Face Up or Face Down?

To the uninitiated, Xuan paper is just a regular piece of white paper to be painted or written on.  The more astute observer would however notice a smooth side and a rough side.

Xuan paper is made from the pulp of plant fibers scooped up on a sieve and the sheets are deposited flat on heated rollers or steel walls to dry.  The side of the paper that faces the roller or wall is smooth, the other side is more fibrous, and therefore rougher.

Technically the smooth side is the "top" side but many artists prefer the rough side to paint on.  It has more "feel".  I can attest to that.  I also like the texture the bottom side provides.  

Printing paper on the other hand are less tolerant if the "wrong" side is used.  I have wasted so much inkjet color by loading my print paper the wrong way.  It is especially easy to do if I was printing on matte photopaper.  The two sides are almost indistinguishable, either by feel or by color.  Only the finished print that comes out from my printer would tell if I fed the paper correctly or not.  Obviously there is no such problem with gloss or semi-gloss paper.  

There is a type of Xuan paper that I like to use and for lack of a proper translation, I'll call it cicada skin paper, or cicada wing paper.  This Xuan paper is very light and transparent and has a slight sheen to it, just like the wings of a cicada. The paper is considered sized or semi-sized, in that it allows color to float on it a little bit without too much bleeding.  It also is able to withstand repeated rubbing without having the top layer of fibers linting up.  Its transparency augments the transparent watercolor and bestows a very delicate feel to the painting.  It is a favorite with artists who do the Gongbi (elaborate) style of Chinese painting.  

I have a couple pieces of dance movement gestures done on such a paper.  I try to use calligraphic brushstrokes to describe the limbs and gestures.  I feel that this approach gives the dance movements more flow and energy.  There is a je ne sais quoi quality of  "writing" versus simply filling in the space with ink or color.

With me the dilemma is not whether I should paint on the paper face up or face down.  As far as I am concerned there is no perceptible difference either way.  My problem is which side of the paper should I be presenting as the top side of my painting.

The cicada paper's thinness and transparency allows the painted image to be visible from both sides of the paper, as if one is looking through a projection slide, or one of those double-faced silk embroidery from Suzhou.  The bottom side of the image can sometimes be a little less saturated or slightly well defined around the edges, but it is this quality that captivates me.

The picture above actually shows the bottom side of the cicada paper with painted image on it.

The painting on the left has the "face up" side showing, whereas the painting on the right is showing the bottom side as the good side.  Can you tell the difference between the two?

The following is a close-up of the painting presented with the "face down" side.  The images are more veiled like, more dreamy.  The limbs are obviously articulated but there are apparent discontinuity in the brushstrokes.  I suppose not all the color comes through from the top side. The blue streaks act like an atmospheric or water current, or even yards of fabric, enveloping the dancers.  I feel that "face down" presentation suits this painting well.  The audience is given more freedom to implement their gestalt. 

The "face up" side of the dancers shows more definition.  The calligraphic brushstroke does wonders with the split leap.  I am just treating the dancers as a words that need to be written, rather than filling in the spaces where their bodies are .  I especially like the effect of flaring on the clothing and all the toe points and all these are achieved with simple calligraphy brushstrokes.

I suppose no competent, upstanding artist would present the bottom side of a painting as the top side.  I don't know which is worse, hanging an abstract painting upside down or doing what I am doing now.  I don't suppose the viewer appreciates being made a fool of.  But for a second rate painter like myself, I need all the help I can get to add drama to my paintings.  I actually considered presenting these two paintings together as a diptych but I really don't want to insult anybody's intelligence, any further than I have to. 

Necessity is the mother of invention.  I am taught well! 

Mounting my demo pieces

I decided to mount the two pieces of paintings from the demo session at the wetlands.  I happened to pick the very fibrous and thick "leather" Xuan as the paper to paint on that day, so the mounting should be relatively easy.

I would be wet mounting them as usual.  I've discussed and debated with people concerning the dry silicone mounting method.  If I brought my hubris to the table, I would have said that the dry method was for those who either didn't know how to, or lacked the skill to do the wet mount.  I have personally tried both methods, and have even tried ironing commercial food wrap as a binder, but I've always preferred the wet mounting method, despite the many cumbersome steps it requires.  Call me a snob but there is a je ne sais quoi quality about a starched, perfectly stretched and flat piece of work from the wet mounting that dry mounting can never hold a candle to.  I would however use dry mounting if I chose to present my painting mounted under a piece of glass.  In that case I would have used the very thin, semi-sized "cicadas wing" Xuan as my painting paper, and the added reflective layer of the silicone binder provides a seemingly ephemeral, yet perceptive richness to the color and the translucent paper when viewed through the glass pane.  I guess that's what linseed oil does to color pigments.

