Old Masters Painting Technique | Oil Painting Workshop - Umber, Grisaille & Color Layers

Look at the color in this painting. Now, imagine taking it all away. Would the light, the shapes, and the space still feel convincing? That's the question I try to answer before I paint the final colors. I begin with raw umber, building the structure in light and shadow. With grisaille, I develop the form and the delicate differences in value. Only then do I return to color. Each layer remains part of the painting, even when you can no longer see it clearly. Let's start at the beginning. I began with a simple still life setup in my studio, but I didn't want to copy it literally. Inspired by classical paintings, I imagined the objects on a stone table with an old wall behind them. I also replaced the glass in the background with a carafe, which gave the composition a shape I liked much more. With the composition decided, I transferred the drawing onto a warm imprimatura and began the raw umber underpainting. At this stage, I'm leaving color aside. I want to know whether the light, the shadows, and the basic shapes work before I ask color to do anything. The warm ground gives me a middle value to start from. I can leave some of it exposed for the lighter areas and paint the darker shapes around them. Look at the daisies. As the background grows darker, their petals begin to appear, even though I haven't painted them white. I start with the large relationships. The light enters from the left, and a diagonal division of light and shadow across the wall helps establish the space behind the still life. I'm also deciding which areas should draw your eye. The daisies will be among the brightest notes. The porcelain jug can read as white without competing with them. I apply the raw umber thinly. One transparent pass gives me a light value, and another can deepen a shadow without covering the warmth underneath. I'm building a map of the painting, not trying to finish every object in brown. Once those large shapes are in place, I begin turning the forms. On the jug, small changes from light through halftone into shadow make its rounded body feel solid. The eggs follow the same principle. The bread has a rougher surface, but I still need its overall volume to work before I describe the crust. I pay close attention to edges as well. A clean, dry brush can soften a transition, while a few selected edges stay sharp enough to hold the drawing together. Around the glass carafe, I resist the temptation to draw one heavy outline. Later, reflections and the background showing through the glass will do much of that work. After the first pass has dried, I return to the areas that need more strength. I deepen selected shadows, refine the jug and the smaller forms, and add a little more information to the bread, flowers, and wheat. But I keep stepping back. A beautifully painted petal won't help if the larger pattern of light and shadow has fallen apart. The warm ground and umber are already close to the eventual color of parts of the bread and wheat. I want to preserve that contribution, not bury everything under opaque paint. By the end of this stage, I'm looking for a clear drawing, convincing form, and a dependable range of values. The brightest lights can wait. Grisaille will bring those forward in the next chapter, while the umber remains underneath, quietly supporting the finished painting. The umber has given me the structure. Now I can begin to build the light. For this grisaille, I'm working with raw umber and white. I've mixed a small range of grays, but I don't intend to cover the whole painting with them. The warm underpainting already does its job in many of the shadows. If I painted over all of that, I would lose some of the depth I worked to create. I start by placing the lighter gray only where the form turns toward the light. Often, it's just a small step lighter than the brown beneath it. Those modest changes add up. The objects become clearer, but I still have room to make the final highlights brighter later on. The porcelain jug is a good place to see what this stage can do. Its broad, smooth surface needs a gradual movement from light into halftone and then shadow. I lay in the light, soften selected transitions with a clean, dry brush, and keep enough definition to preserve the shape. Blend everything equally and the jug loses its form. Make every edge hard and it looks cut out. One surprise here was how warm the raw umber and white looked together. The jug was already moving toward its final appearance even without a full color palette. I knew I might want cooler notes in some of the halftones later. For now, I focused on getting the volume right. The bread calls for a different touch. Under the flour, its warm brown crust is already present in the underpainting, so I let much of it show through. I use broken, lighter marks to suggest the flour rather than painting a solid gray coat over the entire loaf. That difference between a warm crust and a lighter, irregular surface starts to make the bread feel real. The eggs and shells are quieter, but they need the same careful observation. A small shift in value shows where an egg turns away from the light. On the board and the table, I'm concerned first with which planes face the light and which fall away