Ivory, acrylic on masonite,
11 x 15 ½ in.
       White Racing Homer

“One of the worst things you can do as an artist is to alter your voice to give people what you think they want or are expecting.”

In the increasingly crowded field of wildlife artists, Andrew Denman stands out for his distinctive look in addition to his masterful painting skill. Each of the factors that contribute to his unique style represents one of Andrew’s great passions: His hyper-realistic portrayals of animal subjects reflect his reverence for nature, the stylized or even abstracted elements reveal his love of paint itself, allowing the process of the artwork to be visible in the final piece indicates his love of the creative process, and those words or fragments of poetry come straight out of Andrew’s love of language.

How did he arrive at such a deeply personal and meaningful style? “They say that the artist does not choose his style or subject; the style or subject chooses the artist,” explains Andrew. “This has been true for me. I’ve done a lot of experimentation and exploration, and the more I allow myself to be led by my whims and musings, the more thoroughly every aspect of my creative self becomes integrated into my work.”

Following the Muse

“I love to do detail,” says Andrew. “A painting usually starts with my inclination to reproduce an experience for the viewer so they can share the same magic I felt when I was spending time with my subject. That desire may encourage a faithful, hyper-realistic approach, but that can become very tedious. The detail must be contrasted with looser, interpretive areas in order to be appreciated. Too much detail is simply noise. It’s like ice cream—no one wants to eat the same flavor every time! Sooner or later you’re going to get tired of it.” Fortunately for Andrew, his fascination with all art forms and the art-making process has allowed him to find ways to inject more interest and variety into his work.

For instance, Andrew employs a special underpainting technique that adds movement and energy to the final painting. However, it’s a fairly unpredictable process, which Andrew thoroughly enjoys. “I find it very hard to loosen up,” he admits. “I love loose painting, but I can’t do it. I want to hold onto the brush for dear life and never surrender control!” He finds that his gessoed underpaintings, however, push him beyond his comfort zone and take his paintings to a more creative level. “That element of surprise makes it more interesting for me as the artist,” he notes, “and also for the viewers.”

Andrew’s discovery of this technique occurred quite by accident. In college, he was assigned to create an entire painting with a palette knife. “It turned out okay, but I didn’t like the thick, gloppy texture,” he recalls. His instructor suggested gessoing over the surface and sanding it down so he could re-use the surface. But a funny thing happened when he did. “The raised ridges started coming through the white as I sanded,” he says, “and I wound up with this bizarre, random texture. Still, I thought it was an evocative background, and I was motivated to paint my favorite subject, a bird, flying through this abstract space. I wanted to find a way to make it work.” Today, this combination of realism and abstraction is one of the most notable features of his paintings, and making the two work together is one of his most fulfilling challenges.

Something else that makes Andrew’s work stand out is his occasional incorporation of words or poetic phrases. These are his own creations, as he’s been writing poetry since high school. “A couple of years ago, I realized that some of my words corresponded with some of my images, and I began to incorporate my poetry,” he notes. “It’s not all that original in art, but in the context of wildlife art, it’s very unusual. Yet, just as pictures can illuminate words, I believe that words can illuminate pictures, so I’m becoming more comfortable with the idea.”

These Wax Wings

A flock of cedar waxwings stops me in my tracks, my plans for a run
Abandoned to the soft tapestry of birds on branches.
I am quiet
As they preen, little grey and tawny birds, and almost mauve in places

I can’t quite reach.  Of course I never could reach them, and I’m not meant to—
Even in this moment’s tender truce—not with these wax wings

Some in repose, others in nervous motion, a flit and flutter that
Summons sounds of crisp fall leaves that crackle underfoot and
Skate on blue dawn blacktop as the boy I was marched to school beside them,

But the trees are bare now, though the birds in their hard black masks
Make an elegant imitation of lingering leaves

That hang as I do, rest as I do, on my weave of inner branches.
It’s so easy to overlook how perfect it all is,
And how impossible to touch with these wax wings.

