Finishing up Gazing 歲月人生

I've been looking at the half finished "Gazing out the window" project for over a week now and I am most tempted to leave it the way it is.  In a way, and not out of being lazy, I am not dissatisfied with that painting if I had to quit right now.  The painting as it stands definitely screams out for completion, but at the same time it provokes an investigative urge, and inquiring mind.  What is this painting about?  The viewer completes the story.  

But I do need to go through with my plot and see how congruent my painting is to my thoughts.  

I am going to attack the space where the graffiti lies.  My intention is to make the wall dark, obviously, since it is inside a room.  Yet I want to leave just enough ambient light to perhaps see the graffiti a bit.  The question I pose to myself is that why does it even matter.  Most viewers here ( in the States) can't read Chinese anyways so whether the graffiti is legible or not has no bearing to the painting. 

True, but I paint for myself.  My selfish and narcissistic self.  I have myself to answer to.

In order to lay down an even wash without too much streaking, I am using the biggest brush that I posses.  Theoretically I could wet the paper down first so the ink wash spreads out and diffuses more evenly, but then I run the risk of not having a concrete edge for my window, especially in this high contrast environment.  I am trying to use just the right amount of ink wash such that it spreads nicely and evenly without causing too much bleeding along the edges.  I also have my trusted hair dryer near by just in case things get out of hand.  I can spot dry the wash rather quickly with the hair dryer to arrest any unintended bleeding of the wash.

Knowing that I can be pretty sloppy with wash laden brushes, I am shielding the rest of the painting with a cover.  Any errant splashes or ink drops would stain the cover and not my work in progress.

I have the upper portion of wall washed in ink, with barely a degree of transparency to see the graffiti.

The challenge of painting on Xuan paper is to know how much lighter the painting will become once the ink is dried.  A wet paper assumes a much darker appearance.

The wall behind the woman is also washed with ink.  I am careful to leave a hint of her shadow, even on this dark wall.  I believe this understated detail adds to the overall presence of the figure, subliminally perhaps.  In the classical Chinese way of speaking, we acknowledge that ink has six colors, or attributes, however you want to call it.  In a way I am playing with my ink tones to see if I can make the painting interesting.  Leaving a shadow on a dark wall is one such game that I play.  Using the big void as the window is also one of the "color" of the ink.

So I am now at another one of those junctures where I ask myself, should I go on.  Just like the half finished work from the last blog, I find the painting has just asked me to think again.  I would not be displeased if this is a finished painting.  It does have pleasing composition geometry and that enigmatic quality that I am after.

I am reminding myself that the title is gazing out the window.  If I stop now, it would be gazing out the doorway.  Onward, soldier!

I am applying undiluted ink to the bottom part of the window because I want this part of the wall  to be darker than the rest.  It helps to provide an anchor for my visual reference.  I am not going to paint in the left hand side of the window enclosure.  I want to leave the void open.  I want her motivation to stand by the window and gaze out to be an open-ended question, symbolically at least.  

So she is standing by the window, perhaps enjoying some anonymity by being in a dark space.  Finding a little solace for being in the shadow.  Choosing to relinquish the weight of her torso by leaning against the wall, getting support.  She is holding her own arm with the opposite hand, as if looking for reassurance.  Her lips are half open and not sealed tight, as if breathing a sigh. Or was that a rueful smile?  She is neither smug nor tense.  I am curious as to what she is gazing at.  What is in her head. 

I showed this painting to my friends and one of them said "Ah, that's Rembrandt lighting."

Cool! 

And Thank You,  I learned something.  

Gazing out the window

I was learning about mental illness, being bipolar in particular, and creativity.  It was interesting to note that some of the renowned artists were afflicted with varying degrees of mental illness.  When I read about song writers, singers, entertainers dying from drug overdose or getting into trouble for dabbling with illicit drugs, my first reaction is the "chicken and egg" debate.  Which one comes first.  Is there any possibility that drugs actually free a person's constraint and enhance creativity?  Perhaps altered perceptions lead us to fresh plots?  Or are drugs just a way of life because it is fashionable. The state I am residing in has legitimized and legalized psilocybin, for medical use of course; as they put it.  Can "visions" be a valuable adjunct to creativity too?  Where is the line between a freak and a genius.  I know, these are harsh terms. 

