Marvin Mattelson Continuing Education Classes at SVA in NYC

Class portrait by former student Billy Norrby.
Billy_Norrby3Classes begin this week.
The School of Visual Arts • NYC
Oil Figure & Portrait Painting Continuing Education Classes
Registration is now open for the 2013 Winter/Spring Semester.

Realistic Figure and Portrait Painting • FPC-2010-CE
Fridays • 12:00PM – 6:00PM • 12 sessions • Feb 01 – Apr 26
Register for the Friday realistic figure and portrait painting class.

Classical Portrait Painting • FPC-2348-CE
Saturdays • 10:00 AM – 4:00PM • 12 sessions • Feb 02 – Apr 27
Register for the Saturday classical portrait painting class.

Put on Your Thinking Beret–Strategically Speaking!

William McGregor Paxton's Pink Rose

For Great Portrait Artists, Design is Key

Had Yogi Berra been a painter he surely would have said, “90% of painting is mental and the other half is technical.” When I look at a masterpiece I very rarely concern myself with the technical aspects. I’m much more interested in the thinking process behind the painting. What was the strategic reasoning behind the choices the artist made.

A couple of years ago I went to a gallery opening for my former student, Lori Earley. She was surrounded by a group of ardent fans, peppering her with questions. “Which medium do you use…what brand of paint…which brushes do you like…what kind of canvas…how do you mix skin-tones…?” I’m not saying these questions are without merit, but knowing these answers was not going to make any of them better artists. I’m not saying that technique is unimportant (far from it), but the bottom line is: great painters make great decisions.

Artists may have many arrows in their quivers, but those who hit bullseye after bullseye do it via superior picture making skills. In my classes I call it strategic thinking. It’s the ability to create a unified image, leading the viewer’s eye through a hierarchical balance of colors, values and edges melded together through a balanced design. In short it’s the ability to masterfully manifest your artistic intent. I never had any formal compositional training while in art school, but little by little, working as an illustrator for 30 years, I was able to develop my pictorial composition skills, before becoming a full-time portrait artist.

For me, Illustration was a terrific training ground to learn picture making. (I guess you can say I got paid to learn to design, as well as paint.) Illustrators can traverse one of two paths. They can develop a strong visual style, providing a particular look–which, like fashion design, will eventually become passé. The other route is to become a problem solver. Compared to self-themed fine artists, illustrators need to face problems existing outside of their own realm. Each assignment can be seen as an opportunity to create a fresh and unique strategy. With each new challenge comes the possibility of expanding one’s pictorial lexicon.

Since it was my goal to be as flexible a problem solver as I could be, I found myself navigating a wide range of subject matters and situations, some straight forward and some with a visual twist. My work ranged from movie posters, to scientific illustrations, to book covers and portraits. I seriously doubt, had I been left to my own devices, that I could have broadened my capabilities to the extent that I did. The pressures and time restraints were always imposing. I knew in the industry’s eyes I was only as good as my last assignment. Failure meant losing a client but I loved the pressure, because I had a warrior’s mentality. When the bullets stop flying, only the quick and the dead remain. As Nietzsche said, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” For over thirty years every picture I created made me a better problem solver.

It was my goal to one day–when I retired–switch to portraiture. That retirement came very abruptly, when a client transformed–what would turn out to be my last illustration assignment–into a Photoshop hack job. They rearranged the elements, added a new background and turned a fully rendered figure into a black silhouette–which was embossed in the printing. “Never again,” I swore. It was then, I said to myself, “Marvin you’re now officially a portrait artist.”

It was only logical for me, when I switched over to portrait painting, to bring my problem-solving/picture-making mentality along for the ride. Rather than just painting the same redundant portrait motifs I saw at every turn, I felt that I could make each painting a unique portrayal of my sitter. I saw portraiture being very much like illustration, in that most portrait artists’ works are about their superficial style. My feeling was that my strategic thinking could be a key factor in making my work stand out.

When designing my portrait paintings, I don’t follow any preexisting rules–imagine that? Instead, I put on my thinking beret, to come up with something I’d be thrilled to paint. I decide what the most important aspect of the portrait is and then I build a viable value and color structure around it, using edges to speed up or slow down the way my viewers’ eyes will traverse through the portrait. I call my basic strategy backwards thinking, because I start with the central focus and work backwards, subjugating the pictorial elements to my focus. William Bouguereau and William McGregor Paxton are the picture makers I admire most. I feel neither gets the credit they deserve in this area. Paxton’s advice to, “find a new motif,” and “seek a noble and ample design,” are my guiding lights. These concepts are beautifully illustrated in the above painting, William McGregor Paxton’s, The Pink Rose. You can see how Paxton turns a simple head and shoulder portrait into a strikingly unforgettable artistic tour de force.

