Ink Stains and Paper Cuts

Posted by Salvador Castío

 

     The lines of my drawings have meaning. Every line I make has a story behind it. Those stories come from the past three decades of my life and my current and ongoing adventures. Those stories are a tapestry of people, things, places, and memories. One of these stories is from my first day at the Academy of Art College (now the Academy of Art University) in San Francisco in 1986.

     Like any new student, I felt excitement and trepidation as I stepped through the doors of 540 Powell Street. It was the start of an all-new adventure for me, and I was slowly adapting to a new school environment and the wonders of San Francisco. A year before, I had been in Los Angeles, attending Otis-Parsons. Sadly, my stay in LA was brief, barely a semester. After I left Los Angeles, I found myself at a crossroads. One day, I talked with my old pal Kevin, with whom I’d gone to high school. He was already in San Francisco attending the Academy, and when I told him about my experience in LA, he looked me in the eye and said, “Apply to the Academy. If Otis-Parsons accepted you, the Academy would take you, no problem.” I will be forever grateful to Kevin for his advice. The time I spent in San Francisco had an indelible impact on my work and my general outlook on life.

     Thirty-five years later, most of my memories of that first day at the Academy are a bit of a blur, but I will never forget what I witnessed after my first day of classes that September day. As I stepped out into the cool afternoon breeze, I encountered a chaotic scene of people, police cars, fire engines, and an ambulance. It looked like a scene from a movie, but it was all too real. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew it all centered around the Hyatt on Union Square (now The Grand Hyatt), located next to The Academy. I slowly descended the hill towards Sutter Street, trying to interpret the situation. I remember asking a random person, “What happened?”

     “Someone jumped from the top floor!” they answered.

     The Hyatt on Union Square is a 36-story hotel. I was stunned by what they said and even more impacted when I saw a lifeless body smashed into the roof of someone’s car parked o the street. It was one of the grimmest sights I’ve ever seen. Even now, I still vividly remember seeing that poor man’s body. Mental health issues are no fucking joke. I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy.

     Life in a city like San Francisco is a mix of wonder and horror. Its beauty and culture lie parallel to a world of desperation and sadness. This is true worldwide, wherever humanity gathers en masse to strive and create together. As an artist, all these experiences make their way into my work subtly.

     It’s these types of experiences that give an artist’s worldview and work depth and gravitas. When you study in a significant cosmopolitan area like San Francisco, your education happens just as much outside the classroom as it does inside the classroom. The time I spent in late-eighties San Francisco is a period that has marked me forever. Thankfully, most of my stories and memories are less grim than this one. Living in San Francisco during that era was a singular experience, and I have many more stories from that period of my life that I will share in future blog posts.

     Indeed, you can never go home again. Today’s overly gentrified San Francisco is a far cry from the San Francisco I knew. The vibes and flavors I experienced in those halcyon days are mostly gone. There are still patches strewn throughout the City, but it doesn’t come close to what I saw as an art student at the Academy of Art College. San Francisco’s golden age that people talk about and wish for is when my friends and I were running around the City, living our best college lives. San Francisco’s vast cultural landscape engulfed us, expanded our worldviews, and changed us forever. For that, I am forever grateful.

Photo used in this post:

This space is where it all happens. Day after day, this room, my petit atelier, is where my plans, projects, and future are pondered and put to paper. This space is vital to me. I snapped this shot last night after finishing my afternoon’s work. My setup hasn’t changed in decades. I have everything I need here – all my tools, supplies, and books. It’s home.

 

 

Onward, Ever Onward

Posted by Salvador Castío

 

     In the fall of 1971, when I was five years old, I had a peculiar experience that changed my life forever. Up until now, only a handful of people have heard this story. One afternoon, in my kindergarten class, I was standing in front of an easel, blissfully splattering tempera paint onto a large sheet of construction paper. Like all the other kids in my class, I focused on creating something from the large blobs of color I was applying to my paper’s surface. I was, as they say nowadays, in the zone. During those moments of complete concentration, I had a vision that I have never forgotten. The blobs of color on my sheet of paper transformed into a scene before my eyes. Suddenly my brush strokes of alizarin crimson and cobalt blue had become the inside of a large, ornate building. I recall standing in silence, taking everything in. The room I was standing in was vast, and large framed paintings adorned its walls. I remember scanning the room slowly from top to bottom and side to side. Suddenly, something caught my eye. In the distance, in one of the large frames, was the painting I had been creating in my classroom. I’m not claiming clairvoyance at the age of five, nor do I claim to have been able to articulate what was occurring at that moment. Still, intuitively, I understood the message behind what I was seeing. I stood there frozen in disbelief as I looked at my work on that enormous wall. There was no question that what I saw that day was my destiny. I have never once doubted what happened that day. I’m damn lucky, and I know it. Not everyone knows what they want to do for the rest of their life at age five.

       My first-grade teacher, whose name I’ve sadly forgotten, confirmed what I already knew when she pulled my mom aside during a parents’ night at school to tell her that her son had real talent that she should nurture and encourage. My mom didn’t miss a beat and began her lifelong support of helping me achieve my goals, including going to art school and becoming a professional. 

     I can’t begin to tell you how much art has helped me over the past five decades and how, in many ways, it has saved me as well. In elementary school, I was your classic nerd kid. Black, thick-rimmed glasses, funky haircut, and insecure as fuck. To make things even worse, I had a noticeable strabismus and struggled with math. All those things made me a prime target for all the tiny assholes in my class. There were days when I felt like I was in hell. The insults, put-downs, and vicious cracks at my expense went on for years. 

     Thankfully, art was always there to help console me; it has never failed me. During those difficult years, I realized that I could do something unique that others couldn’t do. That gave me inner strength. I may have felt great insecurity because of my awkward appearance and weak math skills, but my talent was iron-clad and untouchable. I wasn’t the best at drawing in school – some kids drew better than me, but that didn’t matter. Nothing was going to stop me from developing and refining my talent. That realization, more than any other, sealed my fate. It was the one area where I had total control.

     I come from humble beginnings: I lived in the projects on Section 8 housing in my youth. There, I began to read comics and became exposed to art. Comic books opened up another world for me. Along with their fantastic tales of heroic do-gooders and sinister villains, they also exposed me to the brilliant draftsmanship of Neil Adams and the genius-level imagination of Jack Kirby. Because of that, all I ever wanted to do was draw, draw, draw. You have lots of time to fill when you’re an only child, and nothing does that better than drawing. I may have lived in the projects, but comics lit the flame that continues to burn brightly to this very day. Art not only allowed me to survive those challenging years but also to grow as a person.

     My mom knew no boundaries when it came to supporting my talent. Because of her never-ending efforts, I am the artist I am today. Despite money being tight, she made things happen for me. When I was thirteen, I got my first drawing table. A year later, I had my first formal art classes. My tutor was a local artist named John Sierra. John had a large studio in an industrial area of Fresno where he worked on mural designs. I still remember the large rolls of paper stretched out over the studio’s floors. His work was excellent, and I benefitted greatly from his expertise. He taught me the fundamentals of drawing: basic shapes, shading, and perspective. Those things were eye-opening for me. I continued my education at fifteen via a two-year correspondence course through Art Instruction Schools. Without telling my parents, I replied to the “Draw me'” ad from TV Guide. The next thing you know, there was a rep from the school in our living room, signing me up for a two-year stint. That course expanded my knowledge by teaching me basic color theory, multi-point perspective, and composition. That course aided in my development throughout high school. In 1985, Otis Art Institute of Parsons School of Design accepted me into their illustration program. I was only there for a semester, but my time there left its mark – it instilled a level of excellence that has never left me. Parsons School of Design ranks as one of the world’s best art and design colleges, and I remain fiercely proud of my time there. My art school odyssey continued throughout the late eighties and early nineties in San Francisco. My educational journey finally came to a close in 1992 when I finished my studies at the Academy of Art College, where I majored in illustration. 

     In my formative years, my artist heroes set the bar for me. They also reinforced the belief that I’d had since childhood that I could be great at what I do if I worked hard and long enough. More than any other, that belief has helped me weather all the uncertainties and personal changes that I’ve experienced over the past three decades. To make art, you have to believe in yourself and what you do. To do great work, you have to be willing to play the long game. That requires an unusual amount of patience. There are no shortcuts – either you put in the time at the drawing board or don’t.

