Tag Archives: #fineart

Happy New Year! Still Life and Brushes

Between trips and holidays, I only managed a few small paintings, and here they are:

Turtle, oil on canvas, 12 x 16 in, Fall 2024
Bottle and Cups, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, Fall 2024
Tea Time, oil on canvas board, 9 x 12, November 2024
Peaches, oil on paper, 9 x 12, Fall 2024

The turtle one shows my natural noisiness. I have doubts about the subjects all the way: I believe the arrangement works compositionally, but is it too manipulated? I also know I was sloppy with the flowers. Overall, however, there’s a delightful tone from the piece that makes me like it. I guess that’s my Happy Holidays!

With the bottle and the teapot ones, I was really going for a sense of tranquility and harmony. I hope I am at least close. The peaches one is about texture. I wanted to capture that fuzzy and velvety glow of both the fruit and the plastic bag. Did I? 

I have given up on washing my brushes with soap for a couple of years. Each time after painting, I clean my brushes with Gamsol, wipe them dry with a paper towel, dip them in a mixture of safflower oil and clover oil (98:2), and lie them flat in a tray with a cover. The recipe is from Draw Mix Paint. Ever since I adopted this method, I haven’t destroyed any brush yet. Since my last trip was a long one, before I left, I covered my brushes with the mixture, put them in a sealed palette box, and store the whole thing in the refrigerator. Two and a half months later, they are fresh and ready to go. Yay!

Happy 2025 and happy painting!

“He Makes the Distance Between All Things Disappear.”

[Note: The title is a quote from Spanish sculptor Francisco Baron’s preface to Car Li’s 1992 solo show in Spain.]

During my recent trip to China, I visited many exhibitions, and the works of one artist appeared in multiple shows, leaving a strong impression on me. He is Cao Li 曹力 (1954-), a professor of the Mural Department at the Central Academy of Fine Arts 中央美术学院. Cao Li has received traditional art training but does not carry the baggage of the academic style; in his work, he is unrestricted, and his imagination and artistic inspiration traverse ancient and modern, East and West. His themes range from reality to dreams, and his media include line drawing, watercolor, oil painting, wood carving, stone relief, etc.. His ability to move freely across different media reminds me of James Jean, though in terms of artistic expression, Cao Li is more mature and unrestrained. His works exhibit the absurdity of Dali, the seclusion of Klee, the alienating humor of Klimt, the multidimensional thinking of Picasso, the simplicity and innocence of Matisse, and the romantic imagination of Chagall. They also draw inspiration from traditional Chinese paintings, especially the murals of Dunhuang 敦煌, Yongle 永乐 Palace, and certain cave sculptures. 

In the artist’s own words, “Art knows no boundaries; it is the product of the soul, an expression of true feelings, the natural flow of life, a free flight. Nature itself is not art; only what flows through the filter of an artist’s soul can be called ‘art.’ It’s like the process of making wine: grains and grapes themselves do not intoxicate, but after brewing, impurities are removed, leaving the essence that can captivate and enchant people.”

Cao Li enjoys music, a recurring theme in his paintings. His lines, compositions, and colors move like melodies, possessing a lively rhythm. Influenced by his line drawings, his oil paintings almost always start with a planar structure of lines as the initial outline and main framework. He then enriches, thickens, and adds depth to the work through the organic organization of colors. He says, “I control the blocks of color, dots of color, color areas, and lines in the same way a composer arranges notes, tones, rhythms, and tempo. Once these ‘force points’ are placed in the right spots and combined in myriad ways, the disrupted calm space is reordered.”

One aspect that interests me when viewing works by Chinese artists is their effort to blend traditional Chinese art with Western painting. The design of figures and the use of color in Cao Li’s works have a distinctly national character. His ink paintings even introduce modernist traditions. His teacher, the renowned artist Yuan Yunsheng 袁运生 (1937-), has taken this fusion even further by applying Abstract Expressionism to ink painting. In the 798 Art District in Beijing, I was fortunate enough to see an exhibition of his works.

While visiting the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute 四川美术学院, I had the chance to view the “Chinese Painting MFA Invitational Exhibition 2000-2020.” These young artists originally studied Chinese painting, but now their works clearly show influences from oil painting, printmaking, and other art forms. Their use of media has also moved far beyond traditional paper and ink. They draw inspiration from the collision of diverse cultures, creating works that are more personal and profound. Unfortunately most of the artworks on display have glass cover, and makes it very difficult to photograph. I only captured a tiny portion of the treasures on display. 

