Third workshop at the Garden

For my third workshop, I had a plan to showcase one of the Garden’s Taihu stones as the star attraction. These stones are made from limestones found in Lake Tai in Suzhou, China. They’re known for their unique pores and holes, along with their strange shapes and appearances, making them popular choices for decorating formal gardens or courtyards.

Working with rocks and stones can be tricky, but it’s also rewarding. You need to get the right amount of chuen (wrinkle) and ts’a (rubbing) to create the illusion of texture and unevenness on the surface.

I also wanted to mention that I’ve found the Sketchbook app to be a really helpful tool for my workshops. The layers format allows me to move and resize different landmarks to create my paintings. It’s like having a real-time argument about how the placement of objects affects the overall feel of the painting.  

The Taihu stone that I have chosen resembles a person with a backpack.

I’ve got a fun idea for the workshop. I’m going to lead the participants to the spot where they can get a view of the stone. The avatar of a backpacking person however can only be perceived from a certain angle, and I’m curious to see how many people spot it. It’ll be a real eye-opener!

The backdrop of this painting would be the teahouse in the Garden.

I am going to use one of the examples of trees from Mustard Seed Garden to replace the tree in front of the building.  I want to expose the workshop to the materials from the Mustard Seed Garden.

With the aid of the Sketchbook app, I can turn on and off the different layers to demonstrate the composition of the proposed painting.

The actual photo of the Garden:

Extracted backdrop:

Trees from Mustard Seed Garden superimposed on the photo:

My person with a backpack takes up the lower left corner:

I am doing a proof of concept painting using a semi-sized Xuan paper.  My rationale is that the sizing makes the paper more forgiving, especially for the novices in the workshop.

Unfortunately I am not getting the Chuen and Ts'a effects to show up.  The sizing allows the water and ink to sit on the paper longer, thus minimizing the contrast.  Change of plan.  I'll have to bite the bullet and use the regular unsized Xuan, and hope for the best.

My practice Taihu stones definitely have more pop now.  The brushstrokes are more evident.

Fast forward to the workshop, the following picture shows what was actually painted in class, in a span of 90 minutes.  90 minutes of visual aids, vertical panting on an easel and explaining.  It was worth it. 

Second engagement at the Garden

There is a a corner window on the second floor of the Tea House at the garden that offers an interesting view of the layout of the classical Chinese garden in town.

This view presents an unassuming and somewhat uninviting perspective. It is akin to an onion, with layers that reveal themselves gradually, exposing the center of the onion. As one peels back the layers, they become acutely aware of the pungent aroma of the bulb and the emotional response it evokes, potentially leading to tears. This view demands careful observation, analysis, and emotional engagement.

The classical tiles and roof ridges are discernible in the two photographs above. The remainder of the building is concealed by foliage. If one overlooks the contemporary structures in the background, the enigmatic structure in the photograph is encroached upon by trees. I can barely discern a breezeway behind the bowed branches of the willow.

One can also see the structure is surrounded by a water feature, with access gained by the manicured and tiled walkway.

The main visitor's plaza or pavilion is kitty-corner from the water feature. 

If I were doing a plein-air session, I’d paint everything I see. The Garden’s small footprint makes it tempting to include everything in our field of view, which could result in a busy, illustration-like painting. This is especially problematic if I paint from a photo. Even a simple drawing from a classical garden design textbook, like the one below, seems busy and unbecoming. The western perspective lines don’t help. It’s subjective, but it’s not “artsy”.  

My job is to condense and eliminate the clutter and make my proposed painting "artsy" with a Chinese flair.  Condensing also serves another purpose, time constraint.  I need to plan a lesson that can be finished in 90 minutes, even for a novice, and with the interruption of my jibber jabber. 

Since I am going to be exposing the class to Chinese brush painting, I would be using the venerable Mustard Seed Garden.  There is no better introduction to classical Chinese methods than that.

I intend to draw the trees in accordance with examples from the Mustard Seed Garden.

and I will be hiding my enigmatic structure with the trees,

Trunks of the trees are written down, paying attention to not put all of them on a level line,

Assigning different varieties of leaves to the trees, to present a mixed woods look.  Also penciling in the enigmatic roof lines.

Using broad side-tip brushstrokes I have the visitor's pavilion written in along with the proverbial background foliage.  Those are placed as background items. The location of the gazebo-like pavilion has been moved to a more distant background, to make the grounds appear much bigger than it really is. 

Thus the whole painting is written with simple brushstrokes.  I have the suggestion of a pathway and water.  The painting is really about an expression or sentiment if you will.  It is not about painting everything we see.  It is permissible to move things around to compose our painting.

