All By Herself, wrapping it up

My attention then turned to the pier.

I added a stop to the far end of the pier and defined the edge too.    I did that by painting in shapes and lines suggesting of masts from freight barges and just junk. I also added in the main shadows from the setting sun, to create a more complete reference point for the next steps





I did not like the stern appearance of all the dark, narrow vertical lines of the support poles.  My remedy was to soften up those lines by fusing them with a blob of ink.

I wet down  a couple of strategic locations along the poles and applied concentrated ink to them and allowed the ink to bleed out.  This is sort of like the moss dots that are commonly deployed to jazz up or obscure flaws in a brush painting.

I continued to work on the different areas, all the while having the light source in my focus because I really wanted to showcase the setting sun with a good dose of elongated shadows.

I worked slowly and laboriously to make my tableware assume a more dramatic look, taking care to not over-paint it.  I darkened the flat areas on the table ever so slightly, using my brush wash, thus the unpainted areas looked brighter.  This helped to put a sparkle on the water glass. The water glass closest to the bottom would be a prime example of this effect.   Being hasty has always been my Achilles Heel so I was mindful.  I also took pains to not cover up the water marks, especially on my back lit person of interest.  I really wanted her to have that halo.

Finally joint lines were added to the cement surface on the pier.  That and  the various angled lines

in the painting helped to establish a perspective, a vanishing point for this painting.

I know everything that I have done so far is a far cry from the traditional Chinese Brush painting.  I just felt frisky and rebellious;  I was not going to be bound.

My final touch-up, for now anyways, was to add some texture to the cement surface.  This was done with the help of well worn brushes.  These brushes would no longer hold  a point because the hair had become broken and jagged, so they are ideal for loose splatter brush strokes.  The footprints they leave are fine random dots.

It was interesting how shapes and lighting prompted me to do the painting, but I tried to add the story of a lone lady to complement the scheme of things.  The conflict, or drama in this plot was the absence of a crowd at a place of multitude.  I used the setting sun and fading light to amplify the feeling of desolation.

For now, that is a wrap.

All By Herself, Cont'd

Now that I had a person of interest and a dark reference, I could begin to apply some elbow grease on this painting in earnest.

Before I rolled up my sleeves, again I sought comments from my friends.

"no emotional content"

"painting had no drama"

"where is everybody, you have all these tables and there should be more people congregating"

At this point I had to clarify my story.

Granted the painting was motivated by lines and circles; geometric forms.  This painting however was also inspired by the light, the back lit light to be precise.    Since the painting was far from being completed at this point, I asked for their indulgence for later versions.

As for lack of  a crowd despite all the tables I think I misled my friends somehow.  The people behind the tables were the workers setting up and not patrons.  The assumption that I was trying to portray a huge party because of all the tables were not correct.  In fact I deliberately painted the lady as the lone person on that pier. 

I wanted to contrast the solitary lady with the multitude of  tables.  I was trying to create an air of abandonment.  Not a celebratory event.   A single lady walking past all these empty tables and the pathos is amplified by the low setting sun, hinting moments are fleeing and time waits for no one.

I suppose I could paint in the crowd, having each person wearing a different posture to animate a happening open air restaurant, but that would be too much work.  But seriously, I subscribe to the notion that tragedy beats comedy any day, anytime.  Tearjerkers tear our hearts out and linger a lot longer than any joyous occasion. 

Perhaps this is just how my psyche works.  This is how my drama works.

I worked on the details of the utensils  on the tables.  Here we had inverted water glasses, bowls, chopsticks et cetera.  I was trying to find a way to demonstrate the transparency of the water glass, along with the refraction of light from the water glass wall and bottom.   I agree this part was more like drawing than Chinese brush, so it was especially challenging to try to do that with a brush.  Thank goodness for the semi-sized Xuan or I would not have the control that I needed. 

