Jorge Posada

Jorge Posada is a catcher for the New York Yankees.

His is a very appropriate illustration for this stretch of weeks in October/early-November.

"Why?" you might ask.

Well, I answer, it's because the Yankees are playing the Philadelphia Phillies in the 105th World Series.

As I write, the Yankees are down 0 games to 1, in the series.

Got all that? Excellent. Me, too.

In 2008, I was fortunate to illustrate Mr. Posada for the Upper Deck Company's MLB Masterpieces series of baseball cards.

As mentioned, in prior posts in which I blog about other cards from this series, one challenge is its size. The illustration is done on an 8" x 10" canvas. My liner brush received a workout on logos, such as that "NY" on his helmet, pinstripes on his jersey, and detailing in his shoes...not to mention his face, which is painted about the size of a thumbprint.

How does one capture a likeness at that size?

Proportions, angles, and planes, distilled to an almost posterized form. One can't be too detailed at that size. The face would come off as overworked and unrealistic.

I have to place myself into a different frame of mind when I do traditional paintings versus my traditional/digital hybrids. I have to slow down and consider, more closely, individual parts (like the background, skin, grass, wall, jersey, helmet, shoes, etc), and how they relate to each other, value-wise and color-wise.

Painting traditionally forces me to consider the physical time it takes to render a face, how long the paint takes to dry, how layers of paint react to glazes...things I don't deal with when working digitally.

It's a good thing...just a different way of thinking. It's good to work all those parts of the brain. It keeps one's work fresh and keeps that particular artistic "muscle" (the traditional side) in-shape.

Plus, it makes one versatile. And, I would argue, versatility is a very marketable trait.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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Manhattan

Oh...hello.

I didn't see you come in. How have you been?

Is that so?

Well, I'll be...

Long time, no blog, you might be saying if you happen to follow these posts with any regularity.

If you don't, then, welcome! I invite you to browse around. Hopefully, you'll find something you like. If so, please drop me a line. I'd love to help with your next project.

As you might have guessed, I've been quite busy with commissioned projects, which is a good thing. But, it's come at the expense of my blogging habit. I apologize for the lapse in posts.

Let's talk about some art.

This is Melodie.

I am so very fortunate to say Melodie is one of my amazing models. One Sunday afternoon, Melodie came over and participated in a photo session. Of the many, many remarkable shots she allowed me, this one beckoned me.

During the summer of 2009, the Allan Burch Illustration model reserve was born. Basically, this is a group of very nice and very generous folks who have expressed interest in helping to model for my illustration needs.

Between its conception and birth, a call for models was posted on Craig's List. After vetting the voluminous replies, I've now come away with a healthy group of models on my team who continue to be giving with their time and energies toward enthusiastically participating in my work.

I am extra-energized by the fact my model and I are collaborating in the creative process toward something special. It's beyond just me...and that's a very good thing.

This is a personal piece, part of a series I'm producing. It's intended to have more of a fine-art flair.

I like this shot because of her elegant, iconic, yet full-of-attitude storytelling pose, coupled with unique vantage point and dramatic shadows. It was an un-posed, pose; a position she happened to take in between other shots. These unguarded moments can be some of the best kinds of poses, I think. There is an inherent beauty in the lines, attitude, and energy of the human form in those moments where she or he isn't trying to be picturesque.

In the photo, she was standing against a white backdrop. In the illustration, she should stay against a wall of some sort to keep the dramatic shadows in the picture. I thought this might also be a good opportunity to utilize pattern -- as a storytelling device, a design element, a textural contrast, and a subtle, yet intricate, secondary point of interest.

I'm kind of into patterning, at the moment. It's a nice, controlled, complex textural contrast to my simplified approach to shape and form. It makes for a nice foil to my picture's protagonist.

I've also been tinkering with a more complex color palette -- utilizing cooler temperatures in the shadows to help create a sense of space and to help direct the viewer's eye. I'll talk more about this in future posts.

My thanks to Melodie for helping to bring this illustration to fruition.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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Black Flowers and the Anatomy of an Internship

What I find so remarkable about the photograph that serves as this illustration's reference is its combination of strength, beauty, mood, and symbolism.

