Monday, March 4, 2013

Sky - Layers



“Onions have layers, Ogres have layers…”   


Skies have layers.



Above is a photograph from “High life: First look inside the $60,000 per month penthouse at New York by Gehry” in New York Daily News.  Apparently I’m not cut out to be an architect, because my first reaction to this photograph was, “what a great view – what curious clouds.”  Notice that the clouds are a mix of puffy cumulous and wispy cirrus.  Since I was already putting together a blog on cloud layers I added this to the pile of images.

So, let’s talk layers…

A quick and dirty tour of cloud types: 

Stratus and Stratocumulus are both low altitude clouds that are laid out horizontally – creating horizontal lines at the horizon and directional clouds overhead.

Cumulus clouds are the fluffy summer day cotton balls that float along at a low altitude – think of your typical politician’s grayish white helmet of hair.

Cumulonimbus clouds are the towering stacks of heavy rain clouds that are so dramatic – think Marge Simpson’s bee-hive hair style.

Altocumulus and Altostratus are the mid altitude clouds that lay horizontally – they are like the Stratus and Stratocumulus but higher and more broken up; think of fish scales and bird feathers.

Cirrus and Cirrocumulus are the high altitude horizontal clouds – they are wispy and very broken up, like my hair and my reaction to my hair.

The thing to remember is that you have relatively flat clouds that occur at different altitudes in the atmosphere, and then you have dramatic stacking clouds that tower from low to high altitudes.  This simple mix of types allows for an amazing variety of sky conditions that can be used to compliment the rendering of any building.


Seen from an airplane the layers are quite distinct, as in this oil sketch I did after last summer’s trip home.  High altitude clouds give a delicate pattern to the sky above, and low altitude cumulus clouds partially obscure the view of the ground.



Artists have been painting skies for centuries.  The ever changing clouds give any painter a fascinating subject just outside the window.  Frederic Edwin Church became famous (and rich) painting landscapes, and his interest in magnificent cloud-scapes is understandable.  In both of his paintings above; Sunset, Bar Harbor, and Clouds over Olana, he captures the layers that make clouds so complex and interesting.


Half a century later George Sotter of the New Hope School of artists (founded along the Delaware River just 25 miles east of here) was working the same angle, and faithfully capturing the different layers of clouds.  I never liked this painting, but it does reveal a pragmatic understanding of clouds.


N.C. Wyeth, with his outsized persona, reflected the world with a certain exaggeration.  His observation of the sky however, was clear.  In his painting Covered Wagons, he recalls the canvas tops of the wagons in the puffy, floating cumulus clouds, backed by the sky trails made by the altostratus clouds.  


I’ve said before that I would love to paint skies.  Buildings are so ordered, detailed and picky that they have used up all my fastidiousness.  The above oil sketch catches some late afternoon layering north of Allentown, Pennsylvania.


This is a very small oil sketch of a cluster of cloud types I could not have imagined had they not been hanging there in front of me. 

Cloud formations can take some amazing shapes and patterns, but in architectural illustration clouds are normally the background for the building, not the focus of the image.  So it is best to use the wide variety of clouds to present your building in the best light.  A low horizontal building might show best with a pile of Cumulonimbus at the horizon as a frame.  If you have a skyscraper you might find that using horizontal cloud patterns are the best foil to counter the vertical line, as with the Petronas Tower sketch below.  




Generally, clouds should not dominate the subject of the painting, or abuse our sense of perspective.  Otherwise, whatever works, works.


- Sky - Perspective



Saturday, March 2, 2013

Seeing & Observing

Illustration from Harvard Magazine


In the latest Harvard Magazine is an excerpt from a new book by Maria Konnikova: Mastermind: How to Think Like Sherlock Holmes.  In the book is a conversation between Holmes and Dr. Watson from Doyle’s  “A Scandal in Bohemia” which points to the necessity of “observing” rather than “seeing”.

 “You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room.”

“Frequently.”

“How often?”

“Well, some hundreds of times.”

“Then how many are there?”

“How many? I don’t know.”

“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed.”

I couldn’t agree more with Ms Konnikova.  In the business of architectural illustration we tend to focus on the basics of constructing a model, a view and an accurate rendering. We don’t put much emphasis on looking at existing buildings in real conditions over an extended time period, and none on trying to capture (and therefore “observing”) existing buildings in on-site drawings or paintings. The client is in a hurry, the architect is in a hurry, and we are easily swept along by the hurry of the modern world. Technology adds to the feeling that we can “see” it all with cell phone shots and a Googled world. 

I have a section in my book called “Learning to See” which advocates for more serious “observing”. More importantly, there are schools teaching traditional art to the new generation; schools that demand serious observation.

Perhaps a new world of more profound understanding is coming. One can hope.


Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Composition Part 6 - The Pyramid


When I thought of the triangle in composition, one image came immediately to mind, the Egyptian Pyramids at Giza.  Of the seven wonders of the ancient world, only the pyramids are still standing.  Between their stable shape and being made of stone I wouldn’t be surprised if they were around for another 3000 years.


Since I just did a demo of I.M. Pei’s Louvre, the glass pyramid came to mind.


And with that came the Da Vinci Code movie... 


O.K., now I’m off the road and into the ditch...


The reality is that the pyramid shape applies to an amazing number of objects, from mountains to evergreens to half-length portraits.  I grew up on the edge of the Great Plains where the land was flat to the horizon, but scattered across the landscape were the farmsteads with pyramidal houses and barns, as well as the churches built by the various ethnic groups as they moved westward.
From Churches of Minnesota by A.K. Lathrop 2003

So it is clear that this shape is a part of natural and man-made objects; but what about paintings, drawings and architectural renderings? 


Half-length Portraits naturally fall into the pyramid pattern, with shoulders defining the base, and the head at the top.  The Portrait of Elizabeth Throckmorton by Nicolas de Largilliere is almost abstract in its austere geometry; a rather surprising mix to find in a 1729 painting.


The Portrait of Juan de Pareja by Velazquez is more varied, but follows the same pattern.  In fact the trick is to keep such a portrait from falling deeply into this “Bermuda Triangle” of portraiture.


Group portraits have always been a compositional problem for artists.  Where to position the heads; heads and faces being the normal focus when humans view a portrait?  Leonardo’s Virgin and Child with Saint Anne produces a pleasing pattern of heads and limbs cascading down one side of a triangle.  But as a practical matter it makes one scratch one’s head – is the adult Mary actually sitting on Saint Anne’s lap?  It works visually, so we happily don’t sweat the details.


The Chess Players by Eakins establishes a 45 degree triangle of heads, which forms a calming anchor to an otherwise busily, detailed painting.


If you have a person or symbol that you want to highlight, the apex of the pyramid is the obvious place to put them.  “Liberty” holding the French “Tricolour” is at the apex of Liberty guiding the People, by Eugene Delacroix.  The patriotic message is hard to miss.


A somewhat more realistic and subdued image is Taking of the Malakoff Redoubt by Horace Vernet.  It essentially does the same thing as Liberty, by using the same thing: patriotic pyramids.


Perspective can give the illusion of the pyramid.  The Kitchen Garden, Yerres by Gustave Caillebotte uses the centered perspective to unify an otherwise scattered view of plants and foliage.


Manor Garden - Raixa by Santiago Rusinol hides the pyramid within the curiously flat conglomeration of greens.  The stair itself is only a jewel within the unfolding pyramidal crown.


The rendering above of the Miami Worldcenter by Antonio Baglione takes what could be an overly busy image, and by using an elevated view over the street unifies it in a pyramidal pattern.


Mountains are another archetype of the pyramid found in paintings.  Fine Wind, Clear Weather by Katsushika Hokusai shows Mount Fuji, perhaps the most pyramidal of mountains.  This is only one of a series of 36 color woodblock prints of the mountain.  The series were so popular with the public that a further 10 views were added in the next publication.


The Snow Mountain by Albert Bierstadt inverts the normal relationship by focusing on the “V” shaped valley between peaks.  This is one of the more subdued paintings by Bierstadt, who preferred theatrical atmospherics and brilliant colors.


Back to buildings…  Santa Maria Della Salute in Venice is a building that was designed to fit a triangular shape.  Most artists have tried to avoid that simplistic composition, but I fell right into that trap in the above sketch from way back.


A building doesn’t have to follow any strict triangular pattern.  In fact it is better to hint at the pattern, as Alfred Sisley did in The Church at Moret.  There is enough of a sweep on the left, and enough of shadows and roofs on the right to suggest an equilateral triangle.


As noted before, perspective can easily create a pyramidal composition.  Hiroki Ikeda unifies his rendering of the Sakura Project, Tokyo in that way, while tweaking the view’s experience with delightful effects of color and detail.

My own ink rendering of the Medical School at Florida State University (HOK Architects) plays the same game.  Although this is a simple two point perspective with no convergence in the vertical walls, the general impression is pyramidal due to the various shadows and roof-lines.  The framing trees and ground cover are accurate, but rather overwhelming.

And the moral of the story…

It is obvious that the pyramid is a natural for many buildings.  But, as with the cross pattern, the pyramid must be obscured with other shapes and colors.  Make it part of another pattern, an off center spot perhaps.  Be bold.  This shape is primal and resilient, just like the pyramids at Gaza.





A caveat for all posts on composition.
You don’t want to produce total chaos.
You don’t want to create banal order.
You do want to entice, hint, and suggest.
You want to create mystery, even if the subject appears to be obvious.

 - Composition Part 17 - Value Studies