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Jupigio-Artwork-Gallery
Rare - Unusual - Unforgettable
Creating Pride
From First Sketch to Finished Painting
Follow the creation of Pride layer by layer, from the first sketchbook idea through six stages of colour building and four increasingly detailed layers to the completed painting.
1. The Sketchbook — Capturing the First Thought
This is Pride before there was a painting.
My sketchbook is where I allow an idea to arrive without worrying too much about whether everything works. I draw, make notes, move things around and capture thoughts before they disappear.
Looking back at the original sketch, I can recognise the bones of the finished work, but I can also see how much I didn't yet know.
That is important to my process.
The sketch isn't an instruction manual. It is the beginning of a conversation.
My sketchbook is where I allow an idea to arrive without worrying too much about whether everything works. I draw, make notes, move things around and capture thoughts before they disappear.
Looking back at the original sketch, I can recognise the bones of the finished work, but I can also see how much I didn't yet know.
That is important to my process.
The sketch isn't an instruction manual. It is the beginning of a conversation.
2. Leaving the Sketchbook — Onto the Painting Surface
The next stage is enlargement and placement.
The little sketchbook drawing now has to occupy a completely different physical space. Proportions become more important. Relationships between shapes change. What seemed perfectly reasonable in a small drawing can suddenly feel completely wrong when enlarged.
At this point I am establishing where everything will live rather than worrying about the final finish.
This is the skeleton of the painting.
There is still enormous freedom to alter it, but for the first time the idea has escaped the sketchbook and become something I have to confront at full scale.
Now I can begin painting.
The little sketchbook drawing now has to occupy a completely different physical space. Proportions become more important. Relationships between shapes change. What seemed perfectly reasonable in a small drawing can suddenly feel completely wrong when enlarged.
At this point I am establishing where everything will live rather than worrying about the final finish.
This is the skeleton of the painting.
There is still enormous freedom to alter it, but for the first time the idea has escaped the sketchbook and become something I have to confront at full scale.
Now I can begin painting.
3. First Colour — Breaking the White
This is always an exciting stage because the pristine surface disappears.
The first colour is loose and almost crude compared with the finished work. I'm not interested in perfection here. I'm beginning to establish temperature, contrast and the broad relationships between different areas.
The drawing remains visible beneath it, but colour has started making decisions of its own.
Some elements immediately become stronger.
Others recede.
The painting has begun separating itself from the drawing.
The first colour is loose and almost crude compared with the finished work. I'm not interested in perfection here. I'm beginning to establish temperature, contrast and the broad relationships between different areas.
The drawing remains visible beneath it, but colour has started making decisions of its own.
Some elements immediately become stronger.
Others recede.
The painting has begun separating itself from the drawing.
4. Finding the Weight
With another layer, I begin looking less at individual objects and more at the balance of the whole composition.
Where is it too heavy?
Where is it too empty?
Where does the eye go first?
The large sweeping forms are particularly important because they have to carry an enormous amount of smaller imagery later. At this point they are still relatively simple, but I am establishing the routes that will eventually lead the eye around the painting.
This stage isn't about decoration.
It's about making sure the painting can carry what I intend to put upon it.
Where is it too heavy?
Where is it too empty?
Where does the eye go first?
The large sweeping forms are particularly important because they have to carry an enormous amount of smaller imagery later. At this point they are still relatively simple, but I am establishing the routes that will eventually lead the eye around the painting.
This stage isn't about decoration.
It's about making sure the painting can carry what I intend to put upon it.
5. Establishing the Dominant Forms
Now the major forms begin separating properly from one another.
The central figure becomes clearer, the great fan above begins to command its space, and the sweeping structures around the composition start gaining enough strength to contain everything that will eventually happen within them.
Colour is also becoming less tentative.
I'm beginning to understand which areas need to shout and which need to remain quieter.
I still haven't reached the level of detail that will define the finished painting.
I'm building somewhere for that detail to live.
The central figure becomes clearer, the great fan above begins to command its space, and the sweeping structures around the composition start gaining enough strength to contain everything that will eventually happen within them.
Colour is also becoming less tentative.
I'm beginning to understand which areas need to shout and which need to remain quieter.
I still haven't reached the level of detail that will define the finished painting.
I'm building somewhere for that detail to live.
6. The Palette Begins to Settle
By this stage, I am no longer simply putting colour onto a drawing.
It is beginning to feel like a painting.
The greens deepen. The darker structures become more assertive. The pale figure separates from them. The landscape begins establishing the outer boundaries of the world.
I am constantly stepping backwards at this point.
Close up, I might become fascinated by one area. From several feet away, that same area might completely disrupt the composition.
So there is a constant movement:
paint, step back, look, reconsider, return.
The colour palette is beginning to settle, but nothing is untouchable yet.
It is beginning to feel like a painting.
The greens deepen. The darker structures become more assertive. The pale figure separates from them. The landscape begins establishing the outer boundaries of the world.
I am constantly stepping backwards at this point.
Close up, I might become fascinated by one area. From several feet away, that same area might completely disrupt the composition.
So there is a constant movement:
paint, step back, look, reconsider, return.
The colour palette is beginning to settle, but nothing is untouchable yet.
7. Creating Depth
Another completed layer allows me to start pushing things forwards and backwards.
Some areas need more contrast. Others need softening. Forms that looked separate in the original drawing now have to coexist within the same visual space.
This is where layering oil paint becomes particularly important to me.
I don't want everything to have equal strength.
The eye needs somewhere to rest before being dragged towards something else.
