Probable Working Sequence

There are times when I feel blessed to be an artist.

My son William and I were in Manhattan for a Yu-Gi-Oh tournament. After it was done I had something I wanted to pick up but the person from whom I was to do the up-picking wasn't going to be around for a few hours, so we had some time to wander around. William put his vote in for Central Park. After he'd climbed some rocks and scared his old man witless we ambled amiably southward with the idea of maybe dropping by Nintendo World at Rockefeller Center, and that was when I had to go to the bathroom.

As I've gotten older I've found that the Call of the Bathroom is more insistent than it used to be. Luckily I know the neighborhood around there pretty well, so I know that there's a public restroom on the second floor of the Hilton on Sixth Avenue. Up we went and William sat in the hall outside while I went in to rest. I found a likely stall and immediately committed the Cardinal Sin of the Bathroom, which is sitting down without checking to see if there's toilet paper first.

There wasn't.

I was the only one in the restroom. I waggled my fingers in the toilet paper dispenser hoping, I guess, to conjure up more than the few wisps on the bare cardboard tube. I thought for a bit, then yelled for my son. No response. I inspected the dispenser again in case a miracle was in the offing. I hollered for William once more, but then this is the kid who doesn't notice my yelling when I'm standing right next to him. Things were beginning to look bleak.

Then I noticed the sketchpad I always carry with me.

The two pages of sketch paper I tore out weren't absorbent and they sure as hell weren't going to flush properly, but they did the job well enough so I could scuttle to the next stall and finish up.

And there I found the toilet paper plentiful. And oh so very soft.

When Franklin came to visit, he showed Stephanie and me this Japanese brush pen he'd bought. He let me squiggle with it a few times and then wrote down the name on a piece of scrap paper, which Stephanie carefully ripped out of the pad. I told her she could've taken the whole page if she'd wanted.

"No, I just want this piece," she said serenely.

I didn't think much of it but Stephanie forgot the paper when she left and it sat around staring at me. The feel of the brush pen in my hand wouldn't go away, and the poetry in even those random squiggles I'd done crept up on me. I began to see why Stephanie wanted just that little piece.

I looked it up online and found that redoubtable online retailer Dick Blick sells a Kuretake brush pen. It's not very expensive but it is far away -- I hate ordering things. I'm an instant gratification kind of guy. I'm so into instant gratification that I'll spend a month trying to buy something in person rather than order it and get it in three days.

Well, unless I'm willing to go into Manhattan -- and I'm usually not -- there are really only two art stores in my vicinity. My favorite these days is Jerry's Artist Outlet in beautiful West Orange, New Jersey. Al Shefts and his wife (whose name escapes me just now -- Bonnie?) run the store like an old-fashioned New York art supply store, of which there aren't many left. They stock a bunch of odd things you won't find on the main Jerry's Artarama site.

I was there just buying pads and paper for the weekend's drawing session when Al, who's been even friendlier towards me since Dorian introduced us, asked if I needed anything. I don't usually ask for sales help because usually, if I can't find it myself, it can't be found. And also I hate bothering people. But just for the heck of it this time I asked Al if he had any brush pens.

"You mean like this one?" he asked, reaching right next to him to pull the box off the shelf.

That one turned out to be too expensive by twice my budget, but when I suggested the Kuretake, he took me right to it in the back next to the fountain pens. I would never have found it since the packaging is entirely in Japanese and gives no clue as to its contents.

The upshot of all this is that I now have my very own Kuretake Brush Pen.

Oh my Lord it is the most fantastic thing ever. Picking it up I knew how Thor must've felt the first time he hefted Mjolnir. With this brush pen I am invincible!

The great thing about it is now I can have brush and ink to go. This is really incredible, because I love drawing with a brush, but it's usually not very portable. Now it is!

I recommend one to everybody.

Dear Franklin and Stephanie,

Thanks for coming over last week. I had a really great time talking art with the two of you. And I really appreciated what you had to say about my paintings. More importantly, I took your suggestions seriously, and to prove it, I can show my drawings from last Saturday. As I usually do I went to Dorian and Liana's for figure drawing and I tried to put some of your ideas into practice.