     I’ve come a long way since my vision of my future at five and my discovery of art through comic books in the early 1970s; my taste in art and my skill have expanded significantly since then. I have never been ashamed of where I come from and will always be proud of that. However, that does not mean I wanted to stay there either. When you come from a modest background, it pushes you to achieve your goals or kills them. Over the past thirty-five years, I have been through many changes and ups and downs. All through it, I have continued to draw and strive. Onward, ever onward.  

Drawing used in this post

In 1868, Burne-Jones was in the throes of a turbulent affair with Maria Zambaco, his Anglo-Greek muse, and model. During that period, Burne-Jones produced an extraordinary series of pencil drawings of Maria. I based my drawing for this post on one of these drawings. I don’t pretend that my drawing captures the subtlety inherent in EBJ’s brilliant drawing – pencil, pen, and pen and ink are two completely different mediums, each with their unique properties. I wouldn’t consider this a finished piece by any means; it’s a study. Maria Zambaco remains a bit of an enigma to this day. New details about her life have emerged over the past decade, but a lot remains unknown about her. Burne-Jones ended his affair with Maria in 1869. Over the next decade, he became the most celebrated Pre-Raphaelite painter of the late nineteenth century. Maria eventually moved to Paris and continued her artistic career working with people like Aguste Rodin. She died there in 1914.

 

 

 

Up A Tree

Posted by Salvador Castío

 

     One of the challenges of writing a fortnightly blog is accepting that real life can and will step in and throw a wrench into the best laid out plans. I wrote and edited the blog post that you should be reading right now a week ago and had gotten pretty far into the drawing that will be accompanying it as well. As you know, I work in pen and ink, and if you’re somewhat familiar with that medium, you know that making corrections can be time-consuming. To my utter horror, yesterday evening, I realized that the drawing that I’ve been working on was off and had to stop and correct the error. Correcting mistakes in pen and ink involves applying a copious amount of white designers gouache to the affected area. The gouache then needs to be allowed to dry before any redrawing can start to happen. Precious time gets eaten up between things such as covering the error, redrawing, and reinking. 

      Those things were the least of my worries as real life had bigger plans for little ol’ me. Over the weekend, our landlord informed us that people would be coming to trim the trees around the house. In all honesty, I didn’t even give it a second thought. Why should I? I was too busy putting together this week’s blog post, so why should I care? Here’s why: on Monday morning, the quiet bliss of my petit atelier was hijacked by the raucous cacophony of chainsaws and men bickering back and forth in Spanish. Being a fluent Spanish speaker, I couldn’t help being a Gladys Kravitz. I heard the old guy in the bunch tell one of the younger workers, “Oye, ¿sabes qué? No sabes nada y es mejor que te calles la boca.” Oh man, it was getting tense up there, and it wasn’t even noon yet. The old guy didn’t take crap from anyone, and he wasn’t scared to speak his mind either. That dear reader is what’s known in Spanish as hablar sin pelos en la lengua. The unnerving buzz of chainsaws, the clanking of ladders, and the bickering in Spanish went on for three days. 

     All this made it impossible to concentrate and get my drawing done in time. After three days, the buzz of those chainsaws had me up a tree. Making art and chainsaws don’t mix well unless you’re making sculptures from tree trunks. Anyhow, instead of leaving you wondering why this week’s blog post got delayed, I thought I’d serve you a tasty little tapa and fill you in on the events of the past three days. Fear not – this week’s post will be appearing over the next few days, along with a spectacular new drawing.

About the drawing used in this post

The drawing used in this post was done two years ago and meant to be finished and published in a blog post, but for some reason, it got lost in the shuffle of daily creative life. I based my drawing on a painting by Burne-Jones, my artist-hero and guiding light. I want to finish this and publish it in an upcoming blog post. Now that fall has arrived and winter is around the corner, I can settle in and start catching up on the mountain of projects that have piled up over the years. 

 

 

The Fine Art of Hypocrisy

Posted by Salvador Castío

     The terms “Starving artist and “Famous after death” have never sat well with me. They’ve always struck me as being simplistic and condescending. People who toss around these dimwitted epithets do so with an air of derision and a sense of warped frivolity. It’s all a big joke to them. They don’t care. First, they insult you, and then they proceed to ask, “By the way, can I talk to you about designing a free logo? Helen Miren famously said that she would advise her younger self to use the words “Fuck off” more often. At fifty-five, I have learned that lesson. Being blunt and to the point is also a fine art – you have to know when to land your punch. Don’t get me wrong, some people genuinely love, understand, and value what people like myself do. Unfortunately, they are few and far between. Regrettably, they’re not who I encounter most often. Usually, it’s people from the other faction that I run into, the people who dub everyone an artist and attempt to get cheap work out of them. 

     In all my years of making art, there’s one thing that has become more than clear to me: it’s not skill or talent that most people value. It’s the price tag that’s attached to your work. The bigger, the better. A little fame doesn’t hurt either. The mighty dollar and notoriety are a potent narcotic cocktail and aphrodisiac to most people. One drink, and suddenly you’re the toast of the town; people want to be around you, have you at their parties, and take you to dinner. Some people think that crack or meth is a big problem; trust me, crack and meth have nothing on money, greed, and power. It’s why terms like “Supporter of the arts” are dubious at best. I know people I would consider actual supporters of the arts – they’re a precious handful. They buy art, and they pay full price. It’s a glorious thing. Most would-be supporters of the arts are nothing more than hypocrites who can’t differentiate between Michelangelo and Charles Schultz and who insist on giving their money to people like Denzel Washington. They haven’t figured out that Denzel Washington doesn’t need their money.

     Thanks to social media, we’ve reached a point where anyone can hawk their wares to whoever is willing to buy them. There are advantages and disadvantages to that: on the one hand. It allows any hardworking artist to get his work seen by the public, and that’s fabulous. On the other hand, it won’t be long before drunken monkeys make art and proclaim, “I got prints.” Platforms such as Instagram have become virtual flea markets for art. Every Tom, Dick, or Harry with even the slightest inclination towards making art is there, prints in hand. Do you laugh, or do you cry? I don’t know. This phenomenon is rooted in the lack of art education in our schools, amongst other things. If you do not understand the amount of work an artist puts into refining a skill, how can you value them? Artbooks and museum visits are nice, but that’s just the surface of it, not the guts. If you happen to know someone who makes art professionally, talk to them and ask them about what’s it like to make art. I guarantee that what you hear is going to be different from what you think. 

     With the advent of social media and smartphones, people’s perceptions of art have changed a lot. Frankly, it’s not just in the visual arts where you see this change. You see it all over the place. In a nutshell, in regards to visual art, it boils down to this: if you can fling paint at a canvas, then you are an artist. It doesn’t matter whether you have a skill or not, just as long as you can soak that canvass with blobs of paint. You may be wondering why something like this would interest me. It’s simple: it’s because “Anyone can be an artist” sends the wrong message to people about what artists do. To be clear, when I say artists, I am referring to professionals -not hobbyists or people who do it as a side hustle. I’m talking about the people who make art day in and day out for a living. Let me be clear about this, I will always stand up for the people who have spent their lives busting their asses to elaborate skill and refine it to a high level. Refining skill requires a certain level of commitment. It’s a level of commitment that most people aren’t willing to make.

      Making art isn’t a free ride. Artists spend copious amounts of time learning their craft because it’s important to them. It’s not a hobby – it’s their livelihood. Attempting to devalue or minimize that in any way will never sit well with me. If you think anybody can be an artist, I cordially invite you to pick up a pencil and take a whack at elaborating actual real skill. Instead of pushing the notion that everyone can be an artist, we should present the idea that being an artist requires as much work as anything else and that hard dedicated effort pays off. Trivializing what artists do is insulting and helps nothing. 

     Some people ask, “Why is your work so expensive?” It’s not – not by a long shot. If your idea of expensive art is twenty-dollar paintings seen at the flea market, then I’m the motherfucking Louvre. The price that I place on my original work isn’t something I’ve arrived at willy-nilly. Besides the cost of my materials, my education, knowledge, years of experience, and skill level all determine the price of my work. Is it expensive, perhaps? Is it fair? It absolutely is. I’m often gobsmacked by how little the general public understands such things. When you buy work from me, you’re getting art created with skills perfected over decades. Beyond that, you’re getting something that is unique, and that has singular value.

