Rather than use an ink wash (or even the wedge end of the marker) my technique is to take the fine tip of the marker and fill the selected area one thin line at a time.  Here’s a photo to illustrate the technique:

The process can be grueling, as the entire color fill of an area must be completed in one sitting without any breaks.  This is because as I lay down each line next to the previous line, the adjacent lines bleed together slightly.  If I stop for too long (more than, say, a minute), the first line gets too dry and the second line doesn’t bleed into it.  Instead it bleeds on top of the first line, creating a darker line that is glaringly evident in the final product.

That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy doing my technique, because I actually enjoy it quite a bit: Up to a point.  On fill areas that take 2 hours or less, I find myself falling into an almost meditative state, what my wife and I like to call “The Zone.”  Longer fill areas, however, can become literally painful.  For my recent “Challenger” piece (a small sample of which is above) it took nearly four hours to complete the background fill and boy did my hand hurt!  My arm was numb and felt “dead” by the end.

Admittedly this takes A LOT longer, but the results are worth it.  My backgrounds and other negative space areas are filled with a power and energy that no wash could ever achieve.

This is a photo of the oldest tree in Savannah: It’s over 500 years old.  How many other trees do you think the Chandler Oak has spawned?

(Photo by Fran Dwight)

I Love My Friends!

On January 28, 1986 at 11:39 AM EST the Challenger space shuttle disintegrated above the Atlantic Ocean, killing all seven of it’s crew members, including teacher Christa McAuliffe.  NASA had arranged for the launch to be broadcast into many schools because of McAuliffe’s participation in their Teacher in Space Project, so many who were students at that time saw the destruction live.

I was one of those students, and the experience has had an important effect on me (which is why I’m currently working on a drawing about the disaster).  What’s more profound to me, however, is that an entire nation of children were also affected by this tragedy.

It’s very likely that most of the people who witnessed the tragedy as school children rarely, if ever, think about the effect that it’s had on them.  I was in third grade when this happened and I remember the teachers literally freaking out when they realized what had happened.  I remember seeing kids confused and crying.

Undoubtedly, this incident has impacted the way in which all of us who saw it as it unfolded think and have interacted with the world since that moment.  My current series, “The Other Side of the World,” aims to explore that underlying influence which guides us without us even realizing it, and how it connects us all in a deeply profound way.

In September of 2011 my wife and I moved across country and one of our stops was in Tuscaloosa. As we were in town you could see remnants of the destruction. What I found more interesting, however, were the traces of how the people of the town came together after the tragedy. Several of the local restaurants had letters and other remembrances pinned to the walls.

It reminded me of the time just after the attacks of September 11, 2001 which, coincidentally, was about to hit it’s ten year anniversary. Most Americans can recall how we all came together then, putting aside any differences as a united whole, supporting each other through the tragedy.

My current series, “The Other Side of the World,” is all about connections.  Specifically how events connect us spiritually and how that impacts our present and future without us consciously realizing it.

When I look at events like 9/11 and Tuscaloosa, it reminds me that humanity, for all it’s faults, cares for itself.  As hard a shell as we may surround ourselves with as individuals in our day-to-day lives, it is our similarities, rather than our differences, that define us when the species is in danger or is hurting.

For a bunch more good stuff check out his website at http://table-blue.com/ !

(I found it on TotallyCoolPix.com where there is lots of great photos, in case you’re interested!)

In my freshman year of high school I had a friend named Brian who could draw the most amazing action heroes.  They were the toughest, baddest mofos you’d ever seen.  The epitome of the anti-hero.  Again, I was jealous of his abilities.

I had an art teacher in my senior year of high school named Mr. Drexler.  He was able to bring out the best in his students, and was considered by both myself and my peers (as well as the other teachers in the department, I believe) as the best art teacher the school had to offer (and we actually had a pretty good art department).

He once said, “I don’t believe in talent.”

Even though I felt I had the mental makeup of an artist, for so long I truly believed that I’d never be able to draw as well as Lacy or Brian.  That their ability was inherent to them.  That they were talented.

This statement made me realize that I could learn to draw well.  Sure, to be truly good at something, it helps to have some affinity at it.  There are people who just understand numbers better or who are better with language or what have you.  But just because you’re “not good with language” doesn’t mean you can’t learn French.

Since then I’ve never had to question whether or not I’d be able to pull-off an artistic project I had in mind.  It’s just a matter of focus and perseverance.  Even now I don’t consider myself a “Drawer” (for lack of a better word).  Drawing is just the tool I’m using for my current body of work.  I also have a sculptural project in mind for my series The Other Side of the World, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I’ll succeed at it, even though it’s out of my comfort zone.

I don’t believe in talent.

His drawing of a helicopter.