I am making the lower left corner much darker in value than the upper right corner.  Thus there is a contrast of dark versus light, near versus far, dense versus sparse.  Those are the elements one looks for in a Chinese painting.  Harmony and contrast; who's the host, who's the guest, showing a tangible relationship amongst the subjects in the painting.  

To add a story line to the painting, I am going to introduce a person.  Again I am going to rely on my trusted buddy Mustard Seed Garden to provide me with an example,

a simple contour outline of  a person with folded hands in the back; a pretty familiar portrayal of scholar in the days bygone. 

The painting is now complete. The viewer can now actively participate in the formulation of the painting's story.  I must say, I have totally revamped the garden.  The painting looks nothing like the photos.

Just to make sure such an exercise is possible, I am timing myself in earnest now and see what I can produce in approximately an hour's timespan.  This would allow me time to explain and demonstrate to the workshop.  I'll have to do that on an easel, which is not the usual flat on the table position.

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth

Yes this is an interesting western proverb.  I had to ask for explanation when I first heard it.  This was not something that was taught in my English classroom when I was in school.

So as the horse grows older, the teeth get longer.  By looking in the mouth of a horse one can tell how old or young the animal is.  In other words, don't scrutinize a gift or be ungrateful; all gifts convey a good will.

I suppose a horse does not have facial wrinkles or nasolabial folds to reveal the age, so the marker rests on teeth.  What else can we describe a horse with?  I myself am quite intimidated by horses.  They are huge and they kick.  Their neck muscles are so strong that they can sideswipe me with ease.  I have actually fallen off a donkey during one of those National Park excursions.  My donkey was having a bad day and bucked me off.  I fell off my ass on my ass, pun intended.  The fall was enough to break the viewfinder of my camera.  Fortunately I was wearing a helmet.  

Yet horses are beautiful animals.  The musculature on a horse is well-placed and in harmonious proportions to the body, unlike the pumped up looks of body builders of our own species.  I want to try to paint them, properly that is. 

When I tried to do figure drawing, my instructor loaned me a pristine copy of an illustrated book on human anatomy, muscle anatomy to be exact.  Apparently it was seldom handled.  Perhaps students did not want to invest the time to study human musculature just so they could paint bodies. That was before the advent of the computer or the internet, unlike these days when all kinds of references are at the fingertip.  I grew up with black and white cabled television with a dinner plate size screen.   Thermal-paper copy machines were the rage; replacing carbon copy papers on the typewriter.  Yes I am a fossil.  The idea of studying human muscles was to help with the articulating of  the human form.  I found out that's how Da Vinci acquired his acumen on human figures.  Strangely enough, the muscles of a human body did not intrigue me that much.  The only muscle that I was interested in was the sternocleidomastoid when it was attached to the clavicle, especially those of the fairer sex.  My friends tell me that is a fetish.  I am not so sure about that.  That's why when I painted Rusalka I was so intent on accentuating that muscle.

I don't need to find a book on equine musculature from the library anymore.  A couple clicks on my computer gets me what is needed.  The following is a photo I plucked from the net, and I labeled the muscles that I was interested in bold letters, for my own consumption.  It is not my intention to infringe on other people's copyrights.  My agenda is to study the shape and placement of these muscles.  To me, these are the interesting attributes of a horse.  If I can pin them down successfully with my brush, then I would have fulfilled my goal of painting a horse properly.

The sternocleidomastoid muscle in a horse is not as pronounced as ours.  Perhaps horses turn their head more as a function of the neck than just the skull.  The massive brachiocephalicus bears out my hunch.  When I see a sweaty horse with a shinny coat I am often only aware of the deltoid, the triceps and the quadriceps.  They cast beautiful shadows on the body.  If the horse is presenting in a frontal view, I see the two balls of pectoral muscles tucked between the two front legs.  To me, these features define a horse.  My task, therefore is to try to manifest these features on paper.

As I have nothing to lose but everything to gain, I am not afraid to experiment a bit.  I shall just wield my brush and see what happens.

How about a different pose, just for the heck of it

I might as well try to study all the muscle groups before I cherry-pick my markers,

Then this crazy idea comes to mind, what if I do the whole animal in charcoal and then use the eraser to highlight the muscles and make their presence felt,

Interesting!

Better yet, what if I try my ink and brush now over this eraser augmented charcoal horse,

Love it.  Raw and spunky, or should I say unbridled.  

I've had fun with my painting exercise.  Will definitely explore this topic again in the future. 

I've heard of lost-wax technique in casting, perhaps this is my lost-charcoal technique!

On my rostrum

I have been invited to conduct several painting classes for our local classic Chinese garden. This came as a genuine surprise to me. While I may be enthusiastic about Chinese brush painting, I certainly do not fit the bill as being erudite. Perhaps it is my affable disposition.

