Working Methods – Underpainting and Glazing

Two portraits – one unfinished in underpainting stage

Painting Technique: Glazing

I often bore people with long conversations about my use of glazes, without realising they don’t know what I’m talking about. So I thought I’d write a post about this wonderful technique, and how it has transformed my art.
It’s not complicated. Glazing is applying transparent layers of paint over another dried layer of opaque paint. One benefit is that highlighted areas retain their saturation and luminosity, and don’t turn chalky, as is the case if you mix colours with white. Shadow areas can achieve a depth of colour you can’t achieve with a simple layer of opaque paint.
The disadvantage in using this technique is it relies on some forethought in preparing a suitable underpainting, and that underpainting has to be allowed to dry before applying the glazes. This obviously slows down the painting process.

Note: I use oil paints, and everything I say applies to that medium. You can just as easily use glazes with acrylics, but I’m not qualified to advise on which mediums to use.

details of two paintings demonstrating use of glazing over underpainting — Underpainting stage compared to a finished painting with glazes applied

Grisaille Underpainting

Traditionally a “grisaille” underpainting was monochrome, but I tend to add a little colour during this earlier stage. I am careful to keep the tonal value in shadow areas fairly light, as glazes will deepen the final tone.
The most difficult thing is anticipating how the glazes will look, especially as I might end up with six or more separate layers of glaze, to achieve the desired effect.

How Glazes Transformed my Art

When I studied at art school, there was no instruction in painting techniques. We were left to experiment and find our own means of expression. I embraced speed of execution and painted in an “alla prima” technique – wet paint onto wet paint. It was fine for landscapes (yes, I used to paint landscapes) but I became frustrated that I could not achieve the effects I wanted when painting portraits and figures.
It wasn’t until I resumed painting years later, that I took the time to study traditional painting techniques. It was a revelation. Now I had the tools to create the paintings that I wanted, and it has allowed me to explore portraiture and nudes, which have always been my first love.

painting demonstrating use of glazes — When applying glazes, you can use a cloth to remove the glaze from small areas

Glazing can be spontaneous

Having written about all the methodical preparation required in using this technique, I should add that they can be applied as freely and loosely as you like. The only limitation is the need then to allow each layer to dry. But if use an alkyd medium like liquin, or just add some to a traditional glaze medium, it will speed up drying times considerably.
Technically you should only use transparent or semi-transparent paints with glazes (transparency/opacity is marked on every tube of artist oil). You can use the same technique with white or opaque colours, but it will give an entirely different effect. One example would be using a thin glaze with zinc white to paint the bloom on grapes.

If you like the effects achieved with glazes, you will find that all the paintings in my gallery pages have been painted using this technique.

Gallery Page

If you want to read more about the use of glazes, there is an interesting article about how Vermeer used this technique in his paintings:

essentialvermeer.com/technique

01/06/202314/10/2025

Man and Woman

The Painting I Couldn’t Let Go: Revisiting “Man and Woman” a Decade Later

Some paintings are finished the moment the last brushstroke is applied. Others take a little longer. For my painting, “Man and Woman,” it took over a decade of quiet dissatisfaction before I could finally call it complete.

This piece was always deeply personal. It was the last in a series I created to honour my late partner after she passed away from a long illness. I had planned the paintings while she was still with me—taking reference photos, making sketches—but her poor health meant the canvases remained blank. After she was gone, a surge of activity propelled me into the studio to bring them to life, to record our relationship in paint.

Yet, while the other paintings in the series felt resolved, “Man and Woman” never did. For ten years, it troubled me. While it was technically faithful to the photographs I had worked from, it had failed to capture a true likeness of her. Her spirit wasn’t there.

Finally, I decided I had to rework it. What started as a plan for a small amendment quickly became a complete repainting of the entire surface.

The challenge, of course, is that an artist doesn’t stand still. My technique has evolved significantly since 2009. My palette is brighter, I use different mediums, and my approach to glazes is more restrained. In many ways, I was a different painter confronting an old ghost.

