Third workshop at the Garden

For my third workshop, I had a plan to showcase one of the Garden’s Taihu stones as the star attraction. These stones are made from limestones found in Lake Tai in Suzhou, China. They’re known for their unique pores and holes, along with their strange shapes and appearances, making them popular choices for decorating formal gardens or courtyards.

Working with rocks and stones can be tricky, but it’s also rewarding. You need to get the right amount of chuen (wrinkle) and ts’a (rubbing) to create the illusion of texture and unevenness on the surface.

I also wanted to mention that I’ve found the Sketchbook app to be a really helpful tool for my workshops. The layers format allows me to move and resize different landmarks to create my paintings. It’s like having a real-time argument about how the placement of objects affects the overall feel of the painting.  

The Taihu stone that I have chosen resembles a person with a backpack.

I’ve got a fun idea for the workshop. I’m going to lead the participants to the spot where they can get a view of the stone. The avatar of a backpacking person however can only be perceived from a certain angle, and I’m curious to see how many people spot it. It’ll be a real eye-opener!

The backdrop of this painting would be the teahouse in the Garden.

I am going to use one of the examples of trees from Mustard Seed Garden to replace the tree in front of the building.  I want to expose the workshop to the materials from the Mustard Seed Garden.

With the aid of the Sketchbook app, I can turn on and off the different layers to demonstrate the composition of the proposed painting.

The actual photo of the Garden:

Extracted backdrop:

Trees from Mustard Seed Garden superimposed on the photo:

My person with a backpack takes up the lower left corner:

I am doing a proof of concept painting using a semi-sized Xuan paper.  My rationale is that the sizing makes the paper more forgiving, especially for the novices in the workshop.

Unfortunately I am not getting the Chuen and Ts'a effects to show up.  The sizing allows the water and ink to sit on the paper longer, thus minimizing the contrast.  Change of plan.  I'll have to bite the bullet and use the regular unsized Xuan, and hope for the best.

My practice Taihu stones definitely have more pop now.  The brushstrokes are more evident.

Fast forward to the workshop, the following picture shows what was actually painted in class, in a span of 90 minutes.  90 minutes of visual aids, vertical panting on an easel and explaining.  It was worth it. 

Finding My Roots, Chapter Three

I wanted to leave the lower left corner devoid of details, to contrast with the upper right corner of intricate arrangements of roots.  Call me fastidious but somehow I always bear in mind the importance of contrast in my painting, the ying and the yang, and in Chinese terms, the host and the guest.  Perhaps this is even more critical in a painting like this, where the entire paper surface seemed to be occupied by the same monotonous subject matter.  Soon I deemed that corner to be too meager, so I turned to my leaves and gravels.

Judicious application of shadows around the edges gave them a three dimensional feel, lifting them off the ground.  The shadow of the top leaf gave the illusion that it was folding onto itself.

I happened to notice that when viewed from a very shallow angle, the surface of the paper is buckled with lots of tiny undulations, as a result of all the brushstrokes.  That explains why the ink wash sometimes found interesting routes on its own.  By capitalizing this phenomenon I was able to form more natural margins on my roots.  At the very least, I could use that as a guide to apply my shadows.  This is an advantage this semi-sized Xuan offered.

There were lots of places where roots branched out like a cross, and shading was done by sitting the belly of my brush at these axillary points.  This is analogous to running a round file at the inside corner of crossbars to get a nice chamfer edge.

My finished work:

I particularly like the upper right quadrant of the painting.  It narrated very nicely the relationship of  the mangled roots; which ones were on top, which ones were on the bottom.  I could almost trace each root as they emerged from the main branch and then fused with others or submerged into the soil.  This is what we Chinese meant when we choose to say "to read a painting" over "to view a painting".  By reading a painting, one is not turning over pages, but all the elements and nuances with our mind.

Semi-sized vs Unsized Xuan

I was continuing my efforts to emulate Gong Xian's paintings;  I find his Jimo ( accumulating, layering with ink )  technique fascinating.

I started out using a regular Xuan, actually an excellent quality Xuan.  Right away I found myself ill at ease.   

One of my Achilles heels is the fact that I tend to doodle.  Perhaps this is an exaggeration,  but I tend to go over my my brushstrokes over and over again, must be my OCD.   I was hoping by honing my Jimo skill I will learn to be more decisive and discrete with my doodling, but the unsized Xuan caused a lot of bleeding.  It is true that I can still see distinct tracks if I hold up the Xuan against the light, but when viewed under ambient illumination, the  painting looked muddled, or dirty as we say.  I stopped before finishing the painting.

I dug out my semi-sized Xuan stock and tried to paint again.  The semi-sized Xuan is less absorbent.  The ink floats on top of the paper for a while before getting absorbed into the fibers.  Once the ink is dried to touch, I can pile on more ink/color and I can push the original track somewhat, while keeping the original brushstroke more or less intact.

Here is a side by side comparison of the 2 versions.  The one on the left is semi-sized.  The brush marks are better delineated.

I like the semi-sized Xuan much better for this particular exercise, and I took the painting to completion.

Sepia color achieved by using left over from my cup of coffee !!