Marc Dalessio

Even with the weak dollar, there are two things in Italy which are still cheaper than in America: A cappuccino and fine, hand-made frames. I thought I would post a plug for my framer here in Italy, Piero Franceschi, in honor of his new website.

Hand-carved Italian Frame from Piero Franceschi. Circa 1998.

I’ve used Piero for all my framing needs for about 15 years now. He makes some of the most beautiful frames around for a fraction of what I have paid in the U.S. or England, even when shipping is included in the price.

At the moment I’m very partial to the ‘Cassetta’ style frame. Its a 15th century Florentine frame design which still seems very modern (probably because the ubiquitous Californian plein air frames are based on this model).

Cassetta style frame on a six-foot landscape.

For shipping you can use Mailboxes Etc. here in Florence, their store is always full of crates of art heading over the Atlantic. Ask for Paolo (they speak English). For anything over Fed-Ex’s size limit I would recommend Fracassi for the costs. Both shippers know Piero and you don’t need export permits on just frames which saves a bit of money.

Whatever you do though, do not order frames from Italy in inches. They will not convert the measurements and you will receive tiny little frames back. Use google to convert the sizes (just type in x inches to cm) or, as I did, print out this customizable table.

Joseph Altwer helping me with my frames this weekend.

Two coats of gesso, sand them forever, red bole, buff them forever, masking tape, glue, gold leaf, shellac, black bole, buff again, wax, two coats of bitumen, buff again, retouch, then clean the gold leaf from every nook and corner of the studio. I’m probably forgetting something, anyways, not worth it. This was my first time making frames and while I think its good for painters to understand every aspect of their materials (and making paints, mediums and canvases is definitely worth it for the cost savings and the control), I’ll draw the line at framing and leave it to the experts.

Leo Mancini-Hresko showing us how its done (on his birthday no less, what a guy).

I’m back in the U.S. for the moment, fixing a commission here in Los Angeles and teaching a small plein air workshop. Once again I ordered most of my materials here in the States as flying with paints is a hassle these days. In May I grabbed a whole set of Williamsburg’s oil colors on sale at New York Central, this time I picked up my set from Blue Ridge Artist Materials. They have some of the best prices I’ve seen on hand ground oil colors and they sell that cadmium vermilion I love so much for portraits.

Madison Art Shop has my favorite steel Italian easels on sale for $50 at the moment. I think they are the best field easels available for their durability, portability and, above all, sturdiness. I’ve painted in storm force 10 winds with one of these and a bag of rocks hanging on it.

I usually get the Silver brand brushes with the green handle and copper ferrule, but this trip I picked up a bunch of the (new?) Blick Masterstroke bristles which seem really nice so far, aside from the goofy name. They are on sale in the Blick stores (maybe online too) until October 11th.

Rather than fly with my Italian panels or canvas I ordered a number of different sizes and ’substrates’ from New Traditions art panels. The gatorfoam I feel is too fragile for outdoor use, and one of the 1/4″ birch panels warped in a day (from the heat?), but the Dibond panels are really impressive to see. Though expensive, they are incredibly sturdy and very light-weight. I got the Claessens double-primed c66 on everything as I’m used to working with it. We also bought 50 or so of the Ray Mar Art oil panels which are cheaper (though still very well made) and also have the Claessens linen on them.

This is the first of a two-part post on studio lighting. When I worked at Charles Cecil studios, a few of us were present at the opening of new studios and had to set up the lighting. It was a lot of work, but I came away with a good understanding of how to control light in a painting studio. (Apologies in advance for my photographic skills, but I hope to pick up a better low-light camera soon).

Charles Cecil's studio on Borgo San Frediano.

Most painters know that you need north light to avoid having direct sunlight moving around the room while you work (in the northern hemisphere only! I’ve heard of painters setting up north-lit studios in the southern hemisphere, only to have the studio blasted with sunlight). What they often don’t realize is how important it is to control the bounced light from outside as well.

One of the main errors I see in studio set-ups is not keeping reflected light off the ceiling. In a north-facing studio, anything you see from the window is facing south, and reflecting a lot of light. If you are blocking off the lower part of the window as most painters do, the light is still bouncing up onto the ceiling from the ground outside, and then coming down around the room. The best way to keep light off the ceiling is to put a hood over the top of the window. You can check the walls opposite the window to make sure the hood is keeping the reflected light out of the room. In my studio we just have a black tarp attached above the window with a wooden rod at the other end which is attached to a hook in the center of the ceiling.