      The surface of my work is alive with human involvement and thought. The image I’ve brought forth results from a long series of decisions – I have thought about every detail. I do this over and over until I am satisfied with my composition. All my choices are evident on the surface of the original you buy from me. In the digital age, you don’t have that tactile dimension. Instead, you have things like the newly minted NFTs that people use to validate ownership of digital files. I skeptically watch at a distance as people pay exorbitant amounts of money for the right to be declared the official owner of a digital file. A digital file is not an original piece of work. You cannot touch its surface and feel the paint or ink with your fingertips. In my era, you had copyright – artists still have copyright. It’s something that happens automatically upon completion of a work of visual art. If someone wants to own the copyright in addition to owning my original, they will pay for a complete buyout upon purchase. Desiring this can often triple the price of a piece of work; hey, if you want my copyright and the bragging rights of being the owner of my original, then you’re going to have to pay steeply for it.

     As you can see, all kinds of things are happening when it comes to making art. More than ever, artists must know who they are and what type of work they want to do. They should have a reason for making art beyond making money, creating a product, or creating content. Along with a strong sense of self, they should also have a robust set of skills that they have mastered. If you can go to art school, go. If the school is in a major city, you’ll also get an education outside the classroom. Experiencing culture firsthand is one of the best things that you can do. Growing as a person is just as essential as growing as an artist. Learning from the best in your field of study will advance your skills by leaps and bounds. There’s nothing like in-person technique demonstrations. 

     I know, I know, art school isn’t affordable for everyone. I get it; it’s expensive – more now than ever. There are other alternatives: community colleges seem to offer a much higher level of education in the visual arts than in the past. You can save money by starting there and then transferring. You can also choose to be an autodidact. This route is much trickier as it requires double the drive you usually need to become a professional. If you’re hell-bent on succeeding, you can do it, but those who triumph by taking this route are the exception, not the rule. Lastly, there are online courses and YouTube. Choosing this would be my last choice unless you’re already a professional with experience. If you’re a novice who’s just beginning, I would be aware. You can teach certain basics via video, but that’s limited. You cannot learn to draw the human figure on a computer – you have to be there; otherwise, it doesn’t work. Lastly, teaching art via video has become a cottage industry where any Joe Blow can proclaim to be an artist. If you’re not careful, these slick, wheeler dealers will reel you in and take your money. If the person teaching me isn’t solid in basic skills like drawing and painting, why would I want them to teach me? If you’re a hobbyist, these types of things could be beneficial, but if you’re serious-minded and wish to become a professional, I urge you to sign up at your local community college. The worst thing you can be as an artist is ignorant. Master the basics, learn about the history of your particular discipline, and understand where you come from and what you’re doing. Above all, realize that making art professionally is no free ride. You either put the work in, or you don’t. Finally, stay away from people that believe that everyone can be an artist. They’ll never truly value your work.

 

Illustrations used in this blog post.

Renee. 2010. approx 9’X12″. Pencil, pen, ink, and gouache on paper.

  1. I love drawing portraits that reveal something about the subject of the drawing – a small personal detail that adds a deeper level to the artwork. My friend Renee has unique features that I felt would make a wonderful drawing. She graciously agreed to pose for a series of pictures that I snapped while visiting family in Southern California. As always, I take numerous shots so that I can cherry-pick the best ones. It’s not too hard to find good shots when you have someone with wonderful features like Renee. As I snapped my photos and we chatted, she told me that she was of Indonesian descent. I was automatically intrigued and wanted to find a way to convey that fact in my drawing.  Anyway, I started with a preliminary done in red pencil. At the time, I thought that using a color underneath my inkwork might give it a little more depth, but for some reason, I didn’t follow through with my idea. I honestly don’t remember why, but maybe I’ll go back and give it a shot.
  2. The most important thing to me at the beginning of any drawing is getting a solid pencil preliminary done. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to do this as you begin your drawing. Everything has to be worked out at this stage: proportions, facial features, likeness, details such as hair, etcetera. If these things are not worked out here, you risk making time-wasting mistakes later on. At this stage, I was still trying to figure out how to incorporate my friend’s Indonesian heritage into my design.
  3. Here you have the finished article. As you can see, I incorporated a repeating Indonesian pattern in the background. It was this detail that brought everything together for me. I’m well pleased with my drawing; without it, it would be just another nice pen and ink drawing that says nothing. Interestingly, my desire to give my portraits personal depth has not ceased since I did this drawing; instead, it has increased. I find myself more interested than ever in doing drawings that reveal personal stories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why So Expensive?

Posted by Salvador Castío

       In all my years of making art, there’s one question that never ceases to come up: “Why is your work so expensive?”

     I set the price of my work based on the amount of time it takes me to complete it. Of equal importance is the quality of the materials I use in its creation and, most importantly, the years of education and the hard work I have invested in honing my skill to a highly refined level. The amount of effort that goes into creating a piece of work from start to finish is something that most people misunderstand. Let me explain to you how that works.

     When I graduated from art school, two things were at the top of my list: selling my work and having my work seen. Unfortunately, this desire left me open to every cheapskate imaginable. These tacaños all possess one quality: they never want to pay full price – EVER. They always have a reason as to why they can’t do it, “My car needs a brake job, and I can barely afford it, but I seriously want to buy your drawing. Can you lower the price?” “My daughter’s birthday is coming up – I can make the first payment now, and I’ll pay you off when I get my next paycheck?” Whatever. When you’re fresh out of college, these occurrences are a given – you will encounter these shameless lowballers and grifters. They’re unavoidable – sort of like roaches. 

      And if they didn’t want a discount, they wanted free work! Whether it’s a logo or a portrait of their mother, sooner or later, someone’s going to hit you up to work for free. The general public’s reasoning for their brazen expectation for free work is always the same: “It’ll be good exposure.” These fine folks are all, as my mom used to say in Spanish, “Como el azadón,” which roughly translates in English to, “Like the hoe.” A hoe pulls things in one direction, just like a grifter pulls everything toward himself. They take advantage of you when you’re young, optimistic, and fresh out of school. In the beginning, you do your best to overlook this nonsense because you want to sell your work, but after a while, it gets to be a bit much, and your patience starts to wear thin. No one who has worked for years to hone their craft likes getting hit up to do free work. FYI,  such actions and expectations will automatically put you at the top of any self-respecting artist’s shitlist lickety-split. 

     Even now, people continue to ask me about my pricing. After a while, it starts to really gall me. I often wonder if the people who ask me this question ask doctors, lawyers, or plumbers the same thing. Doctors, lawyers, and plumbers charge for their work based on things like education and experience, and no one ever bats an eye about it, but when it comes to art, it’s a whole different thing. Why are people always so skeptical when it comes to the price of artwork? They always seem suspicious of price and never seem to understand why a piece of work is “so expensive.” It doesn’t matter how well-crafted something is – they’re still going to be suspicious. All too often, people want to haggle about the price of the artwork in question and talk about getting a better deal. These fine folks are not subtle in their approach – they’re brash as hell, and they don’t give a damn. I’ve had people tell me they’ve seen art similar to mine at the fucking flea market. Sometimes I feel like a used car salesman trying to sell a Jaguar to someone who wants to pay as if they were buying a Gremlin. It gets old. My patience for cheapskates, bargain seekers, and lowballers is gone. I’ve done my share of charity handouts over the years. Never again.

     The general public’s bewilderment with price isn’t anything new, and it’s likely not going away anytime soon. Being well aware of this, I’ve decided that this would be a good time to point out the fine details of why a piece of work is “so expensive.” The piece that I’ll be using as an example is a pen and ink study of Carmen Aguado, Duchess of Montmorency, after the portrait by German painter Franz Winterhalter that I’ve produced in preparation for a more extensive drawing of Madame Aguado. My study is a 9″x12″ pen and ink drawing on paper. Not only do I plan to use this study to complete a larger, finished drawing, I will also be selling this gorgeous piece individually. My portrait of the Duchess of Montmorency is small and straightforward in approach, but don’t let that fool you into thinking that those things, or the fact that I completed it in my studio journal, will lessen my asking price of $1200.00. Here’s why.

