A Necessarily Incomplete List of Artistic Influences

 

Ink drawing by Frank Frazetta

Art students sometimes ask me about my artistic influences (i.e.: which artists have most influenced me), and also which artists I would recommend for aspiring artists to study (or look to for inspiration). It’s very difficult to even put together such lists, because there are just too many names. The list below is doomed to incompletion, and the omission of any artist should not be taken as a sign that I don’t hold said artist in high esteem. At very least, this list may serve as a starting point for anyone looking for inspiration. Also, these names are not in any particular order, but it's safe to say these are my biggest artistic influences. 

Early Illustrators (or "Golden Age Illustrators", 19th Century through mid 20th Century)

• Franklin Booth
• Charles Dana Gibson
• Alphonse Mucha
• J.C. Leyendecker
• Dean Cornwell
• Robert McGinnis
• Albert Dorne
• James Bama
• Normal Rockwell

More Recent Illustrators (mid to late 20th Century forward)

• Syd Mead
• Frank Frazetta
• Drew Struzan
• Iain Mccaig
• Thomas Blackshear

Illustrators who wrote influential books/materials on drawing:

• Andrew Loomis
• Arthur Guptill
• Robert Fawcett
• James Gurney
• Jeff Watts (not so much his books, but his online atelier program and video lectures)

Comic Book/Comic Strip Artists (some of these were illustrators but I place them in this category because their comic work/inking technique influenced me more than their illustration work)

• Alex Raymond
• Hal Foster
• John Buscema
• Wally Wood
• Bernie Wrightson
• Al Williamson
• Alex Toth
• Alex Nino

Artists/Painters (this list is woefully incomplete, but these names first come to mind as having had the biggest impact on me over the years).

• William-Adolphe Bouguereau
• Nicolia Fechin
• Ilya Repin
• Jean-Baptiste Greuze
• Diego Velasquez
• John Singer Sargent
• Michelangelo
• Leonardo da Vinci
• Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Again, this list is very incomplete, and very likely, I will revise it at some point, but for now (off the top of my head) these names have been the biggest influences on how I draw, and how I think about art.

“To Z, with Love”

[with apologies to James Clavell for stealing his title of the wonderful 1967 film: “To Sir, with Love”]

Professor Frank Zamora, affectionately known to his students as "Mr. Z", taught art at the college level for over four decades. I enrolled in his Pen & Ink class at Sacramento City College (SCC) in 1992, and we have kept in touch off and on almost every since – making Mr. Z the one professor with whom I have kept in touch longer than any other. Mr. Z was by far the most inspiring instructor at SCC. Where other instructors might talk about drawing principles, Mr. Z actually demonstrated drawing principles with inspiring demos and infectious enthusiasm for art.

I made this caricature as homage to Mr. Z’s methods. Since he is known for his "mixed media" techniques,I depicted him with every art tool but the kitchen sink (though he could probably find a way to use that too). I was aiming to capture something of Mr. Z's blend of academic drawing principles with "improvised chaos".

The drawing for this illustration was executed in graphite on Strathmore Water-Media board. For the painting, I tried to use most of the tools Mr. Z might use: splatter brush, stippling, razor blades, spritzer bottles, toothbrush, palette knife, color pencils, pastels, acrylic paint, gouache, ink, fingers and thumbs... (I am probably forgetting a few things).

I did not fully achieve the abstract-expressionist approach I was going for in the background, but I would like to think it evolved not unlike how Mr. Z's work develops - it's an organic process and you can't really predict the final results. Hopefully this pays homage to my teacher who inspired me so many years ago, and continues to inspire me today.

Kenneth Potter and the California Style - Part III

[This post is the last in my series on Ken Potter, his impact on my life, as well as the California Style of watercolor painting.]

Recently I have been rereading Ken’s letters, and contemplating the advice he gave to my younger self (then at the beginning of my art career). His letters were always hand-written, sometimes inside a card printed with one his beautiful watercolors, like the example below.