Here are some paintings from one of my favorite artists from the show:

Amid all the talking about the “lying flat” culture in China, it is quite exciting to see the art scene there is lively and flourishing.

P.S. Unlike in America, most of the Chinese artists don’t maintain personal websites. Artron 雅昌 is platform where many artists post their works, but the level of accuracy and maintenance vary. You can find more works from Cao Li here: 作品

Happy Halloween and the Forgotten Watercolor

Nothing spooky here, just an old pumpkin! I can’t recall when I did this, maybe 10 years ago, when I could still feel the “water” in watercolor. Time flies!

Pumpkin, watercolor on paper, 9 x 12, 2015

In the past, when I travelled, even with those lengthy stays abroad, I didn’t do any art. These past months when I stayed in China, inspired by all the art shows I attended (I will talk about these more in the future), I thought I should have kept things going. Oil being too troublesome, I managed to find watercolor paper and paint. My intention was to do some quick sketches or simple paintings, and these are what I’ve done:

Tea-set, watercolor on paper, 9 x 12, Sept. 2024
Fruit plate, watercolor on paper, 9 x 12, Oct. 2024

I found myself using watercolor the same way I use oil paint – controlled and layered. Despite their tight look, I didn’t spend that much time on each of these pieces, mainly because I gave up. I could have fine-tuned a lot more details, further emphasized the shadows and highlights, etc., but that was not what I set out to do. I missed the singing and dancing of colors in water.

In a way, the old pumpkin painting was not finished either, and the values probably don’t make sense. However, it was fun, and in my mind, it was what watercolor is supposed to be. 

I am not upset though. I haven’t practiced watercolor for a while so a bit lack of touch is fair game. I like my compositions and color choices, and that’s something. Most importantly, I didn’t let the trip completely cut off my art practice, and that’s quite a step forward!

James Jean: Eternal Spiral IV

Recently in Beijing, I had the chance to visit Eternal Spiral IV, an exhibition by Taiwanese-American artist James Jean. It was a revelation. Jean began his career working for DC and Marvel, before transitioning fully to fine art in 2008. This exhibition showcases more than 200 pieces spanning over two decades of his creative journey, including paintings, sculptures, animations, installations, and even tapestries—a true multimedia experience.

The exhibition begins with Jean’s sketchbooks and drafts. These aren’t just technical studies; they offer a rare glimpse into his process. His lines are filled with energy, precision, and constant revision. As someone who has always been afraid to sketch freely, seeing how even a master like Jean frequently changes his mind, makes mistakes, and abandons ideas was oddly reassuring.  It made me realize that sketching is a form of exploration, a space to make mistakes and grow, not something to shy away from due to fear of imperfection.

From sketches, the exhibition moves into Jean’s paintings, mostly done in acrylic. His style is a fusion of cultural influences that reflects his identity as a “cultural nomad.” He draws from sources as varied as Chinese scroll paintings, Japanese woodblock prints, and Baroque art, blending them seamlessly with contemporary culture and digital techniques. The result is a layered, intricate narrative that feels at once both timeless and modern. His dream-like compositions often depict creatures and plants spilling out of the canvas, creating fantastical worlds where reality and fantasy blur together. These hallucinatory landscapes are vibrant yet tranquil, chaotic yet serene—like stepping into someone else’s dream. He plays with delicate lines and bold colors, using vibrant pinks, blues, oranges, and golds to make his worlds feel alive. “I enjoy making colors vibrate against each other to create sparks in the eye,” Jean said. 

The keynote painting of the show was Jean’s newest piece, Chimera, inspired by a visit to the Kaiyuan 开元 Temple in Quanzhou 泉州, Fujian 福建. The temple’s “Kirin Wall” and the tangled banyan roots influenced the composition, which also weaves in Jean’s personal family history. His ancestors were from Fujian, but much of that history was lost when his grandparents moved to Taiwan. In Chimera, the roots reach out, searching for something to grasp, much like Jean’s own search for his heritage. Quanzhou happened to be my ancestral home too, and I have visited Kaiyuan Temple as a child. To some extent, I resonate with the tension between the desire to search for one’s root and the acute sense of disconnection. Jean has talked about the creation of this painting on his Instagram

Chimera as the poster of Eternal Spiral IV

One particularly unique aspect of this exhibition is how it integrates social media. Jean, who has over a million followers on platforms like Instagram and Xiaohongshu 小红书, included 11 time-lapse videos of his creative process.  I’d never seen social media incorporated into a gallery setting like this before, and it added an intriguing link between the fantasy world create by the artist and the mundane modern life. 

