Planting a tree, a cosmetic remedy

I've been looking at my recent attempt at the pavilion, the one with the huge hair-do, the one I conceded to be difficult to amend.

I can't surrender that easily.  Surely there's something I can do.

Why don't I just plant a tree?  Use the foliage to hide the pompadour! ( I used to think it was Pinocchio's nose !)

With the innocence of a child, and the eagerness of going out on a first date, I proceeded to plant my tree.

The ink being so intense, I had to mix in some titanium white to the  Green Label Three to add some opacity to the foliage. 

I also painted in the tiles on the breezeway and the rest of the shrubs on the ground.  This was done to shield  the prominence of the new tree that I planted.  I was actually adding something to the painting to try to take away other things.

I also mentioned that I didn't like the way the rocks by the water edge looked.  I painted a thin ribbon along the water's edge and that seemed to account for the boundary without the original harshness.
I adhered to leaving the body of the pond as an empty space.

I'll sit on this one for a while, like I usually do.

More Pavilion

I did a pavilion painting a couple of months back.  In that attempt, I liked the feel of the pavilion, but not the way I dotted the shrubs.

I also thought the arrangement of the elements was a little too cozy.  I thought the garden should be a bit larger.

My challenge is to set the pavilion up in a more elaborate and spacious environment, but still make the pavilion the focal point of my exercise.


The paper now has a wider aspect, forcing me to stretch out the placement of the different elements.

Right off the bat I thought the painting looked a little cold, too austere and not very becoming.
I also felt the separation of the breezeway from the pavilion was not handled as well as the original painting.  I needed to bring out the pavilion without making it ostentatious.  I mixed indigo with ink and dressed the tiles of the pavilion

That seemed to address the problem alright.  The subdued blue pulled the pavilion out without a disconnect from the background.

The painting did not have enough headroom, especially considering the fact that I wasn't going to paint in the reflections like I did on the last one.  I could have moved the whole thing down a notch.
Also the rocks by the waterline seemed lifeless.  I would try to add in a thin bordered waterline when I have more time to contemplate the remedies.

The tree next to the pavilion was at even height with the pavilion.  This did not speak of a nice contrast of the two, and presented a rather dull relationship of the elements.  This could be corrected rather easily.

But then I noticed a glaring mistake:

The roof ridge on the left ( circled in red ) was too thick, too big and too solid and totally distracted from the focal point, unless I was painting Pinocchio's nose of course.   It should have been a lot lighter and fading out to the sweeping lift, to blend in with the disappearing tiles.

This mistake could not have been corrected easily.  Seems like a new attempt is in order.

(please visit "Planting a Tree" dated 8/18/14 on the follow-up)

"Wall" inspection

Now that the "wall" painting is done, it's time to conduct a building inspection.

I mounted the work on canvas like I usually do and put my miter saw and router into service to craft a frame.  After securing the canvas onto the frame, I turned it over and with the same eagerness as a new parent, I examined my newborn.

Well, it was kind of a let down.

I was immediately overtaken by the terse statement put forth by the frame.  It seemed too thick for this painting.  I thought the stark black paint would go well with the ample black tones in the painting but the frame seemed suffocating.

I had painted in the bottom dark bands to make the painting more grounded, but the thick frame made that move seemed redundant.  There wasn't enough empty spaces between the leak window and the bottom and this compounded the claustrophobic feel imparted by the frame.

I also noticed that the side tip brushstroke by the window was too long and did not blend in with the upper horizontal brushstroke.  This in turn created the illusion that I was painting a corner rather than a flat wall, with this brushstroke working as a light value line, denoting different light values of adjacent walls of a corner.  I wish I wasn't so carried away with my downward brush movement.

 

I do like the effect of painting lighter lines next to the branches, not only to make them look fuller, but also adding depth to them.  I could be convinced that the wisteria was casting a shadow on the wall, as opposed to  laying flat against it.

I also liked the fact that the upper tiles were not totally painted in.  The void spaces worked great with the frame and allowed breathing room.

I suppose the inspection gets a passing grade but could benefit from future design modifications.

"Building" a wall, continued

Other than these obvious corrections to my first attempt at this painting, I've also done something that was not obvious to the casual observer.

In the version that did not have the ground, I painted in the window lines on all 4 sides.  In fact I also brushed in shading along the left edges of the window to help delineate the opening.  I have in fact debated this with my colleagues and it was agreed that the line was necessary.

But I did not buy into it.  Not wholeheartedly anyways.

I decided to define the left edge of the window by the darkened pattern of the window.  I wanted no harsh confines for that part of the window.  This practice of defining a void space ( in this case, the window's edge ) with values and not lines is similar to how I would paint a stream or waterfall.   I also felt that the eloping wisteria vines was further enhanced by the absence of a line.

I tackled the problem of some of the branches being too thick by painting a shadow on the back of the Xuan.  This added volume without adding mass, and seemed to work.

I had enough quest in me to try another copy.  I painted the vines with more straight lines and less curves.  Somehow I did not like the vines as much as my previous attempts.  I think my anxiety of breaking up the curves into short straight segments go the better of me.  The lines also looked a little anemic to me and lacked that oomph.  Perhaps I should not have done this one?  Was I getting bored?

 I was not going to use color for this series of paintings.  I was going for that black and white graphic look with elegant lines and interesting contrasts, remember?  In fact, light values and the look of graphic design sounds more western than Chinese, but I think the vocabulary is the same, just the language is different.  Well I need to be flexible and see the possibilities.

Out came the color tubes, Titanium White and Green Label Three.  I scratched in patches of leaves. 

For now I'll pin my salvage on the wall and ponder, like I always do. The wall that I am building is now done and we shall see if it will stand up to the test of time.

