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I love to draw! Much of my professional work has centered around drawing in one form or another, from animation studies to medical illustration. I didn’t begin focusing on painting until around 2006, and while I enjoy its scope and complexity, I’ve never lost my attachment to line.

My more realistic acrylic paintings begin with a carefully observed drawing, developed from life, museum specimens, photos, or a combination of all three. Personally, I find that transferring or tracing a drawing can diminish some of its character, so I draw on rice paper and attach the original directly to the canvas.

Warthog drawing on kinwashi rice paper

Early on, I struggled with the idea that the immediacy of that drawing might be lost under layers of paint. I experimented with very transparent pigments but eventually began incorporating soluble pencils—and found that they offered some unique advantages within the painting process.

Here are a few ways I use them:

1. Mapping out values
Saturated color is compelling (and a little addictive), which can make it difficult to step back and evaluate a painting’s value structure. After attaching the drawing, I use soluble pencil to establish the background values, helping to direct attention toward the focal areas before committing to full color.

Bighorn Ram drawing in rice paper

2. Building texture
Used wet or dry, soluble pencils are excellent for developing texture. This detail, from a bison painting, began with light acrylic glazes over the original drawing. I then used soluble pencil to reinforce the fur patterns—sometimes blending them smoothly, and sometimes allowing the natural grain of the pigment to remain visible. I enjoy leaving areas like this less resolved, so the underlying structure of the piece remains part of the final image.

Bison fur detail, acrylic and soluble pencil on canvas

3. Adding neutral and semi-neutral tones
I’ll admit that building rich neutrals doesn’t come naturally to me. Simply adding gray or black can flatten a color, and even complements don’t always produce the effect I want. I’ve had success combining blue, brown, or black soluble pencils with rich transparent acrylic glazes—quinacridone nickel azo gold, phthalo turquoise, even dioxazine purple. Layering these combinations can produce complex, chromatic darks; I used this approach extensively in developing the fur of a juvenile bear cub.

Juvenile black bear detail, acrylic and soluble pencil on canvas

A quick note of caution: depending on the brand and how heavily the pencil is applied, pigments may reactivate under a liquid varnish. I recommend using a fixative before varnishing to stabilize the surface. If you’re interested in testing approaches, I’ve shared some experiments in my earlier post, “The ‘Archetypes’ Series: Testing Spectrafix Fixative and Varnish on Mixed Media.”

Even as my work has become more painterly, drawing remains at the core of how I think—and soluble pencils have become one of the most effective ways I’ve found to carry that line forward into the final painting.

Turtles are wonderful painting subjects, exhibiting many fascinating and sophisticated adaptations, as befits their long lineage. Every time I paint one, I discover a visual feature that invites a deeper look into the “why” behind it.

For the Museum of Life and Science’s Creek Week, I chose two native species: the yellow-bellied slider and the common snapping turtle. For each subject, I created an initial sketch from specimens at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences Naturalist Center. These studies became the foundation for both watercolor paintings and ink versions used as coloring pages for visitors. In developing the educational copy for the coloring pages, I discovered that “sliders” (often seen basking on logs) are named for their habit of sliding quickly into the water when threatened. Somehow, I’d never come across that explanation before.

Yellow-bellied Slider (coloring page)

Comparing the two species raised some interesting questions. One of the first differences I noticed was the snapping turtle’s much longer skull. At first, I assumed this might simply provide additional space for muscle attachment, but the reality is more nuanced. As a predator, the snapping turtle benefits from a long, wedge-shaped skull that increases strike reach, accommodates powerful jaw musculature, and helps channel the stresses of a forceful bite. In contrast, the slider’s skull is adapted for less forceful feeding, such as cropping vegetation.

Sketch of Common Snapping Turtle Skull and Lower Jaw

The second point of interest was that the eye coloration pattern differs noticeably. Turtle eyes vary widely in appearance. Some, like sea turtles, have eyes that appear almost gentle—and even eerily human. In my Creek Week subjects, the slider has a horizontal bar of darker color across the iris, while the snapping turtle’s eye includes both horizontal and vertical bars, creating a “crosshair” effect.

Detail of Yellow-bellied Slider and Snapping Turtle paintings

There are several hypotheses behind these patterns, and two in particular stood out to me.

One idea is that the snapping turtle’s “crosshairs” function as disruptive coloration, helping to obscure the eye and making it harder for prey to detect exactly where the turtle is looking. Predators such as tigers show somewhat similar strategies, with facial striping that breaks up the outline of the eyes and even “eyespots” on the backs of their ears.

Another hypothesis is that horizontal bars—seen in both species—may help reduce glare from the water’s surface and enhance contrast along the horizon. Interestingly, grazing mammals like horses and goats achieve a similar visual effect through horizontally elongated pupils, suggesting a comparable functional goal reached through a different anatomical solution.

I’m looking forward to exploring turtle morphology further—there always seems to be another layer of structure and function waiting just beneath the surface.

Snapping Turtle, watercolor