It wasn't even late in the afternoon, yet the shadows were long and interesting. Intrigued was I.
I finally figured out that I was on the high point of a slope, thus the shadows were casted against the incline, as if it was a cinema screen. I perceived a strong composition of patterns. A lattice work of bright and dark, and nothing else. I wanted to see if I could translate that onto paper.
I chose the raw Xuan as my paper, I thought I could more faithfully record my brushstrokes. Using the green I had left over on my color dish, I carved out the path that I was on, and tried to describe the slope.
Yes that would work, I uttered to myself. But it was missing something. Too realistic perhaps?
I proceeded to simplify things by eliminating certain data points. I also changed paper. I used the semi-sized Xuan now. I thought shape trumps brushstroke details in this case.
All of a sudden the personality changed. It no longer resembled a photograph. It was less cluttered and allowed the viewer to fill in the pieces. The painting was actually more verbal with less words.
I liked the way I depicted the background, so I wanted to explore further by giving it more structure in the form of more distinct brushstrokes. I wanted to see if the lines left by the bristles could add to the strong lines presented by the trees.
I was paying more attention to my brushstrokes with the trees now. I told myself that I was writing and not painting; all the time being acutely aware of center tip and side tip. Center tip for the "bone" structure and side tip for the "pose".
What would happen if the background was less rigid? If I used only a scant side tip sweep?
I must had been over-consumed with these thoughts of brush strokes, whether the shadows ( and the branches for that matter) should assume variations in ink tones, if the treatment of the negative space was correct etc that I began to resent the work. It wasn't my style to paint the same painting repeatedly. I get bored very easily. That showed in this attempt. There really wasn't anything to like in that painting, and the brushstrokes were especially horrid.
I was actually vacillating between whether this should be a painting or a wood cut. I initially thought my first attempt was too "photo" like and was missing that je ne sais quoi quality of a painting. The more I looked at it now, the more I am convinced that this should have been a print, or some sort of a graphic design rather than a painting. I was beginning to waver about what this piece of work should look like and what my heading should be. I lost my bearing.
After a few days rest, after my turmoil had subsided just a tad, I tried one more time at this.
I changed the perspective by ridding the vast bottom void space and allow the muted slope line to divide the frame. I also did away with the shadows, which were my focal point to begin with. I un-invited my guests of honor.
I shall digest this for a few days and see what shall come next.
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