Mandala Paintings (Radial Symmetry)
Mandala Record Process
Begin by planning your design. To start you will need to fold your paper into a series of triangles. Watch the video down below for instructions on folding your paper.
2. Next you can start your design by drawing any shapes, lines or patterns you wish on your folded triangle. Variety is the spice of life, it also makes your artwork stand out when used masterfully, be careful though too much of a good thing will spoil it. Tr to avoid overly chaotic designs as they can be a real headache to transfer and paint later.
3. Open your triangle up and fold it over so that you can see its reflection in the triangle to the right/left of its original location. Using the windows in our classroom or the light table trace the design so that you have a perfect reflection on your paper. Continue this process until all of your triangles are completed.
4. Determine your color palette *** See examples in slideshow below…CLICK IMAGES TO VIEW:
Achromatic: One neutral hue (color) adjusted up and down in value.
Monochromatic: One hue adjusted up and down in value.
Analogous: 3-4 hues located next to one another on the color wheel.
Complementary: 2 colors that sit directly opposite one another on the color wheel.
Triadic: Colors evenly spaced creating a triad or triangle shape on the color wheel. Examples include red, blue, yellow or green, orange, violet.
** It’s smart to have a plan before you begin painting, otherwise you might find yourself stuck in a corner with no way out other than to start the entire project over… never a fun place to find yourself. Ben Franklin famously stated “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”.
Charcoal Still Life
Select 3 or 5 objects from class still life objects with your group.
Using our Types of Composition handout mimic one type of composition and decide on a viewpoint as a group. Mr. Barron will print copies of this image for every group member to work from as a reference.
Practice with Charcoal media and create a thumbnail sketch of composition.
Begin blocking in of basic forms on grey paper, begin simple and develop more complex shapes as drawing progresses.
Develop shadow areas with compressed charcoal and highlights with kneaded eraser and white charcoal pencils.
Step back to look for areas that need additional development… rework those sections until you are satisfied with the entire piece.
Art and the Mind’s Eye: How Drawing Trains You to See the World More Clearly and to Live with a Deeper Sense of Presence
A passionate case for learning “to search into the cause of beauty, and penetrate the minutest parts of loveliness.”
BY MARIA POPOVA via Brain PIckings
“It’s only when we look with eyes of love that we see as the painter sees,” Henry Miller wrote in his forgotten 1968 gem To Paint Is to Love Again. Drawing, indeed, transforms the secret passageway between the eye and the heart into a two-way street — while we are wired to miss the vast majority of what goes on around us, learning to draw rewires us to see the world differently, to love it more intimately by attending to and coming to cherish its previously invisible details. This, perhaps, is why beloved artist Lynda Barry teaches visual storytelling as the infinitely rewarding art of “being present and seeing what’s there.”
More than a century before Miller and a century and a half before Barry, the great Victorian art critic, philosopher, and philanthropist John Ruskin (February 8, 1819–January 20, 1900) examined the psychology of why drawing helps us see the world more richly in a fantastic piece unambiguously titled Essay on the Relative Dignity of the Studies of Painting and Music, and the Advantages to be Derived from Their Pursuit, penned when he was only nineteen. It is included in the first volume of the altogether indispensable The Works of John Ruskin (public library | free ebook).
It’s a beautiful meditation triply timely today, in an age when we — having succumbed to the “aesthetic consumerism” of photography — are likelier to view the world through our camera phones and likelier still to point those at ourselves rather than at nature’s infinite and infinitely overlooked enchantments. To draw today is to reclaim the dignity and private joy of seeing amid a culture obsessed with looking in public.
Let two persons go out for a walk; the one a good sketcher, the other having no taste of the kind. Let them go down a green lane. There will be a great difference in the scene as perceived by the two individuals. The one will see a lane and trees; he will perceive the trees to be green, though he will think nothing about it; he will see that the sun shines, and that it has a cheerful effect, but that the trees make the lane shady and cool; and he will see an old woman in a red cloak; — et voilà tout!