The doors on my storage cabinet are covered with smooth mylar, perfect as a mounting surface.

Being a good student of wet mounting, I even included a blow hole provision on the right side of the mount.  Supposedly one is to blow through this passage such that the wet painting is lifted from the mounting surface ever so slightly, to prevent sticking from any bleed through starch.  I personally have found this to be more academic than practical.  The lifting seems to occur around the blow hole area only.  Perhaps I am not doing this correctly or that I need more than one blow hole. In reality I've almost never encountered any paintings stuck on the mounting surface when dried.

Depicting a straw connected to the blow hole 

The dried paintings were taken off the mounting surfaces and stamped with my seals and were ready to be framed.

So I examined the landscape painting and noticed my geese were bigger than the water buffaloes. Hence scale wise it seemed like I failed, in a hurry or not, during that 30 minutes demo.  But logically, I could dig myself out by saying that the painting represented a view from a drone flying overhead, with the geese much closer to the lens than the buffaloes.  Right?  How else could the distant background be placed so far up in the painting, composition wise.  Could this be the scattered focal point perspective in play?  Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Dance Movements

I tried painting my hero's journey with dancers but I botched the work with ill placed streams of ribbons.  Conceptually I was trying to narrate a development of the journey but aesthetically it was a miserable display of disingenuous afterthoughts.

But the inclination to paint dancers never left my mind.

Every time I practiced Chinese calligraphy, especially with the walking or grass script, I invariably think of the written characters as dancers.  I pretend that each brushstroke describes a pose or a transition to a pose.  I am leaning on this thought as my inspiration to do the opposite; perhaps I can paint the dancers with the idea that each pose somehow transforms to a Chinese character.  Is it possible to use the dancers as a reflection of written words?

So I decided to paint dancers again.  I decided to paint them like stick figures, to dispense with the banal requirement to paint faces and expressions and costume.  I shall focus on the placement of the bodies and limbs of the dancers and their postures instead.  Just like a well written calligraphy which possesses balanced form and proportion and energy, I am hoping to emulate that with my dancers.  Since Chinese calligraphy is more than just an arrangement of sticks, as some store signs with faux Chinese styled bamboo alphabets would suggest, I shall paint my dancers as silhouettes.  I trust the Chinese round brush for calligraphy is perfect for this task.  With the correct amount of pressure or lift the artist can modulate the shape of the brushstroke.  These brushstrokes should be rather useful in depicting the expressiveness of the forms and the profiles of the performers.

I started to paint various poses, and whatever came to mind.  I didn't have a grand scheme of where to place my dancers or how many dancers would I be painting.  I left everything to the whims of the moment.

The brushstrokes are treated as calligraphy.  The shape of the brushstroke can be altered with judicious nudging or lifting of the brush.

The thought of treating the dancing profiles as part of the brushstrokes in the assembly of a Chinese written character helps to exude the expressiveness of the moment.

With this exercise I hope to extol the virtues of the Chinese round brush, and why the need to master the round brush is so critical, not only in Chinese calligraphy, but in Chinese brush painting.    How the buttock could be written by folding and nudging the brush to initiate the brushstroke, or leaving the brush tip exposed to form the phalanges.  There is a je ne sais quoi difference in forms painted by filling in the spaces vs that written by nothing more than a brushstroke or two.

At the risk of sounding arrogant, I would be less than honest by not pointing out all the posers that I encounter in this town.  Typically these people learned a little bit about Chinese painting and then claimed to be experts and started to teach Chinese brush painting.  Whereas they totally lacked the Ji Ben Gong (fundamentals) they drew up something that looked a little exotic and passed that as Chinese painting.   I suppose one can play a lot of songs with just chords but if that's all one knows, then this person shouldn't be teaching music.  The image of Chop Suey was seared in mind.  To me that was and remains the ultimate cultural shock.  

Hanbok, Chima

The color had thoroughly dried and the basic construct of the two maidens were done, I hung the sketch on the wall awaiting further development.  I had an idea of using a traditional Asian architecture as a backdrop, but I needed to crystallize the mental image a little better.  I find the process of hanging unfinished paintings on the wall a great way for me to work.  I can afford to be nonchalant and casual about my works, and allow ideas to slowly ferment.  Sometimes the realization takes a while, but more often than not, it comes to me in a flash.  The key word for me is patience.  Try not to force it.

My composition would be to employ simple geometric forms, using the hard, austere lines to contrast with the softness of the feminine figures.  I will also use ink, or shades of gray in the background to make my subjects pop.

I placed my two maidens in front of a classical Asian palatial courtyard, where the supporting poles and beams of the open-air breezeway furnished the elements of geometric lines.

I painted in the shadows underneath the girls, not only to provide them with a presence, but that mere shadow provided a spatial perspective also.