     Firstly, a project like this takes longer than you think. This piece took me, from start to finish, close to twenty-five hours to complete. Twelve hundred dollars may seem like an exorbitant amount of money for a drawing, but if you do the math, you’ll realize that my time comes out to a paltry forty-eight dollars an hour. At that price, I’m practically giving away this fabulous piece of work. Great drawings result from accumulated knowledge and great skill; as with every new project, this study started with a solid preliminary pencil drawing. This sketch is the foundation of everything that will come afterward. At this stage, I need to work out certain things in a very exacting way. A small error in something like proportions at this stage can become a huge problem later. Spending extra time at this stage pays off later. My time is valuable, and I cannot afford to waste it by making foolish mistakes. Once I’ve worked up my initial drawing to where I’m happy with it, I make a tracing of it and continue refining it on tracing paper. When I complete this, I will transfer my drawing back into my studio journal and work out any last-minute details before moving on to the best part: drawing in ink. I would never consider moving on to this final stage if I felt unsatisfied with my preliminary drawing. Every i has to be dotted, and every t has to be crossed before I begin drawing in ink.

     For me, drawing in ink is the most enjoyable part of doing this type of drawing. Once I get to this stage, I’ve already done all the hard work and figured out things like proportions, values, likeness, et cetera in my preliminary drawing. Now it’s time to bring my pencil drawing to life; I do all my ink drawing with a Rapidograph technical pen. Rapidograph pens are refillable pens infamous for their non-flexible points; this unavoidable fact forces me to ink my pencil lines twice or thrice to get variety in my linework. In years past, I used to use a crow quill pen to do my ink work, but using a traditional dip pen requires waiting for the ink that flows from the nib onto the paper to dry, which takes up time. There is none of that when you use a technical pen; it’s why I lean so heavily on Rapidographs for my work. 

      In addition to the cost of my labor, I always insist on using the highest quality professional-grade materials available. The longevity of my work is important to me. It makes no sense to invest so much effort into something if it’s not going to last. The paper I use for finished ink work is 3-ply Bristol board, which is entirely archival and of one hundred percent rag content, unlike cheaper papers made of wood pulp. The drawing inks I use, Koh-I-Noor Universal and Pelikan Schwarz, are waterproof and archival. My finished drawing of the Duchess is on a 10″x 14″ sheet of Strathmore series 500 Bristol board. My portrait of the duchess is drawn in pen and ink using a technical drawing pen, and it has small touches of Winsor Newton Designer’s white gouache, an opaque watercolor that I’ve used to make corrections. I usually do studies for in-progress work in my studio journal and then transfer the finished idea to my sheet of Bristol board. My studio journal is invaluable to me; I use it to work out ideas for upcoming projects. Its pages are filled with thumbnails, sketches, smaller studies, and technique roughs that will all assist me in realizing finished projects. My final portrait of the duchess benefits from this tried and true technique that I have perfected over the last three decades. 

     

     Finally, the most crucial component of my pricing is quality. Nothing speaks more loudly or clearly than finely crafted work. Beautiful art is the result of hard work, knowledge, and experience. When you buy a piece of work from me, you’re not only paying me for my time and materials – you are also paying for all the years that have come before that allow me to make what I do. It’s not something that happened overnight or something that’s come about by hippy-dippy magic. The price I put on my work isn’t about ego – it’s about thirty-five years of education, knowledge, and experience. Decades of effort do not carry a cheap price. If I ask you for twelve hundred dollars for a piece of work, it’s because I believe it to be worth that much. My work is excellent because I have refined my talent and skill to an exceptional level through years of hard work. There is no hyperbole in this – I have slowly elaborated and refined my talent and skill over decades in anonymity. My work tells the whole story at a glance; none of what I do would be possible without the struggle that came before. 

     Creating art isn’t just about technique and materials – it’s about much more. It’s about the life experiences that an artist has lived through that give their work depth and help communicate the pathos and gravitas of their story. These things factor heavily into the price of original art. A close look at the surface of any professional’s work will show you all the experiences the artist has lived through to create their work. It’s all there – every mark and trace of pentimento is part of the artist’s story. I hope these details have given you a greater understanding of pricing. I have the utmost faith that you, my dear readers, will consider my words the next time you ask an artist, “Why is your work so expensive?”

An Introduction

Posted by Salvador Castío

Things have not changed.

   Even after all this time, making art is still a thrill; the creative flame burns more intensely than ever, and I continue to be susceptible to that spontaneous surge of inspiration that will keep me up drawing all night. Drawing remains a complete pleasure for me. Being the best at what I do still drives me relentlessly, and I continue to expect the best from myself. I’m as hungry and cocky as ever, and I’m still hell-bent on achieving the remainder of my goals. As I write this, I remain on the path I chose for myself all those years ago. In the beginning, I wanted to go to art school, I wanted to become a professional artist, and I wanted to achieve an exceptional level of skill. Over the past thirty-five years, I have chased these goals ceaselessly. There has never been a Plan B because failure has never been an option. I went to art school, I became a professional artist, and I have achieved an exceptional level of skill, but I haven’t finished yet; there’s still more to accomplish – a lot more.

   I have been blogging about my daily exploits since 2008 when art blogs were all the rage. At the time, people like France Belleville-Van Stone and Andrea Joseph were leading the pack and setting a standard through their art blogs. I was the new kid on the block. In the beginning, writing about my sketchbook musings seemed like a good way of giving people an idea about what I experience daily as an artist, so I started my first blog, Cubist Comix. Initially, I enjoyed the whole “this is what I drew today in my sketchbook” aspect, but as time went on, I began to feel like something was missing; I felt like I wasn’t telling the whole story. I was posting regularly, but I didn’t feel like I was saying much about being a working professional. By 2010 it became apparent to me that I needed a new space where I could write more authentically about my day-to-day adventures in the creative trenches.

      I said goodbye to Cubist Comix and created my eponymously-named second blog, Salvador Castío. That blog was also short-lived. It didn’t take long to realize that it wouldn’t satisfy my urge to have space where I could write more authentically and a place where I could house all of my ongoing work. This unfulfilled yearning led me to create my website, salvadorcastio.com – my home on the internet for the past decade. Several years would go by before I found my authentic voice and developed a vision of what I wanted for myself. Things began to change in earnest by 2016; by then, it was clear to me that the direction of this blog had to change. Giving people a more accurate view of what I do requires a very different approach.

   In late 2018 I began to incorporate more meaningful and diverse subject matter into my blog posts. Along with anecdotes about my daily exploits, my worldview must also be present in what I write to give you a complete image of my life as an artist. It’s easy to overlook what is going on around us when we’re so focused on our own story. Ana Kriégle was murdered outside Dublin in 2018 by two teenage boys who lured her to a remote location via social media. She was fourteen years old; her name is important, and you need to know it. There are many things and people in the world that are significant and whose stories deserve to be known. In 2019, for the better part of six months, I heard the anguished cries of an older woman who was living in a care center behind my house. Hearing her cry out every day was unnerving and heartbreaking. I could only imagine the mental hell that she was experiencing in her anguish. One day, the screams stopped, and I never heard them again. The silence was deafening. Her story deserves attention. These are the types of things that matter to me. They’re the things that will give you a more nuanced understanding of what I do and who I am as a person.

   The day-to-day routine of a professional artist is something largely unknown to the general public. It’s entirely different from what most people imagine it to be. I don’t spend my days painting happy little trees for a living; I’ll leave that to the Bob Ross’s of the world. The idea that I’m always happy when I make art is grossly erroneous. I experience occasional moments of great joy, but those moments are certainly not a daily occurrence. The only people who understand this are my fellow professionals who, like me, have been at it for decades. This life isn’t for everyone — there is no instant gratification when you play the long game. There are no free rides when it comes to making art professionally. You either put in the work, or you don’t.