from it. The finer surface effects can come later. The daisies give me my favorite little grisaille trick. Their petals aren't all the same white. Each one faces the light at a different angle, so the values have to change, even when the differences are subtle. But I don't need a separate mixture for every petal. I can use the same gray in two ways. Applied thinly, it allows more of the umber underneath to show, so it looks darker and warmer. Applied more opaquely, the same mixture appears lighter. By varying the thickness of a stroke, I can turn a small petal without constantly remixing the paint. Where the light is strongest, I can also leave a little more physical paint on the surface. In the shadows, I keep the application quieter and thinner. That difference in paint handling matters. Light isn't only a number on a value scale. It can have a physical presence on the canvas. I'm careful, though, not to use my brightest white everywhere. If every petal, patch of flower, and reflection receives the same highlight now, the painting has nowhere left to go. I want a hierarchy of lights, with the strongest accents saved for the end. By this point, the jug has volume, the bread has the beginnings of its crust and flour, and the daisies have light moving across individual petals. The painting is still mostly brown and gray, yet I can already judge whether these forms are convincing. When the grisaille is dry, color can build on what's here while the warmth of the umber remains part of the finished painting. At the end of this dead layer stage, the paint almost seems to rise from the canvas. I built up the light passages so the brush strokes catch real light, then let that texture fade into the thin, transparent umber of the shadows. The forms are modeled by the thickness of the paint as well as by its value. Now I'm moving into the first color layer, starting with the background. I'm using mainly burnt umber and ultramarine blue for the darker passages, keeping the application thin enough for the warm foundation to show through. The color on the canvas comes from that new mixture working with the layers underneath. I vary the coverage instead of laying down one even coat. Some passages receive more paint, others remain transparent. That gives the background depth while preserving the warmth of the umber. Around the carafe, I introduce only a few restrained cooler notes, especially near the lower part where the water helps establish its volume. I leave the stronger reflections for later. Then I move on to the stone table. Here I want variation from the beginning, so I apply the color in broken, irregular passages. Cooler paint sits beside warmer areas where the underpainting remains visible. Sometimes I soften a mark with a dry brush. Elsewhere, I wipe a little paint away. At this stage, I'm concentrating on the larger planes and the way light moves across them. The left side receives more light, while the right becomes a little quieter. Returning to the background, I realize the illuminated area behind the flowers is too bright compared with the darker passages, so I lower its value with color, keeping the application varied enough to retain some transparency. The eggs give me a chance to really enjoy modeling the form. The grisaille has already established their volume, so in this first color pass, I can concentrate on refining those subtle transitions. I begin with the local color in the light, mixing it slightly lighter than the grisaille underneath, As the surface turns away from the light, I gradually reduce the amount of paint. That thinner application allows the gray beneath it to influence the color. The halftone becomes cooler without my having to mix and paint every little temperature change separately. Part of the transition is already happening through the layers. Then, farther into shadow, the warm umber begins to show its influence again. Across this small rounded form, I get warm light, a cooler halftone, and warmer reflected notes within the shadow. Those temperature changes help the shell feel rounded, but I keep watching the values. A cooler note still needs to sit at the right brightness for the form to turn convincingly. The important thing is controlling the coverage. More opaque paint strengthens the light. Thinner passages allow the underpainting to participate. That gives me plenty to work with in this first color layer, without rebuilding the form from scratch. I'm introducing cooler, bluish notes into the background to break up the warmth of the earlier color. I apply them selectively, letting the brown underneath show through. The new paint and the warm foundation work together, giving the wall more atmosphere and variation. I keep more warmth in the illuminated area and introduce a cooler transition toward the diagonal boundary. That change helps describe the light across the wall while keeping the background connected to the rest of the painting. Now I return to the porcelain jug, particularly the half tones. The raw umber and white I used in the grisaille gave me a surprisingly warm result. Much of that underpainting is already close to the warm white I want in the lights. What's missing is a cooler passage where the rounded body turns away from the light. I match the value with raw umber and white, then add