Painting on silk again

My last encounter of painting on silk was fraught with plenty of obstacles.  I was being stubborn and tried to use silk fabric, instead of the "silk" that are sourced from art supply stores.  I had endured a lot of problems just trying to get the silk to take on coloring.  I ended up treating the fabric with copious amount of alum solution to get the job done.

I am older and wiser now, no less adventurous though.  I decide to try for silk again, this time on the "silk" that I can buy from art supplies.  I am still not convinced that this is real silk, because the material feels like nylon stocking or some sort of polyester. Anyways, it is what it is.  

Silk or silk brocade is used quite extensively for the more formal Gongbi style of Chinese brush.  I am not a Gongbi artist per se, but I do like to give it another try, using the motif from my "mosaic" pond painting.  This is perhaps the closest thing to Gongbi-esque painting that I could muster. I really don't enjoy being a fodder for the traditional Gongbi artist, so my preemptive apologies!

I had done a template for myself when I dabbled in my attempt to create a Gongbi-like painting with ducks on a pond.  I am resorting to that template again.

To keep things fresh, I shall do my new painting in a portrait format.  I am cropping the right hand portion of the template with the ducks in it.

I don't quite like the composition of this cropping.  I feel that the right side needs to have more of something.  The original set-up looks fine with the painting in the landscape format, but somehow feels lacking in the vertical sliver.  

Thus I shall be adding in some ripples or reflections.

I am also going to approach this project in an unconventional manner.  I am going to save the line drawing step for the last.  Again, my apologies.

Traditional Gongbi painting begins with the line drawing step.  The line drawing is either a supplied template or an original drawing devised by the artist.  The so-called line drawing is actually brushstrokes of calligraphy.  It has characteristics of full, thin, press and lift associated with writing with a round brush.  The artist then meticulously brushes in the color, often times alternating between a color brush and a water brush together for even and gradual spreading of color gradients. The process is repeated a number of times until the desired saturation, blending and appearance is reached.  Alum solution is often applied between the layers of color to prevent the previous layer from smudging, causing a "dirty" appearance.  Regardless of how saturated the color is, transparency is almost always valued.  Nothing is done in haste. 

In my case I am not dealing with delicate flower petals or shades of landscape.  Mine is just a kaleidoscope of specks of colors that does not require manipulation within each speck.  A simple mosaic.  I feel that my sins can be forgiven if I just apply the color without paying too much attention to how one color blends into another.  I also feel that I have more freedom if I just "marked" the locations of color instead of filling in a space with color.  I can be a little bit "hasty".  Just a little!

I use different colors for the rings of ripples, not only to enrich the palette, but also to account for the assorted colors of the objects that are reflected on the water.

I am adding in a whole much of nondescript ripples, what I would call "noise" to fill in the right side of the painting.  The part of the painting I deemed lacking.

After all my desired features are on the paper, I now write in the line drawing.

I brush on a thin layer of alum solution to the areas that I want to "tune-up" before I add on more or a different color.  

The finished product does look regal and pompous after framing.  This is the miracle delivered by painting on antique gold silk.

Reflection

The year of the Rat certainly is a strange one to say the least.  I honestly thought I was going to push at least a couple more pins to my world atlas on the cork board to remind myself where I had been, in case my gray matter continues to shrink.  I almost bought my fares for travelling, fortunately procrastination saved my bacon.

Obviously I have ample opportunity to reflect on places where I had left my footprints; especially poignant when I am not allowed to venture too far these days due to the pandemic.  I don't want to be embroiled in today's issues but being a septuagenarian I can't help but reflect on my experiences here and abroad, both good and bad; privileged and not so privileged.  I recall the early days of  becoming a pharmacist, as a member of the most trustworthy profession who happens to be of  a minority race here.  Oh, so dichotomous!  I remember asking my colleagues what gook meant, since some of the people I served addressed me by that name and I've not had the good fortune of learning that word when I was studying English in Hong Kong.

What I was reflecting on these past few weeks was actually something more tranquil, a waterfowl refuge.  I used to frequent this sanctuary quite often before I hung up my white smock for good since it was not too far from my place of employment.  I used to go there to relax and forget about filling prescriptions.

I shall attempt to put my thoughts on Xuan.

I wanted to portray a levy in this refuge, and the reflection of this levy in the water of course.  I wrestled with myself a little bit as where to locate the levy.  Ideally it would be right smack in the middle of the paper so I could devote the same amount of attention to the reflection in the water, but I remembered being told that this would be bad composition.  I decided on a compromise;  levy bisecting the paper, but with a little footbridge access on one side to break the line up.  

I folded my un-sized Xuan into halves, and I would paint my levy on the crease line.

I decided for a half submerged access to add a little interest to the otherwise straight horizontal line.

The color looks more saturated when wet but dries to a much lighter value.  This is especially true when painting with Xuan.

For the reflection in the water, I cheated by folding the paper over and sort of traced the trees from the other side since the paper is translucent. 

I used a rather dry, hairs split brush to paint my reflection.  My brushstrokes were all in the side-tip fashion, revealing texture and shape.   Keeping it loose was the mantra. 

