Peony

Had a chance encounter with some peonies earlier this summer.  As I was contemplating on how to paint these flowers, I couldn't help but be reminded of the deeply rooted traditions of painting peony.

Peony is dubbed the "King" of flowers in China and is symbolic for wealth and riches.  There must be a million books on "How To Paint Peony" and most of them are pretty intense and rigid.  They would show us how to load our brush with crimson and white such that each stroke creates a 2 toned swath of inviting curvatures.  Some of them would tutor us on how to roll and dab our brush to achieve the scalloped edges of the flower petals.  Perhaps because of the symbolism, the peony is always portrayed in a  rather regal setting, with vivid and vibrant color and a perfect arrangement of leaves.  Some of the Gonbi style peony would even summon the help of gold lined petals to epitomize riches.
These doctrines can be so stubborn that one of my friend who painted a beautiful Gonbi peony was lectured by an ostensible  peony expert for daring to paint a gentian colored peony with no stamens.  This expert gained his knowledge from his master, who resided in Luoyang ( commonly accepted as the Home of Peony) and therefore unabashedly exerted his inflexible view of what a peony painting should look like.  Here the pundit allowed no room for artistic interpretation or deviation from tradition.  I would be remiss not to  point out that Double Peony possesses no stamens because they have transformed into petals.  There you have it!

So what does all that have to do with my peony painting? 

 

Well I just wanted to try something different.  Something devoid of traditional constraints and rendering.  I was trying for the how I interpretate the plant rather than a sanctimonious attempt at regurgitating what a Chinese painting on peony should look like.

I used to think Xieyi is about jazzing up something.  I realize now that it is about finding something in all that jazz.

Japanese Snowbell

I was doing a still life of Japanese Snowbell.  It was just a simple little twig with delicate white flowers, inserted into a slender bottle.  I didn't have any Xuan with me, so I just recruited some bamboo paper, the kind that I practise my calligraphy on.  The paper excels in its ability to aborb water.  It is actually the glorified version of yesterday's butt wiper.

The way this twig hang off the bottle attracted my attention.  Rather than starting off with the branches or flowers, I just used a very light ink wash to lay down the footprint of the plant and the bottle.  It was the pose that I fell in love with.  It reminded me of characters in Chinese Opera, dressed in costumes with long flowing sleeves.  I wanted to capture that attitude.

I used acrylic white for the flowers.  After the ink painting was done, I went over that with a wash of Blue Label number one.

I used a cement board for backing this time.  I really enjoy the texture of the board piercing through the delicate bamboo paper.  The contrast of the webbing texture of the board with the bleeding of the ink strokes is simply ethereal.

 I am not trying to prostelytize anyone into not using Xuan as backing, but the added benefit of texture of using other materail is worth experimenting.

Canada Geese, A Fluted Look

Of the many geese paintings that I've undertaken, one of them was terminally ruined by my introduction of a couple of blemishes...  my "signature" ink splats.  As one of my partners in crime quipped, those are my calling cards!

I thought of concealing them by painting something over them, perhaps a couple more geese in the distance; but their locations are less than ideal.  Perhaps I could transform them into heavenly bodies, but we  only have one sun on this earth, and UFO's would be blasphemous to a serious piece of work [ sarcasm ].  Then I thought of the Oregon rain streaming down my windshield, causing the image to have a fluted glass look.  I decided to surgically remove the splats, flouting conventional wisdom.

I recently had "sliced" up a geese painting into horizontal strips.  I shall attempt a vertical striping this time.

The painting was basically cut up into strips of varying widths running the north south direction.  By disposing the strips with the ink splats on them, I had accomplished my main objective.  My mistakes were gone!  My next move was to position the strips by sliding them up and down to give the painting a different look, but mainly [ and honestly ] to obscure the missing pieces of the landscape span.  I would even take one strip out of sequence and place it at another location just to dramatize the effect. 

As I tried different schematic arrangements, I would document them with photos.  The juxtaposition of the elements elicited an emotional response that is beyond words.  I wonder if music composers feel the same way; by stringing notes together a song is born.  By varying the musical intervals one changes key.