     Over the last three-plus decades, all sorts of things have happened to me. You may be wondering what some of those things might be, so I’ll happily provide you with a few juicy tidbits that you can look forward to in future posts. I’ll tell you stories of people approaching me about making me famous, and I’ll share art school exploits about me and The Night Stalker in Los Angeles; if that isn’t enough, I’ll also tell you about being in London to show menu designs in the early 2000s during the mad cow outbreak. Finally, I’ll address some of the brain-numbing questions that people continue to ask me. All these things are infinitely more interesting to write about than confessional self-portraits or drawings of coffee-swilling patrons.

     Let’s start with some of those brain-numbing questions about me and my work, shall we?

          “Have you been working on your art?”

     No, Karen. It’s easier for me to hire a team of drunken monkeys to fling paint at blank canvases than to develop actual skill.

          “Have you been selling work?”

     Kyle, if you were an actual supporter of the arts, you wouldn’t have to ask me this.

And finally, the mother of all questions –

     “Do you still draw?”

You know Joyce, I feel for you, I do. It must be hard.

     These are the sorts of things that have driven me to write more honestly about my life as an artist. I can’t make this stuff up, and I refuse to sugarcoat it. It’s these types of things that will give you, dear reader, an insight into what goes into making art full time that’s far more profound than sketches of half-eaten sandwiches.

     My exploits are not unique. All working professionals go through similar things in one way or another. We’re all brothers in arms with individual stories decades in the making. It’s this that drives me to want to write; it’s what I know, and it’s the life that I’ve lived. There’s no hyperbole; there’s only my truth. A truth formed over more than thirty-five years of trials and tribulations, ups and downs, triumphs, failures, heartbreaking loss, and anything and everything you can imagine along the way.

     As I move forward, this blog is going to reflect all these things and more. I will share down-and-dirty anecdotes of five hundred dollar hand-made watercolor brushes along with lurid tales of dried-out gouache, cheap crappy kneaded erasers, and the clueless general public. Along with all this, I will also happily tell you why supplies from Michaels and Aaron Brothers suck and how to hang an exhibition properly. I shall pull no punches nor feign anything. Please join me – the best is yet to come.

Notes about the images in this post:

  1. Maria Aguado, Duchess of Montmorency (After Franz Winterhalter). 2021. Study. Pencil in sketchbook. A study for a drawing that needs to be enlarged and have more details added before being drawn in pen and ink.
  2. Flamenco (Bulería). Idea for panneaux. 2020. Pencil, pen, and ink in sketchbook. The first in a series of decorative panneaux based on various flamenco styles. This is but a start; it’s going to require many many hours of solid work before this idea can crystalize and come to fruition.
  3. The Non-Noetic Beast. 2021. Graphic story idea. Pencil, pen, ink, in sketchbook. An idea for a graphic story that will address the anti-intellectual atitude that has been unleashed upon the world via the internet, social media, and smartphones. We’ve created our own Frankenstein monster and now we have to deal with it.

Tiny Gems

Posted by Salvador Castío

Dr. Nina Ansary. 2020. Pencil preliminary in sketchbook

Some weeks ago I lamented the anti-intellectualism that’s running rampant in my beleaguered country. This week isn’t any different; the flagrant and callous imbecility continues unabated on social media and it isn’t going to stop. All the uneducated, misinformed wannabe epidemiologists and virologists spewing their opinions on social media were selfish assholes before all of this started and they’ll continue being selfish assholes long after this is over and done with. That, dear friends, is the last you’ll hear from me on this topic. I don’t know about you but I have better things to do.

Truth be told the aforementioned situation actually has some value to offer If you look for it. In the grand scheme of things, the daily shitshow on social media is nothing more than a pathetic example of just how stupid and self-centered humans can be. In that sense, it’s a complete and total waste of time, but if you dig beneath its bloated ego-laden surface, you’ll find a nice little tidbit of wisdom: Life is short. Live your best life without compromise.

It’s easy to get caught up in the anti-intellectual mire that is modern-day America, but that, dear friends, is a choice. Mental stimulation is always within arm’s reach, if you truly desire to have it. You can either watch another mindless sitcom or you can choose to read or watch something informative. Books like Anthony Bourdain’s classic culinary memoir, Kitchen Confidential offer profound understanding into the struggles and aspirations of a working chef. Documentaries like The Birth of the Cool, the recent Miles Davis documentary, are fantastic for giving you insight into the mind of a musical genius, and musicals like Hamilton expose you to the life of someone such as founding father Alexander Hamilton. The truth is that there are a plethora of things to choose from that will help stop brain rot. Choosing between a mindless sitcom or gameshow and Miles Davis is like choosing between a Big Mac or some gambas al ajillo. You get my point, right? Mental stimulation is out there, it’s not hiding. If you want to  continue growing as a person then the choice is yours. Evolving as a human being is part of living your best life. There’s many facets to living your best life, and a lot of that falls to the choices that you make as an individual. You either continue to grow or you stagnate. It’s all up to you. 

As an artist, I’m very mindful of all this. Perhaps because of my profession this kind of thing is that much more important to me than it is for other folks. For me, being an artist and learning new things go hand in hand. It’s because of this that I was able to go from being a kid from a humble background who read comic books by Jack Kirby to an art school graduate who counts people like Burne-Jones and Lord Leighton as influences.

At my age, my thirst for knowledge has not lessened; on the contrary, it has become even more insatiable. As I get older, my patience for conversations about mundane pedestrian things is getting shorter and shorter. I like to be around people who talk about ideas and about books they’re reading, different cultures, music, art, etc. This is where I’m at and it’s what I want.

These things are going to take on an even greater importance as time goes on. Art and  culture inform and influence me as a person and artist. Hispanophile, Anglophile, Francophile – yes, all of the above. This is just the tip of the iceberg. That fact that I speak fluent Spanish opens me up to an additional world of enrichment. As a kid, I grew up with Charlie Chaplin, Laurel & Hardy, and the Three Stooges while also taking in the work of the equally brilliant Mario Moreno “Cantinflas,” and Roberto Gómez Bolaños in all his various guises. Anyone who speaks another language fluently knows exactly what I’m talking about. All of this influences my interests, my tastes, and most importantly, my worldview. Growing as a person doesn’t have an age limit. The only limits that exist are the ones you put on yourself. The world is too vast and too interesting to limit myself to one culture, one way of seeing things, so yeah, you can be pretty sure that when it comes down to it I’m always going to choose Miles Davis over over a sitcom. 

Agribusiness cities aren’t exactly cultural meccas, but if you’re hungry enough you’ll view that sort of situation as a challenge rather than a nail in the coffin. It’s a choice you make. As an artist and individual it’s important for me to continue learning about the world I live in. That means looking beyond the limited parameters of where I’m at. I refuse to stagnate in the all too familiar humdrum situation that could easily derail me at any given moment if I let it. Life is short and the world is too vast – go beyond the never ending monotony of everyday life and nourish yourself with the hidden gems that are out there waiting for you. 

This week, I have chosen to show you a piece of work before it is fully worked out and completed. In this case, it’s a pen and ink portrait of Dr. Nina Ansary that I’m currently working on. What you see here is a pencil preliminary from my sketchbook. It’s close to being done but still needs some work. Dr. Ansary’s features are very fine so they must be handled with the utmost finesse when drawing them. This is why I do a preliminary study beforehand. I need to be sure of what I’m going to be doing when I do the final piece so I work everything out before my pen ever touches the paper. In case you were curious, this is how art is made.      

A special thanks to Dr. Ansary for graciously giving me permission to do this portrait. 

An Idea

Posted by Salvador Castío

Lately I’ve been thinking that I need to do something in between my regular blog posts. I feel as if there needs to be spontaneous updates of some sort in order to keep me going and to keep this blog interesting. I had an idea today that I’m hoping will help fill the void between blog posts. I’m going to start posting and sharing from my WordPress iPhone app while out and about or when I’m feeling inspired to write something off-the -cuff that doesn’t warrant a full blog post. I feel good about this – little nigglings of ideas and whatnot before a blog post seems pretty damn appealing to me.

The graphic that you see here is a promo graphic that I recently created to share on social media. It’s an updated version of an earlier graphic that I had created late last year. My work is starting to reflect my 19th and 20th Century fine art influences more and more and I want everything I do to reflect this. The drawing in the graphic is a vignette taken from my carnet. I’ve had very favorable feedback from people that have seen this and that has led me to consider working this up into a formal drawing. Many hours would have to come beforehand before I could arrive at a suitable finish. Although I do not consider myself a graphic designer I will admit to liking the design of this graphic very much as it accurately reflects qualities I want associated with my work such as world-class draftsmanship, elegant design, and brilliant execution.