I needed to make the inside walls of the breezeway a lot darker;  not only to augment the depth perception and add to the spatial information but also to contrast with the colors of the clothing.

I chose to paint my dark wash from the back of my Xuan.  I fully exploited the translucent property of the paper.  The shade was made to come through from the back of the paper, and presented the viewer with that je ne sais quoi feeling of ambiguous reality.  It rendered a presence more than a form.

The above insert represents the back of my Xuan.  Note how all the brushstrokes from the other side (top side) is muted and yet very discernible.  It is on this back side that I applied my ink wash to effect the dark wall.

The insert below shows the right-side-up painting after the wash dried.

Tied up a few loose ends by a little more definition on the contours of the maidens and by painting in the anchors of the wooden columns.

More shadows were added on the ground for texture and perspective.  I put in some slanted shadow to breakup the strong vertical and horizontal lines.

Before I proceeded to painting in the roof, I hesitated.  Something, someone, tucked on my hand and said stop.  The vast void, where the roof tiles were suppose to go, was talking to me.

So I stopped.  

I am going to be patient and look at the painting on the wall and let it speak to me some more before deciding what to do with that void.

I know my journey started with the words bustier, bustle and crinoline.  After I settled on the idea of painting Korean garb I did a little more research and learnt that the traditional Korean clothing is called hanbok, and the skirt is known as chima.  In hind sight the chima seems to have a much higher waist line, almost just under the bust.  What I have painted is perhaps the result of my western influence innocuously filtering in. I was preoccupied with the likes of crinoline and bustle.  I have painted a normal waist line.  My sincere apologies to my Korean friends.  This is not intended to be disrespectful, I just didn't know any better.  

Soul and paintings

As I was wrapping up with my sketches of the pig, my thoughts were steered to posing the animal.
How could I make the subject matter interesting and cute, and most of all, auspicious.  My selfish motivation was to have a representational painting to welcome the Year of the Pig, which will happen in about 2 months' time.

Again I was faced with the choice of style for my rendition, whether to paint the pigs Gongbi or Xieyi style.  I just couldn't shake the shackle despite my understanding that this was so unnecessary.

My sketches were obviously line drawings, so I thought I would attempt the Gongbi style, but I knew my calligraphy was very weak and I was afraid to reveal my weaknesses.  The narcissist in me was urging me not to do it.  It was really cumbersome.  Before I could even wet the Xuan I was having trepidations already.    I was very conscious of the fact that since I identified myself as a brush artist, then I had better show my expertise in the brush.  I suppose Chinese brush has so much nuances about the brush tip, the flow and Qi that it has become very intimidating.

I had an opportunity to admire Vincent Van Gogh's works in their original forms and I came away with the impression that his lines showed none of the virtues I looked for in Chinese brush.  His tree branches, outlines of buildings and objects were what I would call wet noodles, totally devoid of the Qi that I was look for; and yet his works are so valued and admired.  Other than his bold, short brush stroke patterns, the quality of his brush was pretty monotonous.  Obviously this is purely my own impression.

Take his famous Sunflower painting for example

and contrast that with a Chinese painting

one could sense a huge difference in where the emphasis was.  Both were representational art, but immensely different in their impressionistic appearance and feel.  The Chinese painting was all about brush strokes and ink tones.  It displayed the intimate relationship amongst the brush, paper and ink.

Let us take a look at a landscape painting  Wheatfield With Crows by Van Gogh,

and compare that with a Chinese landscape painting by Chao Shao-An, a master of Ling-nan School painting

the intricate brush strokes of Chao was in stark contrast with the bold dabs from Van Gogh.

I remember an occasion when a fellow student told my teacher that she was going to paint a Chinese painting in Van Gogh style.  I didn't exactly know what she meant by it or how she was going to do it but my teacher was incensed.  He actually asked that student to not take lessons from him again.
The teacher was irate because he demanded the practice of Ji Ben Gong, the craft of the fundamentals.  Every brush stroke must encompass the calligraphic virtues by showing the tip used, flow and Qi.  His ire was more than a manifestation of tribalism.

Van Gogh was interested in Japanese paintings and he tried his hands in a few.  He painted this Courtesan

and here's a painting of a Dunhuang character from a Chinese painter, Zhang Daqian

again we saw how succinctly different were the way the lines were written.

I was hoping to present the notion that this is not a matter of which is better, or more valid.
How do you compare a Pinot noir to Huangjiu, or Moutai to Vodka.  Before we venture to compare these different alcoholic beverages, we do however need to know what they are and what makes a good Vodka or Moutai.  One would not try to find the hint of tannin from huangjiu.  A vodka bottled in a Chinese vessel does not make a moutai.  But regardless of whether they are brewed with grapes or millet, when these fermented or distilled liquid reaches certain levels of excellence, they shall all be appreciated and consumed.