Our model was Simone. This is the second time I've drawn her; she's an excellent model who comes up with interesting poses. Unfortunately she comes up with poses that interest Dorian and Liana but not, so much, me. I try to think of it as a challenge. For example, Dorian absolutely loves it when Simone uses fabric in her pose. Personally I have zero interest in drapery. If I did, I could just stay home and sketch the valances.

Anyway. We started off with short poses and for once I was almost on time so I actually got to draw the two-minute gestures. Usually when I look at the model's pose, I ask myself -- not really consciously, but this is how I think of it when I think of it -- I ask myself, "What's the story of this pose?" In other words, I try to find the lines of the pose that intrigue me and zoom in on those. I can get one or two drawings done per short pose that way.

But you guys told me I should try to draw some full figures, should try and get the whole pose on the page. Most of the time when I've tried that I've failed miserably; the paper always seems too small. And that's independent of the size of my paper. My drawings always expand to be bigger than the page. But you suggested I try, so try I did. In fact I'll probably always remember, when sketching, when Franklin took a napkin and began drawing: "Spine, weight-bearing leg, non-weight-bearing leg, ribcage, and so on...." That's what I get for hanging out with a pedant.

You can see from these three sketches that I'm rusty. I still didn't quite get all of Simone on there, for one thing, and for another, well, I didn't capture much of anything. It was very frustrating after my usual method.

After a while of that we moved on to five-minute poses. I was able to do a bit better with those, even though Simone used her black robe to make my life difficult.

Then I got fed up and decided to try your suggestion, Franklin, with using two different shades of ink. I watered down some of my sumi ink in a cup and used it to sketch in Simone's figure, then outlined it in undiluted ink. For that step I broke out [drumroll please] The Most Expensive Brush I Own. Yes, a couple of weeks ago I went hogwild (or, really, weasel-wild) and bought a Raphaël Number 4 Round for US$35 (I see now I should've ordered it from Dick Blick!). I'm scared to death of ruining it, but I broke it out anyway. I still didn't have time to finish the sketches before the pose changed, but I liked the look.

Then I decided to chuck it and just do an ink sketch like I used to.

That might have been a ten-minute pose, I'm not sure. In any case, eventually we moved on to the longer poses, some of which seem to go on for days and days, as Dorian will decide he likes a pose and run it for two 20-minute periods, or maybe even three. Because he hates me. Those poses go on for so long I end up moving around to find different angles because there's simply nothing I can do that'll take me that long. Well, I won't say nothing. I can do color work, or a really detailed sketch with shading and all. But I don't always feel like it. So here are three from the first pose.

The first one is the best in terms of portraiture: That really is exactly what Simone looks like. But I think I shouldn't have added the white pastel highlights. Then here are five from the final pose.

You can see the fourth one got away from me; her right breast kind of wandered south (I don't even know how these things happen). I did another one in that same style with everything in its place and Simone liked it enough to take it.

I really liked the messiness of the gray ink (by the time I was done I had six cups with varying dilutions of ink) and the way it worked with the strong brush lines. I also really liked the spots where two shades bled into each other. Very groovy.

So there you go, Franklin and Stephanie: Now you know someone takes you seriously.

-- Chris

I've been way behind on this YouTube thing. Mostly I can't stand to watch it because the video quality is so dreadful and the naked grasping neediness of most of the people on the site is frightening and pathetic and makes me a little ill. Also, I've had DSL for years and that's way too slow for video. But now I have Verizon FiOS and a ten-year-old son, which have combined with a super-cheap camcorder I got for him to make our house a little Skywalker Ranch.

For reasons beyond my understanding -- I have no idea what goes through his huge misshapen gourd of a head -- he decided to make a video of me and my paintings, which are strewn throughout our house. Since he made it (and I spent two days wrangling it into an acceptable format for YouTube) I figure I might as well tell everyone about it. My son made my YouTube account for me, by the way, which I'm thinking puts me a few years away from adult diapers.

So here is Chris Rywalt's Home Gallery/Studio Tour with your guide, William "Specksguy300" Rywalt. (All the kids these days have names like Specksguy300 and ChuckleMcBuckle2112. I'm so old.) Beware: You'll see way more of my messy house than you ever wanted to see.

Another weekend, another great session at the Vallejos'. This past Saturday the model was Kika. Kika is a very small Brazilian woman, just over five feet tall and 200 pounds lighter than I am. She is so small, in fact, she was able to lie down on a folding table for a couple of her poses.

