Katie

Done at Minerva's Studio on Broome Street last week. The session was one long pose, which is not my favorite. I prefer to have the mix of quick poses working up to a long pose. But, it was the only day I was free, and I wound up enjoying it. Fortunately, I was able to switch seats in the latter half so I could get a different view.

Orton Cranes

One of the most common pieces of advice for artists is to work work work, and this experience confirms it. I created around 100 drawings over the course of my residency as a Visiting Artist at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and I returned to this spot many times. This group of drawings of the cranes of Dry Dock 4 represents some of the first drawings I did during this project and some of the final ones, and I can see a definite development. Not a dramatic change in style or quality, but more solidity and confidence, in the line, the color, and composition.

Dry Dock 4 cuts 700' into the west side of the yard. It is now defunct. Either side of the dry dock is anchored by giant diesel-electric cranes, built by the Orton Crane Company in 1935. They traveled around the dry dock on super-wide gauge railroad tracks. One still stands, though it is (I presume) non-functional. The other was scrapped in the 1997, according to Bartelstome's book, leaving only the lower part. This photo from the BNY Archives shows them in their heyday.

There are several things like this around the site; iconic structures that stand like monuments, but are defunct. Like the Railroad Transfer Bridge and the airplane spotting towers, they are cool relics of the Navy Yard's past, and strangely beautiful in their way. But they are non-functional and would be near-impossible to restore. And even if they were, they would no longer serve any purpose.

Or consider the Admiral's Row Mansions. They were a row of ten mansions on Flushing Avenue that once housed the officers of the Navy Yard. Once beautiful, classical mansions built in the latter half of the 19th century, they had been abandoned and neglected for decades and fallen into complete ruin. Some beautiful ruin-porn can be found online, including here. They were levelled in 2016, save for one, to make room for a Wegman's Supermarket and parking lots. There was some protest against their demolition, arguing that Brooklyn's waterfront history was being erased. But it seems to me that they were lost to history long ago, and that derelict buildings and structures are not particularly informative or educational as history. And while a supermarket doesn't sound romantic (though lots of people are super-excited about this Wegman's), a supermarket serves a concrete purposes in that neighborhood that a row of collapsing mansions does not.

The giant gears that turn the cab of the crane. A co-worker saw this drawing and informed me that it's called a slew ring.

The remnants of the second Orton Crane . . .

Pump House Process

I sometimes get asked about my process, so I decided to document this drawing from my Brooklyn Navy Yard pump house series.

I start with a pencil drawing, generally with a 2H pencil. I'm using Canson XL Series Mixed Media sketchbooks; all the Navy Yard work is in 9X12 books. This drawing is looser and less finished than I usually do because I was working fast for a couple of reasons: it was hot and dirty and uncomfortable in there, I was trying to get a couple of sketches done that afternoon,  I was going to start losing the light, and I wasn't really supposed to be in there in the first place.

Pencil drawing becomes an ink drawing, clarifying details and solidifying structure. I primarily use Sakura Pigma Micron pens. They hold up under the layers of color I'm about to put over them. I forgot to take a photo of just the ink stage, so this also has the beginning of the color stage, a warm grey watercolor pencil wash over the background.

I should also mention that only the pencils were done on site. Urban Sketcher orthodoxy says that you should complete the work then and there, but I don't. Sometimes I start the ink stage on site, but only sometimes. Also, I take photos to use for reference, which is also frowned upon by the purists.

For color, I use watercolor pencils and Derwent Inktense pencils. I like the look of watercolor with the control of pencil. Sometimes I'll use regular watercolor paint for a big wash, like a sky or something. At this stage, I'm just using watercolor pencils, because you can layer and blend them and work over them in a way that you can't with the Derwent Inktense.

Here I lay in the base colors of the pump and some of the background objects. The pump is conveniently divided into two main sections, green on the bottom and blue on top. Much of it - especially the blue part - will be obscured by subsequent layers depicting accumulated rust and decay.

Beginning layering color, watercolor pencils,  then the Derwents. Focusing on the lower half at first. I'm consulting my reference photos, but trying to capture the gist of the rust patterns and values rather than photographic accuracy.

Continuing into the blue upper half. It looks like it's lighter than the previous stage, but that's just my bad photography.

The final result.  At the end, I stopped looking at reference and relied on memory, impressions, and what the drawing seemed to need. This is all done with the Derwent Inktense pencils, which sit on top of previous layers and have much more intense hues. The background in particular became a lot darker and colder; the value and hue creating more contrast with the pump.

This final image is a scan of the sketchbook page, adjusted in Photoshop to look as close to the original as I can get, because I don't know how to photograph my work well enough.

And that's how I do it!