Oil on canvas on board, 30 X 24 cm.

Oil on canvas, 38 X 46 cm.

A pterosaur from the Cretaceous. The known fossil specimens fall into two different groups – some larger, with a long crest on the head and a rather narrow pelvis and some smaller, with only a small crest but a wider pelvis. They could be two different species, but a likely explanation is that they represent one species that shows sexual dimorphism, the smaller ones with the wider pelvis being the females. This painting shows a male who has seen a really hot lady Pteranodon and now makes a graceful turn to hit on her.

One question that generates heated arguments among palaeontologists is where the wing membranes of a pterosaur is attached. In my reconstruction I have looked at the Vienna specimen (NHMW 1975/1756) of another species, Pterodactylus antiquus, where the membrane appears to be attached to the thigh. Bear in mind that “appears to” doesn’t mean that it was beyond any doubt the case – this is basically a guess, although I try to make it at least somehow educated …

Oil on canvas on board, 30 X 24 cm.

Charcoal, black and white chalk on blue paper.

The model is an old acquaintance of me. Some years ago she asked me if would like to draw her portrait. I would, but I was also a bit uncomfortable with the task. The thing was that I at that time had very little life drawing experience and was pretty clueless about how to deal with the challenge. It came as no surprise to me that the result pretty much sucked.

Since then, I have been taking classes at Studio Éscalier and with David Kassan and my life drawing skills have improved considerably. So, I asked Abigail to pose again for yet another portrait drawing, this one.

The owner of a souvlaki place in Odos Apollonos, Athens.

Oil on canvas, 50 X 60 cm.

I found out that there was this challenge going on over at The Art Order and thought it could be fun to contribute. Well, this is the result …

Edit May 26th: The judges have now spoken – the verdicts can be seen here.

John Howe picked my painting for his top 5 and gave it this comment: “Very much admired the stark and sparing depiction, reminiscent of the Symbolists of Northern Europe, where there is no cleverness, simply a stripping back of the image to bare emotion. The figures are stiff and nearly naïve, but the imminence of the final encounter is contained in every simplified volume. Sometime the instant before the action can contain the action without recourse to other effects. Regrets: the unresolved saddle and the severed head of the creature, decidedly unnecessary, (and having to eliminate Tarly Crowbridge, a very similar piece.)”

For those who don’t know: John Howe is an illustrator who is pretty well known among Tolkien buffs. Together with Alan Lee, he was chief conceptual designer for the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy. Website here.

Pencil and white chalk on paper.

Oil on canvas, 40 X 50 cm.

Oil on canvas on board, 30 X 24 cm.

Oil on canvas on panel, 13 X 18 cm.

The subject is fairly obvious to anyone familiar with recent history of the Balkans: The remains of the old bridge (Stari Most) in Mostar in Bosnia-Hercegovina. It was destroyed by Bosnian Croat artillery fire on November 9th, 1993.

This little painting was more than anything an exercise in the use of photo reference. Some painters wouldn’t touch photo reference with a forty-foot pole, and for understandable reasons; the result may end up looking simply like a photo, which makes the whole exercise rather pointless (even though some seem to think that the greatest compliment you can give a painting is to say that it “looks just like a photo”).

Now, that’s all very good, but without some use of photo reference I couldn’t have painted this. First, I am not in Mostar. And even if I were, the scene would look entirely different, as the bridge has now been rebuilt. So, I had to rely on a photo from 1998:

It’s not the worlds greatest photo. The centre is a rather confusing mess that distracts from the important elements, the gap where the bridge once was and the fragments on either side of the river. But – this is exactly the kind of problem that is easily solved in a painting. I simplified the background and obliterated a lot of details such as the makeshift metal bridge and the scaffolding in order to emphasize the missing connection between the two banks of the river, and I exaggerated the shadows on the ruins on the left side to make them stand out more clearly from the background. I also muted the entire colour scheme to get rid of that sunny postcard feeling.

The painting is little more than a quick sketch, but I do think that I managed to get rid of the confusion of the photo and make a picture that more clearly tells the story of this tragic case of urbicide.