ultramarine to cool the mixture. I apply it with a combination of thin glazing and gentle scumbling, varying the coverage so the warm layer still participates. That cooler band gives me a clearer separation between the warm light and the warmer reflected notes in the shadow, but I keep checking the value as well. A temperature change helps describe the form only when its brightness belongs in the right place, and I judge all of this against the surrounding colors. Now that the background is established, I can see how cool these halftones actually need to become. The adjustment is easier to judge in context. Next, I bring the flower stems back into the painting. Some were partly covered while I worked on the background, but enough of their original structure remains visible to guide the drawing. What I lost in places was the warmth underneath, so I restore that through the color mixtures, especially in the shadowed sections. For the basic green, I use cadmium yellow and ultramarine blue. I can vary that mixture as I move around the stems, making it warmer, cooler, or more subdued. Burnt umber helps bring warmth back into the darker passages. I'm painting most of these stems in a single session over the dry surface. This is a more direct approach within the larger layered painting. The earlier work gives me a guide, and I can bring these small forms close to completion while the new paint is still workable. Sometimes, one brushstroke describes an entire section. In other places, I return two or three times to adjust the thickness, color, or direction. I don't need every stem to happen in one perfect stroke. I need the finished mark to make sense. Even a thin stem has a side facing the light and another turning away. A small shift in value and temperature gives it roundness. Without that variation, it can look like a flat green line laid across the background. I move between the individual sections and the whole group, checking their rhythm as well as their volume. These slender shapes connect the flowers with the jug, so their direction matters. Once a section feels convincing, I leave it alone and move to the next. Returning to the jug, I can now give the shadow side more definition. The cooler halftone is established, but the body still needs a stronger sense of turning into shadow. Just beyond that halftone, I deepen the core shadow. This darker passage helps the rounded body feel more substantial and separates it from the warmer reflected notes farther into the shadow. The warm underpainting is still useful here. Its color is already close to what I need, so I adjust selected passages rather than covering the entire shadow side. That lets me strengthen the form while keeping some of the depth underneath. I also watch the reflected light. It needs to remain quieter than the illuminated side. If I brighten it too much, I weaken the distinction between light and shadow, and the jug begins to lose its roundness. Then, I refine the lighter passages and selected highlights. The broad transitions describe the body, while a few clearer reflections suggest the smooth porcelain surface. I check the shapes of those accents and how they sit on the curved form. A small change can make a reflection feel more convincing without making it much brighter. These adjustments happen over several returns to the painting. I let an area dry, move elsewhere, then come back to what still needs attention. I'm following the needs of the surface rather than counting every visit as a separate layer. The daisies already have their shape and light from the grisaille. Now I'm bringing them closer to the color of the light in my studio. They're white flowers, but that doesn't mean I can finish them with white straight from the tube. First, I compare them with the porcelain jug. Both are white, yet the flowers receive stronger direct light, so their petals can be a little brighter. I still save the very highest values for a few small reflections elsewhere. That keeps the flowers luminous without making every white object compete at the same brightness. For the petals, I use lead white with a touch of cadmium yellow deep and a tiny amount of red. me a warm white that fits the lighting. Over the grisaille, this mixture looks a little lighter and cleaner. Some of the earlier passages became slightly muddied while I adjusted the background, so this is also my chance to recover their freshness. Each petal needs its own small decision. Is it facing the light, turning away, or overlapping another petal? I keep those changes subtle. Too much contrast would make these delicate flowers look hard and heavy. Their thin petals also let some light pass through, so a petal turned away from the light doesn't automatically need a deep shadow. I'm aiming for enough variation to explain the form while keeping the whole flower airy. If every petal gets the same bright stroke, the flower flattens out. Sometimes a quieter petal is exactly what allows the one beside it to catch the light. The brushwork follows the direction and shape of the petals. In the strongest lights, I add more body to the paint, building on the texture already established underneath. I leave selected strokes visible instead of blending everything smooth. Those small ridges help suggest the way a petal curves and lifts. Most