In many ways, Ken and I were opposites: he lived in the moment, and his work was all about spontaneity and improvisation. "Bold and free, Bold and free!" he shouted over my shoulder as I worked nervously at my easel, agonizing over every detail with ooh-too-much care. "Precision-ism" is what he called my work. He said I was becoming a "Precisionist" who created "colored drawings" rather than "paintings". His point was valid; the truth is I liked to draw more than I liked to paint, and my paintings tended to be overworked. I was never able to be naturally spontaneous. Ken was a proponent of the “California Style”, or “California School” of watercolor painting, which emphasized bold brushwork and bright transparent colors. Ken’s version of the California Style, which he sometimes referred to as “Watercolor Expressionism*”, emphasized an extemporaneous spur-of-the-moment approach, flinging paint across the stretched watercolor paper, letting it land where it may, and responding to the paint the way an improvisational jazz musician responded to the music. In contrast, I had become enamored with classical art training, especially the atelier approach to art education, where I spent many hours meticulously rendering every detail of a plaster cast or figure study. As artists, Ken and I were like two different species of animals.

I have very high regard for the California Style of watercolor painting, and especially Ken’s version of it. I admire the bold, loose brushwork; I envy the ability to be spontaneous. But in the end, I took a different direction. I think Ken was disappointed, especially with the commercial emphasis of my work. He told me, “There is nothing wrong with being a commercial artist”, but I sense he would have liked to see me pursue a different direction. Nevertheless, I am grateful for Ken Potter and his advice to me; he set a very high bar and taught me respect for the craft.

Ken spoke of the suppression of Regionalist painting, and I was too naïve at the time to understand the politics of the art world. Now I understand that the California Style was a type of Regionalist painting, which was perhaps seen as a rejection of Modernist trends, hence it may have been overlooked by mid-20th century academia. Fortunately, recent generations of art historians are recognizing the contributions of the Regionalist painters. There is a good history of the California Style of Watercolor here and here. Also, I recommend Gordon McClelland’s books (here and here). Finally, below is a rare video which was recorded by Frank Zamora, featuring Ken at work.

*Ken sent me a typed paper entitled “Watercolor Expressionism”, from a lecture he gave at the Palos Verdes Art Center in 1991. In the paper, he set down his ideas on painting. I doubt Ken ever used a word processor (which was relatively new technology at the time), and his typed paper contained various handwritten corrections/revisions. I think his ideas were probably more fully developed within the pages of the McClelland’s book (especially see “Chapter 4: Art Creation and Personal Reflections”).

Kenneth Potter and the California Style - Part II

"Nevada City Classic", by Kenneth Potter, exemplifies the California Style or California School of Watercolor painting, with its bold brushwork, its spontaneous application of bright vivid but transparent color, and its depiction of a local, small-town scene painted on-location, typical of the American Regionalist movement (of which the California Style is a part). This painting was printed on a postcard which Ken mailed to me in 1996, following a somewhat challenging interaction, as I describe below:

After I had been studying at the Academy of Art in San Francisco for a few years, I let Ken know that would be returning to Sacramento for Christmas break. Ken invited me over to his house, suggesting that I bring my recent work so he could see how I was progressing. I brought over a couple portfolios of drawings and illustrations, as well as an armful of paintings on canvas, and laid them out on Ken’s living room floor. Oh, the look on his face! Ken was so disappointed and let me know it in no uncertain terms. We spent about 3 hours discussing everything that was wrong with my work. What had I been doing with my time?!? The truth is that I had been working very hard, drawing and painting every day, late into the nights. In the eyes of my classmates, I was making fine progress, but by Ken's standards, I was spinning my wheels and burning up lots of energy to go nowhere. Ken had studied at the Academy of Art in San Francisco for all of 2 semesters, basically learned everything he needed to learn in that time, and proceeded to support himself by selling his paintings. He was flabbergasted that I was still struggling with painting technique after a couple of years. He just shook his head and looked terribly disappointed. I went home feeling very depressed.

Somehow, I managed to recover. Upon graduation from the Academy of Art, my drawings were winning awards and I was hired by Walt Disney Feature Animation. At that time, Ken said that my work had achieved a kind of “verve” and "soul", especially in the portraits. He seemed pleased when I told him that I put up images of his paintings around my desk at Disney to keep me inspired while working on animation.

Ken and I continued to correspond on and off for some years. Regrettably I lost touch due to moving from place to place and battling deadlines. But I treasure his letters, which were always handwritten, sometimes on a few pages of note paper, sometimes on the back of a postcard printed with one of his paintings (like the "Nevada City Classic" shown above).  On the back of this particular postcard, he admonished me with this advice: “‘We musn’t concern ourselves with who is better than another, so much as who is honest’. We are indeed each unique and we should strive to express that which is nearest to our understanding… which is following our passion!”  I have never forgotten this advice (although I regret that I have not always applied it in my life).