The photo documentation helped me to decide on a final layout for my collage.  The initial rearrangements were fueled by instincts; now the analytical eye was given a chance to participate.  Here are two examples:   by placing a light colored strip in the left field, the dissonance is acute, yet not unpleasant.  It is like playing a minor chord in a major key work.  The second example is the impressionistic flow of water, or mist on the right side of the painting.  The initial pairing truncated the "flow" of that void space, thus interrupted the feel or the energy of that story line.   By aligning the void spaces, I was able to restore the flow.

( flow truncated)

 (flow restored)

I adopted the final layout with the help of my TV monitor.  I displayed the desired version on my screen and used it as my visual template to glue down the final edition.

This exercise allowed me to

1. eliminate the annoying ink splats
2. create "hooks" or "discords" ( depending on one's point of view ) by juxtaposing
3. shift the pair of geese away from the center
4. accentuate the downward and upward flapping motions of the wings
5. create a fluted glass feel to the painting, rendering a  3 dimensional prism effect.

My finished work:

I totally grasped the meaning of "necessity is the mother of invention" now, and I am so thankful for the times that I had to sit inside my truck to stay out of the Oregon wet sunshine, watching rain streaming down the glass.

Geese Recipe No. 2 Stir Fry

The thought of painting a whole flock of geese intrigued me.  I've kind of instructed myself to hone in on Canada geese this year and see if I could portray them .

I am fortunate to live by a pond which has geese and ducks in them.  My association with them is limited to watching and feeding and yes, stepping in their poop but now I want to be able to reveal the personality of these geese.  I thought by doing a whole bunch of geese all at once, I could either hide in the sheer number of images, so that the bad strokes are not obvious, or I could revel in the opportunity of telling a collective story.  Let me call this attempt "stir frying".

I recruited a 14x20 inch frame fiber board backing for this project.  If my attempt failed, then unto garbage it shalt return.

The pigments I used for my Chinese brush painting did not take to this fiber board at all.  It just sat and pooled.    How annoying.

I had a bright idea.  I mixed white gesso with these pigments...............now I am doing fresco.  Michael Angelo would be turning in his grave. 

I had to thin down this concoction with water for my Chinese brush to work.  I crinched at the idea that this would ruin my brushes.  Oh well it's only money.

I can't say too much about the painting.  It is very different for me.  The cynical side of me would say that these fowls look like hybrids of geese and duck; perhaps in my mind they're the same now.  But I do feel the motion and energy in my brush strokes.   I know I enjoyed the process tremendously.  I was a kid again, having found a new toy to play with.  Besides, it was very therapeutic to step into the unknown and emerge unscathed.   Copious amounts of warm water and mild soap hopefully saved my brushes.

Ah yes, stir fried geese.

Geese Recipe No. 1 Slice N Dice

The black and white charcoal, ink, altered neck piece of botched attempt of  geese of my dreams (second to last picture in "Have I Cooked My Geese" blog) had been pinned on my walls for quite a while now, trying to get my attention from time to time.  I'll be the first one to admit that this had been a love hate relationship.  I loved the looks, but I hated the details.  The painting did not look bad as long as it was just a glimpse.

I suppose the desire to rectify the painting had laid latent long enough.  I suppose in today's lingo this would be data running in the background.  Every glance I casted at the painting contributed to a few ones and zeros in the command and all of a sudden the indicator light came on and I was asked if I wanted to execute the program.

I am going to cook my geese.  Again.

First I spiced up the painting with blue color.  I was trying for water in my original concept.  Then burnt sienna mixed with ink to warm up my geese a little bit.  I circumvented the issue of continuous lines by slicing up my Xuan paper into strips of various widths and then reattaching them to form a new composite.  By shifting these strips I was able to break up the lines and still form a comprehensible image.

Since the format was no longer a rectangle, I had to squeeze in all 5 geese into the confines of this square.  I enjoyed the resulting effect from slicing and dicing my original painting, but now the canvas seemed crammed.  Annoying is the fact that the geese have divided the canvas into left and right halves with an invisible center line down the middle.  If the single goose at the right bottom corner had been a smaller size, then it would have fit in the balance of schemes better.

Then it dawned on me that by flipping the canvas 180 degrees, the flaw is not as perceptible.  Moreover, the stratified look is true to reflections of the geese in water.  A few white crosses suggesting a shimmering surface help to seal the deal.

Slicing and dicing, a new recipe.