The lighting strikes the surfaces, just so, illuminating strength in the arm, a blood-coursing fragility-of-life vein in the hand, and symbolism in the soft, cradling-a-baby pose, while also shrouding the scene with darkness -- both literally and in terms of emotion.

The pose and photo were unplanned. In fact, this was probably just a transition from one pose to another that happened to be captured with my Nikon. These types of unplanned moments-in-time are what I live for with my photo shoots, and tend to be best facilitated by a tremendously emotive model (which I was lucky to have).

The Challenges

For this kind of especially rough and expressive charcoal technique to take shape, there needs to be a chip on my shoulder and/or an aggressive concept to the art. Unfortunately (or fortunately), neither were the case on this particular Saturday. I wasn't carrying a beef against anything, nor was the pose conducive to unrest. In fact, it's a very gentle pose.

But, this kind of contradiction can make for an especially interesting illustration, if handled successfully.

I set forth with Becca, my summer intern, at my side, intently watching my every throw-down with the charcoal.

After snapping my extra-soft vine to pieces, due to overzealous mark-making, I wrapped-up the "underdrawing" part of the illustration to what I was hoping would be the psychologically beef-inducing, angst-ridden, Lollapalooza-lite sounds of "Lithium" (channel 54 on your XM radio dial).

No dice on the beef-inducement.

Into Photoshop we go.

Here, I pull the local and global values together, making the piece work together a little better and more clearly defining my areas of focus. The wallpaper also makes its way onto the background -- symbolic as it reflects the flower, bringing to mind family and the loss of a child...my underlying concept.

Honestly, at this point, I'm starting to sweat a little. I'm not feeling it. The strokes are competing with the wallpaper pattern, and the delicate, yet dramatic lighting isn't coming across to my liking. Plus, all the marks are getting in the way of the composition. I can't tell what I'm supposed to be looking at.

With hesitation, I ask Becca, "Do you have any thoughts on what's happening?"

Much to my relief, she sees the challenges, but also really likes what's happening. Looking beyond my insecurities about the less-than-visible composition, she's keen on the imperfections and the drawn-from-life impact shining through.

Not only does this bode well for the salvation of the piece, it also means I may avoid ending our internship on a stinker.

However, I still need to address my concerns. After trial and error, I realize the lighter shapes need to be better defined, and the darker shapes need the same treatment. The whole piece needs to become more graphic, in my eyes. The reason for this is, the marks, while expressive, shouldn't override the composition and story. They should help tell the story and not create visual confusion. Without this further definition, I am confused. If I'm confused, others are going to be confused.

Confusion = bad illustration.

Several hours later, a little adjustment, a little hint of color, and I'm feeling it.

Feeling it = blog-worthy illustration

Now, a hopefully-not-too-self indulgent word about my extraordinary summer.

As mentioned above, and throughout this blog, I've been fortunate enough to be working with Becca Johnson, an illustration student from the Savannah College of Art and Design, in Savannah, Georgia, as my first ever intern.

This means I've finally given myself permission to admit I have enough of a workload to keep 2 people busy, nearly full-time.

Going into our internship, I knew she should serve the role of my business partner, not just a "lowly" grunt-work-doing intern. This is the only way our internship can work, in my eyes. There is no point in limiting her role, especially since any intern of mine, not from the Forsyth, Missouri area, will need to commit to an extended duration in the middle of nowhere -- picturesque to be sure, but culture-shock nowhere, nonetheless. This kind of investment on Becca's part deserves everything I can possibly share in return. Plus, this should foster the best environment for learning.

So, we set forth with a daunting to-do list, and she became my business partner for 2 short, intense months.

64 days later, our list of accomplishments for Allan Burch Illustration is quite impressive, by anyone's standards, and will continue to resonate for months to come. A partial list includes: conceptualizing and executing a very creative (and very cool) direct mail promotional campaign, creating a thoughtfully crafted on-line limited edition print shop, and confirming two substantial one-person gallery shows.

I consider myself exceedingly fortunate to have crossed Becca's path, and extend to her my sincere thanks for both her outstanding work and for sharing her remarkable talents and resources, at every turn, toward the betterment of Allan Burch Illustration. Thanks, too, for helping me become a better artist, business person, and pseudo-teacher.

See her illustrative work, here.

Hear her vocal work, here.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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Jersey Girl

This is about love, man, not hate.

