urban-barbarian

Every artist, on some level, loves fanfare.  Who doesn't?  But most artists resist criticism.  I've been guilty of it in the past myself.  But for the most part, after I suck up my pride, I use it.

Any time you put your work out there [ in a comic book or on the web or in a gallery ], you're up for criticism.  Sometimes the critiques aren't necessarily valid.  They're coming from fans or, in a lot of cases, keyboard warriors that just want to be negative for the sake of being negative.  But in almost all cases, there's something to be learned by criticism. 

My wife is a perfect example.  She's not an artist, which is my usual go to excuse when debating the merits of those that might offer critiques of my work that I disagree with.  My wife, can't draw.  But she knows when a nose is off.  Or if the lighting looks "weird".  Or if an arm doesn't look right.  Or if a drawing is just sorta dead.  She has a good eye.  Maybe she can't articulate it in a way that offers me a solution but she does a good job of letting me know if a drawing of mine is on the money or could use some change.  The criticism is never fun to hear.  Never.  But the moment I get over myself and take a fresh look at what was critiqued - I find the change is always a drastic improvement on the work itself. 

That's not to say that any drawing that gets critiqued becomes perfect - but you will start adjusting your focus to that specific problem.  It helps.  Fresh eyes always help. 

So what if you're trail blazing?  You're Picaso?  You're trying to do things artistically that no one has ever done before?  How can criticism be constructive then?  Well, it's always constructive in one sense or another.  Even the casual fan can pick up on aesthetics.  People instinctively relate to attractive things.  Granted some find morbid or ugly attractive.  But morbid can be attractive.  Everything can be if it's approached well.  My point is, people, more often than not, can spot what's appealing.  They can appreciate quality.  So if you're trying something new and inventive and it's awesome - people are gonna go wow!  But if you're trying what you think is new and awesome and you're not getting the reaction you want - you may need to make some adjustments.  Maybe minor or maybe major.  But you won't know if you don't seek out solid advice and criticism. 

In my case, I'm lucky enough to have a very critical but incredibly talented set of friends.  My biggest critic is Dave Johnson.  A lot of times I'm terrified to send art his way.  He doesn't pull punches.  But his critiques are genuine and he wants me to be the best I can be. 

Find someone or a group of someones that you can get some solid feedback from.  Otherwise, you'll find improvement to be a very slow ride.  And that ride could come to a full stop.  Everyone has seen what happens to colleagues [ or celebrities ] that rise to the top of any field, art, music or other entertainment and stop listening to criticism and only allow "Yes-men" to sound off their praises.  They lose touch.  They lose their fire.  They lose the edge that got them noticed in the first place.  They stop growing.

Give yourself every opportunity to succeed.  Suck up your pride and ask for feedback.  It may hurt now but once those wounds heal up - you'll be stronger than ever. 

Cheers.

If you're an artist of any kind it's extremely important to hone your craft and technical abilities.  After all, the better you draw and the better you are at mastering the drawing tools you use - the easier it is to convey your unique message for public consumption. 

But how important is technical ability, really?  Obviously, it's very important.  Understanding anatomy, light and shadow and perspective are key to solid drawing.  It's important to always be improving in those departments.  It's also very important to master the tools you use to draw with. Learning to render or color professionally can only increase your appeal to both fans and other professionals. 

But what about developing artistic appeal on a much deeper level? 

It's not just about finding a pleasing style.  Anyone can do that with enough practice.  You can always choose a popular artist and emulate his or her style.  The blueprint is right there.  But why do artists that copy a style never reach the same heights as the artists they're copying?  I'm sure you could say that they are always one step behind in a sense.  And that's probably true.  But a technically proficient artist should be able to not only copy someone's style but even improve upon it, right?  But that's very rarely the case.

I know of so many artists that are at extremely high levels in their technical abilities but are missing one key ingredient.  The people they draw, the compositions they choose are arguably perfect.  The rendering: perfect.  The lighting: perfect.  And yet... - yawn-.... The drawings or comic book pages are boring.  But if the drawing is technically perfect, what could they have done better?

What I'm talking about is basically something called charm. 

There's a charm to a Norman Rockwell or a Leyendecker painting.  Arthur Adams draws charming people and creatures.  Neal Adams drew people that actually looked like they were saying and thinking the word balloons above their heads.  Frank Miller and Klaus Janson created a very real and gritty world full of relate-able characters.  Think about Berni Wrightson.  Walt Simonson and John Buscema's figures are just naturally powerful and strong.  Frank Frazetta is a great example of a charming artist.  Jack Davis, of Mad Magazine fame, was able to convey a great deal of humor in his work.  Animators like Chuck Jones were a breed apart when it came to charm.  It seems like certain artists exude charm and others simply do not.

So how does an artist develop charm?

