How to capture a person’s character
Carl Knibb reveals his process for painting portraits. Whether working in oils or acrylics he avoids making an initial pencil sketch, advising that it can be fun to go straight in with the paint and gestural marks
Capturing a likeness can be a truly vexing task, especially as we know faces so well – they’re the first thing we learn to read and understand in the cradle. Given our innate fascination with faces, it’s ironic that they can be so elusive to represent in paint. It’s this familiarity, I feel, that’s the root of the problem. When we focus on a face we immediately zero in on the minutiae – the things we naturally want to respond to and the things that respond back to us. The bigger picture – the head as a three-dimensional object in space – is ignored. And I believe so much of the essence of the character is carried in this form.
Lighting
There are, however, ways to manoeuvre around our initial, innate response: Firstly, if it’s possible, spend some time creating interest in your subject’s features with available light, whether you are painting from life or photographs. Try to find a position where light falls on to the subject, at an angle to the head. Stand your subject in front of a window, or a lamp. This angled light will help cast shadow and gives some shape and form. The resulting shapes of highlight and shadow are so useful in moulding the structure of the head. Light that falls straight on to the subject will simply flatten the features, making a tricky job even trickier. Angled
p Pensive, oil on paper, 16312in (40.5330.5cm).
This is a good example of capturing a likeness purely from the modelling of the head. There’s little more here than a suggestion of features, but because the tonal shapes are defined, a sense of the person comes through
light will give you more information to work with, and the more information you have to hand, the better.
Straight in with paint
Whenever I begin a portrait, or head study, I go straight in with the paint, laying down broad, gestural marks, establishing some of the form with lighter and darker areas loosely blocked out. This, in essence, is my ‘drawing’, which provides information that will guide my development. I do think of drawing as an observational skill, and not just something done with a pencil or paint. In fact, it’s perfectly possible to draw in your mind; the most important factor of ‘drawing’ is the psychological effort involved in understanding your subject – really understanding it. That said, creating an initial sketch with pencil can lead to too much detailed representation up front, and this is where a lot of problems can begin – without realising it, the mind will often shift to preserving these first decisions, instead of necessarily moving past them. Your painting should evolve and change concurrently with your growing understanding of the subject as you observe it. Our minds really do want to
make sense of faces, but it’s almost like we have to get out of our own way, and let the learned instincts re-emerge.
So, my painting will grow via a process of continually laid-down strokes, dashes and dots of paint, each one hopefully suggesting some permanent value or shape I have seen. I’ll be measuring in my mind, for the most part, although I will physically measure distances as it comes into some degree of accuracy. A feature such as an eye, for example, may just exist as a dash of paint, but if it’s correct in its placement then that is more valuable than a more detailed eye in the wrong position. And because it’s just a loose mark of paint, I’m not worried about moving it if needed, or protecting it to the detriment of the whole.
This more abstract approach to observing and rendering the head is, if nothing else, a fun exercise.
I think you’ll be surprised by how recognisable this collection of marks can become, and how it can enhance your observational process. This is my process, and I find it’s helped me observe what is actually there, rather than what my subconscious thinks a thing looks like.