Daniel Graves's studio in Piazza Donatello.

The lower half of the windows in most studios are covered to get a higher light source and also keep out colored light reflecting off buildings and trees. Generally speaking, the smaller and higher your light source is, the more half-tones you see. In the photo of Daniel Graves’s studio above, you can see how he has run a curtain perpendicular from the middle of the window in order to have different amounts of light on the model and his working space. The right side of the window has a high, small light source for the model. The left side is flooded with light so he can see what he is doing.

Ben Fenske in his studio in Piazza Donatello.

Ben Fenske paints some wonderful interiors with unusual lighting and in his studio he has light bouncing off the light walls, but still keeps light off the ceiling. In my Piazza Donatello studio (photo to be added soon) we have the walls covered with dark cloth to keep the subjects lit only from the window. In theory, if we ever needed reflected light, we could set up a light cloth on the other side of the subject. In practice, however, most traditional, naturally lit, paintings have only one light source. For portraiture especially, where working fast is of the essence, having a relatively simple pattern of light and shade makes everything much easier. Aesthetically, I also prefer the warm purple shadows you get with vermilion and black when painting a model lit with the cool light from a blue sky.

I was always taught about Rembrandt’s glazing and scumbling from warm to cool over the course of a portrait and how the different layers gave his sitters this wonderful pearlescent effect. Anyone who has ever painted a portrait under natural light will have noticed that over the course of the painting under changing light effects from the warm reflected light off clouds, to the cool light of the blue skies, chasing the effect naturally results in this layering of warm and cool layers in the paint. Just like so many old masters did before.

My current arsenal.

I didn’t bring any materials from Italy to paint with on this trip as everything is cheaper to buy in the U.S. these days. There are also a lot of excellent suppliers to choose from. I am really enjoying the Williamsburg paints which I found on sale. They are the best pre-made tube paints I’ve used for their hues, consistency and tinting strength. Robert Doak’s Florentine lake is a good substitute for my handmade alizarin, and I actually prefer its weaker tinting strength. He also sells my favorite vermilion pigment, though I’m only painting landscapes this trip and I find it less essential to have a specific hue outdoors. The Silver Brush Grand Prix are some of the best bristle brushes I’ve used, very similar to the Cornelissens I normally get in London. Zecchi’s sable brushes are still unbeatable for price and quality.

Luckily I had some of my medium left over in storage from the last trip, but normally I get my Canada balsam and sun-thickened linseed oil from Kremer in New York. Its a great shop, though I’ve always found it annoying that they don’t open until 11AM. Doak also makes a sun-thickened linseed oil, but it is too thick to be usable. New York Central had some good quality turpentine last trip so I’m still using that bottle. I never fly with turpentine so I usually have to buy that immediately upon arrival and I’ll often smell unfamiliar brands to check if they’re cut with mineral spirits (as many are). The shop clerks always think I’m getting high and come shooting across the store to stop me.

Sun-thickened walnut and linseed oil preparations.

Yesterday I put out a batch of linseed and walnut oil to thicken in the sun on lead trays.

For many years I made my own, but after Zecchi finally got their sun-thickened linseed oil to the right consistency I started using theirs. Store bought sun-thickened oils are usually ‘August’ oils however, meaning they put it out in the very hot summer months where it thickens very fast. This year I wanted to try a ‘Spring’ oil, which takes much longer to thicken, but should absorb more oxygen at the same time. My medium is one part sun-thickened linseed oil mixed with one part thinned-down Canada Balsam (cut 1:1 with turpentine) and I use a lot of it, so its important that the quality is very high.

Thickening oil in the Mutus Liber?

Years ago I stumbled across an old alchemical treatise called the ‘Mutus Liber’ , or ‘Silent Book’. Its called this as no one knows what exactly the book is about. One image stood out because it looked like they could have been thickening oil for a painting medium. The accompanying text said the ram and bull represented Aries and Taurus, and that the trays were put out in April and May to collect the creative energy of the Spring. Any little edge helps I suppose…

The clothesline at the Torricella.

My wife asked me a year ago why I only own blue shirts.

