Something Different, Woods

I've done a few pieces using Beaverton Creek as reference.  Perhaps I have grown accustomed to this terrain since I come here often for my walks, or is it something else?  Why do I like this place?

I have a strange notion about our affinity for a particular place, a particular scene, a particular subject matter. 

What motivates one to sketch or take pictures of a particular frame, person or subject matter?  Most of us do not wantonly record anything and everything.   Something has to emotionally appeal to our psyche before our finger is lifted.

I submit that when we take in something, or when something interests us, it is because that something fills our void.  Not just any void.  In other words we have hidden somewhere in our basal ganglia trophy cases destined for various specific collectibles and we might not even know about their existence.  It's like a grand scheme of jig-saw puzzle.  The moment one of these pieces shows up, our brain fires and commands us to capture it.   I believe we sketch or snap pictures to fill our pre-wired circuit board with desired components so we can get that board running.  We in fact already have a picture or painting laying dormant in our head.  We are constantly searching for those pieces of information to complete our grand jig-saw puzzle.  It is as we were given an extensive order list and it is our job to conquer that list. Obviously the reverse can be said.  We are inspired by such events, thus nurturing new ideas and perspectives.   By documenting these tidbits of new information, we expand our repertoire.  I suppose this is like debating whether the chicken comes first or the egg comes first.

So one particular spot in this nature reserve fits in my trophy case labeled "Geometric Lines".
This jig-saw piece has multitude of vertical lines, trees, intercepting the horizontal lines of the path that criss-crosses the woods.  Normally intersecting lines are difficult to handle, especially in Chinese painting, but I find this particular piece exacting.  My challenge is to establish a spatial relationship of these lines so they only appear to intersect on paper but not in space.

That brings up another dilemma.  What I pictured in my mind does not jive with the common notion of Chinese painting.  Contrary to old teachings, shading and lighting will play a vital role in my concoction.  I shall however, stick with the fundamentals of Chinese Brush painting.   My brush, ink, Xuan and calligraphic brush strokes.  I am not going to worry about which pigeon hole I got put in based on the style.  The shackle is off.

I used charcoal to rough in my basic composition.  Blasphemy, some might say.  To which I retorted: Why Not ?   If it helps you, use it !   Some of us have a perfect draft in our head but I'm not one of them.   One strong stand on the left contrasting with weaker ones on the right,  garnished by horizontal lines, depicting the boarded path.  I'll be using an exaggerated perspective to glorify this space, to help one realize the ambience of the woods.

I stepped off the wrong foot from the very beginning.  Instead of mapping the underlying features, I was drawn in by my OCD and started to grow my bush in the foreground.

I extricated myself from that and started afresh.

This time I mixed in some alum with my ink.  My intent was to have any excess alum to leak out as a barrier to subsequent coloring, thus forming a border along each brushstroke.  This renders a boneless style of painting into a boned one, although the outline now is a clear line  instead of a solid ink line.

Using the splash ink technique, I established the features in the background before filling them in with details.

Mixing a little tea with my ink imparts a warmer tone.  I used that to manipulate the different parts of the
painting.

My goal was to create a feeling of being in the woods, where it is cool and sheltered, yet there was sufficient clearing for light to filter through to highlight the paths.  It is these highlighted paths that creates the illusion of depth and draw us into the painting. Again the alum did its job by imparting an aura around some of the branches, as if viewing a back lit photography.

Peony

I was all giddy when I left my friend's house.  I left with a few stalks of peony from my friend's garden. 

I didn't do it surreptitiously; I snipped the specimen with my friends knowledge of course.  I was giddy because I finally had the courage to teach people how to paint from a real object.  Modeling unfortunately is not emphasized at all these days; at least I've only had one teacher that championed that need.  The rest of them was just do as I do.

I have griped about the rote learning practice of Chinese brush painting.   I believe it stifles creativity.  It trained many a craftsman, but few artists.   Many of our teachers were taught that way and saw nothing wrong with it.   If one does A and B, you will get C and D.  Our aspiration was to keep doing A and B until the results of C and D were guaranteed.   I bought into that theory too for quite a while because it is very reassuring.   Repetition brings a semblance of success.  It is difficult to eschew from that practice.

To showcase a deviation from such canned styles, I used an example of a peony painting from Qi Baishi.

Not surprisingly it brought on some rather strong comments.  Not everybody is a fan boy of Mr. Qi.
People in general usually don't have an appetite for his rendition of peony.  However he is so famous and all that I am pretty sure this painting would command an astronomical amount of mula these days.  That brings on another discussion.  Is success measured by how much one's painting is worth?  If not, what defines success?

So this is exactly the dialogue I wanted to strike up with my students.  Should we have enough faith to forge our own styles, like Mr. Qi did and not worry about acceptance, or should we play it safe and follow the rote learning tradition.

I gave myself that challenge with the newly acquired peony cuttings.  I decided to at least show the students how peony is traditionally painted, but challenge them to seek their own paths.  I thought it was a good compromise.  After all we do need to start with the basics.

The way I was taught was to load the brush with titanium white and apply color to the tip of the brush only.  As we roll the brush on paper, we apply copious pressure to the belly of the brush to form the flower petals.  The color part of the brush paints the bottom of the petal, while the white belly takes care of the upper part of the petal.  Layering is achieved by the next round of painting in the petals; the red from the brush tip forms a margin against the white area of the previous brushstrokes.  We are in fact constantly managing the negative space (the white part) by painting in the red margins.

My compromise was to teach students how to paint with the prescribed brushstrokes, but we paint not from memory or a fixed scheme, but from observing the real flower.  We touched the leaves, the stalks, the flower petals.  We tried to acquaint ourselves with the subject matter.

I am attaching a picture of the peony we used.

The resulting paintings look traditional and contemporary at the same time.  I definitely feel that these samples  speak with much energy and is a far cry from the run of the mill pieces one would normally see.  Obviously I am not biased.

The best part of it all was that knowledge had been transferred.  I participated in a small way in the saga of keeping Chinese brush painting alive.

The Last Leg Of My Journey

It didn't take me that long to sense something is not quite right with my last painting.

 

 

The left and right darkest patches at the bottom seemed stoic, to the point of non-participation, I mused.  I suppose the composition fit in the grand scheme of things; the left side being solid and dense, the right side vague and sparse, so it subscribed to the ying and yang notion of Chinese brush. I just wanted to accentuate the left side even more.  I suppose the vertical contrast set the stage for drama.

 

Since I was rather impatient with this observation, it was more the reason for me to approach this with a little discipline, more so than I normally would.

 

I trimmed a few pieces of the same semi-sized Xuan and painted a few alternatives to the left bottom.

This is too much fun; alternative endings!  Is there a Director' cut?  I must be watching too much Blue-rays.

 

Scene I:  Water Grass

 

 



 

Scene II:  Thorny Branches

 

Scene III: Exaggerated Gradient

 

I then pinned these cutlets to my original painting for evaluation.

 

 

The water grass seemed out of place.  Frivolous.  I didn't like this at all.

 

 

 

I was hoping the thorny branches would garnish the theme of pathos. I do like the effect a lot; much better than the water grass anyways, yet the assembly looked odd.  It was as though that part of the painting was speaking a different tongue.  When everything else was sort of soupy, the branches became real pricks.  It definitely brought out the contrast but the feeling was lost in the translation.

 

 

 

Needless to say the exaggerated gradient arrangement received my nod.  The darkened area collaborated much better with the bend and projected  a proper distance perception.

 

Armed with such analysis, I proceeded to my Director's cut!  The last leg of my journey!