Quick and Easy: DIY Artist's Light Box

Manufactured light boxes for tracing? Either not bright enough or harshly expensive.
But I've wanted one for years.

 So, taking cues from a number of DIY sites on the subject--some too simplistic and some hyper-technical, I made my own. 

My methods may be foolish. I have no idea if there is an easier way to do any of this. All I know is that it was easy for me, and that's saying a lot.

I rejected box-building as too time-consuming. Figured I could find a ready made, sturdy case. (Almost bought an old silverware box at the junk store. Its great built-in drawer almost had me sold, but the thing had thick, pink felt guts inside--maybe too difficult to remove. And at $14, not cheap enough either.)
Then it occurred to me to look around the basement...

and I found two painter's cases like this--gifts to me way back in high school (thanks Mom!). I used the cleanest one.

Before I did anything else, I called the local plexiglass supplier to see if I could try out some plexi samples before purchase. Their answer was affirmative so I dove into the project.

It was not difficult to remove the dividers with a chisel. (Luckily, the old paint tubes did not require this.)

 Had to cut the opening for the plexiglass, so was pretty happy that I have a Dremel (thanks Dad!). Even happier to find it had a tiny buzz-saw attachment that easily removed the inside of the lid of the case. I left a rim all the way around because, thinking ahead for a change, I knew I'd need a thicker edge upon which to attach the plexiglass. Oh, the blue tape is for masking it off before spray painting the inside. (Sorry, got ahead of the camera.)

 So here is a group of materials, clockwise from bottom:

Blue masking tape 

Westek 36" Ultra Thin LED Strip Light; in three 12" sections. (I bought this only with the assurance of return if it wasn't bright enough. It is bright, but I can still attach one more strip if need be--nice to have options.)

High Gloss White Spray Paint; for reflectivity inside the box

Paint Case; cut up and masked off

 Here are the connected Strip lights and the recently white-sprayed interior of the case. 

I drilled a hole for the cord, then gathered all this up (along with test materials; a pencil drawing, sketch paper, a sheet of 300 lb watercolor paper) and headed to the plexi supply.

I plugged it in, and after testing many types from white to frosted, and several thicknesses, I found that 1/8" thick frosted plexiglass allowed me to clearly view my drawing--even seeing through the thick watercolor paper was not a problem. The 1/8" thick sheet was plenty sturdy for the size of my light box, so I gave the guy the measurements and the piece was cut to perfection.

 Once home, I attached the light strips to the inside of the box with Scotch brand Indoor Mounting Tape (the foam backed stuff with the green plaid paper)...

and turned it on! The lights are much more intense than this photo shows and unlike fluorescent bulbs,
they stay very cool--no vent necessary.

I pre-drilled holes in the plexiglass the same size size as the small screws (see that one in the corner), then screwed it to the top of the box. The plexi edges and corners weren't sharp, but I did sand them, rounding them a bit with very fine sandpaper.

A backtrack: This shows a makeshift grommet on the inside of the box. It's just a Scotch brand peel-and-stick rubber floor-care pad I dug out of the drawer. I cut an X in it with an X-acto knife and threaded the LED cord through. It's a simple and effective way to keep the cord in place without having to buy a grommet or tie a knot in the cord. And the final tests:

A sketch on tracing paper seen through heavy white drawing paper.

and same sketch showing through 300 lb. cold press watercolor paper. (I know this photo doesn't make it look all that clear, but it is--especially in a darkened studio.)

And there she is--finished, cheap, and beautiful! Well, functional at least.
And she's the perfect size for me at
13" x 16 3/4" x 3"

Given that most of the materials were found around the house, my total cost was minimal.
The only things I had to buy were:

 LED light strip pack: $30

Mounting Tape: $6

Frosted Plexi: $8

Gloss White Spray Paint: $7

So for only fifty-one bucks and a bit of problem-solving, I got a solid tracing box that exactly serves my needs.

If you like this but my directions aren't clear, just comment or email me--
and thanks for checking it out!

A Cannonball from Zim

Pirate sketch via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

 This little fellow was inspired by a new issue of an old book by Eugene Zimmerman--the great comic artist.

If you've followed my blog, you know that the "little guys" feature prominently here and in my art. This book is not only full of those fellows, it is packed with fascinating writing and helpful advice for artists.

From Picture This Press, the Lost Art Books series "collects and preserves the works of illustrators and cartoonists from the first half of the 20th century". Definitely a publisher worth supporting.

 http://www.picturethispress.com/

Spent the weekend reading and learning from Zimmerman's humor, philosophy, and art tips. Like Loomis' Fun with a Pencil, this book is full of powerful stuff cloaked in humor. It might seem quaint in delivery, but Zimmerman's wisdom-waters run deep and refreshing.

  And the little guys he drew are some of the best!

Thanks for the visit--hope you found it interesting

Lantern Fascination

Lantern sketch via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

Lantern sketch. Brush and ink, watercolor.

I notice recurring motifs in artist's works--Heath Robinson drew lots of patches and pitchers; Rackham had his pollard oaks.