I am still ruminating on why does the vine want to get out?   Surely road side auto exhaust couldn't be better than the lush flowers and ponds inside?   How does one argue with nature.

"Building" a wall

The traditional formal gardens in old China is surrounded by a wall, which shields the various pavilions and bridges, ponds and rock structures from the outside.  The structures inside the confines of the wall are often arranged to re-create a "borrowed scenery", to fulfil the imagination and the fantasy of the property owner. 

It is this wall that I find most interesting.  Whereas its main function is to establish a physical barrier, it is often punctuated by framed windows such that people on the outside can take a peep into the garden, a bit of a tease if you will.  I look at it as a fine lady trying to hide her assets, yet strategically revealing just enough to perk one's curiosity.  I am convinced that a half clad person is definitely more intriguing than one in a full birthday suit.

We have such a garden in town.  Lucky me! 

Aside from the intrinsic beauty such wall and window radiates, I like the arrangement for other reasons too.  The stark white wall is a perfect contrast to the dark tiled tops.  The lattice, or pattern on the window casts interesting shadows and creates movement.  I like the simplicity of it.  Contrast, simplicity, elegant lines; what else can I wish for.

I hastily painted a rough draft, to see if I can parlez all these into a painting. The painting would have the dark tiles on top.  The whole upper portion of the painting would be dark and heavy.  This is the "solid", the "yang" part.  The lower and left part of the painting would be the "vague" or "ying" areas; complementing and contrasting.  There should be a strong emphasis of lines, along with the black and white patches, this could pass off as a graphic design also.

I am convinced that this could work.  Armed with that conviction, I sat down to do one in earnest.

 

Two things became apparent rather quickly.  Firstly the "ying" was too much.  There was too much void on the lower half, to the extent that window and wall top seemed to be suspending in air. The painting did not feel grounded at all.  Secondly, the vines were too jumbled up.  They looked like entangled yarns, lacking direction and movement.

The next attempt tried to fix the aforementioned shortcomings.

 

 I put in the lower edges/ground of the wall.  I appointed the main branches of the vine.  One could clearly identify  a horizontal 8 now as the main branches, albeit they were a little too thick.  I've made the black tiles at the top to be in rows of a slight angle and much darker  to break up the monotonous  look.  In fact I made no attempts at all to cover up or fill in my brushstrokes.  I want the ink to breathe.  I also painted in the continuation of the vines behind  the window.  I wanted the audience to sense ( perhaps subconsciously ) the satire that whilst the wall was trying to rein things in, the vines were actually trying to get out..............   This attribute is by itself a notion for the complement/contrast aspects of Chinese painting.  Perhaps more importantly though, especially on an emotional level, this is the half cladding that started my fascination.

to be continued

An old friend re-visited

My formal training in Chinese brush was in landscapes, but I found myself doing a lot of geese, insects etc.  I just paint whatever captured my imagination and more often than not, these critters caught my fancy.

I had done a few  insect paintings in the style of Master Qi Baishi over the years.  The two that I am most fond of was one with a cicada and one with a grasshopper.  I decided to re-visit the grasshopper again.  I want to see if I can show an improvement in my brush.

I found a piece of  triple Xuan measuring 15 x 18.  I wanted a thick paper because I wanted to do it a la Xuan-boo style;  a thicker paper would stand up to the abuse I put it through.   I will be preparing my own canvas and making my own frames etc.    I use the commercial painters drop cloth as my canvas.  I enjoy the more pronounced texture from the drop cloth, over the anemic feel of the canvas frames sold in stores.

The problem ( and the advantage ) of using commercial drop cloth is that the fibers are not always uniformly wound.  Sometimes a few loops go astray and swell inordinately with the application of Gesso.  This apparent irregularity actually adds to the uneven feel and the character of the canvas.

I started out by laying down the stalk with a  coarse brush.  The stiff bristle makes a bone brushstroke that much easier, and the white streaks left at the end of the stroke is very enticing and enigmatic.

I did the upper leaves a different hue from the bottom ones to add dimension and interest.

Using very faint indigo and ink and pencil, I blocked in the shape of the grasshopper.

The insect is coming into life with a fine brush.  This part of the painting is more Gongbi than Xieyi.

A close-up reveals  the interaction between the fabric and the brushstroke.  At this point, no one would have believed that the painting was done on Xuan.  The paper assumed a feel of the fabric underneath.


Made a frame and colored it with dark mahogany.  That dark sultry red tint was a perfect match for this painting.

I do think this work is better than the previous attempt!  My brushstrokes are more convincing now.

Coffee, Ink and semi-sized Xuan

I was just finishing my 2 days old coffee.  I admit to leaving unfinished coffee on my desk and drinking it days later.  No belly aches, no vomiting, no problems.  McDonald's had raised their coffee price from 30 cents to a dollar and 30 cents.  I was baited, and got reeled in.  I blame my parents for not making me smarter.  So, I am not about to waste any coffee.

I don't often work with semi-sized paper, but the few times that I had tried it, I fell in love with it.
For me, the paper is more forgiving.  It won't bite me back when I misjudged my water load in my brush.  Yes the brushstroke loses some acuity and the stroke floats a little bit before sinking in, sort of like a delayed reaction,  but I feel emboldened to be a little reckless. 

I found a nice piece of classical work to study.  The artist's name escaped me, but I really liked his way of addressing each stroke and defining each line.  I thought the semi-sized paper would be particularly useful for this study.  I could take a little more time in putting together this jigsaw puzzle and not worry about if my brush was too wet or too dry.

The semi-sized paper was able to faithfully record different ink tones

Each brushstroke, no matter how faint or delicate, showed a presence.  The audience is encouraged to read the painting, as more clues are revealed upon each cast of the eye.

The painting was finally finished with my days old coffee as color, filling in shades and  shapes.  Literally an exercise of good taste.