The Garden is situated in Chinatown, a neighborhood that is often associated with negative connotations. For some reason that is beyond my comprehension, Chinatowns invariably seem to be located in run-down areas. In our case, the homeless and drug problems further exacerbate the fragile existence of this place. A fence enclosure provides some distance from the random rocks being hurled at the windows, and visitors to this attraction must be buzzed in. It is not uncommon to encounter homeless individuals relieving themselves on the street in front of visitors, blocking their path.

Despite its small footprint, a mere city block, the Garden was constructed with craftsmen from Suzhou, a city renowned for its formal gardens. Therefore, it is certainly not a copycat or imitation facility. It strives for authenticity. 

My job is to introduce Chinese brush painting to novices.  

I stressed that I won't be conducting any plein air paintings.  The small plot of the Garden means that skyscrapers form the backdrop around the Garden.  Everywhere one looks, one sees city buildings competing with the classic architecture of the Garden, and is most disconcerting.  Thus I am hoping to coax the class into internalizing the features of the Garden and then distill that feeling into a painting.  In other words, compose our own canvas, or in this case, Xuan paper.  Additionally, perhaps more importantly, the painting needs to be able to be finished in an hour, give or take. 

I've taken liberty of utilizing a file photo of the Garden

The photo is probably ideal for plein air setting, but feels non-Chinese, if there is such a thing.

I lifted part of that photo onto my composition, 

Then I incorporated an example of a willow from Mustard Seed Garden.  I intend to borrow from my own journey in Chinese brush, having to study that compendium as part of the rote learning process.

Below is the new layout for the Garden

So this would be the distilled version that I shall attempt to paint.  Simple lines that even a novice can handle.

To translate my thoughts into executable plans, I need to make sure it's feasible, even in haste.  

Nothing fancy, just lines one can write.  

In the mix would be a few examples mixed foliage, as illustrated in the Mustard Seed Garden.

another try,

I think I succeeded in transforming a photograph into something more like a painting, a painting with a Chinese persona.  

The first painting looks a little busy, and the willow is a bit loud and does not yield to the background.

Thus the entire painting looks flat, as if everything is on the same plane.

The second one looks more poetic for sure.  There is contrast in scale and multitude, and a quiet elegance to it.  To fortify the relationship between the lonely willow and the buildings beyond, I am adding a boatman traversing in a boat.  That boat is plucked from the Mustard Seed Garden. The viewer can fill in the blanks with their own version of the story.  Where did the boatman come from, or where was he going to.

Since one of the brushstrokes that I will be covering is D'ian (dot), I decide to work another iteration with the impressionistic portrayal of waterlily, or duckweed, depending on the context. These are simply darker dots written within lighter dots while they are still moist.  

Okay class, here I come. 

Egret taking off

I examined the painting after the paint had dried and decided that the circles were too neat and tidy.  I was hoping that they would be a bit more rambunctious.  They were on the quiet side as they stood.  I also found out that certain colors didn't cover too well.  For example the green or yellow did not adequately masked the blue whereas the copper seemed overpowering.  

My remedy was to introduce some chaos; by drawing some really loose circles with a white gel pen, and by sprinkling fine drops of ink onto the paper.  I was hoping the "noise" made by the obvious, yet subtle fine white lines and the dots of black ink could make the painting more interesting, by distracting from the vapid concentric circles.

 With that out of the way, I worked on the bird.

I had intended to use the grey and white metallic paint from the assortment that I bought but I decided against it after some thought.  I didn't think metallic feathers would be appropriate for egret but more importantly I could use the matte finish of the egret to contrast with the shiny metallic paint. 

Using my Chinese round brush, I started to write in the neck and feathers in the void that was provided by my cutout mask.

Traits of discrete Chinese calligraphy brushstrokes were evident with the feathers and the feet.

I was really eager to see my new baby.  I was just like an expectant parent.  I did not waste anytime wet mounting my new piece.  The wet painting looked so different from the back, without the metallic sheen.  Instead it was bathed in this mysterious vat of colors.  The white bird really stood out, as if it was leaping out of the paper.

Even from the front, the white egret looked so real.  I was really glad that I eschewed the metallic acrylic on the bird.

I decided to make the feathers on the wing less perfect by writing in a torn feather.  No I wasn't being pedantic.  I did it not because I should, but because I could.  It's akin to adding a zit on an otherwise fine portrait of a face.  That was the child in me playing games with my subject. 

The most interesting thing about this painting was that it looked very different under various lighting conditions.  It was like a chameleon.  Or a silk brocade.  The color and the mood changed depending on how the painting was illuminated.