of the petals come close to finished in this color stage. That doesn't mean one touch per petal. I might return several times while the paint is workable, adjusting a shape or making a light cleaner. I stop when another stroke would soften something I want to keep. The yellow centers need surprisingly little color. The warm imprimatura and raw umber are already close to what I need, with small dark spaces suggesting the structure underneath. I use cadmium yellow medium with a little lead white, applying small, broken touches rather than a continuous yellow disc. I leave the darker underpainting visible between them. Those gaps give the center depth without my having to describe every tiny floret. Here I use the paint with very little thinning, so the marks hold their shape. The raised yellow touches catch the light, while the brown underneath supplies the little shadows between them. Finally, I step back and compare all three flowers. They need to share the same light while keeping their individual angles and shapes. A few brighter petals, quieter passages around them, and textured yellow centers are enough to bring them forward against the background. Now I'm returning to the carafe for the final adjustments. Its position and basic shape are already established. What I'm looking for now is the balance between the reflections I add, and the darkness I leave alone. A few marks need to become clearer, but much of the vessel should remain quiet. I want it to emerge gradually as you look into the painting. I begin in the lower part, where the water helps give the glass a sense of volume. The water level provides a visible boundary, and beneath it, the background changes slightly as we look through both glass and liquid. I refine those differences rather than simply making the whole area lighter. A small shift in value near the base can give the vessel weight, while a restrained reflection helps explain its curved surface. The cooler passages inside the carafe are useful here. Against the warm brown background, a muted blue-gray immediately feels different, but I keep checking how much of it I actually need. These cooler notes describe the particular lighting I've chosen for this painting. They aren't a recipe for painting every piece of glass blue. Some of the warm background still shows through almost unchanged. I leave those passages alone. If I filled the entire shape with an even blue-gray, the carafe would begin to look like a colored, solid object. The variation is what matters. A cooler reflection in one area, a warmer passage beside it, and then a section where you can barely tell that glass is there at all. As I move around the body of the carafe, I pay particular attention to the edges. Where a reflection catches the curve, I can make the boundary more definite. A little farther along, that same contour may soften or disappear. I keep adjusting those transitions so the vessel has a readable shape without acquiring a continuous outline. After spending time establishing the drawing, it's tempting to make sure every part of it remains visible. But the missing sections are useful. Once a few well-placed reflections establish the curve, the eye connects them. I can let the background carry on through the quieter areas without explaining the entire contour. I also check how the larger curves relate to one another. A reflection might look convincing on its own, yet still feel wrong within the vessel, so I keep comparing the marks with the overall shape. Their direction and placement need to help explain the same curved surface, whether I'm working near the lower body or refining the narrower neck. Much of the lighting on this carafe is my own interpretation. Having the real vessel in the studio helped me understand its shape, but I developed its appearance to suit this composition. That gives me room to simplify a reflection, soften it, or leave it out. Each decision still needs to make sense within the lighting of the painting. The biggest decision is how much attention the glass should receive. A small bright mark against this dark background can become surprisingly powerful. If I scatter brilliant reflections over the whole carafe, it could easily pull attention away from the jug and daisies. So I keep most of its reflections subdued. They need enough contrast to describe polished glass, while allowing the flowers and porcelain to remain the main attraction. I'm judging brightness in relation to the whole picture. A reflection can be perfectly clear without being the brightest mark on the canvas. Toward the end, I introduce a few stronger accents. Some have sharper edges, others remain softer and more diffused. Those differences help distinguish a crisp reflection from a quieter change within the glass. I also watch their temperature, so the marks belong to the same light and surroundings as everything else. This is where I have to resist adding white simply because I'm painting something shiny. Every extra accent changes the balance. Before strengthening a reflection, I ask whether it helps describe the material or merely makes the area busier. Then I step back. I want to notice the glass, understand its shape, and feel the water inside, while still being able to look past it into the background. section announces itself too