The White Hat, Jean-Baptiste Greuze
On Wikimedia Commons. Original is in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
I love paintings like this that go from highly refined passages to areas that are remarkably painterly.
John Nevarez is a visual development and storyboard artist working in animation. His projects include Monsters University and Cars 2, among others. He has recently left Pixar to establish a freelance career.
His long-running blog has examples of his work on various projects, as well as personal work, warm-ups and sketches for fun. Fun is the operative word by which I would describe his drawing style, particularly his line and tone drawings (which may be traditional pencil or the digital equivalent, it’s difficult to distinguish these days).
Nevarez has the kind of springy, lively line quality that makes it look like his drawings happen out of the pure fun of drawing, and just coincidentally are exactly what’s needed for the project on which he’s working.
In addition to his own work, for which you can see an overview here, his blog features work by other artists in the field, as well as a cornucopia of links to artist’s websites.
Illinois painter John Walker brings to his gallery work at least two things from his former career in illustration. One is a skilled approach to working in acrylics, a medium that sometimes does not get its due as a vehicle for representational realism in gallery art; another is a feeling for the narrative element in his portraiture.
There is always a sense of story behind Walker’s expressive portraits, a suggestion that there is more to the moment than a simple pose.
On his website you will find galleries of current and archived work, that includes some landscape paintings, as well as a selection of drawings and studies. Walker also has a blog with additional images.
[Via Fine Art Views]
After working for a time in a more traditional style, and through a period in which he experimented with Symboism, French painter Henri-Jean Guillaume Martin eventually settled on a style that is generally considered Divisionism, an offshoot of French Impressionism associated with Pointillism.
Like Pointillism, Divisionism was concerned, even more than Impressionism, with the placement of pure dabs of color (or dots, in the case of Pointillism) in arrangements that would optically mix in the viewer’s eye, as opposed to intermediate colors being mixed on the palette. Divisionism was based on color theory popular at the time and was concerned with the scientific basis of human color vision, however inaccurate some of the prevailing assumptions may have been.
In Martin’s hands, however, the results were richly poetic, lushly colored and fascinatingly textural canvases, most of which depict the small village of La Bastide du Vert, where Martin eventually settled.
Martin has often been treated as something of a historical footnote, in keeping with the emphasis writers of art history put on what’s new, groundbreaking or influential, as opposed to what may simply elicit a response on the part of the viewer; but as I’ve seen more of his work, he’s become something of a personal favorite, certainly among the proponents of Pointillism or Divisionism, and as a post-Impressionist in general.
[Addendum: Reader Jon wrote to let me know that he has coincidentally just returned from a weekend spent tracing the steps of Henri Martin in Toulouse, Cahors, Labastide du Vert and St Cirq-Lapopie. He has documented his trip in a series of 5 posts titled: Sur les traces d’Henri Martin, on his blog The Road from Tarascon. The blog is in French, but non-French speakers can use Google Translate to get the gist. More to the point are the wonderful series of photographs of places Martin painted and worked, including his abandoned studio, as well as photos of his work in local museums, which give a sense of the dramatic scale of some of Martin’s larger paintings (like the one in the images above, top, with detail).]
The Cumaean Sibyl, etching and drypoint by Charles-Albert Waltner from a drawing by Edward Burne-Jones.
An example of an etching designed by one artist and executed by another, as was common practice in the 19th century.
Original is in the Metropolitan Museum of art. Image size is roughly 17×7 inches (44x17cm).