What I settled on was the lessons I learned from painting water and mist.  Allow the occupied areas to show the void spaces.  I made it a personal goal to be able to show whether a water glass was placed in front of a bowl, or behind it.   I know I was being frivolous perhaps by paying too much detail to the minute details but I just wanted to challenge myself.

I also wanted to paint the appearance of the plastic table tarps as being translucent.

I did all that at the risk, and the expense of making the painting too much like photography and not enough as a painting.  But I loved every minute of it. This exercise really spoke to the obsessive side of my personality.  I could also argue that this is what reading a painting meant.   There are stories to be told by each brushstroke, and no details are too minute.
.

All By Herself

A woman was  taking a stroll down a pier. 

This pier was at a bustling fishing village, with roadside bistros on one side and fishing boats and freight barges on the other.

Perhaps it was only late afternoon thus the night life hadn't struck up yet.  The outdoor restaurants were still getting ready for the night time onslaught of patrons, so the round tables with frayed plastic tarps and empty stools stood empty. 

For now.

That was the setting for my painting.

The fishing village had the quaintness of times gone-by, along with the contrasting hustle of being a tourist stop.  The open restaurants were nothing more than rows of round tables under a canvas top supported by bamboo pole rafters.  Cooking was by portable  propane tanks and obviously seafood was the only category on menu.  All the menu items were maintained in water pails; fish and shellfish galore.

Again I summoned the help of the translucent semi-sized Xuan, wanting to do the Ji Mo technique again.  The foci of my interest will be the interplay of the vertical pole lines with the round shape of table tops, plus the back lit effect of the late afternoon sun.

After situating the various elements of this panting, I started to establish a dark area, distal of the painting, mainly to help guide me as to how the work should progress.

Oops, I let my box of macadamia nut chocolate got into the frame.  That was my fuel!

Since the lady is the person of interest here, I decided to accord her the proper decorum, by working on her first.

What started out as a woman with a face soon evolved to a mere shadow with few details. Employing the Jimo technique style, I tried to create the impression that light was behind her;  rendering her features obscured.  I retained a hint of a bust on her;  just to entertain myself I suppose.

The watermarks left by each subsequent brushstroke added interest and structure to an otherwise bland patch of black ink.  This is this characteristic that I exploited to create my "silver lining" on the back lit silhouette in the finished painting.

I needed also to account for the time and place of my lady.  She was walking with her back against the setting sun and therefore needed to cast a long shadow to fit that scenario.  I cut out a paper silhouette of the lady and placed it onto my paper and shone a light behind her.  By moving the light around I could cast whatever shadow I needed.  Once I found the shadow I liked, I painted that in.  That was pretty ingenious, wasn't it?

Epilogue: Chronicle of Shadows

I chronicled my trials and tribulations with my Shadows painting.  In the Coming Full Circles blog I settled on a final version.

I was happy with it.

Until I showed it to my group of Chinese Brush painting friends  and to an arts professor.

My friends could not accept the fact that the shadows did not cross the path.  They kept assuming the void space was water and in that sense I could have painted in reflections.  They simply could not tolerate my attempt at filtering out some details to create sort of an art deco type exercise.  I was trying to blend realism with a graphic element.

The art professor had problem with the paths. 

Too structured.  The edges were too rigid and not xieyi enough, 

I was able to present my case.  I showed the works by Gong Xian (1618-1689), one of the Masters of Nanjing.

Did he not have a blend of realism and graphic design?  He too had a well defined path leading to the house in the bottom painting;  and a second void space at the right middle portion of the painting.

I was trying to emulate his Ji Mo ( accumulating ink ) technique.

I had four months to think about everything.  Over time I became less defensive and more willing to accept other viewpoints.

Since I've been doing a lot of black and white paintings as of late, I decided to really play up the ambiance of this painting.

I made a strong presence of light coming from behind the trees.  The shadows now sprouted across the page to amplify the light source.  The prominent pathways are now reduced to bright patches, suggesting but not defining trails.