The show includes prints of Jean’s series “Seven Phases,” a collection of 7 paintings representing each member of the beloved K-pop group BTS in the “spirits of flowers”. There are also prints of posters he designed for films like Everything Everywhere All at Once and The Shape of Water. Guillermo del Toro personally asked him to create the poster for the latter, which he rendered in vivid charcoal. My favorite is his poster for Blade Runner 2049— romantic and surreal. Jean’s ability to move between fine art and pop culture, and across different media, speaks to his versatility and boundless creativity.

A surprise for me was Jean’s love for tapestries. He has engaged with this unconventional medium for a while and his 2024 piece Year of the Dragon made its debut here. It features a dragon—one of the most powerful figures in the Chinese zodiac—woven from a mix of flowers and plants. The dragon symbolizes strength, but Jean reinterprets it in his signature style, making it feel both traditional and personal. This reimagining of cultural symbols is a recurring theme in his work.

Jean’s versatility doesn’t stop with tapestries. His sculptures, some standing over three meters tall, bring characters from his paintings into the physical world. They blend European myths, Asian folklore, and fairy tale elements. Some sculptures are based on the artist’s painting, and shown with large-scale animation, completing the cycle from 2D to 3D to “4D.”

The final room of the exhibition left me in awe. Six massive paintings, each over 10 meters long, sprawling yet detailed, demonstrating Jean’s ability to create on both an epic and intimate scale. Descendants—Blue Wood, inspired by Seoul’s Lotte World Tower and the fairy tale Jack and the Beanstalk. Aviary depicts an imagined world inspired by Chinese folk legends. Monks, bird deities, erhu … many traditional Chinese elements intertwine, emerging from the mind of a sleeping monk enveloped in flames. An enigmatic dreamscape!

Aviary, acrylic on three canvases, 246 x 120”

Eternal Spiral IV is more than just an exhibition of James Jean’s talent; it’s an invitation into his ever-shifting, multi-dimensional world where dreams, myths, and reality collide. It left me in awe and inspired. In Jean’s own words, “ultimately, it’s about having the freedom to create whatever imagery I want.” I believe that freedom comes from his impeccable skill and dedication to art. While Jean’s art has a distinct style, but he has managed to breakthrough with constant searching for both meaning and new ways of expression. 

Did I mention that his first NFT “Slingshot” was sold at $469,696.35? I have also picked up my long abandoned sketchbook. 🙂

Slingshot (3m tall statue, part of the “Pantheon” collection in the show)

Master Studies and Some More

Charles-Joseph Natoire (1700-1777), a prominent French Rococo painter and draftsman, was celebrated for his decorative paintings, mythological scenes, and religious paintings. Natoire was one of the artists who helped popularize the use of pastels in the 18th century. He often employed delicate pinks, blues, and greens to create a light, airy atmosphere in his works. His paintings are characterized by their pastel hues, delicate brushwork, and a playful charm.

“Head of a Bacchante” (1741) is a fine example of his mastery in pastels. A bacchante, a female follower of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine, fertility, and theatrical performance, is often depicted in art as ecstatic or in states of divine possession.  Pastel allows for a softness and blendability not easily achieved with oil paints, making it ideal for capturing the delicate features and expressions of mythological figures.

I saw this painting at the Getty Center, where I was drawn to Natoire’s emphasis on grace, charm, and a certain lightness. The luminous quality of the skin tones, achieved through soft, atmospheric light, created a sense of intimacy and warmth. His fluid, graceful brushwork contributed to the overall elegance, and a well-controlled value range allows smooth transitions between forms.

In attempting a master copy, I focused on replicating the subtle value changes. I have a tendency of using high contrast and high saturation in my own portrait painting. I hope, by compress and control the two, I could achieve a softness and luminous effect that is missing in my works. While oil paint is not as ideal to achieve this goal as pastel, I figured I would still learn a lot by pushing it as far as I could. I started a bit too heavy handed, and later had to spend layer upon layer to lighten things up, and contract the range of values. The result still felt too defined in some places, lacking the ethereal quality of Natoire’s original. Some of the airiness of the original comes from Natoire’s dancing line work, which I don’t have the skill to imitate with a brush. While Natoire captured a goddess, I painted a mortal – a lovely one, I think. 

