Rehearsal

It's almost Chinese New Year.  February 19 is just around the corner.

I painted a horse last year to welcome the year of the horse.  The guest of honor this year is the ram.

I've been entertaining the thought of doing a painting for a ram.  This is not a subject that I've painted before so it would be fresh.  Luck would have it that I've been invited to do a couple of painting demos for school children, to honor Chinese New Year.  I'll have added incentive now to research my subject and embark on  the painting, except the stakes are  higher now.   I have to actually show that I could paint.

I seemed to have developed an affinity for phthalocyanine Blue.  That was the first color I reached for.  I sketched out a couple of rams in my scrapbook.

My emphasis will be on the posture.  The way the ram holds the head defines the painting.  However, I don't want to skim over the details of the facial features.  Perhaps I could paint a ram with attitude, if somehow I can grasp the expressions.

This is where I was having tons of problems.  Was I painting dogs.


How did the saying go; if you never made a mistake, then you've never tried.  After my incessant
giggling stopped, I began to analyse my mistakes.

The snout was too pointed.  I needed to make it thicker.

Time to get down to basics.  Stop being a cowboy.  I actually started to identify the components of a ram's snout.  I was sketching with a mission now.  The way I work around the problem was by creating a cylinder for the snout.  I could therefore control the diameter of the cylinder and made sure it didn't turn into a cone!

I also reached back to my high school days, when I was sketching animal skulls.  I do remember the strong  mandibles of  herbivores so their molars could grind up the grass they eat.

Feeling a little more reassured, I tried my sketching again.

I decided to break down the painting process into discrete steps.  Normally I am dead set against it.
I've met too many students and colleagues who would shy away from painting something just because they've never "learned" how to paint it.  I believe the fault lies in the system of rote learning.
We were taught to paint by memory, and not by observation.  It is my assertion that all these "How to Paint" books actually do more harm than good.  We become limited to, and by, these so called steps and this explains why most Chinese brush paintings look alike.

I suppose this is not the time to stay on my high horse.  I need to show high school kids how to paint a ram with a Chinese brush, within an allotted time frame.  Breaking the ram painting into discrete steps is the only way to get through it.

I would start out by painting the nose and the lips (steps 1 and 2).  This is followed by the 2 circles forming the two ends of the cylinder, or snout (steps 3 and 4).  Then we paint in the eyes, ears and the horns, and they all contribute to the spirit of the animal.  Finally how the ram carries itself, i.e. the neck and the limbs, speaks to the body language of the animal. 

It's time to make it bold.  I (the ram) mean business.

Xieyi

Xieyi literally means to write with meaning or expression.  The Xieyi style in Chinese Brush painting  prides itself in the artist's command of the brush, thus the aptitude  to "write" the painting with a freehand, allowing utmost expressiveness.

The concept of expressiveness in a brush stroke seems rather subjective and ill-defined.  Allow me to draw an example with the human face.  How could the same face portray happiness, ecstasy, mournfulness, sorrow, despair, resolute, anger, frustration, spite, respect, admiration, solemn, disregard, evasiveness, malice, anticipation, frown,  et cetera, et cetera. 

I am told there are close to 100 muscles controlling our facial expressions.   The permutation of these muscles, either as group or individually, is astronomical.  We need not understand fully which muscles are involved, and yet we definitely know when someone is pissed at us.  The same is true with Xieyi paintings.  Wherein the parameter for being "expressive" is obscure, the observer holds the dictum " I  know it when I see it".

Painting is an expression, our way of communicating with an observer and we all want to be understood.    Our innate fear of failure (to communicate)  makes us afraid to let go of whatever we are able to cling onto, somewhat similar to people in abusive relationships.    Our faithfulness to rote learning and emulating often rob us of spontaneity.  We try hard to be perfect and take solace in mimicking the shape rather than the spirit of the brushstrokes, and there is nothing Xieyi about our work.  This is the shackle that I try to be rid of.

The same painting done with expressive brush strokes.

An honest account of a dragonfly.

Same dragonfly done with  expressiveness...... a little more Xieyi.

A good brush stroke is comparable to good bowing on a string instrument.  When I watch Itzhak Perlman or Yo Yo Ma perform and see them using full bows from tip to frog with their eyes closed, I often wonder how much of that is from muscle memory (rote) and how much is from sensing  the
interplay between the string and the horsehair,  and using these full breaths  to complete their musical sentences.   Their cues on the stroke is no longer visual, but tactile.  In calligraphy equivalence, we say a stroke is "delivered".

 Xieyi does not mean an awkward semblance, but a genuine love-making between a brush and paper.