In a way I believe those of us who paint are inherently dissatisfied with reality.  I mean why else would we paint a version that is different from the true, real object.  And then there are those of us who do abstract work.  Are we under the influence of colors and forms and lines and patterns, and not necessarily an identifiable and addressable object?  How do elephant trunk and chimpanzee hands produce works of art?  How does our gestalt work?  Can drugs or our mental state make a difference?

Before I get myself into too much trouble, I do want to stress that I am not suggesting mental illness is the same as drug use.  The only overlap perhaps is that somehow brain chemicals are involved, be it endogenous or exogenous.  It is a delicate task, just like mixing and obtaining a perfect color or hue, we need to find an auspicious balance of norepi, dopamine and serotonin.  There are so many feedback loops involved when it concerns our body and mind and we are understanding just a little more each day, certainly more than the days of lobotomy and electric shock therapy.  When your car engine is not getting the correct inputs, it can surge, sputter or simply quit on you.  And just like the internal combustion engine, some aren't happy unless they are run at 9,000 rpm, and some hum along merrily at just 100.  We are all different.

The names like Robert Schumann and Vincent van Gogh often come up as artists who have endured mental health problems.  I am not a great fan of Schumann's music but because of what I've learned about the person I have decided to look at his works with less myopia.  Ultimately I am still not quite a fan, but I do find his Piano Quartet very endearing, specially the Andante movement.

If we don't know about the lives of these great artists, we might think that everything is roses with them.  One might even say "I would do anything to be just like them," if one is an aspiring artist.  Atlas, only if we knew.  Are we really willing to pay that price knowing what they had endured?

I've heard a saying which basically states "We might find a Shangri-la when we look across a window, but once we stand right next to the window, what we see is life itself, with all its musings." 

     隔窗而望是世間桃源   臨窗而立是歲月人生 

Not everything is as what it seems, and the grass is not necessarily greener on the other side.

I have found the inspiration for my next painting.  A person standing by a window, gazing out.

I have in mind a high contrast, black and white brush painting.  I believe a stark black and white painting allows for more freedom of participation from the audience and evokes more empathy.  I also want to position my window strategically such that the proportion or the geometry will be pleasing to look at and helps to frame the protagonist.  I want my actor to ponder and see what is outside the window.

Life!

Just like paring food with wine, I am pairing my painting with the third movement ( Andante ) from Schumann's Piano Quartet, my newfound love.  I just love those long phrasings and conversations between the instruments, even from the viola, I might add.  I love it more than his Piano Quintet; such intimacy.  Listening to that music helps to give me context when I am doing this painting.

I am going to set the tone of the painting by writing the words of the above mentioned saying on the walls in the painting.  These words would be graffiti-like if you will, crass and territorial, but they serve as a dogma for my thought process.  I have a mental image of these writings obscured by the darkness inside the room eventually, either completely or partially, but metaphorically at least.  I haven't decided yet.  Just as they defaced the wall, they are in turn consumed by darkness. They shall resurface when light returns.  It is a cycle, as in life.  I'll cross the bridge when I get there.  For now they shall help to keep the mood playful.  This could be a dark painting, literally and figuratively.  I don't want to be too depressed; but pensive, for sure.  

Next comes my protagonist.

Years ago I did a painting "Going Home" and in that painting I tried to describe backlit tablecloth and sunlight filtering through drinking glasses.  I am trying to study my "light" again with this painting. Also, I am going to be using a female figure as my person of interest.

I am making corrections to the contrast to make her features more vivid.  More enigmatic perhaps. 

I am also dolling up the graffiti a bit by giving the words a shadow.  In the end these words might not be visible anymore but for now it is fun to play with the effects.  As graffiti should.

I am now beginning the process of placing her in this dark room by painting in the wall that she is standing against.  In the process, the negative space of the bridge of her nose and lips are defined by the dark wall.  Her hair too is now nicely fashioned.

The wet ink causes rippling in the fibrous Xuan, and the undulating paper actually adds another dimension to the painting.  Almost like a starburst coming in from outside the window.  Is this a sign?  I just wished that I could keep that effect in place after the paper is dried.

If I stop now and crop my paper properly, I might have a painting on my hands already? High contrast, interesting layout, half white, half black, framing my pensive actor.  Lots of blank spaces for the audience to fill in.  

Should I stop?