And with a painting this complicated, that balance matters enormously.
Complexity still needs breathing room.
Some areas need more contrast. Others need softening. Forms that looked separate in the original drawing now have to coexist within the same visual space.
This is where layering oil paint becomes particularly important to me.
I don't want everything to have equal strength.
The eye needs somewhere to rest before being dragged towards something else.
And with a painting this complicated, that balance matters enormously.
Complexity still needs breathing room.
8. The Foundation Is Complete
This is the final stage of what I think of as building the colour foundation.
The composition now has its overall palette, its major contrasts and its visual hierarchy. The figures and structures exist, the environment exists, and the painting can stand as a whole.
But when I look at it at this stage, I don't see something finished.
I see potential waiting for detail.
The foundation has done its job.
Now comes the part where the painting starts becoming unmistakably mine.
The composition now has its overall palette, its major contrasts and its visual hierarchy. The figures and structures exist, the environment exists, and the painting can stand as a whole.
But when I look at it at this stage, I don't see something finished.
I see potential waiting for detail.
The foundation has done its job.
Now comes the part where the painting starts becoming unmistakably mine.
9. Detail Begins — From Shape to Story
Now I move closer.
Broad shapes start becoming specific things. Surfaces acquire texture. Faces, objects and smaller forms begin asserting themselves.
This is also where the pace of painting changes dramatically.
A large area that might have taken relatively little time to establish can now consume hours as I begin working into it.
And every new detail has to earn its place.
I don't want detail simply because I enjoy painting detail.
It has to contribute something to the conversation.
Broad shapes start becoming specific things. Surfaces acquire texture. Faces, objects and smaller forms begin asserting themselves.
This is also where the pace of painting changes dramatically.
A large area that might have taken relatively little time to establish can now consume hours as I begin working into it.
And every new detail has to earn its place.
I don't want detail simply because I enjoy painting detail.
It has to contribute something to the conversation.
10. The Painting Becomes Denser
Now the intensity increases.
Areas that once existed as broad circular forms begin breaking into increasingly intricate structures. Crowds become individuals. Surfaces gain marks, edges, divisions and interruptions. Objects that were previously suggested begin acquiring identities.
This is one of my favourite stages because the painting starts revealing itself slowly.
From across the room, there is still one composition.
Move closer and it begins fragmenting into dozens of smaller encounters.
The painting is becoming something that cannot be understood with a single glance.
Areas that once existed as broad circular forms begin breaking into increasingly intricate structures. Crowds become individuals. Surfaces gain marks, edges, divisions and interruptions. Objects that were previously suggested begin acquiring identities.
This is one of my favourite stages because the painting starts revealing itself slowly.
From across the room, there is still one composition.
Move closer and it begins fragmenting into dozens of smaller encounters.
The painting is becoming something that cannot be understood with a single glance.
11. Connecting the Smallest Pieces
At this stage, I am no longer thinking only about major areas.
I'm moving around the painting looking for relationships.
A tiny addition in one place can suddenly require something somewhere else. A colour needs repeating. An edge needs sharpening. An empty area needs disturbing—or occasionally something I've added needs removing again.
This is where the months of work begin knitting together.
The individual elements stop feeling like separate things I've painted and begin belonging to the same world.
And the closer I get to finishing, the slower I become.
The smallest decisions can now make surprisingly large differences.
I'm moving around the painting looking for relationships.
A tiny addition in one place can suddenly require something somewhere else. A colour needs repeating. An edge needs sharpening. An empty area needs disturbing—or occasionally something I've added needs removing again.
This is where the months of work begin knitting together.
The individual elements stop feeling like separate things I've painted and begin belonging to the same world.
And the closer I get to finishing, the slower I become.
The smallest decisions can now make surprisingly large differences.
12. Final Intensity — Knowing When to Stop
The final stage isn't simply about adding more.
It's about deciding what still needs something and what needs to be left alone.
Details are sharpened. Contrasts deepen. Small areas that have remained unresolved finally receive attention. I move repeatedly between looking at the whole painting and disappearing into tiny sections of it.
There is always the temptation to continue.
Another mark.
Another highlight.
Another object.
Another adjustment.
But eventually the painting reaches a point where adding more no longer makes it richer.
It simply makes it busier.
So part of finishing is knowing when to put the brush down.
When I compare this stage with that first sketchbook drawing, I can still see where Pride began.
But I can also see everything that happened because I didn't insist on knowing exactly where it would end.
It's about deciding what still needs something and what needs to be left alone.
Details are sharpened. Contrasts deepen. Small areas that have remained unresolved finally receive attention. I move repeatedly between looking at the whole painting and disappearing into tiny sections of it.
There is always the temptation to continue.
Another mark.
Another highlight.
Another object.
Another adjustment.
But eventually the painting reaches a point where adding more no longer makes it richer.
It simply makes it busier.
So part of finishing is knowing when to put the brush down.
When I compare this stage with that first sketchbook drawing, I can still see where Pride began.
But I can also see everything that happened because I didn't insist on knowing exactly where it would end.
From First Thought to Finished Painting
This is why I wanted to create these galleries.
The finished painting can make months of decisions disappear.
You see one image.
I remember all the images that existed underneath it.
Every layer remains there, even though much of it can no longer be seen. The loose colour, altered forms, abandoned thoughts and thousands of small decisions have become buried within the finished surface.
The final painting is not simply the last layer.
It is every layer beneath it.
And now that you've watched Pride being built, you can enter the journal to discover the story and symbolism contained within the finished work.
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