I was at the Georgia Museum of Art in Athens recently, and
saw a painting that jogged my memory: I’d been meaning to write a post on my
personal “rules” for architectural rendering. Some rules are obvious, like “Always
finish before the deadline” (I say “before” because there are always last-minute
adjustments to be made). Another obvious rule is “Don’t overpromise, but always
fulfill any promise.”
Anyway, the painting that got me going was Shipwreck by Charles Hoguet (1859). The
reason it caught my eye was that it fulfilled one of my rules; that being, “Make
the image compelling at all scales.” What I mean is that an illustration should
look enticing from across the room as well as when the viewer is within easy
viewing distance, and also when its details are viewed up close.
Seen from across the room, the dynamically balanced
composition leads the viewer forward to have a closer look at the painting. As
you can see, the dark part of the painting covers the bottom third of the
canvas plus a curious shape just to the right of center. The light part of the
painting includes some interesting shapes on the left.
Once you are close enough that the painting nearly fills
your view (eight or 10 feet in this case) the dark areas start to resolve into
separate shapes and recognizable objects. The water and sand suggest a
seascape, but the sails, which are now clear, look rather awkward. There is
much detail in the center foreground, but at this distance it is a jumble of
horses, men and unknown objects. Mystery and emotion were added to the original
compositional interest. All of this was enough to make me want to spend more
time scrutinizing the thing.
Now that the viewer is focusing on various spots on the
painting, a story begins to be told. The ship is obviously run aground, and
people are removing various stores and hardware, either as a salvage operation
or in an attempt to lighten the ship and refloat it at high tide. Four horses
are counted within the tumble of shapes. A wagon with three men loading was
almost a silhouette before, but is now clear and interesting. Among the horses there
are two blobs barely recognizable as men, and three foreground figures in
idiosyncratic poses. The scene is so entertaining that one could go on picking
out details in the narrative for some time.
In architectural illustration you don’t usually have a
chance to tell a story, but you certainly can construct a compelling
composition, and inject some drama. The example below is a bit of “paper architecture”
that I did for a site in New York City that was around the corner from where I
lived in the East Village.
I tried several pastel thumbnails of this view, varying the
values and the palette. I quickly hit on a pencil sketch that contrasted the building’s
dark top with the light sky, and the lighter base to the dark mass of the
neighborhood.
I found that this complementary brick-red and olive palette
popped out even as a mini thumbnail (much of the original pastel color rubbed
off before I could photograph it; moral: fix pastel immediately).
From across the room the final rendering is rather enticing,
if a little too stable in composition.
Closer up the building starts to show detail and scale. The
context begins to look like the aftermath of a late-day summer shower, which is
always magical in Manhattan.
Checking the details shows the turn-of-the-century subway
entrance on the left, and the rotating cube sculpture (titled “Alamo”!?) at the
center of Astor Place. The foreground would have to show more “street theater”
to match Hoguet’s painting, but that was my decision (giving too much emphasis
to the street activity can be a mistake when your object is the selling of the
actual building).
At this distance you can also see that the image was rendered in freehand ink, with airbrushed transparent color. There is always a certain magic when a realistic picture merges into ink lines or daubs of paint.
All right, so maybe that was all too obvious… of course you want to make an
illustration interesting. But this becomes very serious when you are rendering
for a competition entry. Competition juries have to make snap decisions,
especially if there are many entries. Getting the jury to choose your design
for later consideration is important; it’s like getting your foot in the door.
During the second round they will give your design a chance to win the prize.
If you don’t make it to the final review, you have no chance to win. A project
illustration that compels the viewer to look closer will position a project for
success.