After Natoire, oil on canvas board, 9 x 12 in. August, 2024

Curious about modern interpretations, I requested a pastel painting of a bacchante from both Grok 2 and MidJourney 6.1. Grok gave me a photo-realistic beauty with a somewhat painterly background. It seems Grok doesn’t respond well to traditional medium. MidJourney, on the other hand, at least attempted to emulate ‘a painting.’ 

One can also twig the many perimeters MidJourney offers to achieve varied result: 

If I provide Natoire’s original as a prompt, MidJourney could fake a couple of masterpieces:

Me and my bots, we all had fun!

Some Filler Projects

There are a couple of still life projects ongoing, and in between, I completed a few portraits using models from East Oaks Studio’s live streaming. Previously I focused on trying to finish the sketch, smaller in size, within 2 to 3 hours, aligning with each streaming session. This time, I used bigger panels, and allowed myself as much time as I wanted. The results are more rendered and complete-looking pieces:

Evee, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18 in, July 2024
Tina, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18 in, July 2024
Kailey, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18 in, July 2024

A few notes:

  • I call these “filler projects” because they were not part of my summer plan. However, I find that while waiting for a layer to dry, or stalling at certain stages of the painting, doing something different alleviates my anxiety. It’s so much better than idling around not achieving anything!
  • I neither went for close likeness nor the exotic look in my previous Schiele-ish attempt. However, I do feel that Schiele exercise has left its mark.
  • For me, the greatest gain from these paintings is that I have started to consolidate my method. In each case, I started with a Zorn palette, and added to it as I went on.
  • Mix it up and never stop painting!

Channeling a Bit of Schiele?

Feeling a bit lost with my portrait practice recently, I ventured to try something new. I was attracted to the works of the Austrian Expressionist, Egon Schiele (1890 -1918) by his unique use of colors and lines, and his focus on conveying strong emotions. After indulging myself with his art for a while, I have a desire to break from likeness and accuracy and focus on a feeling, a mood, or an air. Hence the following:

Monica, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, May 2024
Still Monica, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, May 2024
Annie, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, May 2024

A few notes:

  • These are not done as studies of Schiele. I personally don’t think his style is replicable.
  • I tried to manipulate the mood with different color schemes.
  • I deviated from the reference a lot, with invented or exaggerated expressions.
  • As always, I found my shaky mastery of anatomy and the lack of understanding of the light effects the biggest barriers to go further in creation.
  • I am not sure where I go with this: it is fun to do something different, but it is also a painful reminder that I need to practice the basics more.
  • But again, did I say it is fun? So at least once in a while …

Fruits, Eggs, and More

Moderate still life endeavors on various surfaces:

Wooden Cup, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, Spring 2024
Oil and Orange, oil on MDF board, 9 x 14, Spring 2024
Quail Eggs and Shells, oil on aluminum board, 9 x 12, Spring 2024

Two things I am struggling with:
1. Sunken-in: it is the appearance of a dull matte area in a section of an oil painting, usually caused by overly absorbent grounds, too much solvent, or earthy pigments. In my case, it is the umber and the black. I tried oiling out – apply one part Gamsol + one part Galkyd to the dull area. It helps for a while, but overtime, it might go back a little. Varnishing is supposed to be another way to improve, but so far I find that even less helpful. The process is demanding of patience too, for you need to wait till the paints touch dry to apply the rescue, and then wait for the rescue to dry to see if it actually works.
2. Taking a decent photo. I assume it would be better if the I wait long enough for the paints to be drier, and somehow there’s no sunken-in – the shine is even. Or, invest in a better than iPhone camera? 😳

When to Stop – Never?

I have a vivid memory of my early watercolor classes. As we busily worked on our pieces, our teacher, peeking from behind, said suggestively, “Know when to stop! Don’t ruin it…” We all felt nervous, guessing if it is “me” she was insinuating. Knowing when to stop becomes a thing always rings in the back of my mind when I am painting in watercolors. Understandably, it is not easy to remove the paints when they are on paper. Even when I moved to acrylic and oil, in theory you can keep piling paints on, I still hear that question being asked in classes and workshops. The obvious answer is you should stop when a piece works, but do you always know that? Then let’s say, you know it doesn’t work yet, should you keep trying or move on to the next one?

In one of the East Oaks’ early livestream, Michael Klein answered both parts of the question. I am paraphrasing here: I always know what kind of result I want to achieve and there’s no such a thing as overworking a piece. If you think a piece is overworked, it probably means you haven’t worked enough yet. You only stop when a painting works, and it is better to make the current one works before moving on to the next piece. If you haven’t solved the problem with the current piece, how could you make the next one better? 