But what will the sketcher see? His eye is accustomed to search into the cause of beauty, and penetrate the minutest parts of loveliness. He looks up, and observes how the showery and subdivided sunshine comes sprinkled down among the gleaming leaves overhead, till the air is filled with the emerald light, and the motes dance in the green, glittering lines that shoot down upon the thicker masses of clustered foliage that stand out so bright and beautiful from the dark, retiring shadows of the inner tree, where the white light again comes flashing in from behind, like showers of stars; and here and there a bough is seen emerging from the veil of leaves, of a hundred varied colours, where the old and gnarled wood is covered with the brightness, — the jewel brightness of the emerald moss, or the variegated and fantastic lichens, white and blue, purple and red, all mellowed and mingled into a garment of beauty from the old withered branch. Then come the cavernous trunks, and the twisted roots that grasp with their snake-like coils at the steep bank, whose turfy slope is inlaid with flowers of a thousand dyes, each with his diadem of dew: and down like a visiting angel, looks one ray of golden light, and passes over the glittering turf — kiss, — kiss, — kissing every blossom, until the laughing flowers have lighted up the lips of the grass with one bright and beautiful smile, that is seen far, far away among the shadows of the old trees, like a gleam of summer lightening along the darkness of an evening cloud.
Is not this worth seeing? Yet if you are not a sketcher you will pass along the green lane, and when you come home again, have nothing to say or to think about it, but that you went down such and such a lane.
Drawing not only grants us a more intimate presence with the world but also extends an irresistible invitation for storytelling — that old woman in the red cloak, Ruskin argues, would be a mere passing stranger for the non-sketcher but the sketcher’s mind will envelop her in “an immense deal of speculation” as he seeks to place her properly in the context of the landscape, invariably playing out various possible stories of who she is and how she ended up there. This impulse for creative speculation, Ruskin asserts, is at the core of how the artist sees the world differently:
From the most insignificant circumstance, — from a bird on a railing, a wooden bridge over a stream, a broken branch, a child in a pinafore, or a waggoner in a frock, does the artist derive amusement, improvement, and speculation. In everything it is the same; where a common eye sees only a white cloud, the artist observes the exquisite gradations of light and shade, the loveliness of the mingled colours — red, purple, grey, golden, and white; the graceful roundings of form, the shadowy softness of the melted outline, the brightness without lustre, the transparency without faintness, and the beautiful mildness of the deep heaven that looks out among the snowy cloud with its soft blue eyes; — in fact, the enjoyment of the sketcher from the contemplation of nature is a thing which to another is almost incomprehensible. If a person who had no taste for drawing were at once to be endowed with both the taste and power, he would feel, on looking out upon nature, almost like a blind man who had just received his sight.
The Works of John Ruskin is a trove of timeless wisdom in its totality. Complement this particular piece with Miller’s wonderful To Paint Is to Love Again and Ruskin on the value of imperfection in creative work. If you’re looking to learn this enormously rewarding way of seeing, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain is by far the best initiation.
Who might benefits from this practice?
What is one way you could help increase your ability to see what is around you throughout the day?
Where is there the most need for this?
Take 5 minutes to observe the room, choose a spot that stands out as interesting or exciting and begin recording what you see in your sketchbook. develop your drawing for a total of 15 minutes.
List 5 things you noticed that you might not have previously noticed (before attempting this exercise.)
*** Superimposed Contour Drawings
Compose a drawing of manmade and organic objects to create a dynamic composition.
Select a manmade object, develop a 3-5 minute Blind or Regular continuous or non continuous contour drawing. Work large.
Select an organic object, develop a 3-5 minute Blind or Regular continuous or non continuous contour drawing. Work large.
Repeat until you have 3-5 images.
Carefully cultivate value and gradients in your work using the HB, 4B and charcoal pencils, remember that darks will receded (move back) and lights will advance towards the viewer.
For extra credit you may complete an additional superimposed drawing on black paper using the white charcoal pencil to explore working on a darker ground/paper.
Create an assortment of drawings using a variety of techniques and approaches.
Draw the Line
Step 1: . Select a simple image for drawing.
Step 2: Create a 4" x 4" grid on your 12" x 12" paper.
Step 3: Create a line drawing demonstrating the following qualities, one per box:
Structural, Outline, Contour, Gesture, Sketch, Calligraphy, Line Personality (x3)