Today is my birthday. What is significant is that I am not going to encounter this ever again. I was born on November 11. So regardless of what convention you use, date first, month first, or year first, today is 11-11-11, and I am going to publish this at 11:11. Pardon my pensiveness.
My personal experience, and those of other novices whom I have dealt with, is that when we see
skinny lines, we automatically dialed down our grip and turned our brush into a point rather than a brush. The result is the deposition of lines with a boundaries, but possessing no souls.
The concept of transmitting energy through the brush, penetrating the Xuan, past the felt pad, past the desk top is obscure but not mythical. I suppose this is analogous to martial artists focusing past the pine board and punching through. My mantra is let our brush make love to the paper, not just tickling the surface.
For my own practice, I chose to do a still life of a wicker basket. The orderly array of weaves, thrown into this parabolic contour of the container, reminds me of something that the architect Frank Gehry might try to do.
It is important that I still try to write these lines instead of drawing them. I tried to use a dry brush with varied ink tones to render the 3 dimensional appearance. The shading effect is achieved by using the belly of a dry brush. This is a good way to ruin a brush, but is a necessary collateral.
This kind of shading speaks of the T'sa technique mentioned in my prior blogs. It puts down texture and changes light value. The highlighted areas are void spaces.
This is a wonderful way to practice brush stroke, especially center tip stroke, without getting bored.
