Simple is as simple does

As part of the exercises of building my painting skills, I am always looking for interesting pieces to emulate; especially pieces that exemplifies brush strokes and composition.  I suppose this is learning by rote, but I look at it more from a standpoint of exploring and expanding my envelope.  It is no different from studying Paganini and Heifetz if I was a violinist.

The works I choose are  usually simple, not elaborate.  I can only take in a few things at a time.

I came upon 2 ink wash paintings.  My first impression was the paintings had interesting composition.  As I examined further into these works, I was intrigued by the  ink tones and the soft yet discrete brushstrokes.  The lines seemed to be blurry and distinct at the same time.

The first scene included a boat, waters, a hut and hills.  A dominant horizontal aspect described by prominent undulating contour lines and light value lines. The circumventing path punctuated with such subdued flair.  Neither the boat, nor the hut assumed a main character role, but they answer to each other across the hill, with the hut half hidden by bushes. The riveting bushes showed delicate tips by the ink layering technique.  (A different technique and feel was explored in my  Playing with Visual Acuity blog )

The second piece showcased a forest hiding a house, with a winding path/stream breaking the vertical lines.  The lessons to be learned here was how to handle the different ink tones and building up the branches/leaves to a pleasing form with perspective and attitude.  The painting made a deliberate statement about the relative positions of the trees in the foreground.  This was however, a more interesting example than the ones shown in the Mustard Seed Garden.

 

As I completed my emulation exercise, I liked the pieces so much that I researched deeper into them, and I was even more astonished.  The works that I emulated were by Gong Xian (1619-1689).  Imagine someone in the 17th century China emoting over the natural beauties and was able to depict them  in what seemed to be simple paintings. The simplicity was actually cloaked in interesting composition and brush strokes.  As it turned out, Gong Xian was credited with being the fore bearer of the Jimo (  accumulating layers of ink ) technique.  I am glad that I've at least identified the correct technique to practise on.  In fact, do these paintings not look like some of the contemporary works by western artists?

People have honored Simplicity as one of the merits/attributes of Chinese Brush painting, but just as Qi Baishi said with his catfish painting, to emote with a few simple strokes is difficult indeed.  Too many professed Chinese brush artists promise to show how to paint a fish or a bird in a few strokes.  Whereas the technique might be true, but the path to get there is not.

Beaverton Creek (yellow)

The last Beaverton Creek painting done in green was very impressionistic.  I liked it enough to build a canvas frame for it so that I could mount it a la Xuan-Boo style.

In the mean time I want to try my hands on something a little less wild, but still Xieyi.  The image I conjured up was a landscape bathed in a golden light.  Beaverton Creek, yellow !

 back of  Xuan

Again I mapped the landscape on the back of my Xuan.  This  process allowed me more freedom to flick my brush.  I could then concentrate on building up the painting  on the front side of the paper.

front of Xuan

My first step was to add visible branches and tree trunks to the scene.  I punctuated the highlighted areas with tips of branches.  I was trying to achieve the effect which I discussed at my "Visual Acuity" blog.  It is important to extend the exposed tips and branches down, at least in appearance, if not in physicality.  There is a saying in Chinese brush   "bi duan yi lian", meaning the  brush trek is broken up, but the meaning (spirit) still connects.  Sort of like driving down the freeway and using the dotted line to inform you of the virtual divide.  The extraneous branches and stems could be blended in very nicely with the split hair technique.

 

 

A few contour lines and hemp chuen  took care of the foreground, transforming a patch of grey into a bank with rocks and texture.

Looking at the rough draft, I noticed a white right triangle sticking out at the lower right quadrant of the painting.  Somehow there was a white line forming a vivid hypotenuse with the white branches.  This is most awful; especially when you are now aware of this flaw.

My remedy was to fill in the hypotenuse and turn it into a contour line.  I now have a more defined shore lobe extending into the water.

Right now this lobe seemed a little awkward, but I better stop now before I commit some knee-jerk changes.

PLAYING WITH VISUAL ACUITY

I like to people watch in an exhibition hall.

 People would stand in front of a painting, and start to bow after a few minutes.  They would lean their body forward, closer to the painting.  Those with bifocals or glasses would start to fidget with them, before leaning back to the erect position.  In some instances, the visitors would approach a painting, then distant themselves, and approach again.

What we are doing is not only finding and adjusting our focal point, but also playing with our visual acuity. 

Our vision is unique in the sense that we are always attempting to decode images in the HD mode, or whatever highest resolution our body is equipped with.  However, this peak acuity only applies to our narrow center of vision.  We might have a healthy peripheral vision, but only the center field of our vision enjoys the high resolution.  An example would be if we look across a lake lined with trees, we might only sense them as a curtain of color, especially when we are not focused on them.  But the moment we focus on these distant pixels, we can actually make out the branches, and perhaps an eagle's nest perched on top.  Thus even when we are looking at a misty fog, it might feel foggy or blurry, but our eyes can actually pick up the droplets dancing in the fog (try driving at night in fog)!

When we paint landscape we are told to bestow a lot of information to the near ground, and blur out the rest, to give focus and perspective.   However, it is the behavior of the visitors in an exhibition hall that prompted me to explore the means of adding information to a "blur", to more closely relate to our own acuity characteristics.

In the following example, I was just exploiting the interaction of water and ink and Xuan.  By loading the brush ink heavy just at the tip, with sufficient water in its belly, the ink particles will bleed out into little fissure like streaks.  This can also be accomplished by selectively wetting the outside boundary of the ink stroke with plain water.  The result is a blurred line with structures.

The next example is to take this process a step further.  I actually painted branch tips in the bleed zone.  The result is such that when viewed from a distance (i.e. when our eyes are not focused on it) the image represents slopes shrouded in fog.  Whereas when one gets closer to the image (i.e. when our eyes are focused on it)  then one can begin to see the branches clearly, as our eyes will do, naturally.

By focusing on a particular object ( or subject ), we are effectively placing the image from the periphery of the retina to the fovea, the central part of our retina.  There are a lot more cones ( for color perception ) than rods ( for light perception) in that central region, resulting in improved visual acuity.