Color theory
Mar. 12th, 2010 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
altivoI mentioned yesterday that the primary reason for my trip to the art supply was to get a different variation of blue for what amounts to an online class assignment.
The exercise is to paint an image using a limited palette. The prescribed palette consists of three colors: a green-biased yellow (Lemon or Hansa); a purple-biased red (Rose or Crimson); and a green-biased blue (Phthalocyanate.) I have Lemon yellow and Alizarin crimson as part of my regular palette of ten colors. The green-biased blue I generally prefer, though, is Cobalt blue which was considered "not green enough" by the leaders of the instruction group. Hence the need to buy something with blue pigment number 15 (Phthalocyanate) as its primary pigment.
It turns out that the point of this exercise is to reinforce the concepts of the "color bias wheel," which were nicely articulated by Michael Wilcox back in the 1980s. Most of us were taught somewhere in our schooling that there are three "primary" colors: yellow, red, and blue. All other colors can be constructed by mixing these colors in varying proportions. Of course, if you've ever tried mixing a precise shade of green or purple from red, yellow, and blue, you know it isn't quite that simple. Wilcox argues that there are no perfect primaries in paints or other color sources, and that every primary is skewed or biased a little to one side or another. He then goes on to demonstrate practical color mixing based on a set of six "primaries" that contains two yellows, two reds, and two blues. I know from practical experience that he is correct, and though my dad explained the fine points of color mixing to me back in the 60s using oil paints and a different way of looking at the color wheel, the results are the same.
In fact, when I replaced my hodge podge of dried up watercolor tubes last month, I had already applied what I learned about color bias from my dad. I had purchased two yellows (Lemon yellow and Cadmium yellow medium,) two reds (Alizarin crimson and Cadmium red light,) and two blues (Ultramarine and Cobalt blue.) To these I added Payne's Gray (which can be mixed but is a "payne" to get right consistently and does provide a valuable neutral) and Viridian (a beautiful clear green that is hard to duplicate by mixing.) The addition of Burnt sienna (a reddish brown earth tone) and Yellow ochre (a yellowish brown earth tone) would mostly be all I'd need. These last two are traditional old pigments made from earth minerals, very permanent and reliable, but not very transparent so I don't usually mix them with other colors.
In the discussion that immediately followed the first statement of this assignment, Wilcox's book Blue and Yellow Don't Make Green was brought up. I borrowed a copy to refresh my memory only to find that it didn't need much refreshing, which I'm sure Dad would find reassuring. He explained it well. Though my father's arguments involved the effects of "impurities" that can tend to neutralize the mixed color and push it toward brown or gray, the result is the same in every case as the "bias" explanation given by Wilcox. In fact, Wilcox even vindicates me on two of my unvoiced arguments with the leaders of the tutorial. He says that Cobalt blue is transparent (they called it opaque) and biased slightly toward green (they called it purple.)
Anyway, I'm thinking I'll try a colorful autumn scene. At the moment I'm feeling pretty confident of my ability to use a limited palette to produce more colors than seem to be possible at first glance.
Spinning Guild in the morning is first, though. I'm helping to teach a session on cotton working, and will have to haul some equipment over there tomorrow.
The exercise is to paint an image using a limited palette. The prescribed palette consists of three colors: a green-biased yellow (Lemon or Hansa); a purple-biased red (Rose or Crimson); and a green-biased blue (Phthalocyanate.) I have Lemon yellow and Alizarin crimson as part of my regular palette of ten colors. The green-biased blue I generally prefer, though, is Cobalt blue which was considered "not green enough" by the leaders of the instruction group. Hence the need to buy something with blue pigment number 15 (Phthalocyanate) as its primary pigment.