Original painting on left, with umbers and ochre dominating the palette

Interestingly, the biggest change came from something I’d lost: the original reference photos. I had to paint my late partner’s face almost entirely from memory. This would have terrified me a decade ago, but my work has grown less beholden to photographic accuracy. I’ve learned to trust my memory and my hand. Paradoxically, by letting go of the exact reference, I believe I found a much truer likeness.

Looking at the two versions side-by-side, the changes might seem subtle to some. But for me, they are monumental. The revision is finally the painting I set out to create in 2009. It was a long road to get here, but it was worth every moment to finally do her memory justice. The nagging doubts are gone, and I feel happy to share it with the world.

Edit: “Man and Woman” has since been shortlisted for the LGC Art Prize 2023
A recent post about the competition can be found here: LGC Art Prize

28/05/202305/10/2023

Portrait Case Study 1

I have collected some case studies of recent portrait paintings, detailing the decisions that had to be made in planning each painting. I hope they might be useful to anyone thinking about having their own portrait painted.

Portrait Case Study 1. The Blue Dress

Size and pose: This is quite a large portrait, at over 100cm tall. Given that we quickly agreed on a large canvas, it was then a choice of choosing between a full length or 3/4 length pose. We worked through a variety of standing and seated poses, finally agreeing that this seated position looked best. We paid great attention to the placement of the hands – trying to avoid them looking awkward, while also looking interesting in the final painting. Apart from adding greater visual impact, this size canvas does allow for working in greater detail on the whole figure and on the clothing.
Style and clothing: We were limited by the chosen date for the sitting being a blazingly hot summers day, so a loose summer dress seemed the most comfortable option. It wasn’t the first dress pulled from her wardrobe. We considered quite a few options, and in the end agreed that this dress looked nice on her and would add some interest to the painting.
Setting: Ordinarily I liked to have sitters pose in their home environment. Apart from being more comfortable, the decoration and furnishing of a room often says something about the sitter. In this particular case the sitter had just sold their old home and was staying in rented accommodation, awaiting a move to their new home. So this bland Airbnb flat certainly didn’t say much about the sitter, but it was a suitably bright and blank backdrop. I chose to include some of the fire surround just to add some visual interest, and to help set the sitter in space.
Props: The items in the background (shoes, book, flowers) were added later, and weren’t part of the original brief. As I worked on the painting, I felt that there was a lot of dead space in the background that wasn’t doing anything. I also was not fully aware during the sitting what a pivotal time this was in the sitter’s life, and I felt I should include something (spring bulbs) to suggest the fresh start the sitter was experiencing. The boots and book are indicative of her great interests. I could have thrown in lots more, but I did not want the props to distract from the figure.

If you have any questions about commissioning your own portrait, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me. My email is on the Contact page

Portrait Case Study 2. Renaissance Garden

This is not actually a commission, but was painted as a portfolio piece – a painting that I could show to prospective customers and take along to art fares. In the event, it was snapped up by a collector shortly after I finished it, so now I only have the photos to share with you

Canvas Size: I chose a 50cm x 40cm linen canvas for this painting before I even started. It’s quite common to start a commission with a decision about the canvas size. It might be to fit in with your budget (larger paintings will incur more costs), but more often it’s because most people have limited space to display artwork.
This particular linen has a very nice surface for portraits; although the weave is still visible, it’s less intrusive than cotton canvas. The smoother surface allows for more detailed work.
Pose: I worked through quite a few different poses with the sitter. She had a wonderful calm demeanour about her, which I wanted to capture in this painting. Having already decided on the canvas size, I was limited in my selection of poses. A full body pose would have meant her face would have been quite small on the canvas. I find this size ideal for a head and shoulders portrait, being large enough that I can introduce quite a lot of detail in the face. We went through different poses with arms crossed, or the model sitting. In the end I chose this standing pose. The model had such excellent posture, and that wonderful poise, that I wanted to try and capture it with the simplest of poses.
Style and clothing: I asked the model to select her own clothing, giving consideration to how she wanted to be portrayed. She arrived wearing a colourful headscarf and loose knit jumper, which suited her well. The jumper provided a nice contrast in textures, which worked well in the finished painting.
Background: I initially planned this portrait with just a plain background, but I quickly realised there was a timeless quality about this model, which got me thinking about Renaissance portraits; where they might sometimes introduce a section of landscape in one of the top corners. This was a useful device to add depth and perspective to the composition, while also adding colour and visual interest to the painting. I was more interested in the latter, and how a serene vista would complement the model’s calm manner. I also wanted to demonstrate how alternative backgrounds can be easily introduced into a commissioned portrait.
Props: No need for props with this portrait. The smaller canvas didn’t lend itself to being cluttered with objects. With similar commissions of this size the sitter has asked that they be painted wearing a particular piece of jewellery, which was of sentimental value.