Throughout the summer, I've had the opportunity to share my illustration processes and techniques with my outstanding intern, Becca Johnson -- an illustration student at the Savannah College of Art and Design, in Savannah, Georgia.

This week, she also serves as the model for this illustration.

Photo shoots are a major part of my process. I find reference to be key. I also find it infinitely easier to photograph the exact reference I need, rather than try to hunt down something similar.

Becca and I had an opportunity to conduct a minor shoot a few weeks ago, but this week, I wanted to conduct something a little more major.

My goal was to create an illustration befitting the series that includes my existing illustrations: Plenty, Good Enough, and Fistful of Steel. All of which are seen elsewhere on this blog.

Their common denominator being a snapshot of love, hate, or any of the complex emotions that result, therein.

In order to create such an emotive illustration, I outlined a few of my goals for the shoot.

An arresting image
Without a powerful visual, I'm already digging myself out of a hole, with little chance of engaging the viewer.

A real and visceral sense of emotion
This can be a tricky task, especially in a potentially manufactured setting of a photo shoot.

Spontaneity
Some of the most beautiful poses come from unplanned, split-second moments in time, revealing nuanced complexity that could never be staged.

A sense of symbolism
I'm looking for a visual cue that will speak volumes to the viewer through an inherent, universal language.

I like to go into my shoots with a general outline, like the one above, but leave plenty of room for the unexpected. That's always when the killer shots happen.

And, killer shots I received.

1.5 hours, hundreds of remarkably emotive poses, and 3 beautiful acoustic songs later (she's an amazing singer/songwriter/performer), I was sitting on 842 juicy photographs, all aching to be turned into illustrations.

Examining each, under the criteria outlined above, I weeded my treasure trove down to the top 12.

The spontaneity of this umbrella pose, coupled with the mood, movement, and composition created by the shapes and values gave it the green light.

My next questions: In what context do I place her, and how do I keep the scene from becoming an obvious "woman in love" shot?

I experimented quite a bit, and found, for both composition and mood trickery, the colors should be subdued and mostly cool, allowing the figure to stand out. A gloomy stage would then set up my emotional twist.

The umbrella and rain against a gray, graffiti-riddled brick wall, hopefully, takes the viewer on a ride that takes a turn when the other contextual clues reveal themselves -- the warm glow of the figure, the alluring posture, and, lastly, the "LOVE" logo on the wall.

The right reference and the right model makes all the difference to me. My enormous thanks to Becca for allowing me this illustration and the many more, sure to come, from what was one of the strongest photo shoots I have had the pleasure of conducting.

Check out Becca's work, here.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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Michael Jackson

Young vs not-so-young.

Performer vs the person.

Decisions, decisions.

Michael Jackson is a very complex figure. How do I do justice to such complexity?

The answer, I believe, is in creating a deceptively simple composition, focusing on the man. Upon dissection, however, I hope one might see a whole host of complexities.

I contemplated illustrating the dancer. There would, indeed, be lots of potential for dynamic illustrations -- movement, lighting, emotion...all right there in any of the kinetic snapshots that were his live performances, videos, and stage appearances.

How about the latter-day MJ? I could exploit the face, no doubt. There are a multitude of stories under his skin. We all know them. If not, they are easily Googleable.

Plus, I'm coming from a place where I remember the spectacle of 1983-ish, when Thriller made him the king.

To me, that era Michael Jackson was Michael Jackson. Slowly, thereafter, he shed that skin, so to speak, and ceased to be that person.

Anyway, I wanted to do a portrait with that person foremost in mind. Yet, I had to include an allusion to his future self and the tribulations that would accompany him.

The guy above is circa late-80s, early-90s. He's starting to transition in appearance, headed toward the downward spiral, but still the young man of whom we took note.

The colors in this illustration are also simple. They are pretty flat, actually. The face has minimal rendering, the shirt is very much a basic red shape, the hair is a basic shape, and the background is a basic gray shape.

They have to be, though. The strokes are very complex. Countering the basics in color are very textured and raw strokes -- evidence of human intervention, and an echoing of the complexities that defined the man.

There is no way a complicated color scheme could have stood a chance. Believe me, I tried. Either the mark or the color had to take dominance.

The mark won.