A Silver Lining

Posted by Salvador Castío

Dr. Nina Ansary. 2020. Pen, ink, and digital color.

This blog post originally started as a spontaneous “Here’s what I’m doing this Monday morning,” but after ingesting a near lethal dose of uneducated rubbish regarding, amongst other things, COVID-19 all day, it quickly changed. Sometimes I seriously wonder what the bleeding hell is wrong with people nowadays. Never in my life have I seen so many ego-driven, self-centered, fact-less opinions being doled out willy-nilly. Social media is an unending barrage of uneducated, misinformed bullshit – a literal daily shitshow. Sadly, the flame of anti-intellectualism has been fanned into a roaring blaze by the internet, social media, pop culture, and so called smartphones. We live in the information age and yet people seem to be dumber than ever. Nowadays, Joe Blow and Jane Doe are suddenly effing geniuses despite having barely crawled out of high school. Funny that. They don’t read; they have no intellectual curiosity, and they live on a steady diet of jalapeño poppers and pop culture. In short, they’re as hollow as the culture they come from. This is where we’re at as human beings: ”My ignorance trumps your knowledge.” It’s a sad state of affairs and it’s only going to get worse before it gets better.

I’m supposed to have sympathy for these schmucks? Yeah, that’s never going to happen. In the end, you have to decide how much of your time and energy you’re going to spend verbally slugging it out with the denizens of Slobville. They’re not going away anytime soon and verbally sparring down in Slobville isn’t high on my priorities list. The stupidity, the lack of empathy, and the all around selfishness have reached levels so nauseating that I think it’s time that I call it a day and cut back my time on social media before I suffer permanent brain damage. This, of course, excludes anything having to do with my work; the production and promotion of what I do will continue unabated.

Truth be told, I have much better things to do – you know, like make art. When I get sick and tired of people’s BS I retreat into my own little creative world where I can create, explore, and learn. Some might say that I live in a bubble. Perhaps. I might live in a bubble, but at least I’m being productive and that is reason enough to get away from social media and pop culture. Instead of going round and round with selfish, unempathetic idiots, I’d rather tell you about some of the things I’m currently working on. I’ve started to work on a new series of drawings that will likely carry me well into the fall; this batch of new work is some of the most complex work that I’ve ever done. I’m excited to be starting work on these new drawings which will represent me better than anything I’ve done previously.  Besides being some of my most ambitious work, these drawings will reflect my personal interests more clearly than ever before. Things such as Spanish cante, gitano culture, Moorish design, and late Victorian draftsmanship and painting will be woven into the images that I will be creating over the coming months.

We’re all living through an unprecedented moment in time, but we must all remember that as horrible as all this seems, it’s just a moment in time. In a few years it will all slowly fade into history as we start to return to a normal way of life. This unexpected pause to our daily life has a silver lining for creatives. This is an unexpected opportunity to be as creative as possible. I can’t help but feel as if the universe is tapping me on the shoulder and telling me to go balls out and create the best work that I’ve ever done. Hey, that sounds pretty good to me. Don’t miss out on this opportunity dear friends – the likelihood of something like this happening again anytime soon is pretty doubtful so unleash your creativity and go for it. For now, I will continue to remain positive and hopeful that a vaccine is developed in the coming months. Stay safe, wear a damn mask, and practice social distancing. We can get through this if we all do our part.

The drawing that adorns this week’s post is the second portrait that I’ve done of Dr. Nina Ansary. My first drawing of her from a few weeks ago wasn’t quite what I wanted; It didn’t really capture Dr. Ansary’s beauty, elegance and aplomb so I decided to do this second portrait. I like this drawing a lot better – it’s closer to what I would expect of myself and I’d like to believe that I’ve finally done Dr. Ansary justice. I hope that she feels the same way I do when she sees it.    

A Week In Review

Posted by Salvador Castío

Dr. Nina Ansary (Preliminary). 2020. Pen, ink, and gouache in sketchbook. 

Today will be another might-as-well-be-living-in-Sub-Saharan-Africa day in the Central Valley. Summers here are relentless and unforgiving and their effect on my ability to be creative is just one more hurdle I have to overcome in my daily routine. It is what it is.

This week I will continue to give you an insight into what it’s like to be a professional, working artist in the 21st Century. This week I am going to give you a peak into a working week from start to finish, warts and all.

Monday: My days start early, usually between 6:30 and 7:00 am. I normally start them with a book and my first of many cups of coffee. It’s always been important for me to read – an artist who doesn’t read is shallow in personality and short on ideas. I love reading about the lives of artists that I admire; it gives me an understanding of what I’m doing and where I’m going. 

This morning, I’m starting work on the second version of a portrait of Dr. Nina Ansary. My first preliminary pen and ink drawing adorns this week’s post. As always, I feel that it can be better, so I’ll likely redraw it. If I’m lucky, I’ll finish work on my preliminary pencil drawing by this afternoon amidst the sweltering and unbearable heat in my petit atelier. The drawing will be in a very elementary state: a tight but loose sketch that’s ready to be traced and transferred to my tracing pad where it will be refined. That probably won’t happen until tomorrow at the earliest because I’ve got lots of other projects that I need to get to. The pieces that I will be producing in the coming months are important to me and will likely be some of the best work that I’ll ever do. Great art takes time to create and I intend for these to be nothing short of extraordinary. After all these years, I’m still full of piss and vinegar, so without any hesitation whatsoever I can say that I will be going balls out on this new work and pulling no punches in its execution. My time has become precious and I despise wasting it. Most of these ideas are in a preliminary phase and there’s an unimaginable amount of hours left before I can even begin to fathom putting pen to paper and bringing them to completion. 

Tuesday: This morning my work continues on my second portrait of Dr. Ansary. I traced and transferred what I did yesterday over to my tracing pad, so now I can begin to refine and hone the drawing to where I want it to be – this usually happens after multiple tracings. Once I’ve got the drawing where I want it to be, I’ll trace it onto a thick sheet of 3 ply Strathmore series 500 Bristol board and start inking it with Rapidograph technical pens. 

By late in the afternoon, I’ve worked up my pencil preliminary of Dr. Ansary to a satisfactory level and move on to other projects. I’m in the process of organizing a publicity event for later this year that will showcase some of the new work that I’ve been talking about. All of my new work will reflect my love of 19th and 20th Century art, especially Pre-Raphaelite painters such as Sir Edward Burne-Jones and fin de siècle Symbolist painters, draftsman, and engravers such as Carlos Schwabe, Alphonse Mucha, and Gustave Doré. My new work will be a mélange of these influences and reflect personal interests such as Spanish cante, Moorish art, ancient English storytelling, and a myriad of others.

Wednesday: It’s midweek, and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed with the process of choosing which projects I want to work on in the coming months. Don’t get me wrong, I want to work on all of them, but I need to zero in on the ones that need to get done sooner. It’s tough doing this because all of these projects are important to me. This feeling isn’t anything new to me, however; it’s part of my creative process. Big projects usually start like this and slowly but surely get organized in my mind. That normally takes place late at night when I’m lying wide awake ruminating on what to do. 

Today was a scorcher. When I say scorcher, you should know that it’s an understatement. I was only half joking earlier when I called the weather here in The Valley Sub-Saharan. Summers here in the Central Valley can be brutal with stretches of days where the weather is over 100° F. The heat is stifling and makes it a challenge to be creative. Scorching weather or not, the show must go on. The COVID-19 pandemic has changed the dynamic for everyone including me. Initially I found myself struggling to adapt to it. My wife is a private tutor who usually goes from home to home all afternoon and evening, but all that changed with this pandemic. I was used to days where I could take a break and either read or watch TV whenever I wanted to, but that was taken away from me when my wife started working from home. The first month and a half were kind of rough and I wondered how I was going to adapt to the change. Thankfully, my wife and I worked together to develop a solution. I wake up early and have the morning hours to myself and she stays up late and enjoys the quiet hours of the night. In addition, time has helped resolve the issue. I’m grateful that both my wife and I are able to continue working and doing what we do amidst this worldwide tragedy. 