I'm not going to lie to you here and tell you that for some it doesn't come naturally.  Because, I believe, that for some - it does come naturally.  Some artists naturally infuse personality into their works and you see it immediately. Others need to develop it.  The easiest way is to "let go".  Let go of the technical side of drawing for a bit and practice conveying emotion in your subjects.  You probably have developed a set way of drawing a face or a figure.  But that set way of drawing can sometimes limit your ability to convey emotion. 

Forgetting what you know and drawing from a raw place allows you to access parts of yourself on an artistic level that technically sound drawing cannot.  It's too restrictive.  There are too many rules.  If you're trying to draw someone laughing - your lines and brush strokes and even the color you choose should mirror that emotion.  You'll be surprised how much you can convey with a few "honest" lines.  The same goes for a figure in action or drawing an angry or sad face.  Take a break from drawing in your practiced style and try drawing how you feel.  At first you may not be pleased with how such a drawing may turn out.  That's natural.  If you could hit a homerun the first time you were at bat or bowl a game of 300 - THAT would be unnatural.  Everything takes practice.  Including learning how to loosen up and how to draw from a very human and emotional space.  And when I say human and emotional, I don't mean you have to get all weepy.  I'm talking about just accessing the part of you that is truly relating to whatever is beneath what you're drawing.  If it's cowboy smoking a cigarette while leaning on a wooden fence or a couple in love at a cafe - you have to put yourself there.  In their heads.  But you also have to feel what that fence feels like.  What the air feels like.  Get inside your subject's head like an actor would.  Sometimes the drawing won't be pretty but the you'll truly capture a moment.  Capturing a moment is so much more important than drawing the perfect, photo realistic, cowboy hat.  It's about feeling.  As an artist, if you want to truly deliver your message, you need to transfer that human experience.  Your experience.  Your perspective.  That's the most interesting and entertaining thing about art.  That's why art is so powerful. 

Once you practice this skill it's rather easy to apply your drawing style and rendering techniques later on.  It's like applying the body panels on an automobile frame and engine.  Without the engine, the frame and the proper suspension - it's just a pretty car.  With all the ingredients in place, the proper foundation, the car is more than just stylistically attractive.  It's the full package.  Beauty and performance.  A masterpiece.  Perhaps I'm getting carried away.  But that's actually a good thing, right? 

Cheers. 

For me it's all about drumming up feelings.  Those feelings I got when I first discovered comic books and comic book magazines like Savage Sword of Conan, Eerie and other Warren publications.  It was a strange, mysterious black and white world.  I didn't know what was next.  It's hard to explain.  I would turn the page and discover a new style, a new way of looking at drawing.  As much as I loved the House Styles of Marvel and DC Comics - I also fell in love with the work of those famous late 60's, 70's and early 80's illustrators that weren't doing superhero comics. 

So when I'm drawing, I'm trying to recreate that experience for myself.  Most of that comes down to my inking.  I study a lot of exceptional artists like Williamson, Frazetta, Klaus Janson, Jorge Zaffino, Alex Nino and Toppi. I love that old skool look. I love evidence of the inking tools like the brush and the pen nib.  I don't want my work to look like "a computer drew it" - which is what artists sometimes hear every now and again.  If it's too clean, it lacks humanity, poetry and playfulness.  Where is the mystery if you know or can guess how an artist will handle the lines and tones that create a particular form?  An arm, a face, a rock or a tree?

In my early days I wanted desperately to display a precise and clean line.  Ultimately, I believe that because of the practice and precision of goals like that I developed solid control of most inking tools.  Brushes, pen nibs and rapidiographs.  But when I left the comic book field and pursued design and advertising - I relied less and less on the finished look I crafted for superhero comics.  I found myself drawing more and more like the artistic heroes I had as, basically, a child.  I liked John Buscema's Conan.  I liked it when he inked himself or when Tony DeZuniga did finishes on him.  Bold lines and plenty of Zip-a-Tone.  I also poured through the Ballantine Frazetta books and studied his work endlessly.  That lead me to Al Williamson.  I was introduced to Alex Nino later on [ before I was even a teenager ].  Later I was shown Toppi and my father introduced me to the advertising illustration of Bob Peak.  As a fan of Klaus Janson I was naturally a fan of Jorge Zaffino's powerful and dramatic inking style.  Reckless, strong and uncompromising. 

So, years later, when I returned to comic books I struggled.  My first attempts looked like cousins of my earlier work.  I was very dissatisfied.  I quickly discovered that I could draw in the style I developed outside of the comic book world and it wouldn't be disregarded.  Instead, I was nudged to go further by artists I respected like Dave Johnson.  Today I'm still trying to narrow down a specific look.  But I never want my work to be mistaken by anyone that maybe a computer program was used.  My goal is to reawaken the fan in me.  I hope to keep things interesting so that anyone reading the comics I draw looks and wonders a bit. 

Blah, blah, blah.  Ramblings of a never satisfied artist.