Kika is tiny and full of ripples as her skin moves over her muscles.

I tried to capture her in Conté, ink, and then pencil.

Then, feeling confident, I went ahead and tried something I don't usually do: I drew a portrait. I showed it to Liana and I said, as I usually do, "You know I'm not a portrait artist..."

"I think you have to stop saying that now," she said. Coming from her, that's pretty good, because she's an excellent portraitist.

Following the session with Kika Dorian made us dinner, which he likes to do. Then most of use returned to the studio and one of us became the model. Kristina Carroll was at the last session I attended, also, and both Liana and I were interested in her pale skin and dark braided hair. Both times I've seen her Kristina had this kind of quasi-Goth thing going -- sort of a colorful Goth, if that makes sense, what Kristina suggested might be a Fairy Goth -- with dark hair, milky skin, low-cut top, braids falling down onto her bosom, and crazy striped socks up to her knees. She has bright blue eyes to round out the image and an air of science fiction geekery -- you know, the prettiest girl at Comic-Con who isn't a paid-to-be-there booth babe.

Kristina is also an excellent artist. She's been doing watercolors that I've seen, and a few really wonderful traditional academic figure studies on buff paper. Her site has more.

Liana talked her into modeling after that session, too, but I had to go. This time I stayed. Dorian, Richard, and Liana were all going to paint; Reilly stayed even though he stuck to his pencil. Since the plan was to do one very long pose, I knew I'd get bored doing only pencil or Conté, so I borrowed some hard pastels from Dorian and jumped in.

Now, if you were to go to my online gallery and choose to view oil pastels, you'd see about 70 drawings. But you wouldn't see very much color. So this was my first real attempt as using pastels properly.

I discovered a lot of things doing this. First, I had no idea I could layer pastels as much as I did. I've only used soft pastels -- like the venerable Cray-Pas stocked in every New York City public school -- and they don't layer as well, especially if you don't use, you know, pastel paper. Second, I found I could rub the pastels into the paper with my fingertips and get some very subtle blends. Both Reilly and Liana told me I shouldn't use my fingers but I'm not sure why -- Reilly said something about skin oils and Liana murmured "It's bad for you" but I don't know if she meant "pastels are poisonous" (which they probably are -- if you eat them) or "your drawing will get messed up."

And finally I learned that I've been practicing enough to be an actual portraitist. "You got it," Dorian assured me, "You caught the likeness."

Meanwhile Richard did a lovely oil sketch. Reilly drafted a really impressive pencil drawing, a perfect full-figure portrait with a ton of hatching and all the details of Kristina's clothes and jewelry (some of which was wildly ostentatious, the better to be painted). Dorian did an amazing profile which was not quite a portrait -- he does portraits all the time, after all -- and Liana did this fantastic, fantastically tiny head for the full-figure Fairy Goth Art Nouveau Mucha kind of thing she's been working on.

I ended up staying until nearly midnight working away the whole time. As I said, another great time.

Labels: Dorian Vallejo, Kika, Kristina Carroll, Liana Vallejo, Reilly Brown, Richard Scarpa

When last we left our hero, he was drawing Cathleen at SVA. Let's skip around a bit and talk about some of the other people at SVA when I was there. I'm continuing in no particular order, although I guess it's sort of geographical based on where their studios were.

Next door to Cathleen and Ling was Kirsten Magnani. Kirsten is a little Italian-Scottish sprite, always chipper, energetic, and chirpy. She was never not glad to see me lumber up and always had a smile. I'll remember Kirsten for her two sets of dimples: One set high upon her cheeks and one set of dimples of Venus that were to die for. Alas, she refused to let me immortalize them in pencil or Conté.

Kirsten started out fooling around with little drawings based on sea creatures. At some point she got a really huge piece of paper and painted a giant version of one of the drawings. Then she fell into pouring arcylic paint out onto wax paper, waiting for it to dry, and then peeling it off. No one, least of all Kirsten, had any idea what she was going to do with this stuff once she made a whole slew of them; in the end she ended up hanging them to make layers of curtains. The result was this sort of undersea pinkness.

Marcos Chin had the studio across from Kirsten's. Marcos is so talented and so attractive I made it my goal to get him to pose for me. I figured it'd balance out all the naked women I'm always painting. But he wouldn't pose for me -- he wouldn't even take off his shirt. I don't understand this; if I looked as good as he does, I'd walk around naked all the time.