progree photos of portrait painting — Progress photos, showing the monochrome underpainting.

Painting technique – Glazes and underpainting

The photo above shows the painting at three different stages. I had already worked out the composition on paper, with preparatory drawings. The underpainting is painted with a monochrome or very restricted palette. Once I was happy the tonal values were correct, I introduced colour into my palette. The final photo above shows the painting just before I add the colour glazes. It’s a traditional technique can add a wonderful luminosity to the highlights, and a depth of colour to the shadows that simply cannot be achieved with other techniques.

I have written a blog post about my use of glazes. You can find it here: Glazes and Underpainting

Portrait Case Study 3. The Dancer

This was a challenging commission. It taught me a lot about ballet, and also about specific problems in painting “action” poses. I was approached by a ballet teacher who wanted a portrait of herself in a recognisable dance pose. Being a lifelong admirer of Degas’ wonderful paintings of ballet dancers (here’s an example at the Met), it was a commission I couldn’t refuse.
I was concerned that my studio would not be big enough. Although fine for portraits, I felt it might feel cramped if she started throwing her arms and legs around. Despite my suggestion to have the sitting at her dance studio, she preferred to come to my studio.

Problems holding a pose.

The first problem I encountered was that it proved difficult to hold any dance pose long enough for me to produce a useful drawing. Gestural charcoal sketches were okay, but the more detailed drawings I like to produce were not possible, and the sitting became quite a challenge for the both of us. I can see why Degas favoured pastels.
As soon as I had enough sketches, I suggested my client should run through her repertoire of ballet poses, and I would start taking photos. She looked through the photos every now and again, and we would adjust the poses accordingly.
Apart from the different poses, we also tried different outfits. In the beginning the tutu was my least favourite outfit and I couldn’t see it making it to the final painting. By the end of the sitting we had lots of photos of various ballet poses carried out in three different outfits. My client checked through them, pointing out any where the pose was not up to standard, and then I undertook to work up some sketches from the remaining photos, offering some alternative layouts.

A choice between two poses and outfits

I couldn’t find the original sketches, but did manage to find photos of these later oil sketches. We had already eliminated alternative poses, and I offered my client two slight variations of this pose. Although I hadn’t been keen on the tutu at first, by this stage I felt it looked the better outfit, and made for a more balanced composition. Also the pose on the left looks that little bit more dynamic.

What did I learn? Ballet instructors are very demanding about their dance positions being spot on. I got into trouble with some wonky arms in my first sketches. Second, although I’m very happy with how the painting turned out, I still feel that it would have added extra visual interest if it was set in a dance studio. Finally, if I’m presented with a similar dance challenge in future, I would forgo my usual preparatory sketches, and would instead video the sitting while taking photos. I think that would be a more useful record than my charcoal sketches. I have started to use video even with my traditional portrait paintings (especially when the sitter can’t pose in person), as it can sometimes give a better sense of what the sitter really looks like.

If this article has given you the inspiration to commission your own painting, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me – use the email address on my Contact Page.