Adding color values to my brushstrokes 

The white specks in the attached insert is actually blemishes of the Xuan.  When errant drops of alum solution landed onto this un-sized Xuan during the manufacturing process, they dried to form these color resistant spots.  This is how I was inspired to start painting with alum solution, to take advantage of its dual property both as a mordant and as a resist when painting on un-sized Xuan. 

Working in my reflection

And the corresponding hilly features above the water.

Mixing a little cinnabar with light ink I concocted an atmospheric wash.

When dried

Good place to stop.  This painting will be pinned on my wall and I would cast it occasional glances and I'll allow the painting to tell me what to do next.

Creating my own cloud nine

I am now ready to fill in the space above my landscape done in lotus leaf chuen.

I want to continue with my observation of contrast, especially with light values.  I am looking for a subject matter that will allow me the greatest freedom.  The logical choice for that vast expanse above the mountains is cloud.

But how do I make clouds pop on a white piece of Xuan?

Paint the clouds in various degree of grey, or black.  Or not?

I am going to be bold and unconventional.  If I can paint snow with the help of alum solution, why can't I do the same with clouds.  Obviously I need a dark sky to reveal the white clouds.  It is worth a try.

Using a clean brush, I paint in the cloud pattern with alum solution on the back of the Xuan.  I want to paint in the cumulus clouds.  Heaps of lumpy white patches.  I am trying to avoid the cirrus clouds, which will be more difficult to describe, especially with my present skill set.

Patiently waiting for the alum solution to dry, I apply a light ink wash to help reveal my alum tracks.

The top side of the painting now looks like this when dry

From this base value, I begin to darken the sky a little more to create a more pronounced contrast with the white clouds

So the darker sky definitely adds more drama to the painting.  I know a black sky is against the common wisdom but I use that to make the clouds pop.  I might have overdid it in the above example and I have obscured some of my alum tracks with the darker ink.  In retrospect I think the initial lighter sky is more interesting, with more clouds evident in the sky.  In fact the clouds look more like cirrus cloud in the lighter version, and perhaps more expressive.

Well it is a little too late to cry over spilled milk, so I double down on it by making the sky even darker, and also the right side of the mountain range a little darker, to be in complement with the darker sky.

The painting looks a little rough around the edges upon close examination.  The ruggedness however seems to have added tension and raw emotion to this work, especially when viewed from a distance, and under the right lighting.

Like any proud, new parent, I only see the good sides of my newborn; even if he/she is ugly.

This painting has contrast, has drama, has the tension of East versus West attributes.  I have tried in earnest to apply what I have learned from my previous snow paintings and stay on my path of experimentation and discovery.  What more can I demand.  I am allowed to be narcissistic and indulge myself a bit.

I am on Cloud Nine!

Application of lotus leaf Chuen

The lotus leaf chuen is one of the methods used to depict a particular feature in traditional Chinese landscape painting.  As the terminology suggests, the chuen describes undulating ridges and gulleys that fan out like the veins of a lotus leaf on the slopes of a mountain.   Here is a page from the venerable Mustard Seed Garden on that topic:

One could see this feature quite prominently from a picture taken of a mountain range from the sky

and my painting highlighting that feature:

So my new plot is to do a black and white painting with a heavy emphasis of the lotus leaf chuen.  For this exercise I am going to continue my experimentation with the alum solution.

I begin to paint on the back side of the Xuan, painting in my highlights with the alum solution.  Obviously the point of doing that is to be painting on the top side of the Xuan eventually, and allowing the alum solution to mark the brightest areas, i.e. the ridges.

The trees might look whimsical to some viewers, but this method of rendering is actually quite common in traditional Chinese brush painting.  The mountains while exemplifying the traditional style of lotus leaf chuen, exhumes little hint of a Chinese brush painting.  So yes, I am toying with the contrast not only of dark and light ( ying and yang), but also of perceived styles of painting.

The top side of the painting shows a subdued black level with mottled look

Working from the reverse side again, the light side is kept light to maintain the contrast with the much darker adjacent land masses.  I use a hair dryer to dry my brushstrokes before the ink has a chance to migrate.  I am trying to keep and preserve the harsh, rigid attributes of the mountain ranges.  I short, I am not looking for a soft, diffused appearance of my landscape.

Flipping my Xuan over, I am now looking at the top side

and now I can pick out the various spots on the painting that requires better definition 

The brushstrokes done with alum solution on the back side help to impart a look of discrete stained patches on a piece of fabric.  They are well defined and not dreamy at all.

Cleaning up my mountain

Taking another look at what I've got so far.  Trying to see it from the point of view of a spectator and improve anything that doesn't make sense.

As my painting involves a snow scene and the fact that I am playing with alum solution, I must find areas in the painting that I can accentuate the feeling of snow.  One of such places is the lone tree in the snow field.  By darkening the areas around the horizontal branches, I bring out the contrast between the ink and the spots painted with alum.

I pick out strategically located conifers and go over them partially with darker ink.  Since the original footprint was done on the back of the paper, this add on ink from the top side creates a subtle effect of shadows and adds thickness to the object.