Finding the best composition, clothing, props, lighting and pose to portray the character of my sitter, takes effort, but it’s well worth it in the end. I’m constantly looking at great strategic composers, trying to get under the hood, so to speak, of the decision-making mentality of artists like Paxton, Bouguereau, DeCamp, Ingres, Rembrandt, Raeburn and Kramskoy. All this will be discussed in great detail in future blogs.

I’ve often been asked, “Marvin, don’t you get tired just painting portraits?” The answer is a resounding no. I love being a portrait artist. Every face I see is so fascinating. Everyone’s energy is a thing unto it’s own self. I love coming up with a design strategy that incorporates these qualities, while commanding the viewer’s attention, and drawing them in. Even if I won the lottery, I’d still choose to do portraiture. The only difference is, were I to win the lottery, I would pay my subjects to sit for me. Then they would be required to pose for as long as I wished.

Being a great portrait artist requires far more than just rendering skills. If you want to  distinguish yourself, then you need to place a far greater degree of emphasis on problem solving and picture making. Remember, Michelangelo said, “A man paints with his brains and not with his hands!”

Until next time…

Two Good to be True Oil Portrait Workshops

A while back, I was leading an oil portrait workshop–in a locale which shall remain nameless–when a very well-known realist artist and teacher–who I will refer to as what’s-his-name–came to have lunch with me on the last day. He looked at the students’ work and remarked, “I have been to many workshops, including my own, and I’ve never seen this kind of progress, ever!” I was flabbergasted that he would make such an admission, so I asked him, “Can I quote you on that?” To which he replied, “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” So you can take what’s-his-name’s word for it, or you can read what some of my previous students have shared.

The most important thing–if you want to be a painter–is to learn to think like a painter. That is the central core of my teaching. It’s important to realize that where you’re at now is a direct result of the sum total of your knowledge and experience. However, these very same things are keeping you from moving forward. Wayne Dyer said, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”

In my workshops I cover a myriad of technical issues, but ultimately, it’s all about transforming your mindset. (Fade out fiendish laugh!) Above you can see a portrait class in my teaching studio at SVA. The curtain keeps the ambient room light off the model.

I have two remaining workshops scheduled until the summer of 2013, one in July in Atlanta and one in August in  New York City. You can click on the links if you’re interested in finding out more.

Until next time…

Getting Paid to Learn to Paint

Generally speaking, most artists develop their skills in one of two ways; they either study under someone more experienced or they go the self-taught route. Rest assured, in the future I’ll weigh in on both. But since this is my first blog entry I’ll keep the focus on your’s truly, because my painting methodology evolved in a peculiar way. Therefore, I hereby officially start this blog by providing a little context.

I began drawing at the ripe old age of two. I drew incessantly while growing up and eventually enrolled in an art college with the hope of becoming a great artist. I was very comfortable with my drawing ability and I looked forward, with tremendous anticipation, to learning how to paint. However, this was the late 1960s and the prevailing philosophy, with regards to art education, was that technical knowledge inhibits creativity, so I left with a diploma in one hand and in the other, the knowledge that I would never ever be able to paint to save my life.

Thanks to my innate drawing ability, hard work, a little moxie and a pinch of savvy, I was able to carve out what eventually evolved into a high-profile career in the world of illustration. Initially, I developed a style which caught on quickly, and miraculously, I was asked to join the faculty at the School of Visual Arts in New York.

I started out doing cartoon style drawings–ironically, the same kind of work I did in high school–which over a ten-year span evolved into a more refined realistic drawing style. However, my desire to paint never went away, but as a busy illustrator I could ill afford the time to experiment or study with an established painter. My only viable option was to incorporate painting into my illustration work. That way I would get paid to learn how to paint. Brilliant! Only one problem, I didn’t have a clue how to do it. I tried to read as much as I could on the subject, but quickly discovered each book presented virtually the same set of confusing and illogical rules, what I now refer to as myth-information. So, I reasoned, since the methods they professed seemed so clueless, I would do the exact opposite of what they said.

What made my situation so unique was that I had students who were intrigued with all my newfound ideas and were eager to put them into action. I was the mad scientist and we were all guinea pigs. There was no agenda to be reckoned with, and no philosophy to be navigated. If something worked across the board I knew it was bulletproof, and if it didn’t, then I had to keep searching for a better solution. Little by little, a logical methodology of universal truths began to evolve.

My illustration career was taking off, too. I was painting covers for Time Magazine, illustrating national ad campaigns and creating movie posters. In each illustration assignment I painted, I would keep experimenting, always trying out some new twist or turn, all the while getting paid to learn how to paint.

As hard as it is to imagine, every single painting I did was a paid assignment. I learned how to paint by virtue of a collaborative effort funded by my illustration clients. The result is an extremely effective and sound methodology that allows me to be the kind of portrait artist I dreamed I would one day become. Until next time…