25/05/202317/09/2023

Learning from Rembrandt

A recent visit to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam compelled me to rework an old painting. It was the Rembrandts that did it.
I painted my self-portrait “Halo” during a particularly difficult time in my life. I had become the carer for my terminally ill partner. People praised me for my fortitude, but I was aware of a disparity between how people saw me and how I truly felt. Deep down there was an awful darkness; a sense of despair. I tried to recreate this sense in a painting, but wasn’t completely successful.

detail from the painting halo — detail from reworked painting

Anyway, fast forward to March this year, and I had a splendid time visiting Amsterdam and studying the Rembrandts at the Rijksmuseum. Although there’s a very good selection of Rembrandts to be seen in London, I was captivated by the examples in Amsterdam – some really fine late Rembrandts. I could stare at them for hours. I marvel at the detail he could suggest in the shadows, with such economy. And there was such a sadness in those eyes.
In looking at these wonderful paintings by the great master of portraiture, I felt a desire to revisit one of my earlier self-portraits: “Halo”.

I didn’t undertake many changes. Basically I added a few more layers of glaze, but this time I was a bit looser in the application and removal. It is easy to fall into the trap of becoming too precious when applying glazes. It’s the final stage, and the underpainting might have taken many hours to complete, so there’s an obvious reluctance to mess it up with a sloppy final layers. But looking at those old Rembrandts, what struck me is the spontaneity of the most beautiful passages in his paintings. He wasn’t afraid of messing them up.

17/11/202214/10/2025

The Gleaners, after Millet

The Painting That Fought Back: A Year-Long Journey to Create ‘The Gleaners’

Some paintings arrive easily, flowing from brush to canvas. This was not one of them. “The Gleaners” took over a year to complete, a journey of false starts, creative blocks, and one crucial breakthrough that transformed the entire piece. It’s a painting about social exclusion, but its creation taught me a lesson about collaboration.

Like many creative projects, it began with a collision of ideas. I wanted to create a contemporary version of Jean-François Millet’s famous painting, “The Gleaners,” to say something about modern inequality. The spark for my figures, however, came from a far stranger place: a still from the 1978 film “The Shout,” where actress Susannah York scurries across the floor like a primeval creature.

The unsettling, crawling pose felt right. It captured the desperate, overlooked nature of my subjects. I sketched it out, transferred it to canvas, and began to paint.

Early progress was good, but then I hit a wall. For months, the painting languished. I tweaked the composition, changed the colours, and in a moment of near-desperation, even added a SpaceX Starship launching in the background of a desolate wasteland. But nothing worked. The core of the painting—the foreground figures—felt lifeless and wrong. I couldn’t connect with them, and the entire project stalled.

Original sketch and first underpainting on canvas

The Breakthrough: A Secret Hidden in a Gainsborough

Just when I was ready to give up, a TV documentary changed everything. It was Waldemar Januszczak’s “The Art Mysteries,” exploring Thomas Gainsborough’s “Mr and Mrs Andrews.” Januszczak revealed how the painting subtly references the Enclosure Acts, which fenced off common land and pushed rural people into poverty.

You can watch it on YouTube here.

The Incredible Story Behind Mr and Mrs Andrews (Waldemar Januszczak Documentary)

It was a lightbulb moment. Gainsborough’s composition, with its stark division between the landed gentry and their vast, controlled landscape, gave me the perfect stage for my own story of exclusion. I could fence off the lush green fields and bring the desolate wasteland right to the foreground, trapping my figures within it.

The background was solved. But the central problem remained.

The Final Piece: A Model’s Haunting Gaze

I finally admitted I couldn’t do it alone. My initial vision of emaciated, crawling figures wasn’t translating. I needed a real person.

I put out a call for a life model and found someone perfect for the project. From our first session, everything changed. Working with a real person, collaborating and responding to her presence, breathed life into the work.

We abandoned the original crawling pose. Instead, she offered something far more powerful: a haunting, direct, backward stare.

That stare became the new focal point of the painting. It was defiant, accusatory, and deeply human. The painting was no longer just my idea; it was a collaboration. The final weeks were a joy, and I finished just in time for its debut at the Cluster Contemporary Art Fair.

When I exhibited the painting, I watched as people were drawn in, not by the landscape or the concept, but by the arresting gaze of the foreground figure. It was a detail I had never planned, a gift born from collaboration. It’s a powerful reminder that when you put your easel in front of another person, the art you create is a conversation, not a monologue. And often, the result is something better than you could have imagined alone.