Destruction, Reconstruction

I painted this version of Beaverton Creek in a more traditional manner, trying to incorporate classical techniques of showing mixed flora and landscape.

It is now looking more awkward to me everyday.  Perhaps it is my color scheme; too vibrant.

The tree at the bottom is too ostentatious.  I remembered intentionally picking that color, sort of like a punctuation mark.  Perhaps it was mod when I did that, but now it looked really out of place.  Like going out dressed in a Victorian outfit.

Perhaps I was too busy sorting out the different techniques and I forgot about the cohesiveness of the painting as a whole.

I've been itching to do something about it.

Once a painting on Xuan is mounted, in this case on canvas, there's virtually no way to make any corrections. Then the idea came to me that I must be willing to sustain some casualties for any corrections to happen.  The question is how much am I willing to gamble or sacrafice.

Go for broke, I finally decided.  It would be a fun exercise and experience for me.

My weapon was sanding paper.  Yes sanding paper.

I decided that I needed to destroy some of the things I had built into this painting before the phoenix could arise from the ashes.

Gingerly I sanded away with my 100 grit paper.  The image was getting lighter, ever so slightly.  The lines were becoming less well defined and the painting assumed a more relaxed attitude.

OOps, I sanded too harshly.  There was a hole.

Pull back, breathe easy.  Easy does it.

I stopped before I totally mutilated my painting.  I mixed a dilute paste of gesso and ink and scraped that on with a putty knife.  

I started to re-paint on the dried gesso, changing color, shape and what not.  Everything was fair game.  I held no prisoners.

After the repainting had dried, I proceeded to sanding again.

As I discovered, the process of sanding and re-gesso and re-painting actually formed intricate overlapping layers of paint and gesso and the combined effect was almost like something done with air brush and displayed depth that wasnt there before.

I love this amalgamation process.

The lines and brushstrokes dissolved into mere suggestions with easy transition from one area to the other.

Notice the hole I created from sanding too vigorously.

The heavy lines of the bridge was sanded off and now wore a weathered look.

I retained the clear lines and saturation at the lower left corner

The right side of the bridge was obscured further by repeated sanding and re-staining

The patch where the lookout was located became just a suggestion, with mottled rails

In this rebuilding process I changed the perception of the water by introducing haze.  It could be mist, it could be the reflection of the sky.  I changed the color and shape of the foliage at the bottom.  I lightened the bridge quite a bit and concealed the ends more fully such that the structure is less harsh.  I also retained the clear brushstrokes at the lower left corner for contrast with the rest of the painting.  I expanded the color field around the trees, i.e. the barren tree in the middle had a color cast way beyond its branches. The entire left half of the painting had clusters of yellow hues.  I found myself drawn in by the scent of these baits and wanted to explore more.  The painting might look hazy but as one looked through the fog, there was still a lot of detail for the audience to travel through.  That satisfies the depth perception, in the Chinese painting canon anyways.

The painting looks western, and yet the way the mixed foliage is portrayed is classical Chinese brush, choice of color notwithstanding.

This painting now reminds me of a place that is dreary and misty and grey.   A place I call home.  A place where the disease called SAD exists.  The acronym stands for Seasonal Affect Disorder.  That's when a person suffers from mood disorder because of insufficient exposure to daylight.  The remedy is phototherapy, where artificial light is used to fill in the gap. 

I think the transformation was quite dramatic.