Not putting myself on their level, but I noticed lanterns show up frequently--not really consciously--in my pictures.

So I dragged all my sketchbooks to the couch--even ones from my youth--and proved that beyond a doubt. There are a lot of them.

 Maybe the fascination comes from this one:

Great Grandpa's signal lantern from when he worked on the railroad. He gave it to me before he died--I loved him and treasure it. Not sure that's enough of a reason to include them so often though.

At any rate, I've posted some lantern sketches before, as prelims for a project,   http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/2013/06/illustration-construction-part-one.html but here are a few more, past and present:

 One from art school years.

One from my younger days.

In thinking about the symbolism of lanterns in literature and art, I figure they most likely represent truth, or the light of God, or wisdom. But I'm guessing. Most of mine were drawn without really thinking, and without resource.

From a older watercolor illustration (unpublished).

From a random sketchbook page.

Gave in and googled "Tarot symbology of lanterns". This from the Tarot Reading Psychic: http://tarotreadingpsychic.com/tarot-symbolism-the-lantern/

"Power of intuition, truth and courage; hope, healing and the quest for new found enlightenment through spiritual wisdom; new found awareness; a reminder that every dark path has a light" (Really?)

  

via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

Another simple oldie

via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

Can't remember the title of this one. From the 90's--this pic came from the 

catalog I think. I remember working hard to come up with the face on the lamp.

via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

 Always liked this pen and ink sketch.

Detail from a watercolor done about three years ago.

A sketch fragment

Detail from One-Eyed Wizard via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

From a sketch done this week. Lanterns lend themselves to the anthropomorphic pretty well--this one's from a Welsh miner's lamp in my collection.

I've never been much for analyzing my works and the motifs that recur, but I think it's a pretty safe bet that the lantern fascination goes hand in hand with my admiration of the past, and the feeling of being born into the wrong century (or nostalgia for a past life?).

Leaving you with a quote by W.B Yeats:

 “People think  I am merely trying to bring back a little of the old dead beautiful world of romance into this century of great engines and spinning Jinnies. Surely the hum of wheels and clatter of presses, let alone the lecturers with their black coats and tumblers of water, have driven away the goblin kingdom and made silent the feet of the little dancers.”

I can relate. Nothing wrong with shutting off the glare of a computer screen and letting a bit of soft lantern light and a couple of goblins into the room, is there?

As always, thanks for the visit.

Cruikshank Characters: Real and Refreshing

By George Cruikshank via http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/

From A Comic Alphabet by George Cruikshank

I love character illustrations and character design, especially those that seem, like Cruikshank's, as unaffected and unpretentious as a sketch. I don't know much about his work process, but the figures seem drawn more from imagination than a reliance on resources.

Now I am all for using resources and do it all the time. It's an essential part of illustration. But there is something about work that springs direct from the artist's brain. Somehow, it reads Genuine.

I've always been intrigued by that, and also ambivalent--I mean, research and resources help make an illustration more convincing, right?  Still, this quote by the great illustrator Larry MacDougall resonates:

"What I like best is when the artist is making it all up straight out of his head, without the aid of reference or photographs. Drawings done in this way are the real thing, clear windows into the spirit and character of the illustrator."

(From the book Witching Hour:  The Art of Larry MacDougall  

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1556346301 )

I think that's why I love to sketch, and why other artist's sketchbooks fascinate way beyond their finished paintings. For me, it is during the sketching process that the internal critic is silenced--when it's not about what an imaginary (or real) someone might like or dislike or criticize.

But I digress. This post is mostly about a fellow who managed to make characters that seem to be "clear windows" into authenticity. I know these aren't Cruikshank's sketches--they are engravings made from his drawings--and that his original drawings were given over to the engraver for printing. But somehow they still retain the freshness of sketches direct from the head.

A figure from The Streets

It is oft written  that Cruikshank did not have much knowledge of anatomy, or even how bodies were put together. Maybe that's the reason his works seem so unpretentious.

Detail of an illustration from Oliver Twist

Look at the stance of Oliver!  It's got no trace of formula--doesn't need it.

Fagin in His Cell, from Oliver Twist

Probably my favorite Cruikshank. Perfect in every way.

Check out more of Cruikshank's work here http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/cruikshank/ 

and check out the work of Larry MacDougall, too.  Here's a link to his blog:

 http://mythwood.blogspot.com/

Thanks for reading!

Illustration Construction: Part Three

Don't yet have a title for this in-process watercolor of the artist in his studio.
It's a section of one of three slightly different interiors based on the sketches of the previous two posts.  http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/2013/06/illustration-construction-part-one.html

Took it into my head to work the same painting using three different media: Watercolor, oil, and gouache (or maybe acrylic?).  I reasoned that it would be good for me to focus for once, and believed I must finally choose a single medium in which to work. (Occasionally, self-delusion and irrationality visit my studio. They tend to hang around awhile, too.)

Some details of each prep-drawing follow.

Ended up tweaking every drawing, so they are slightly different. Sort of like that "Doublecheck" activity in Highlights magazine--sorry 'bout that.

This is a detail of the artist done on gessoed hardboard prepped for oil. It's brush and india ink.