It turns out that the point of this exercise is to reinforce the concepts of the "color bias wheel," which were nicely articulated by Michael Wilcox back in the 1980s. Most of us were taught somewhere in our schooling that there are three "primary" colors: yellow, red, and blue. All other colors can be constructed by mixing these colors in varying proportions. Of course, if you've ever tried mixing a precise shade of green or purple from red, yellow, and blue, you know it isn't quite that simple. Wilcox argues that there are no perfect primaries in paints or other color sources, and that every primary is skewed or biased a little to one side or another. He then goes on to demonstrate practical color mixing based on a set of six "primaries" that contains two yellows, two reds, and two blues. I know from practical experience that he is correct, and though my dad explained the fine points of color mixing to me back in the 60s using oil paints and a different way of looking at the color wheel, the results are the same.
In fact, when I replaced my hodge podge of dried up watercolor tubes last month, I had already applied what I learned about color bias from my dad. I had purchased two yellows (Lemon yellow and Cadmium yellow medium,) two reds (Alizarin crimson and Cadmium red light,) and two blues (Ultramarine and Cobalt blue.) To these I added Payne's Gray (which can be mixed but is a "payne" to get right consistently and does provide a valuable neutral) and Viridian (a beautiful clear green that is hard to duplicate by mixing.) The addition of Burnt sienna (a reddish brown earth tone) and Yellow ochre (a yellowish brown earth tone) would mostly be all I'd need. These last two are traditional old pigments made from earth minerals, very permanent and reliable, but not very transparent so I don't usually mix them with other colors.
In the discussion that immediately followed the first statement of this assignment, Wilcox's book Blue and Yellow Don't Make Green was brought up. I borrowed a copy to refresh my memory only to find that it didn't need much refreshing, which I'm sure Dad would find reassuring. He explained it well. Though my father's arguments involved the effects of "impurities" that can tend to neutralize the mixed color and push it toward brown or gray, the result is the same in every case as the "bias" explanation given by Wilcox. In fact, Wilcox even vindicates me on two of my unvoiced arguments with the leaders of the tutorial. He says that Cobalt blue is transparent (they called it opaque) and biased slightly toward green (they called it purple.)
Anyway, I'm thinking I'll try a colorful autumn scene. At the moment I'm feeling pretty confident of my ability to use a limited palette to produce more colors than seem to be possible at first glance.
Spinning Guild in the morning is first, though. I'm helping to teach a session on cotton working, and will have to haul some equipment over there tomorrow.
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 09:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 12:17 pm (UTC)Red, yellow, and blue are the primaries when you are mixing pigments, as with paint, dye, or colored chalk. That process is called subtractive blending.
The reasons for the difference have to do with the physics of reflected vs. transmitted light, and the mechanics of our eye itself. Artists worked by experiment and memorized formulas until very recently. Working theories and understanding of the actual color wheel didn't even exist until the 18th century.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 11:43 am (UTC)I mentioned yesterday that the primary reason for my trip to the art supply was to get a different variation of blue for what amounts to an online class assignment.
Primary reason? ;o) I won't even touch the 'payne' line...
But I love Payne's grey, and yellow ochre: both reside in my limited pallet with some others that you mention. I never studied color theory. I did do lots of test strips to see how colors interact, though.
I also mix on the edge of my 'studies.' Snort is a great example of that as he is unframed.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 12:30 pm (UTC)Wilcox, Michael. Blue and Yellow Don't Make Green: or How to Mix the Color You Really Want, Every Time. (Rockport Publishers, distributed by North Light, 1989. ISBN: 0-935603-39-5)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 01:50 pm (UTC)Muddy indeed. It's always fun to experiment for a brilliant color and end up with something Tim Burton might use for a dreary sky or desolate landscape.
Book ordered! Providence is the only branch with that particular copy. Gotta love 'the system.' :o)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-13 02:10 pm (UTC)I liked your reference to Tim Burton. That's a good way to describe the brownish mauve you might get when trying for a brilliant violet.
Fly Me
Date: 2010-03-14 12:44 am (UTC)Well, it appears you have found new turf and I found you again.
Perhaps this will continue to work and perhaps not but I will continue to seek your fun and often funny anecdotes on line here rather than there.
Or perhaps not. Still we have a flight to make together long past due (big hint) somewhere I am always hoping.
Your golden flyer,
Imperator who knows his colors.
Re: Fly Me
Date: 2010-03-14 01:07 am (UTC)altivo.dreamwidth.org
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