Thursday: Today it seems as if the universe has listened to my pleas and bestowed a cool and cloudy day upon me. The preliminary pen and ink that adorns this post is something that I’ve been working on over the past few days along with everything else I’ve mentioned. I’m done inking it and making corrections, so it’s time to scan it and get it ready for posting to my social media accounts. The drawing is well done and whatnot, but I’m not sure I’ve captured my subject’s elegance and aplomb. It’s a solid start that will lead to a much stronger drawing when it gets worked up into a more finished piece.

Out of the blue, I’ve decided to start writing the post you’re currently reading a little ahead of schedule because I’m driven to do it; I spend the better part of my afternoon at the computer pounding out the beginnings of this post. The urge to write is something that’s becoming stronger as time goes on. Aside from these weekly blog posts, I’ve also started working on two manuscripts and a collection of short snippets of random moments. I’m not a writer per se, but I like to write, so this will now become part of my creative output – albeit at a much slower rate than my visual art. 

Friday: The universe continues to bless me with cool and cloudy weather. Praise. Today I’m looking forward to continuing all the preliminary work for my upcoming projects. One of the main factors that will differentiate this new work from things I’ve done in the past is that many of these new pieces will be substantially larger than previous work. This obviously means that it will take an even greater amount of time to complete most of the work I have planned. The most exciting thing about these new pieces is that I’ve been keeping a list of “Projects I Will Someday Have the Skill to Complete” for the past 35 years and I finally feel technically ready to undertake the work required to bring these ideas to fruition.

The week is ending on a good note. I ‘m feeling more productive than I have in quite some time. Work on all my projects is moving ahead, and I’ve got everything I need in order to move forward with everything that I want to do over the coming months. Onward, ever onward.  

Lux Aeterna

Posted by Salvador Castío


When I woke up on the morning of February 24, 2005, I did so knowing that on that day I would have to do the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do: ask my mother if she wanted to continue living. I also knew that I would have to respect her decision no matter what it was. I sat by her bedside and held her hand on that overcast day and asked her three times if she wanted to continue onward. Each time she said no. Like most people, I was ill prepared to deal with this. All I could do was roll with the tide of uncertainty that had already enveloped my daily existence and hope that I’d survive it and not fall into that dark abyss that I teetered closer and closer to with each passing day. 

In that turbulent era, I adopted a daily mantra. It was something that my mom had said throughout my life and now I was telling it to myself: Onward. Ever onward. Those words defined my mother and how she lived every day of her life. When my mom turned 40 she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia. Rheumatoid arthritis is a long-term autoimmune disorder that primarily affects joints. A common sign that someone has it is a gradual deformation of limbs such as hands. In its advanced stages, RA also attacks organs. Ultimately it was this that took my mom’s life at 70 years old. 

During the thirty years that she lived with this disorder, my mom fought the good fight each and every single day. I once asked her how she could live with such pain on a daily basis, and she said something that I’ve never forgotten, “I have accepted the pain, but I have to continue onward ever onward,” or, as she would say in Spanish, “Pa’lante, siempre pa’lante.” My mom was a fighter. 

Had it not been for rheumatoid arthritis I would have had my mom at least another decade. To say that I feel cheated by life would be a massive understatement. I wish she could have met my wife; she would have loved her – my mom always had a great respect for educators and education. I wish she could have seen me evolve and refine my talent to the level that I have. My brush and ink portrait of Auguste Rodin from 2013 would have thrilled her to no end. Despite the fact that my mother had zero formal art training, she loved art and never doubted my ability or my future. She always said that my brushwork was something special, and her eyes would have glistened with pride on seeing the brushwork on that portrait of Rodin. Alas, my mother will never meet my wife; she will never see the development of my skill and the work that I am producing now and will produce in the future. Although she’s no longer physically with me, however, she is more a part of me now than ever before. Now she is always with me; wherever I go, she’s there. She’s never far away. Her fighting spirit lives within me. She is my lux aeterna; an eternal light shining in my heart. 

My mom always believed in me and supported my talent. “Art is in the blood,” she would say to me, “and you have that.” My gratitude to her for her belief in me and her support of my talent is unending. It’s because of my mom that I’m an artist. From the time I was a small child, she astutely understood that her one and only son had a talent for making art. She always made sure that I had what I needed: books, supplies, tutors, etc. Despite my mom never believing that my talent came from her, she had an innate sense of design that became more and more obvious to me as I went through art school. Her sense of design was completely natural; she had never been taught about design and yet there it was. She always had a knack for putting things together and having them just look right. I’m never in doubt that this is where my own sense of design comes from. 

After she passed in 2005, I lost my way and my skill diminished. For so long I was unable to focus on my work and unable to sit and allow the ideas to flow from my brain like the ink from my pen. I never stopped drawing altogether, but I felt like I had suffered such a set back. It was like it put me years behind. However, I always remembered my mom’s words and her spirit: Onward. Ever onward. I learned from my mother to never ever give up, so I kept fighting, kept pushing, and now I’m seeing that fight pay off. Now, I draw better than I ever have. Because of that the direction that my work will now follow has become very clear to me. 

My mom always believed that I had the talent and the skill to be great. She made a lot of sacrifices to make sure I got the education to make that happen. She knew that the education she was giving me would live on long after she was gone. She used to tell me that the education she was giving me was the sword that would help get me through life. A decade and a half after I sat next to her on that overcast February day, saying goodbye and holding her hand, her fighting spirit is burning more brightly within me than ever before. She believed that I could be great and I don’t intend to disappoint her. 

The drawing that accompanies this post is a pen and ink study from my sketchbook for a larger drawing that I plan on doing later this year.

Voices Not Forgotten

Posted by Salvador Castío

The world seems crueler in 2019. It’s not really any worse, but it feels like it is. With the advent of the internet and social media, we are all now hyper-aware of all the bad things that happen in our world. The days of hearing only vague details about something happening in another part of the world on the nightly news are gone. Daily, we now get blow-by-blow, live on-the-spot, in-your-face reports about all manner of atrocities that are happening in any part of the world at any given time. 

As time has passed, I have felt an increasingly strong need to use my work to give voices that have gone silent a chance to be heard anew. Every day, there are atrocities committed all over the world that leave me speechless. Last week, it was another mass shooting at a high school in Southern California where more innocent people died, and yesterday and today, it was Fresno and Oklahoma. Tomorrow it’ll be somewhere else, and it’ll happen to people that you are currently completely unaware of. You will learn the names of these innocent souls because their lives will have come to a sudden and unjust end. You might not personally know these people who are lost to senseless violence, but that doesn’t mean they’re unimportant. The names of the innocent deserve to be heard. Their lives deserve to be remembered.

One such person that I recently found out about is 14-year-old Ana Kriégel of Dublin, Ireland. Here’s a bit of Ana’s story from Wikipedia: “Anastasia “Ana” Kriégel (18 February 2004 – 14 May 2018) was a Russian-Irish girl who was subject to a violent attack, murdered and sexually assaulted in an abandoned house in late May 2018 in Lucan near Dublin. Ana was brutally murdered in May 2018 by two 13-year-old boys who lured her to a derelict farmhouse outside the city. Two boys, known only as Boy A and Boy B, who were 13 years old at the time of Kriégel’s death, were convicted of her murder, with one of the boys (Boy A) being further convicted of aggravated sexual assault. The two convicts are the youngest in the history of Ireland to be charged with murder.” 

Ana’s death was a senseless, cold-blooded murder. There are no words for this act of pure evil. Just like so many other victims of violent crime, Ana’s name deserves to be remembered. As an artist, I feel that it’s important for me to share these stories. It’s the least that I can do. I hope that my drawing has done Ana justice. 

Anguish and Luxury

Posted by Salvador Castío

A cool October breeze blows gently through the trees outside my house as leaves rustle, swoosh, and swirl to the ground. Along with the rustling of leaves there are other sounds that waft through the air on a daily basis in my neighborhood: neighbors mowing their lawns, kids going to school, people walking their dogs, and people out for their daily runs. Along with all that hustle and bustle is the sonic cacophony of police and fire engine sirens that seem a permanent part of the landscape. Without them blaring in the background this place would feel a little off-kilter.

