Korean Maidens

Having seen the digitized roofing of my Hanbok painting, I decided to do something I rarely do.

To re-paint my painting.  This time with a roof.

For some reason I really resend having to do anything over again, not only paintings.  It is as if I was giving birth to something, whatever comes out is whatever I'll get.  When I work on a project, I seem to give it all I have at the moment, albeit that it might not be enough.  Perhaps I get bored rather easily, and can't bear to retrace my steps.   I'll have to live with the finished product, regardless of whether it's a success or failure.  Such is the bane of my life.

In order to re-invent this painting so that it will be fresh for me, I decided to start off with the background first.  Which means I need to reserve the spaces for my protagonists.

I suppose in oil or drawing, one just sketch out the space and leave the designated area untouched.  In watercolor I can use masking fluid, which is like a rubber cement and one could just paint over it. Unfortunately the Xuan that I use is like a glorified tissue and it cannot withstand the erasing, peeling of the dried film.  I need to devise a way to save my voids.

So I was invigorated.  I found something to tackle.  I was no longer bored.

I sketched out the intended silhouette of my protagonists on paper.  One of the changes I wanted to make in this new attempt was to align the clothing to the more authentic style of hanbok;  making the "A"  frame of the chima more Korean, and less of a skirt of the western flavor.  My first attempt at sketching out the figure had all the proportions wrong.  The body was too short.   Perhaps I was reading the chima still at the waist level rather than at the bust level.  I had to resort to the proportion of the body being approximately 7 and a half times the height of the head to double check myself.  As you can see I ran out of paper.

I drew two silhouettes facing each other and cut them out such that I could stage them the way I wanted.

I then positioned them on my Xuan

In essence I was hoping that the paper cut-outs would function as my masking fluid.  I could paint over them without violating the allotted space for my maidens.

I started with my support columns, knowing that a few of them juxtaposed with my maidens.  These are the skeletons on which the flesh of the painting attach to.

I removed the cut-outs after the background architecture was finished.  I was left with a void space in the shape of the silhouettes I fashioned.

The idea worked.  I was definitely not bored.

So I proceeded to work on the hair and the bows and ribbons on the hair.

I finished dressing one girl, and decided to take a rest.  I knew better to be headlong in the painting process.  There need to be a fine balance between the creative drive and the calm examination.  I had revealed my Id, now I wanted to give Ego a chance.

The critique I gave myself was that the girl looked too stiff.  By that I meant the brushstroke, or rather the absence of brushstroke.  The girl figure had a paint-by-number look to it.  The space was filled in with color and not brushed in, giving it a rather uninteresting feel.  Perhaps the fact that I was painting into a prescribed void left by my paper cut-out had something to do with it.  Subconsciously I was following a outline, rather than a form.  I became rather restricted.

Having diagnosed my own problem, I needed to paint the other girl with a more expressive brushstroke.  That was the note I handed myself.

I also decided on assigning a more "traditional" color to her costume, at least the stereotype that was perpetuated to me.  Again I am not trying to slight another culture by my own ignorance, I am just saying it.

I am hoping that you all agree with me that there was a lot more energy in the brushstroke for the girl on the right.  Chinese brush is such an unforgiving tool.  It can be so uncompromising, especially in exposing weaknesses.

By the time I painted in the shadows, the feet from the girl on the left disappeared.  I did not handle to dark tones well on this part.

Perhaps I was being pedantic but it bothered me to no end that I had lost her feet.  I would bet that nobody else but me would miss them feet.  I just couldn't get over it.  So I decided to put in light dabs of titanium white mixed with ink and gave a hint of something being present beneath the skirt.  

I know.  I am hopeless.

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.