Having said that, allow me to be the devil's advocate.  Allow me to pose a question.  Van Gogh's love for Asian art notwithstanding, could his Courtesan painting pass for Asian art?  If we found that painting in an attic with no signature to reveal the painter, what would our appraisal be?  Would that be an Asian painting done in Van Gogh style?  Or a western painting trying to emulate the Asian flavor.  What is Chop Suey?  Is that Chinese food?  When I see westerners put soy sauce in their tea I wonder if they were being naive, or was it their preconception that soy sauce goes with everything?  Could it be that they were just thinking outside of the box and was on an intrepid journey to explore tastes?  You might be surprised to learn that there is a soy sauce flavored ice cream!

I suppose the art of painting is not a monolith of just brushstrokes, or color or composition or style.  It is an amalgamation of all the techniques, but most importantly, emotion.  A great painting must have a soul.  A great painting must have a personality, one which moves us.

Soul is defined as an emotional or intellectual energy or intensity, especially as revealed in a work of art or an artistic performance.  The essence or embodiment of a specific quality; that je ne sais quoi.
Thus where I might deem Van Gogh as not possessing the calligraphic brush strokes, nonetheless his works effervesces in other ways and tugs at me just the same.  The standards and parameters are simply different.  A dog does not have plumage and a bird has no fur.  His works possessed a soul.

I suppose all I was doing was trying to convince myself again, repeatedly, to let go of my inhibitions and preconceived hurdles.  I should be worried about the soul and not the shell.

So I just painted whatever came to my mind, and not worry about the style

Incidentally van Gogh is pronouced differently in Amsterdam than from the States.  So should I insist, during the course of my conversation, that people here pronounce van Gogh the way Dutch do, as a gesture of reverence and risk coming off as a pompous orifice between the gluteus maximus ?

Oink Oink Oink

Emote, cont'd

Having increased the dark tone on the small, ancillary rose I proceeded to add more light values to the main rose.  My objective was to manufacture a certain degree of realism on this two dimensional medium.  Again judicious use of ink was the mantra.

I also refined and vine and bud on the bottom of the painting.

As I had mentioned, I was caught up a bid with the venerated traditions of either Gongbi or Xieyi styles of rendering until I decided to say "screw that";  but I still need some credible and efficacious
way of defining forms and details.  After much trepidation I settled on the principle of contrasts.  I used black or no lines at all to define light areas.   I traced thin black outlines amongst the white petals so one could tell them apart, with the help of light shading of course.  These black lines would be written using center tip,  transitioned to side tip when I needed to add thickness to the line, as when I was trying to depict the edge of a petal.. I used a thin sliver of void to define a dark form against  a dark background.   Thus when I was adding to the dark values of the backdrop I took special care to allow unpainted borders to form around the leaves.

The effect was actually quite stunning.  I could really grasp the high contrast effect I was aiming for.
Xuan being an absorbent piece of paper could really play havoc with a wet brush.  To minimize any unwanted bleeding out of my brush strokes I drafted my hair dryer blower into service.  The trick was to blow dry my brushstrokes before they had the time to bleed and migrate.  For the most part I was able to preserve that pristine little white lines around the dark leaves and stems.

Armed with this new narcissistic excitement I worked on the dark leaves some more to give them more structure and detail

I had thought about stopping right here.  But then I thought the two tones of black in the backdrop was too exaggerated so I decided for a smoother transition.

There was this one petal in the flower and its profile was standing straight up, thus presenting itself as a thin white line.  Visually speaking it created quite a challenge to give it a body.  I tried to create an interesting black line with varying thickness to describe the undulation but needed to add to its white value.  How to make a void more "white" was my dilemma.  The easiest way would be to paint those areas with either titanium white or white gouache but that would totally destroy that je ne sais quoi quality of a translucent Xuan.  Perhaps I could illustrate my case as when we could see internal organs on a small guppy fry or a small shrimp; it's a delicate sight to behold.  That same sight gave me the idea of painting the white gouache on the back side of the translucent Xuan.  Now that area appeared "whiter" when viewed from the top side, and yet showed no trace of pigments on the paper.  Unadulterated innocence!

                                                     viewed from the back side of the paper

Stamping my seals presented a problem since the backdrop is deep black.  I cheated by stamping the normal way, then selectively painted in the seal with vermilion and titanium white for lettering.  I smudged up the chops ever so slightly to give them that weathered look.  It added character ( pun ).

Finally the finished piece

Yes, I quite like it;  especially when viewed from a distance under illuimnation.   I really enjoyed the treatment of the white edges, as if the plant was back lit.    It does have that pop without being harsh.  It does impart a special feeling, sentiment;  to me anyways.

I am emoting.