Aside from the neighborhood sounds and the daily chorus of sirens, there’s another sound that fills the air near my house on an almost daily basis. It is perhaps even more unnerving and jarring than the aforementioned chorus of sirens. Directly behind my house there’s a small, rundown rehabilitation center for senior citizens; I’ve lived in my house for two years and up until six months ago everything seemed fine. Recently, though, I am forced to listen to the agonizing screams of an elderly woman who clearly suffers from some sort of a mentally debilitating illness. She screams at the top of her lungs nonstop for what seems like hours on some days. She’s clearly in mental anguish, and it’s unsettling to hear her call out in such desperation. 

I often wonder, “What if that was me?” The mere thought of going through what this poor woman goes through on an almost daily basis sends chills down my spine. More than anything, it reminds me of just how damn lucky I am. The fact that I wake up every morning in complete control of my bodily functions is a total blessing that I can’t overlook and yet sometimes I do. I can only imagine how much of a torture it must be for this poor woman to get through days that most of us spend pissing away on the most banal  and trivial of things. Think about this, you’re driving somewhere and someone unexpectedly pulls out in front of you and it triggers some ego-induced road rage that gets you to speed up and go and cut the person off just to satisfy some pathetic need to be dominant or perhaps you spend your days online spewing nonsense and reveling in the fact that you can because you choose to. We think these things are torturous and are the worst things that could happen to us. We go home and spend our time complaining about these things that are, in the larger picture, trivialities. The woman in the rehab center behind me doesn’t have those luxuries available to her anymore. Instead, she spends her days in a type of mental anguish that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Somebody has to feed her, dress her, bathe her, clean her, and most of all, make sure that she’s safe. Hissy fits about other drivers and what someone said to you on Facebook are things that are completely nonexistent in this woman’s world. Trust me, pissing away your time because you choose to do so is a luxury that most people take for granted each and every single day. 

The anguished screams that flow through the air near my house do not go unnoticed. Those screams have meaning to me. As one person fights with every ounce of her being to get through another day, I have the luxury to learn something from her and to gain some perspective on my life. Despite it all, things aren’t so bad for me. How could I even think that they’re anything other than damn good knowing full well that I could be the person screaming behind my house in the blink of an eye. 

I’ll leave you with this bit of food for thought: someone said something or posted something on Facebook that upset you. The woman in the rehab center behind my house is screaming in mental anguish as she struggles to get through another day. Now, please tell me again about  how upsetting your insignificant Facebook incident was. We all need to get a clue. 

Getting On With It

Posted by Salvador Castío

Summer. 2019. Pencil Preliminary (Study II). Pencil in sketchbook. 

As a self confessed and proud perfectionist I admit that I drive myself a little crazy at times. I’m not ashamed of being nit picky at all as that keeps mediocrity at bay at all times but sometimes I do feel the need to just jump in and get on with it. Spontaneity doesn’t mean that quality has to suffer. Solid draftsmanship is solid draftsmanship and that doesn’t change.

Lately, I’ve felt the need to loosen up a bit and shove my hands into the creative dirt. The main thing about all this is that I’ve decided to stop overthinking things and just do them. The only thing that matters now is creating and everything else takes second place to that. Interestingly, this approach is a throwback to past era of my life when I was much more willing to be spontaneous and experimental. Those things have their importance but there must be skill beneath them to give them support otherwise they’re there’s really nothing there.

The drawing that accompanies this post a drawing of a good friend of mine that I recently did in my sketchbook. If you have beautiful friends you should draw them. There’s nothing better than drawing a beautiful woman and capturing her beauty. I’m fortunate to have quite a few highly photogenic friends so I am not too worried about the scarcity of subjects for my pen. There’s definitely more to come. This drawing was fun to do; I left a bit of pencil in for the shading and finished off the rest in pen and ink. I’m pleased with the results I’ll probably rework this and refine it a bit and turn into a proper finished piece so as to do it’s gorgeous subject justice.

Empathy and Finesse

Posted by Salvador Castío



It’s late on an August evening, and I’ve spent the better part of my day behind my drawing table working on a myriad of projects, including this blog post. It’s stifling in my studio tonight, but work must continue. People often ask me how much I work daily; perhaps a better question would be how much I don’t work. I’m up early, around 7:30, and I’m in the studio for a significant part of the day. Lately, I’ve been racking up the hours — I’m starting to slowly edge back to those 14 hour days that were so common in the past.

I have wanted to do the drawing I’ve chosen for this new blog post for quite some time. It’s been quite a while since my last post; I’ve put off making a new post because I couldn’t bear to bring myself to publish yet another journal page filled with drawings of food or coffee-swilling patrons. These things are so commonplace nowadays that they have become cliche. Surely there are more interesting things to draw. There has to be more to a post for me than the shine of silverware and the ritualistic act of daily caffeine ingestion. 

Recently, the world has felt so dark. The news can be so overwhelming, and it’s easy to feel a sense of hopelessness and despair. As always, there are those individuals that burn like beacons in the dark, showing us the way forward. Powerful women are stepping forward worldwide to guide us. These include Americans like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ruth Bader Ginsberg and international figures such as Greta Thunberg, the young Swedish climate activist, and Jacinda Ardern, the Prime Minister of New Zealand. On March 15, 2019, Christchurch, New Zealand, suffered a horrific terrorist attack where a gunman killed 51 people and injured 49 others at two local mosques during Friday prayer. In the wake of these attacks, the Prime Minister reached out to the victims’ families; she held them close to her as they came to grips with such a senseless and cowardly act. Most importantly, within a month, she helped pass legislation that banned assault-style weapons in New Zealand. 

I remember seeing images of her comforting her bereft compatriots on social media, and her empathy moved me that the Prime Minister showed them. Her actions were the exact opposite of what I see here in the United States — her actions were heartfelt and genuine as opposed to being just another photo op. This portrait is the first in a series of new drawings to celebrate exceptional women. 

What you see here is a preliminary drawing that will lead to a finished piece. I’m still working it out and finessing the prime minister’s features. It may look finished, but I can assure you that this is far from done. Her face is the most crucial element of my drawing, so her features have to be spot-on. I hope that I can capture the heartfelt empathy in her gaze. Showing such emotion is a challenge that I’m excited to be undertaking. 

A Kindred Spirit

Posted by Salvador Castío

Originally, this post was set to appear on Saturday, June 8th, 2019 to commemorate the first anniversary of Anthony Bourdain’s death; however, once I started working on my portrait I realized that wouldn’t be able to complete my drawing to my satisfaction. Instead of rushing to complete the drawing, I decided to put it off by a day in order to ensure that my portrait of Tony would meet my standards.

A year ago, on the day he died, Anthony Bourdain’s name was only vaguely familiar to me. I’d heard his name mentioned here and there by the cool cats that I’m fortunate to know; you know, people in the know, people that know the cool stuff that most folks are oblivious to until those things hit the mainstream years later. One such soul is my old pal, Kenny. He had read Tony’s classic culinary exposé, Kitchen Confidential, when it was originally published in 2000. What can I say? I’m a serious latecomer. Worst of all is that I missed out on many years of enjoying the exploits of one of the coolest people to ever walk the world stage.

I read Kitchen Confidential for the first time in 2018, and I instantly connected with Tony and his tale of the ups and downs experienced while living, “The Life.” It sounded all too familiar: living a life outside the norm and hell bent on making a success out of it all while putting up with the general public and their total misconceptions about what a working professional goes through. Most of all, I loved that Tony had the same attitude towards being a chef and cooking that I have towards being an artist and making art: shit or get off the pot.

Within days of his untimely passing, I was watching Parts Unknown and discovering something truly wonderful: storytelling through food. I watched and re-watched as many episodes as I could. Since then, I’ve discovered all manner of things — terminology such as mis en place, foods like roasted bone marrow, great restaurants like St. John, and great chefs like Marco Pierre White and Fergus Henderson. Because of Tony’s insatiable curiosity, I’ve discovered a whole new world that has expanded my world view. I am not alone in my feelings about this, his curiosity, adventurous spirit, and easygoing personality has enriched us all. Thanks, Tony.