into my painting shoes, or whatever I have on my feet will soon be splattered with paint.)

So what if it sounds unprofessional to say that you paint in your basement. My work speaks for itself. I appreciate the fact that I have been able to work consistently and with devotion, concentration and a sense of freedom. I know I am safe there, to make mistakes, to let my guard down, to do what I need to do to work out what I want to say on canvas.

And after all, what more can an artist ask of a studio?

Here are some photos: My cat, Petey, leads the way down to the basement.




There are plenty of built-in shelving units, perfect for painting storage:










There's a built-in workbench, with shelves underneath to hold works on paper. The pegboard against the wall is great for hanging small works:




These two large windows let in plenty of natural light:




This door leads out to ...




A beautiful, secluded backyard:




Additional shelving units hold art supplies and some of my teaching materials:




So, as it turns out, my wise husband was right all along!

My turn to answer Nancy Natale's "Questionnaire"

I am honored to be the latest subject of Nancy Natale's blog series, The Questionnaire. She titled my entry, "What do Allegra Kent and Pete Townshend have in common?" ;-) Check it out, here!

Professional art movers: a photo essay

Ever wonder how professional art movers pack art? I did, and when my paintings came home from an exhibit in Africa earlier this week, I had a chance to find out. If the paintings had made it around the world in good shape, I figured I could use the same techniques to ship other works across the country.

First the movers had boxed each painting in a heavy cardboard box:




Then a layer of bubble wrap:




Then a wrapping of plastic:




And voila! my painting is unwrapped and home, safe and sound:




Frankly, I can see including a layer of glassine paper against the painting, before the plastic. It probably gets hot and humid at some point on the route home, and I'd be concerned that the plastic might stick to the surface of the painting (as the top layer is acrylic gel medium). But otherwise, it's interesting to take note of how the pros do it.

And the good news is, I have all this free packing material, ready to re-use!

Watercolor students' work

I taught another beginner watercolor course this past week at the Danforth Museum School in Framingham, MA, which was my final course of the summer! Now I have a bit of time to reflect on life in general. I've been painting painting painting and teaching teaching teaching ... with no breaks, since January, really. I think a little time to stare out the window is in order! My next class doesn't start until September 2, so thankfully, I have that time.

Here are some of the wonderful works created by my students in last week's course. They are all public-school teachers as well as artists:

This painting is by Amy Ubele Brown, who teaches in Framingham:




This painting is by Megan Slesinger, who teaches in Wellesley, MA:




This painting is by Hannah Close, who teaches in Kingston, MA:




This painting is by Ellen Taylor, who teaches in Framingham, MA:




This painting is by Erin Jameson Yates, who teaches in Hudson, MA:

Website updated

My website has just been updated by Thread Media. Specifically, I have added New Works, Works on Paper, and new paintings in the Waves series. Feel free to take a look, here.

Ready to take this show on the road

Here are my latest 3 "Pool" paintings, finished this afternoon. I liked this low-light shot because it emphasizes the light and dark contrasts. There is actually more variety of blue in strong light.



I'm going to show this series with a grouping of 3 green paintings, completed earlier this year (here's one of them, below). All 6 are acrylic on canvas, 40" H x 28" W.



Time to wrap them all up, ready for delivery to the gallery next weekend!

More in "Pool" series

I am adding to my "Pool" series, in anticipation of showing it at an upcoming show I'm in at Bristol Community College in Fall River, MA.

Here's the latest piece, made yesterday. It is 40" H x 28" W, acrylic on canvas.

Steps of a Painting: Part 1

I thought I would document the steps I take when creating a painting.

This particular series has an unusual genesis, in that I envisioned my direction right from the beginning, and I pictured the colors right from the beginning. I tend to be one of those "throw a bunch of stuff at the painting and see what happens" type of painters, but with the last few series I've made, I knew exactly where I wanted to go before I began.

I knew from the start that I wanted to continue with the steps I used to make the painting to the left ("Desert 3," acrylic on canvas, 44" H x 30" W), which is the last one I made. But this time, I wanted to use ice cream types of colors like vanilla, pistachio, strawberry and black raspberry. Perhaps this is influenced by my recent dieting habits, which have involved cutting out sugar! A craving coming out in paint form, perhaps?! ;-) Maybe an expression of the season, or maybe nothing that complex.

In painting terms, this means variations of turquoise, alizarin crimson, quinacridone violet, nickel azo yellow (Golden's fluid acrylics), and of course white.

So here are the first layers. I toned 2 canvases (50" x 30") in a combination of white and red (I use Blickrylic acrylics for the toning layer for reasons of economy. (The half-gallon containers are comparatively inexpensive.) When the surfaces had dried, I applied rows of watered-down (but still dark) turquoise and quinacridone violet in varying placements and widths.

By the way, I like to work on several paintings at once. This way, no one piece ever gets overworked, and I can practice slight variations and see how they look at the same time. I also tend to create triptychs these days, frankly for reasons of sales (groupings tend to be easier and more lucrative for the art consultants I work with to sell). Plus you can TRIPLE YOUR PAINTING FUN this way, without much additional elbow grease! (It only takes a few minutes more to stretch 2 or 3 canvases at a time than to stretch 1.)

Once this set of colors has dried, it will be time to apply the next layer, this time tinted versions of the colors I've just laid down.