The gray background speaks to the less-than-vibrant future awaiting him, but the brilliant Thriller red speaks of that which he is about to leave behind.

It's tragic and celebratory, at once.

Lastly, it's in the eyes.

Eye contact is important. We form connections with total strangers by making eye contact. Somehow, I feel like I learn everything about a person in that split second of contact.

As such, I thought it important the viewer be forced to look Michael in the eye while drawing his or her own conclusions about it all.

How much more complex can it get?

My thanks to illustrator, Becca Johnson, whose assistance and artistic input helped bring this illustration to fruition.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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Dick Cheney's Melted Mirror Smile

“I think he smells some blood in the water on the national-security issue,” he told me. "It’s almost, a little bit, gallows politics. When you read behind it, it’s almost as if he’s wishing that this country would be attacked again, in order to make his point. I think that’s dangerous politics.”

The above quote came from CIA Chief Leon Panetta, in an interview with The New Yorker. In this interview, Panetta responds to Dick Cheney's speech at the American Enterprise Institute, during which Cheney slams the Obama administration for their (in his eyes) less-than-aggressive stance on national security.

Cheney out for blood. I thought this whole story seemed ripe for illustrating.

I also thought the bulk of the story could be told by utilizing his own features.

After doing a search for photos, I landed a few that just said...him. If you've watched him over the years, you know he has some very distinctive features and mannerisms. One of which is his occasionally snarling mouth.

As I continued studying his mug, I began to see the other idiosyncrasies defining his face -- such as how his right eye seems more open than his left, and how his lower teeth seem to form an angular pyramid-like shape.

I enhanced the snarl, and gave him a bit of a canine tooth -- jutting out for all to see, to let you know he means business.

The eyes -- windows to the soul.

The fact that one eye seems larger than the other is somehow perfect. He's looking at you with the left and elsewhere with the right. Both have rocket-shaped highlights.

Lighting became a tool as the spotlight was placed on the tusk-baring mouth.

Saturation also became a tool, to help focus the viewer's attention.

As I settled in to add color, my only direction was the agitating crimsons in the underpainting were must-keeps.

"Painters are dramatists. Every painting needs protagonists and antagonists." ~ landscape artist, Robert Sweeney.

I realized red was the star, here. It was both helping to carry the story and very symbolic -- blood, anger, aggression.

But, there needed to be balance.

A simple spot of blue -- the cool, peaceful antagonist tasked with taming the Dracula-esque former Vice President.

Perfect.

Out for blood?

At least, politically.

Many thanks to my very talented intern, Becca Johnson, whose assistance and artistic input helped bring this piece to fruition.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day

"Say your prayers and light a fire." ~ from 21st Century Breakdown

It would have been easy to illustrate Billie Joe Armstrong, of Green Day, in a very animated pose with mouth a-twistin' to "¡Viva La Gloria!." That's how one expects to see him, right? However, in such a pose, the image starts to become all about the photo. I wanted to bring to life something more contemplative.

Round about 6:56 am, one fine day, I was in my car listening to the song, "Warning," on Lithium (54 on your Sirius-XM dial for XM subscribers). I thought to myself, Billie Joe Armstrong would make an interesting subject for an illustration. This is appropriate timing, too, since his band's latest effort is fresh on our minds.

This summer, I'm fortunate to be working with an amazing young illustrator named Becca Johnson. What better time to jump on Billie Joe, than as a demo?

With bold strokes, I engaged in a process, very cleverly coined by Becca, as "unpainting." It's very proprietary. In fact, I may have already said too much.

After knocking out phase one, we brought the piece into Photoshop, where the process shifted to value and then color.

With repetition, and as I become more comfortable with my process, or style, if you will, I'm always looking to strip away the unnecessary and distill paintings to the essence of what may (or may not) make them work. Glancing through the blog, one thing I notice is Billie's brush strokes are more prominent, and evidence of the human touch is on display with greater note than in some of my prior works.

With color, the obvious would have been to lather this piece in green. It turns out, Billie Joe's eyes are, indeed, green. So, look as you might, the only two spots of the aforementioned color are peering, contemplatively, in your direction.

Allan Burch is an award-winning illustrator and portrait artist, providing solutions for editorial, book, advertising, and institutional projects.
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