 This one is a detail of the artist done on Crescent watercolor board, in sepia ink. Already begun to work the color  into it (see first pic above).

 This one is a detail of the artist in preparation for either gouache or acrylic (can't decide), again using india ink. (Btw, the ink has to be sealed prior to acrylic being applied.)

This is the artist's assistant (he holds the lantern-stick) in the oil painting. Good thing oils allow mistake-fixes.

This is the assistant in the watercolor version.

The assistant turned into three birds for the gouache/acrylic version. There's boredom in action for you.

It does seem a bit absurd to do a similar pic three times, but it's what I've set my mind to do.
 With many other irons in the fire, it may be awhile before these are completed. Oh well, wish me luck.

And thanks for checking in!

Illustration Construction: Part Two (and a Rough back-step)

Roughs. A few anyway.  

Sorry, I forgot about the roughs. I did about 8 for this project. These were done after the first composition sketch--the one with the words on it 

(see previous post http://tomsarmo.blogspot.com/2013/06/illustration-construction-part-one.html ) and I should have stuck them in there.

These are a combination of value and composition thinking. The initial idea is just about subject. Roughs (or thumbnails) like those above help me develop the subject into an actual scene. Roughs are crucial in finding the best solution for the scene.

I decided that the interior, not just the characters, was important to me. So I chose the second from the left for my composition, and the last one will be a reminder for the light or atmosphere.

 Somewhere along this process I began sketching face ideas for the artist. Much of the time this sort of "thinking" is done while sitting around talking with my family, not necessarily while I'm in the studio. You could say it's like letting the unconscious take over.

There were quite a few more interim sketches of this guy, too many to reasonably show. This is one I traced up to see if I liked the character.

[You can skip this paragraph if you want--it's a bit of an apology. The most satisfying "making" for me comes while thinking and sketching and dreaming--and that lazy wandering feeling is very close to sublimity. I like to draw everywhere--both on paper and in my head, and most of those drawings get lost. There's something sort of nice about the impermanence.

Finally though, a fellow has to quit the lazy part and get to work. But the methodical exertion on the drawing table is not my favorite thing, and I too often rush that part. The tough issue for me is keeping the qualities of my wander-sketching--and the joy-- in a final illustration. I hope I can do that for this particular picture.]

Anyway, here is the second stage of the drawing. The artist and helper are still wavery and uncongealed, both here and in my head. But I'm getting there.

Next up: Part Three and some color.

Thanks for staying with me on this particular journey.

Illustration Construction: Part One

Good old summer--ugh! It's my most trying, most un-stimulating season for some reason. This year, instead of fighting the annual "creative block", I went back into an old sketchbook for inspiration. Since the artist-in-studio has always fascinated me, there were plenty of sketches to look at.

These were done a great many years ago, but luckily touched off an idea; a complete studio interior with an artist fortunate enough to have an assistant. A sort of Artist Dr. Frankenstein and his Igor?

This is the first new rough, with a few notes. I like to begin a new illustration by sketching stuff out without resources. That seems to help me keep the idea open to development. Looking for resources too early tends to cement it in--not what I'm after at this stage.

This is the first composition sketch--very rough, but with the perspective worked out. Most often, I do these using a 2h pencil on junk paper. This one's been enhanced--thus the smeary look.

I started sketching ideas for the lantern and hand positions--in this case while sitting around in the living room after the studio work session.

Next post:  Part Two: The Construction Continues

Thanks for the visit!

Fleeting Thoughts

A bit melancholy, now that spring is past and the hot summer is due to begin.

Brief--I should say fleeting--thoughts of small, rich bits (like Durer's Great Piece of Turf, below) are moving around in my brain lately.

It might be because large, beautiful landscapes are escaping my notice, most likely due to the destruction of my neighborhood, and that of other places I once loved.

 A little watercolor sketch I painted on location (at a place called Onion Hill) once a long time ago.

It was much cooler and way more atmospheric than this sad little sketch shows.

Now Onion Hill looks like this. In winter. (It's not much better in the summer.)

It always amazes me that people actually choose to live in houses like these. It's an expensive development, not a slum where one might be forced to live due to economic hardship. Miles of giant black roofs that block the view of the surrounding mesas, and brown, tan, and taupe instead of a colorful old farm. Some kind of modern Gulag.

The late, great illustrator Trina Schart Hyman once wrote: 

"One spring the farm was sold, and men and machines came and tore it down. They ripped up the grand old elms and boxwoods...they smashed the old stone and stucco walls and splintered the hand-painted blue and white tiles that lined the fireplaces. They shattered the wavery-gold and violet-tinted glass of the windows. They battered it...until it finally collapsed and died: then they plowed it under with their bulldozers.  

I learned something, that day. I learned that everything changes, and nothing is safe."

The farm from the book Self-Portrait, by Trina Shart Hyman

Everything changes I guess, including (maybe) my own ideas and opinions about beauty. And nothing is ever really safe. But it wouldn't hurt my feelings to once in awhile see a new, brown suburb bulldozed to make way for an old neighborhood filled with some charm.