Marcos comes from the illustration world, so he's used to other people telling him what to make. Coming in to SVA, where he had to invent things, he decided to follow someone's advice and do what interested him. So he began by drawing men and sausages. He moved on to doing these great drawings of kind of ambiguous renderings of orgy-like penetrations. I loved them; they were so sexy. These mutated into smoky swirlings which were even more ambiguous and alive but less grounded.

He also kept a couple of books of Tom of Finland's work lying around. They're enough to make any man feel inadequate, and I avoided reading these more than a little.

On the other side of Ling from Kirsten was Jonathan Friedlander, who you can see here in the photo with Marcos. I hardly ever saw Jonathan or spoke with him and so can't say much about him.

Across from Jonathan was Pooneh Maghazehe. She spent the entire four weeks cutting tampons out of their applicators, dipping them in paint, and arranging them. I have no idea what prompted this, but the result was very beautiful, since the tampons soaked up the paint quite well. The largest thing she did was place the tampons out into an Islamic-style geometric pattern. I'm sure you could read some kind of obvious theme into this: Islam, Iran, women, tampons, and so on. But I'm not sure Pooneh meant it that way. I'm pretty sure she just had this idea and ran with it. I liked it because of its Crayola intensity.

Pooneh is, by the way, stupefyingly beautiful. Cathleen suggested I ask her to pose for me, but I knew if she actually did, I'd just die. She is also very sharp and very dryly humorous at times. At one point I overheard her and Joshua Harris talking at the sink. She mentioned that she liked one of his works; at the time he was making penises and vulvas out of fabric.

"So you like my penis," Josh said.

"Yes," Pooneh said, without any inflection at all. "I like your penis."

But then, I imagine Josh gets that a lot.

Let me talk about Josh for a bit. He used to be a store dresser for Abercrombie & Fitch and now he's making the switch to fine art. He attends SVA during the school year. He is arrestingly handsome. His face looks like it could have been carved by some boy-loving sculptor of ancient Greece with its full lips, small flaring nostrils, and large eyes. Broad-shouldered and tall, he's a brilliant male specimen. He wouldn't pose for me, either.

Josh is also wildy talented, but like any good student, all he wanted to do was experiment and play. At some point he brought in this fabulous portrait, with this fantastic John Singer Sargent kind of thing happening, and I asked him why he wasn't doing that any more when so many painters would kill to be able to do that. "It's too easy," he said. So instead he spent his time hauling in weird stuff he found in the trash -- orange plastic fencing, pie tins, a hunk of 1930s door frame -- and playing with it. Here's a torso made out of plastic fencing. Here's a few penises and vulvas made out of scraps of cloth, fur, and zippers. Here's a doglike animal made out of crushed pie tins -- along with crushed pie-tin poop. All he did was make wacky stuff the whole time. Those jars you can see in both photos each have something -- mostly cute little stuffed animals -- squeezed inside and then filled with EnviroTex Lite.

Despite his apparent artistic insanity, Josh is one of the nicest people I've ever met. Just a great guy: funny, friendly, open, smart, all those wonderful things really good-looking people can be because no one's ever mean to them. Only Josh was such a good person, I couldn't even be mad at him for that.

Back to going in roughly studio order. Next to Pooneh was Kathryn Nova Williams. When my wife came to visit, it was Kathryn's paintings she fell in love with immediately. They were striking and fun. Kathryn wasn't shy with color and she was looking to capture, at least partly, the sense of vibrancy and movement you get from, say, seeing a city at night, or a casino in full swing. Her paintings were masses of swirling neon and flashing lights; Kathryn told me once this was how the world looked to her just before she got migraines. I can understand that -- I don't get migraines, but there are moments I feel so overwhelmed by the vast seething whirl of the city I can't even stand it.

Kathryn also showed me the paintings she'd been working on before SVA. She showed me two incredibly subtle and detailed drapery studies -- bed with pillows in shadow -- in a flawless Old Masters style with a lot of glazing.

Then, as a companion piece, she built a "chandelier" out of brightly-colored extension cords and wires. It weighed a couple of hundred pounds and when she mentioned she'd spent over four hundred dollars on cords for it (apparently the pretty-colored ones are more expensive) I was amazed. I think she took my amazement for "I can't believe you spent four hundred bucks on that piece of crap!" but it was meant more like "I can't believe you spent four hundred bucks on extension cords! I didn't think that was even possible!" Also "I can't believe you spent four hundred bucks on a single work of art, since I thought paying a hundred and thirty for a panel to paint on was insane!"