strongly, it may need less contrast or a softer edge. When those relationships settle into place, I stop. The carafe feels present, but it still belongs to the darkness around it. There's enough information to suggest a smooth, transparent surface and enough left untouched for the painting to keep its depth. I finish the cutting board by adjusting its color without covering the underpainting. Yellow ochre, raw sienna, Venetian red, and burnt umber give me small variations across the wood. The top had become a little too light, so I bring it back with a darker mixture before adding a few broken, opaque touches for flower. I leave warm wood showing between those marks, so the flower feels scattered on the surface and connects the board to the bread. And now, the part I've been looking forward to, the palette knife. I invented this stone surface largely from imagination. Its roughness suits the rustic mood of the still life, and it gives me a contrast with the smooth porcelain and glass. That difference between materials matters. The stone can have a broken, physical surface that makes the quieter finish of the jug feel even smoother. First, I need to adjust the tabletop. After the earlier color pass, the upper plane looked too dark, so I bring more light into it. But I'm careful with the back edge. I let it soften into the background in places, keeping that part of the table farther away. Toward the front, the paint becomes more substantial. The application itself begins to suggest the movement from distance into the foreground. The front-facing plane gives me the most room to work with the knife. Here I want irregular deposits of paint that suggest the uneven surface of stone. The challenge is getting enough body into those marks while preserving some of the earlier layers. Thick paint can bury the warm umber and gray very quickly. I need openings between the new passages, where that older color can still participate. At one point, the dry surface and the fresh paint weren't connecting visually as well as I wanted. So I returned to a little trick, adding a small amount of transparent red to my oil and turpentine mixture. I applied this as a very thin glaze to restore warmth and bring the area together. With that transparent color underneath, the heavier knife marks began to sit more naturally within the surface. Now I can build the texture selectively. Some passages receive a stronger deposit. Others remain thin or almost untouched. The warm color visible between the cooler, more opaque marks helps the stone feel varied. I'm keeping several kinds of surface working together, rather than spreading the same thickness of gray across the entire front of the table. And this is where the knife starts making suggestions of its own. A stroke leaves an unexpected ridge, skips over a small area, or deposits a little more paint than I intended. I look at those accidents before deciding whether to change them. Sometimes an irregular mark gives me exactly the kind of broken surface I was trying to suggest. I can leave it and develop the neighboring passages around it. That makes this stage enjoyable. I'm responding to the paint as well as directing it. The knife produces shapes and edges that I wouldn't necessarily invent with a brush, and their slight unpredictability suits the stone. Once the main texture is there, I use a clean, dry sable brush to soften selected edges. I touch only the passages that need to settle into their surroundings. The stronger ridges stay visible, while a few gentler transitions help connect the heavier paint with the rest of the surface. After drying, I return for small finishing adjustments. A darker accent between raised marks, a tiny crack, or a little hollow suggested by the texture. Much of that information already exists in the knife work. I'm bringing out what the paint has given me. The finished surface has weight and roughness, but the earlier layers still show through. That combination gives the stone its depth and provides a solid setting for the bread, porcelain, and glass above it. We began with a warm ground and a simple arrangement of light and shadow. The umber gave the object structure, the grisaille developed their form, and color brought the different materials to life. Through all of it, I kept parts of those earlier layers visible, letting thin shadows and thicker lights work together. For the final touch, I make my signature look as though it's carved into the stone. Even these little letters have to belong to the surface and follow the light. And that's all for today my mates. If you would like to see the full version of this process, you can join my YouTube channel membership Old Master's Tier, where you will find this complete video workshop, along with many others I've created for you. you want to go even deeper you can also join me of course on my Patreon where I share more in-depth content extended lessons and additional workshops designed to help you take your painting much further you can also visit my website if you are looking for some cool art merch prints and more and if you decide to grab something don't forget to use code I made sale at checkout for 10% of your entire order you can also find me on Instagram and Facebook thanks for watching my mates and see See you in another video. Bye-bye.