I will have some additional thoughts on Ken Potter and the California Style of watercolor painting in another post on this blog.

My Introduction to Kenneth Potter and the California Style

I had no idea who Ken Potter was when I first met the man. I did not know that he was an internationally renowned artist who had painted landscapes and cityscapes on location around the world. I did not know that he was an important proponent of the California Style of Watercolor Painting, an art movement known for bold expressive brushwork and bright transparent color which features prominently in the history of California landscape painting. I did not know that Ken was a Marine who saw intense combat during WWII. Many things I now know about Ken Potter, I only learned after the fact, either from reading the McClelland’s book, or from talking with people who knew him.

But I knew none of this when I first met the man, I was just an ignorant kid taking art classes at Sacramento City College. Ken’s mother and my grandmother attended church together, and through this connection I was introduced to Ken. At first, I thought he was just another guy who was interest in art, but then I saw the gallery brochure below. The list of accomplishments was impressive even then (1990), but it still doesn’t begin to tell the real story.

When we first met, Ken asked me if I would be interested in attending his upcoming watercolor workshop. I was, but had no transportation. Ken suggested we might split the cost of a motel room, and he could drive me to and from the workshop, if I was willing to tag along to help him carry stuff around as well as scout locations (i.e. find good subjects for landscapes/cityscapes). We sealed the deal with a handshake, and so began four days that changed my life.

Each day of the workshop more or less followed this pattern: Ken and I would get up before sunrise, grab a quick breakfast at a local diner, and then on to the location where we set up our easels and began to paint well before any of the workshop participants arrived. Throughout each day, Ken demoed, lectured, and walked around to spend time with each student. The workshop was only supposed to last so many hours each day, and by late afternoon, the workshop participants had packed up and returned home, but not Ken and I. We remained on location, painting until the last rays of sunlight. After a meal at a local diner, Ken and I returned to the motel, where Ken pulled out the lower drawer of the dresser on his side of the room, and set his watercolor board on the drawer, turning the dresser into a makeshift easel, on which he continued to work on his painting from earlier that day. Following his example, I set up on my side of the room, and we painted until well after midnight (and this is after having painted sunrise to sundown).

We took occasional breaks from painting only to converse about art. I had many questions, and his answers encompassed a life experience that was shockingly broad and deep (and he was not boasting about any of this, everything he said was in response to my prying questions). He described living in England, France, Italy, painting on location in cities around the world, selling his paintings to provide daily bread, being a student of Jean Metzinger and Fernand Léger, interacting with some of the foremost figures of the Modern Art scene, being an art director for ad agencies in New York and San Francisco, watching bullfights in Spain, operating anti-aircraft gunnery against kamikaze planes in World War II, hitchhiking across the United States... and on and on the conversation went, meandering through Cubism, Divisionism, Abstract Expressionism, Futurism, and passionate debates among artists of the 1950’s. The history I could only read about in books was a history he had lived.

On one of those nights in the motel, Ken took a break from his painting. He stood up and walked over to look at a drawing I was working on in my sketchbook. He offered his critique, pointing out that my drawings were missing the gesture, lacking the spirit of my subjects. He described drawing as an act akin to the matador dodging the charging bull; the artist must be fully in the moment, each mark must have focused intention, like the matador drawing his sword and landing a killing stroke on the bull in one fluid motion. He made the motion of a matador drawing his sword. You have to imagine this man, then in his late 60’s, moving across the motel floor with the grace of a 25 year old matador, slaying his imaginary bull. I was trying to process everything he was saying, and avoid saying something stupid, but all I managed (in a meek hesitant voice) was, “So, uhmmm… you’re saying that I need to push the gesture more…” Ken ceased his swordsmanship, turned around and practically shouted, “THAT IS THE GESTURE! You don’t have to push it, Thomas. That IS the gesture!”

Well… that changed everything. I knew that, if I were going to be an artist, I must go all out, I must fully commit. You cannot be an artist with half-hearted intentions – it’s all or nothing. So, I packed up and ran off to art school. Thus began the caffeine-fueled haze of sleepless nights and ever-looming deadlines that defined much of my life ever since.

In the years that followed, Ken and I kept up a written correspondence. I suppose all who knew him have a Ken Potter story to tell. I will share more of mine, along with some thoughts on the “California Style” or “California School of Watercolor Painting”, in future posts on this blog.