I must confess, this is a lot of fun, meeting the challenge of finding new ways to express with ink.

It is time to describe the foreground, the snow field.  I had laid down a few lines to divide up the flat space when I painted on the back of the paper, so it is merely a matter to make some sense out of those lines.

Using a bigger brush, I use a very light ink to paint in the areas in the shade.  Bearing in mind constantly that the brightest area, or line, is the high part of the field where it catches light.  The dark lines that I painted before effectively defined the contours and undulations of the otherwise flat piece of white.  

The plain expanse of white is transformed to the banks of a creek, drawing attention to the mountain in the yonder.

When dried,

I place my surplus frame over my unmounted painting.  I am just eager to see what it looks like

It seems to me that the sky and the snow are too close in values, so I need to make the sky darker.  After all the snow should be white, right?  

As I lap on a darker tone of ink the sky, some previously alum painted tree branches emerge.  This shows how nicely the alum solution worked.  It is apparent that I was overzealous in my original planning,  I had the trees taller than the present setup.

Now I think this is a little easier on the eye.

I recall a piece I did some years ago

I did this piece in a class that I taught.  I was showing my students how to employ the Lotus Leaf chuen technique.  I wanted my students to think outside the box, the fact that a classical Chinese brush landscape technique may be utilized in a non-traditional fashion.  I borrowed the effect of contrast to create the illusion of a protruding snowy peak.  The very dark background and the highlight patch on the flank of the peak made a stunning visual effect, albeit a technically much simpler piece done hurriedly in class as a demonstration.

It is interesting, and retrospective, to compare the 2 pieces of a snowy peak.  For me, it seemed much easier to define with color; perhaps it is the way we are hardwired to do.  It seems a more direct circuit for our brain to process color information as it relates to objects, thus emotions and consciousness.  The color piece that was done in a matter of minutes without too much effort carries as much drama as the black and white piece that I labored for days and weeks, at first sight anyways.  Perhaps this is a statement for the merits of spontaneity and extemporaneous creations, yet the black and white painting harbors so much more information.  It is like an onion with so many layers to peel off.  To truly appreciate it, one must read it like a book; sentence by sentence, page after page; hence brushstroke by brushstroke.

I See The Light

I recalled a photography I took while walking in the woods.

It was a foggy kind of morning and the sun was out.  The beams of light from the sun were piercing through the tops of tall fir trees, and wiggling through leaves and needles of cedar;  illuminating the morning mist as they descended onto earth, turning the space into an outdoor cathedral.  I could place myself in a dim duomo,  the swirling smoke from the burning incense being caught by the light coming in through the stained glass windows.

I wanted to paint this.  In black and white, with ink and Chinese brush, on Xuan.

Immediately I was faced with a challenge.  How would I portray the fern that caught the light?

In traditional Chinese painting light value is seldom an issue. The emphasis is always on brushstrokes, whether they possess rhythm, strength and if the composition is ethereal.   Here my emotional connect was with this theater of light beams, and I am using ink to establish my values; to set my stage.  Traditions out of the window.

I would normally use the unpainted areas of my Xuan as my reference for white, but that seemed inadequate in this setting.  In my mind the untouched areas are "neutral", and I needed a way to depict "brightness" beyond neutral.  I needed to find a way to go into the "positive" values.  I wanted to be able to show that the fern was in the lime light, its fish-bone like leaves were emanating the reflected solar energy.

I called on my old trusted friend alum, exploiting its sizing quality.
 
I first painted the lit areas of the fern with a saturated solution of alum and allow that to dry completely.  This process helped to protect my fern from future staining by ink, as long as the ink was kept light.  In other words, if I could paint  in the surrounding spaces judiciously, I could stay away from the brushstrokes laid down with alum.  This is sort of similar to using masking fluid in watercolor painting,   Masking fluid could not be used in conjunction with Xuan because the paper is so fragile,  Imagine using masking fluid on toilet paper!  I would not be able to erase or peel off the dried mask.

Because the alum could not shield ink completely, I chose to go over my brushstroke with titanium white or white gouache again.  So why did I not just do the gouache in the first place?  That would save time and effort.

By adding a real opaque layer on top a semi translucent layer of alum, I was having 2 overlapping white ( or void ) layers, slightly juxtaposed, creating body and thickness.

I had to insert a colored under-pad to see my white brushstrokes, since the white wool pad that I normally used did not help to create a contrast.

I then painted in some of my background firs.  Here I diluted my ink with alum solution.  The purpose was to laid down tracks that were semi impermeable to subsequent brushstrokes, such that it could be seen as vague and solid at the same time.  I was concerned that any future staining, washing of the background could render these stands into oblivion; into an abyss of darkness.  I wanted the outlines to be discernible at the very least.  I wanted to create an air where one senses the presence of the trees, but is not aware of them as individuals.  Also I was hoping for some of the alum would migrate to the edge of the brushstroke before drying, thus forming a thin clear margin, representing the lit edges of the trunks.  Hopefully that would happen serendipitously.