Mr. Klein’s remarks shook me, but it also makes perfect sense. The concept that there was a moment in the past that the painting was perfect is faulty. If you don’t know where to end, should you even start? If you do know, what made you keep working on it in the first place? 

Klein’s answer also reminds me what Jeff Watts repeated in some of his demo videos, that you should paint each painting as if this is the one by which the world would judge you. Dale Zinkowski, whose tutorial I am following nowadays, echoed something similar. In a way, this is inline with the concept of “holding yourself responsible” that we discussed previously. We learn from making and correcting our own mistakes. 

So, to know when to stop, before starting each painting, sort out your goal as clear as possible in terms of the mood and aesthetics you want to achieve. Traditionally, you do that with thumbnails or draft paintings. Nowadays you can employ Photoshop or ProCreate in the design and drafting process. You can modify the digital version till it looks like the painting you want before you start, judge the progress against it, and keep working on it until you reach the goal. When not sure, put the painting aside and look at it from time to time. I used to do that for days or weeks, but according to the talented and prolific Scott Burdock, he sometimes leave a piece open-ended for years. You don’t need to decide if a painting is done on spot. Give it time, and then give it more time. (Unless you are working on something with a deadline, then the deadline calls for you.)

This process is more challenging for a watercolorist. Watercolor paper, however high quality, only takes so much beating. The innovative artist Niel Murphy found a way to expand the design process to the entire art making process. He started with a watercolor painting, scan it into Photoshop to keep working on it digitally, then print it out and paint more on top of that. This process is very expandable – you can work on the piece forever – at least in theory. 

A logistic problem rises. If every painting has the potential to be worked into something, we should only work with the best materials we could afford at any time, right? What if? This is the advice many artist give. Do not waste your time on poor materials. It is very against my stingy nature, but I find using better materials help to hold myself responsible. I am less likely to give a half-hearted effort or abandon a piece by telling myself it is just a practice. I just need to find more affordable but good materials. MDF or aluminum board, limited palette, there are some options. 

Of course in the process of learning and practicing, not every initiative marches toward a gallery.    I can’t possibly make everything work as it intended to be, but there are ways to keep options open. I used to throw out or paint over the old paintings. I still do, but I remember to keep a digital copy. In the days that I am too languid to pick up a brush, but feel obligated to do something art related, I turn the into digital patterns.

Any piece of art has the potential to morph into longevity. 

Here are some of the patterns I made from old art pieces (shown first):

Hold Yourself Responsible

One reason I avoided painting people when I started making art was that I knew if the drawing was off, everyone could tell, regardless of training. Still-lifes or landscapes, however, are more forgiving. You still need to achieve a decent eclipse and get the essential perspective right. Yet, unless I show you the reference photo, it’s not apparent the actual size of my apple and its distance from the mug; it’s not evident that the tree has more branches or the buildings are intricately designed. This applies not only to drawing, but also to colors and values. I can make things up as I go, and that’s my creative freedom, right?

I recently viewed some demos from the renowned still life and portrait artist Dale Zinkowski. He painted a simple setup of eggs in the span of 4 hours. I was surprised that during those 4 hours, he devoted the entire first hour to the drawing, not even a complicated one. Most of this time was spent measuring to ensure the accurate positioning of the eggs. Really? Is such meticulousness necessary? Who would notice? As if hearing my question, he began explaining his rationale for taking the time to get the drawing right. It was to hold himself responsible when nobody was watching. His comment makes me think a lot about my own practice. Indeed, in a realist painting, an artist’s job is not to religiously copy everything seen. However, when you spend time designing the setup (Dale said he spent a lot of time putting the eggs in a desirable position), you don’t dismiss it without a good reason. Every observation, measurement, and comparison sharpen your visual acuity. Every drawing revision to align more closely with what you see enhances hand-eye coordination. By holding yourself responsible, you improve the efficiency of your practice, and you get more from each painting experience. It’s not about having to replicate the exact color of the egg before you, but striving for a matching color enriches your skill set, and ultimately, it gives you more freedom in artistic creation. 

This practice might be a simple truth for many, but having taken excessive liberty with my drawing for so long, I’ve wondered why I haven’t made sufficient progress. For me, this was a light bulb that just went on moment. What ensues is implementing this practice. 

Share a few of my recent still life paintings:

Pumpkin Couple, oil on paper, 9 x 12, 2023
Apples, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, 2023
Vase and Scarf, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, 2024