A Collier Collaboration

I have enjoyed drawing and painting since I was very young. It came somewhat naturally to me. I had this God-given ability to see in a certain way and think in a certain way that expressed itself in my drawing as a kid. My dad tells of how he used to notice me "really looking" at things I was drawing, and he knew I had it. (I'm sure it also helped that he knew what to look for, since his family was filled with talented artists.) I was by no means a prodigy, but I was one of those rare kids who knew what they "wanted to be" really young, and grew up to pursue it. I am an artist because that is how God made me–I cannot imagine being any other way. In high school and in college, I often didn't feel like I "had what it took" to become a "real" artist or designer, because I didn't live and breathe it or care as much about artists and art history as everyone else seemed to. I was always reassured, though, that even if I quit school, and never entered into the art realm professionally, I would always see and think like an artist. I would still be an artist, so it didn't matter. It also helped tremendously that I have a very supportive family, who encourages me so well.

As I may have mentioned already, my grandpa, Carroll Collier, is a very talented painter. I remember being very young and driving up to Forney, Texas where he and my grandmother live. I remember the door opening and being hit with a very particular scent–one that has oddly become an aroma associated with "home" and "warm" and "love". It's the smell of turpentine (and possibly some other solvents) believe it or not. Both my grandpa and my grandmother, Mildred, have their own studio space in their cozy house. I always enjoyed (and still do!) seeing their newest work, sitting in Gpa's chair, looking at his palette, and studying his reference photos. I specifically remember wondering Why is it so messy? What I didn't know then was that the "mess" was just a palette filled with mixed colors. It wasn't like crayons or markers where each color stayed separate. At that point I didn't know anything about color theory or mixing colors–that I learned in 3rd grade.

I remember by dad teaching me how to draw the proportions of a face, and of a figure, and once my grandpa drew a sketch of my Aunt Debbie using the broad side of the pencil, to show me how it was done. I remember hiding behind the ficus tree in the living room of the first house we lived in and using my finger in the air to trace a top hat someone on the tv was wearing. It had curves. It was not necessarily a box with a line on the bottom, and it blew my mind. I have all these little memories, and they are all so pleasant and familiar, like little treasures.

Something else my grandpa did for me, when I was a kid, was to give me a tackle box filled with oil paints, some of his old brushes, and some canvases. Some of those canvases had incomplete sketches on them...

Like this one:

I painted on and over a few of them, but always saved this one. I've had it for so long (it has to be something like 15+ years), and I was finally inspired to do something special with it. I thought, What if I pick up where Gpa left off? What if I add my own personal touch and make it a "Carroll Collier and Christen Collier Original Still Life? That would be really neat–a joint effort over who knows how many years?!

So I set off to do just that. I photographed a bowl of mine in as similar a position as I could with the closest lighting I could create.

And here's how I put it all together:

I took the original.

I used my new reference photo to sketch in general lines and shapes.

Then blocked in general color and went ahead and blended it a little. Then I let it dry for a few days while I focused on other things.

When I had some more time to work on it, I tidied up some of the highlights and shadows, getting the background pretty close to how I wanted it before adding detail.

 Then I set to work "tightening up" the bowl and fruit. Then I let it dry again.

Lastly, I came back in with the details like that of the cherries on the picnic blanket. I gave the fabric a little texture, particularly in the main shadow crease running from top center to the bottom right corner. I also worked the grapes even further, and did a little on the banana. The bowl and shadows needed a little attention as well, so I paid it to them.

That's where I am so far with this collaborative still life. I'm pleased with it, and it has special meaning to me. What else could I ask for?