Kathryn is a very tall, thin woman, with the perfect figure for wearing those elegant, glamorous dress styles I usually only see in the movies. I was so taken by the way she stands -- hip stuck out, back curved in the model slouch -- that after watching her smoke in front of the building during a fire alarm, I went back and painted her. (I'm not sure why I made her blonde.) I gave it to her on our last day.

Across from Kathryn was Stephanie Mora. Stephanie is from Venezuela and we had a couple of chats about the weather -- apparently it's not as hot in Venezuela as it is in New York City in the summer despite the fact that the Equator just about runs through the darn place -- but not much beyond that. She made some things with bicycle wheels and maps and shortly before the open studios she went around stenciling "DON'T LOCK YOUR BICYCLE HERE" and "NO CYCLING" on the floors and walls in Spanish.

I didn't mean to ignore her but somehow we didn't talk much. I'm sorry.

Next to Stephanie was Erika Ranee, another artist who I didn't see much and barely spoke to. She pissed me off during the group critique (more on that later, maybe) by suggesting I objectify women. Actually, that wasn't all of it; it was also, not only do I objectify women, she suggested I don't even realize I'm doing it. I don't mind being called a sexist pig -- I probably am -- but I do mind being called ignorant. Anyway, that's not why we weren't friendly -- by then the residency was almost over -- but it didn't make me feel really good. For all I know she walked past my studio on the way to hers whenever she came in and thought "Sexist asshole." That's okay; I didn't think her work was so hot, either. Well, these things happen.

Across from Erika was Christin Hutchinson. I really like Christin's work. She does these photo-like (but not photorealist) acrylic paintings where the forms are all built up through stippling. She uses stencil brushes to get her effects. Her work even inspired me to try some stippling in my work, at which I failed miserably. I have no idea how she does it. But the effect is a surface which looks like an enlarged photo: It suggests a lot of detail which swims away as soon as you try to focus on it. During her time at SVA she was working on very, very narrow panels such that you could barely tell what was in any one of them; they gave off an air of erotica, or of close-ups of body parts like eyes, but steadfastly refused to get any wider or let you see any more. They were like very narrow keyholes.

Those works were intriguing but even better was what I saw when I went back for the second Open Studios: Christin had taken her sliced photo idea another step forward and built an entire panel to look like a shredded photo. It blew me away with its combination of inspired surface -- she even curved the panels out from the wall -- and virtuoso stippling. Absolutely stunning!

Looks like I'm going to have to write a Part 4. Coming soon.

Labels: Christin Hutchinson, Erika Ranee, Joshua Harris, Kathryn Nova Williams, Kirsten Magnani, Marcos Chin, Pooneh Maghazehe

I tend to be interested in new things more than old things, so the continuation of the SVA diary will have to wait while I show off some new drawings I did yesterday at Dorian and Liana's.

The model for the day was Mia, and my, was she beautiful. If you've read my blog and looked at my work you know I love fat chicks but I've been learning to enjoy the looks of skinny chicks, too. With Mia it was her belly that really got me. So thin, but with subtle curves and ripples I tried to capture. Mia wasn't exactly muscular but there were hints which were wonderful but hard to get down in Conté.

Luckily I was prepared. I brought ink, brushes, a crow quill, and some pencils, including a brand-new woodless 9B from Cretacolor which was a joy to draw with.

And of course it's important to move around to show that, as an artist, I'm not all about boobs. Sometimes I'm about asses, too! Joking about that with Mia and the other artists made her laugh, which was wonderful, even if Liana complained she was shaking so much she might as well draw with her left hand. But getting the model to crack up was wonderful because I could then get a sketch of her smiling, which turned out to be one of my favorite drawings from the session. So many drawings are of models looking so serious. A smile now and then is good to see.

"It's hard to hold a smile for a model," Liana observed.

"I had a state senator sit for a portrait one time," Richard told us, "and she held a smile for six hours."

Richard seemed shocked when about half of us came out with the obvious punchline: "She's a politician!"

