Join me this Inktober on Instagram and Twitter - I’m excited to draw the stuff I imagine every time I walk through the markets and old streets here! Southeast Asia is such a rich, diverse region and I’ve always wished that more mainstream speculative fiction would depict it in the way it deserves. Time to draw everything from sarongs to makara and satay on the street.
In May, I had the opportunity to attend the annual Illustration Master Class in Amherst, run by the same amazing folks behind SmArtSchool. It’s something I’ve dreamed of doing for years. Since then I’ve constantly returned to the insights gleaned there when working on new pieces or thinking about career directions and goals.
I’ll do another post just exclusively for lessons learnt at the IMC. For now, suffice to say it was eye-opening, inspiring, and utterly refreshing to be among a cohort of people so driven and focused on making art.
Attendees work on a piece throughout the week at the IMC, either following one of the prompts provided or using one of their own. I brought in something I’d been thinking about for a few months already - an illustration for Ursula K. Le Guin’s short story ‘The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas’. If you haven’t already read it, I won’t spoil it except to say that it’s a story about a utopian city, perfect in so many ways save for the social contract it is built upon.
Many of the instructors talked about bringing an emotional, personal connection to illustration assignments regardless of the brief. There was one thing that also influenced my approach to the piece: the seven indigenous Orang Asli children who had run away from their abusive school environment in 2015. Five of them perished in the jungle and only two were found seven weeks later, thanks to a combination of negligence and disinterest by the authorities. I was a teacher in a public school back then and deeply shaken by the news. For students to run away and perish because they feared their teacher’s mistreatment - that is the worst thing possible.
There is a child in Omelas, far beneath the city in a dark room, and I would base that child on the seven children.
Because this was a personal piece, my intention was to explore new ways of working which I normally wouldn’t with client assignments. I could spend much more time fiddling around, trying out things, and going on detours. Case in point:
Being in the same room as so many experienced artists, I have the benefit (and drawback) of receiving tons of helpful feedback and critique on the piece. Learning to decide which to use, to listen to the work itself, and to stay true to my original, quiet vision for it, is essential. Thank you to everyone who helped this come together!
In between attending lectures, watching demonstrations, and trying to catch up with sleep, I spend time exploring what I could do with sumi ink - making large washes of textures, layering it slowly to build up the face and city. Wet-on-wet, the ink lays down in gorgeously soft gradations on Arches hot press sheets.
After creating all these physical layers, the next step is to scan and pull them all together digitally back home. My scanner is an Epson V370 that only takes A4 surfaces. Thanks to the wonders of technology, I can scan in parts, making sure to keep the piece aligned in the same direction to the scan bar so the paper texture is lit uniformly each time. Batch > Photomerge in Photoshop will usually do a good job of stitching the parts together, unless it fails in which case you might have to crop/ rotate the individual scans as closely as possible before trying again.
Working in Photoshop allows me to explore options in the middle of the process rather than needing to have a somewhat concrete idea of the final early on. I approach colouring in Photoshop the same way Justin Gerard does in this Muddy Colors post: building it up in layers set to various layer modes. Multiply, Soft Light, and Overlay are the MVPs here.
Because the story walks a fine line between abstract and concrete - the narrator asks the reader to imagine Omelas as they will - this could be reflected via colour choices that aren’t entirely realistic. A hint of nightfall, coupled with low sunset light bathing the city in a romantic glow, seems appropriate.
I paint the character and ripples on separate sheets of paper. Scanning them in, I position, skew, and resize as necessary.
Next comes adjustments to values and the texture of the paper in some areas. The granulation and tooth in the middle could do with some toning down, but I do want to retain it at the edges of the city and the bottom of the water. I duplicate the water texture layer, run a High Pass filter on it, then set that to Overlay. I save two versions - one with, one without this additional texture layer - so I can layer mask out areas I don’t want textured with the gradient tool.
And here we are, at the end of a long journey. While there are things I might have done differently, as far as learning goes, I’m pleased with the various things I discovered while working on this, both conceptually and technically. Can’t wait to put them to use in future pieces!
Stay tuned for an #inktober2018 project, up next on the blog.
Mee sua is also known as longevity noodles, symbolising long life. While it's commonly eaten on birthdays and during celebrations, there's no rule against having it on regular days when you want a hearty bowl of comfort and love. My mother has been making Foochow red wine mee sua for me ever since I was in her womb - safe to say that this dish is one of my favourites, and that nobody cooks it better than her.
When Light Grey Art Lab put out a call for artists to make pieces about the dishes they love, for the FOODIES exhibition, I knew right away what I would draw.
I begin by sketching out thumbnails for different ideas. This part of the process involves a lot of "what if"s. What if I change the camera angle? What if I show a close up of the mee? What if I incorporate symbols into the illustration?
Circles have come to symbolise many things in various cultures: protection, heaven, eternity, balance. The yin and yang, two opposing forces in nature that stand for dark and light, negative and positive, feminine and masculine, are encompassed within a circle. There are circular versions of the Chinese symbols for longevity, 壽 or 'shòu', which I wanted to incorporate into the outer part of the illustration. I remember concentric circular patterns on 18th century bronze rain drums I saw in the Royal Palace at Luang Prabang, Laos, which inspire me to try a similar layout here. And the DNA strands are a reference to my background in science, as well as how deeply this dish has been ingrained in me since childhood.
This initial step of exploring, developing, and researching ideas is the most crucial part of the process. One of my teachers once said, "You can't polish a turd", which is true - the flashiest rendering and effects can't save a boring or shallow concept, or something with a fundamentally wonky drawing.
Next, I head to the computer and print off a simple template that's made up of a frame in the correct dimensions, plus outlines of circles - faster than drawing them by hand. I then sketch the placement of the noodles, chicken, and other ingredients on this template. Using a lightpad, I can ink on watercolour paper over the guide, removing the need to draw and then erase pencil lines on the thicker paper itself.
All of the above - thumbnails, research, rough drawing, inking - constitutes around five to six hours of work.
The ink lines are scanned and cleaned up in Photoshop. I throw in a texture before I begin colouring, just so I don't have to look at the harsh white of the screen while working.
The first tedious step involves using the Lasso tool to mark out flat areas of colour for different elements on separate layers. Having them on separate layers is key because I can easily change the colour of, say, the soup without affecting the ginger pieces or noodles - and I can also turn the layer contents into masks. This flexibility is why I prefer to work digitally when it comes to colouring.
I then go in with a brush to add lines, marks, and texture. In fact, for this piece, there are only three brushes I use - one from Kyle Webster's watercolour pack, another for the rough texture, and the basic round brush for blocking in colours. You don't need many fancy brushes once you find a core set that you're comfortable using. Plus, the gradient tool set to low opacity is a great way to add subtle changes in hue or value quickly.
After that, I make decisions as to what colours I want the lines to be, keeping in mind that the central circle is the focus of the piece and that the DNA strands or ingredients on the periphery shouldn't stand out too much at first. In this close-up you can see that the lines for the ingredients have been given a china blue overlay, while the ones on the noodles are a darker maroon.
A few more adjustments here and there with Levels layers, and we're done! Time to resize it for print and send the files off. The digital part of the process took around eight hours. All in all, that's about fourteen hours clocked on this piece, not including placing the order with the printing company, composing a blurb to go in the exhibition, exporting files for the web, and writing this post.
Have you ever eaten red wine mee sua? Is there a particular dish which holds meaning and memory for you? Leave a comment and let's celebrate the food in our lives!