It is actually for landscape painting. If you paint with the canvas in the shade you are probably standing in full sunlight (I don’t use an umbrella), in which case the color of the shirt will reflect on your painting and affect the hues. A few years ago I had a favorite orange T-shirt my brother gave me, and a couple of times I went painting with it on and had to go back to the house to change as the reflected orange was so distracting. I’ve also tried with black, but if I’m up against a hedge or in an area with very little reflected light I find the canvas can be too dark. White can also be annoying as you see your shirt reflected in the painting.

At the end of the day, a sky-blue shirt is the best for plein air landscape painting. I like mine with long sleeves in case of excess sun or mosquitoes. A shirt-pocket is useful for glasses or my superior Korean ipod.

These are the ten books on art which have had the most influence on me as a painter over the years. I haven’t listed them in any particular order. I should mention that these are all books for reading, without color reproductions. Clicking on the titles takes you to the Amazon.com (U.S.) page for each book.

• The Birth of Tragedy and The Case of Wagner by Friedrich Nietzsche. Even though it has nothing to do with painting, this book probably influenced my views on art more than any other that I’ve read.
• Neoclassicism and Romanticism, 1750-1850: Sources and Documents by Lorenz Eitner. An incredible collection of writings by painters and sculptors from back when artists were the only experts on art.
• Pagan Mysteries In The Renaissance by Edgar Wind. This book introduced me to iconography and really blew my mind when I first read it. There are more great books on the subject by Wind’s teacher, Erwin Panofsky.
• Bright Earth: Art and the Invention of Color by Philip Ball. Great book on artist’s pigments by an excellent author.
• The Enjoyment and Use of Color by Walter Sargent. There are a lot of books on color, this is the best one that I’ve read.
• The Practice and Science of Drawing by Harold Speed. The classic book on drawing.
• Composition of Outdoor Painting by Edgar Payne. Excellent book on landscape compostion by the great plein air painter.
• The Artistic Anatomy of Trees by Rex Vicat Cole. The first two chapters on landscape painting in general are brilliant.
• The Art of Ancient Greece: Sources and Documents by J. J. Pollitt. Excellent resource for studying Greek sculpture. Also interesting to see how much art history repeats itself.
• The Artist’s Handbook of Materials and Techniques by Ralph Mayer. My favorite out of the number of materials handbooks available.

The two children’s books which I still remember from when I was a small child are  Ed Emberley’s Drawing Book: Make a World by Ed Emberley and Frederick by Leo Lionni. If you want to keep your child from becoming an artist, these are two books you should avoid.

If anyone has other great art books to add, please put them in the comments.

The handy studio tube wringer.

I’ve always thought these tube-wringers were a waste of money, but my studiomate has one and now I find them really useful. Its amazing how much paint you can still get out of an “empty” tube.

My apologies to the tube wringer inventor for having ever doubted your genius.

One thing to note is that, apparently, the cheaper plastic models are better than the more expensive metal ones which can rip the tube if the paint inside is stiff (e.g. hand-ground colors or Old Holland lead white).

Traveling around, I occasionally get dents or scratches in my canvases. On a small ding, usually just wetting the back slightly on the deformed spot is enough to stretch the linen back into place*. Recently however I had a long line appear on a commissioned painting which was almost finished (something probably leaned on it in my car). As the painting was done for the most part in the fall, I would have had to wait half a year to paint it again.

Instead I had a professional restorer, Daniella Murphy Corella, come by the studio and take the painting to be ironed. I ended up doing all the work myself under her guidance and I’ll share what I learned.

First off I used a regular household iron. The iron must be able to operate at lower temperatures, i.e. you can place your hand on it without burning yourself (do this carefully). If your iron doesn’t go to just ‘warm’ you can put newspaper between it and the canvas.

Second, you take out all the water from the iron and make sure it doesn’t steam the canvas.

Third,  you unstretch the canvas and place it with the painting side down on silicon paper or something that the paint wont stick to.

Then you iron the canvas on the back where the problem area is for a very long time. I probably ironed for over an hour total, applying pressure the whole time. At the end the line was gone and the canvas wasn’t deformed in any way by the low heat. Apparently, if you use high heat (or water), the canvas will get waves in it which makes things much worse.

*One note about wetting the back of the canvas to get rid of dings. In my experience, if it doesn’t come out the first time you wet the canvas, don’t try it a second time or the ground can crack.