Eventually Mia put her Serious Model Face back on and I got Mia #11, which is my other favorite from the session.

After we were all done, I made Mia the offer I usually make, which is to look through my drawings and choose a couple for herself. She seemed really surprised by this. She even said it was a first -- some artists and photographers won't even let her see what they've done, that's how possessive they are of their work. I can't even imagine it -- I consider the model a collaborator. The drawings are of her. Without her they wouldn't exist. And I would hope that some of her has rubbed off onto the drawings.

I do have to remember to bring something for the model to carry the drawings home in, though. Once again Dorian ended up constructing a portfolio out of scraps lying around his studio. And while I'm sure it was good for him to clear up even that small amount of clutter, there's no reason to make him work like that, especially since he likes to make everyone dinner, too.

I had to leave before getting my fiber fix -- Dorian likes meals with a lot of fibrous vegetables -- but there's always next time.

Labels: Dorian Vallejo, Liana Vallejo, Mia, Richard Scarpa

Let's take a quick break from my overlong SVA diary entry and talk about something else for a bit.

I hate computers. Some days they really make me angry -- angry enough for me to consider just giving them up entirely and never touching them again. Today is three or four of those days. But then I find myself thinking of the good things that happen to me only because I have a computer and I wonder how I could possibly manage without one (or two or three). For example....

On the very last day of my time at SVA, when I was contemplating the withdrawal symptoms of leaving and not having a studio and particularly of ending the life drawing sessions, I got e-mail from Dorian Vallejo asking if I'd like to join his sketch group. He got my e-mail address from the New York Figure Drawing Meetup Group, only one meeting of which I attended. Since he's in New Jersey, and he saw I'm in New Jersey, he thought I'd be interested.

Of course I was thrilled to find another drawing group to join and as soon as I could, I went to one of Dorian's Saturday sessions here in New Jersey. And I ended up having one of the best Saturdays I'd had in a really long time. Dorian and his wife Liana were absolutely fantastic and made me feel so welcome -- I don't think I've ever met anyone and immediately felt we'd known each other for years, but that's how it felt with them. Dorian invited me to dinner after the session and all the artists and the model stayed for another four or five hours -- well into the night -- talking and laughing and having a good time. It was -- and I don't say this often -- special.

It was a small crowd there that day. There was Dorian and Liana -- both of whom are accomplished portraitists and illustrators (who both attended SVA themselves in the early 1990s) -- along with Reilly Brown, a comic book penciller working for Marvel, and Richard Scarpa, another portraitist. Meeting Reilly was pretty great, since he actually does something I used to dream of doing, which is drawing comics. I've given up on the dream but now I can learn what it's really like.

Our model for the day was Hilary Robin Schmidt. She's very thin and has a cascade of naturally red hair which I would capture if I could; but it's beyond me. Liana had bought a ton of props from a local crafts store which was going out of business so Hilary posed with leaves and flowers and flowing scarves. Also, apparently Dorian and Liana had gone shopping for Hilary and bought some clothes for her to pose in as well. So this session was different from the other ones I'd been to, since there much more to work with than just the nude. Although, really, right now I prefer no props, and I skipped over them where I could.

Hilary worked her way up to 40-minute poses, the final one of which was actually just her lying down going to sleep after her long modeling session. In the style I've been working -- the outline, sweeping Conté lines -- a 40-minute pose -- hell, a 20-minute pose -- is way too long. I rapidly run out of things to do. I mean, I've been naming my sketchbooks after the models because I can rattle off fifty drawings in one session. But how many drawings can I do of one pose? Not that many.

Alas, I'd only brought the one stick of Conté. Luckily, Dorian's studio is well-stocked. Liana loaned me a pencil and he tossed me a kneaded eraser and I went to work on more detailed, slower drawings, with shading and everything. I was glad to see I could still draw that way if I wanted. And, more, I was glad to finally have something I could put up here to show Jeff Freedner. I really can draw!

Of course, I have to show you some of the Conté sketches, too.

All in all, a fantastic experience. And one I wouldn't have had if not for computers -- and the Internet. (As someone once said, the power of a computer is directly proportional to the size of the network attached to the back.) That should make my Netgear router happy, since it's all that's keeping me from tossing it out the window right now.

Labels: Dorian Vallejo, Hilary Robin Schmidt, Liana Vallejo, Reilly Brown, Richard Scarpa