Using His Voice

Andrew’s willingness to try new ideas and pose new challenges comes from a deep-seated value he holds dear: The right to speak with his own voice. “One of the worst things you can do as an artist is to alter your voice to give people what you think they want or are expecting,” he explains. “I want to express myself in any way I want. I don’t think about what will or won’t sell, because I’m trying to connect with the people who will enjoy the journey I lead them on. So if I suddenly feel the need to paint a landscape, I will without thought, even if it doesn’t fit in with my next show. If I’m moved to try a new medium or return to something I haven’t done in years, I allow the work to take me wherever it takes me. I’ll try something looser, and I’ll try something tighter. If it surprises someone or delights people, well, great, but that’s not why I do it. I paint for myself.”

And it’s precisely his adherence to his own values, standards, and interests that have earned him the respect of his collectors, colleagues, and gallery representatives. “From a personal standpoint and from a career standpoint, following my heart will always serve me well,” he says with conviction. “I want to keep surprising people every time I have a show.” And he has. In a genre that is so popular and filled with capable artists, Andrew’s wildlife artwork is original and fresh. This explains why he is now in high demand as both an artist and teacher.

Burning with Passion

Andrew says it gives him great pleasure to create things of beauty, and to send them off into the world to be enjoyed by others, but the real reward is not the finished product, it is the act of painting itself. His unquenchable thirst for exploring the limitless possibilities in art is what drives him. As he explains, “There’s an old episode of The Simpsons in which Lisa’s saxophone mentor tells her that ‘music is like a fire that starts in your belly and comes out through your mouth…so you’d better put an instrument in front of it.’ Painting is a fire that starts in my mind and my gut, and comes out through my fingers. If I’m not allowing what’s inside of me to be expressed in art, I know I’ll get burned.”
 

See more art and a demo below!

Onward and Upward II, acrylic on masonite, 48 x 20 in.
       Stellar Jays

Twist, acrylic on masonite,
24 x 19 ½ in.
       Palm Tanagers

Fanny Got Bling, acrylic on
masonite, 34 x 20 in.
       Victoria Crowned Pigeon

The Chinquis Three, acrylic on masonite, 17 ½ x 26 in.
       Silver grey peacock pheasants

Step 2
Working on a piece of ¼” primed masonite, Andrew laid in the fundamentals of the composition with a palette knife and thick impasto paint (see detail above). This looser underpainting will add movement and energy to the final painting.

Step 3
Once the impasto application was thoroughly dry, he covered over everything with several heavy coats of gesso, tinted with a liquid acrylic to alter the color and value in the birds.

Step 4
When the gesso was thoroughly dry, Andrew then used a palm sander to sand down the image until the smoothness of the surface was restored. Along the way, the raised ridges of the impasto application became visible, with the gesso coat filling in the pits and valleys between. The result was that the initial block-in re-emerged from the board, bringing with it an element of surprise. Andrew likens it to the “happy accident” in watercolor. This randomization often suggests possibilities that greatly influence the finished piece and which would have been impossible for him to consciously plan.

Step 5
After blacking the back of his original sketch with a #2 pencil and lining it up with registration marks along the edges, Andrew transferred various elements of the drawing to the painting. First the lettering, which he painted in by hand, and then the birds and branches that were not part of the underpainting. For each element, he transferred only the contours to begin with, then carefully painted these areas in a solid color. When the base coats were dry, he lined up the sketch again and transferred the interior lines, leaving him with a clean and clear guide to begin painting.

Step 6
Using a small brush (primarily a #1 script), Andrew painted in the beginnings of the color, value, and texture of the birds and branches, using his reference photos as a guide. He also started picking out portions of the underpainting to highlight, lighten, darken, etc.

Step 8
You can see how Andrew built up many fine layers of paint to create the illusion of the birds’ textures and subtleties of color in These Wax Wings (acrylic, 24 x 37 in.). Quite often, he used thin, transparent applications to create atmospheric effects. To complete this piece, Andrew applied a semi-transparent, pale grey glaze over the entire piece to heighten the effect of mist or fog.