Paintings From Secondary Schools of Hong Kong

As I am ready to close the chapter on my visit to Hong Kong, I grew more introspective everyday.  With all the changes in this particular society, I feel the passage of time.  I have graduated from being the proverbial "tourist", whom people approach to offer carnal pleasures, to now being sought out by "tourists" and seek directions to subways.   Perhaps my grey hair had betrayed me.

The place where I do most of my contemplation is the Kowloon Park. I am glad some things do not change with time, and one of such things is the floral painting competition sponsored by the Leisure and Cultural Services Department and the Yuen Yuen Institute.  These paintings were done by secondary school kids ( 7th to 12th grade ).  They are divided into the Junior and Senior sections  Again, the winners of this competition get to enjoy the admiration of the park visitors by having their works displayed.  I have taken the liberty of capturing these images for the viewing pleasures of a wider audience.

These paintings are not posted in any particular orders and I couldn't really tell you whether they were done in color pencils or watercolor.   As mentioned before, this is an assortment of works from 7th graders to 12th graders.

Interestingly enough, the First Place in both the Junior and Senior sections happens to be black and white drawings.  I don't know whether this is the bias of the adjudicators, but I shall list the rankings  for the following pieces and see if we are obsequious patrons. 

First Place Junior Section

Highly Commended Junior Section

 

First Place Senior Section

Highly Commended Senior Section

It is comforting to see evidence of creativeness, despite the rote learning system.

7 Years Ago, 2005

Last week I hopped onto a plane and traversed 1000 miles to go back to my birthplace, Hong Kong.  My mom will be 90 this month.  I am going to wish her Happy Birthday in person.

What kind of gifts should I bear.  My family is not big into this tradition at all.  In fact, we are not into celebrating birthdays at all.  I need to show my thoughtfulness and affection without any materialistic overtones.  Why not paint her something.  This grand idea hit me the week before my departure.
The painting I wanted to write for her is one by Bai Xueshi, a contemporary landscape painter.  I have used his work for my collaborative painting post on 4/22/10.  In fact I have used this piece of work as an example ( similar to using tie in calligraphy ) just recently.  With a goal in mind, a deadline to beat, a painting to emulate,  and adrenalin flowing free, I forged ahead.

The premise of the painting is really simple.  The painting is seemingly split into two halves by the water line, contrasted with elements of "sparse" on the right and "dense" on the left.  The two fishermen on bamboo rafts are thus framed, being highlighted by the void space.

What I have done differently this time is to write the bamboo first.  I then filled in the mountain pillars and their reflections.  The rafts take up the last act.  I learned this sequence the hard way.  What I had done in the recent past was to paint the landscape first.  The coloring actually sized the Xuan paper.  By the time I was ready to lay down the bamboo the paper is no longer as absorbent and the ink ended up just sitting on the paper.  This affected the brush strokes and raised my anxiety level quite a bit.

The above picture showed finished landscape, without the rafts and script.

This picture showed a "failed" painting, not only in terms of the qualities of the brush strokes, but also in the lack of control of ink bleeding.

Here are the 2 attempts pictured side by side.  My mom received the one on the right.  This is the one where the bamboo was done first. There is a far better control of shading and diffusing of the ink to show dense clusters of leaves.  The clear brush marks on the reflections of the mountains left no doubt about using splash ink side tip technique.  The treatment of the outside borders of the mountain added complexity to an otherwise plain splash ink stroke.  The darker center pillar brought itself front and center and pushed back the other pillars to create depth.  The faint and yet distinct water line separated the land mass from the water and created a virtual shoreline.  As a whole I am pleased with my efforts this time, except for my calligraphy.

What made this painting especially meaningful for me, and for my mom is that back in May of 2005 when I visited her, I was just starting to study Chinese Xieyi landscape.  I chanced upon this painting and I unabashedly painted for her.  My mom was (is) so proud of this that she scotch-taped it to the wall of the living room and would tell any visitor who cared to listen that "My son did this".

I did my "good" painting this time in the Xuan-Boo fashion, mounted on canvas and protected from the Hong Kong humidity by Golden gel medium.  It is obviously interesting to make a comparison of
my works, 7 years apart, almost to the date.  The important thing is, mom likes them both; because I did them.