I kept looking at my Painted Hill painting and something did not feel right.
I eventually noticed that my dunes were flanked from the front only, with nothing in the back. That didn't make any sense.
A horizon was written in. That was easy enough. Ink soaked tip was allowed to disperse ink via pre-wetted areas just below the ink line. The area to the right of the big dune was a little too vast to work this formula, so a few dark dunes were painted in, to contrast with the lighter dune in the front.
It was making more sense. The painting however was still begging for something. Can't really put my finger on it.
Perhaps I could add a few details like some sage brushes, or some Agave plants to give my desert some nuance.
I picked my horse hair brushes for this endeavor.
I don't know which part of the horse did the hair come from. All I could say is that the hair bristles are just that. They are bristles of thick, strong, stiff hair. Almost like a wire brush if I'm allowed to embellish my words.
I used these brushes because the stiff hair made the brushstrokes more forceful and resolute in appearance. Perhaps one's wrist wiggles and wanders less with a stiff brush? Thus I thought my sage brush and whatnot would appear less wimpy? Since they were in such a harsh environment? That was the idea anyways.
Something was still amiss.
Perhaps my mind was too keenly focused on the two melodies, that of the sky and the desert. I sensed a certain alienation. Perhaps that was the notion that I was looking for all along. Yet I was not liking it when I looked at the painting. The sky and the earth should be one.
I kept referring to the clouds in the sky as a melody, and the dunes of the desert as my counter-melody. If this painting was truly a musical interpretation, then I needed a resolution to tie the two melodies together.
How about a tree in the near foreground.
The tree could steer the line of sight from the ground to the sky, and also helped to extend the scenery even farther away.
I had intended for the small dune on the left to assume the darkest tone. I felt that the large dune on the right was too dark for a proper separation. But how do I lighten the value. This was not an oil painting or something that I could overpaint on.
I turned to the back of the translucent Xuan. I used titanium white on the back of the large dune.
The idea was not to "lighten" the dune per se, but to ensure that I had a solid white background to define my tones in that area. Thus the light and void areas would absolutely look brighter and lighter with a solid white backing from the titanium white.
Had I used the titanium white on the surface of the paper, the occlusive paint would impart a different texture and reflectiveness to the surface of the painting. The effect would be an unpleasant one. Whereas the color on the back of the paper would do its job without any fuss. The coloring-on-the-back of Xuan technique is commonly employed when we do leaves and flower petals. Often a color of indigo or yellow (a difficult color to master) would be painted on the back of the paper, and the intended color would be painted on the top side. The combined effect of the two colors from both sides of the paper is delicately elegant.
The same technique was applied to the tree.