I truly sensed that I've written the final chapter on this painting.  There is no room for other changes, only pages of thoughts and suggestions.

This is indeed the epilogue of Chronicle of Shadows.

Of Painting, Writing and Calligraphy

A Chinese Brush enthusiast presented us a work of painting with calligraphy on it.

Everybody oohed and aahed.   After all the person is not Chinese and for some Westerner to be able to do that is encouraging.

The writing was something one would derive from Google Translate.  It was devoid of syntax, although one could surmise the gist of it. 

After the oohing and aahing, small talks began to surface, especially with regards to whether it was proper for the person to use broken Chinese on a painting.

A month later the same enthusiast presented us with another painting with Chinese written on it.  Unfortunately the passage made absolutely no sense this time. 

The artist was asked about the meaning of the writing and admitted to not knowing.  The artist made a comment that a lot of Chinese Brush painting had writing on it and deemed it appropriate to write something on the painting, whether it made sense or not.

The small talk behind this person's back grew louder, yet no one felt comfortable enough to tell this artist.  It was determined that one should not dowse this enthusiasm, especially when a Westerner is willing to try.  It was also somewhat inherent in our culture that we do not want to point out people's mistakes.  Call that political correctness if you will.

One finds Chinese writings and calligraphy on paintings quite frequently.  Most of the time the writings refer to the time of the year, the artist's name, and sometimes the place where the artwork was done.  If there was a title for the painting, it would be written in a different font.

If the painting was to be presented to a particular person, or for a particular occasion, the name of the receiver or the event would be recorded in writing.

Besides the above mention of when one would find writings on a painting, there are other instances when such needs arise.

The artist needed to convey a message about the painting.  The attached painting is by Qi Baishi (1864-1957)

In this painting of a simple catfish, Mr.Qi was lamenting about the fact that it is very difficult to characterize a simple fish with a few scant brushstrokes and impart the energy and personality to the subject matter. Even he was having problem composing a legitimate painting of fish, and he had to resort to cropping a good sample as his work.  The obvious reason too was the fact that now he had cropped the fish out from his large sheet of Xuan, how was he going to deal with the empty space?
The obvious answer perhaps, was for him to write something.  Mr. Qi is known for his paintings, but he rated his poetry as his best accomplishment, followed by his seal carving, then his calligraphy.  He didn't even list his painting as his top 3 virtues.  It made sense that he would fill the void with his well thought out sentences and wrote them in his genuinely peasantry calligraphy.  The writing and calligraphy became part of his artwork.

Feng Zikai (1898-1975) liked to title his works in a thought provoking way.  Other than his signature, he often dispensed with the recording of time and locality.

In this work, the title says "The mirror is the only person who knows the beauty of that poor girl".  This was a commentary about the society.  If one is poor, whether  financially or  in social status, one would not expect anyone to cast attention in their direction.

In our studies and lessons, we are always reminded that there is poetry in a painting, and a painting should be like poetry.  In fact one teacher would give us a poem and we were to paint something to exemplify that poem.  We've also been asked to compose a poem after viewing a painting, but that's a different story.  Our erudition on Chinese literary  skills is quite dismal.

Chinese poetry is rather pedantic.

Each line or verse must be composed of the same number of words.  The order of words in each line must match or contrast in meaning.  For example, if the first line says " A boy kisses a girl ", then the second line might  be something like "The gymnast  takes a whirl".  Thus we have 5 words in each verse; a subject followed by a verb, describing the action; and the verses rhyme.  There are attempts to translate Chinese poetry into other languages, but none of them deliver the whole package.  They do fine in translating the meaning of the poetry, yet the beauty of matched words and syntax and context and rhyming is totally lost.  It's analogous to leading a blindfolded person to an elephant and upon touching the trunk the person exclaimed "I got it".

Yang Shan Shen (1913-2004) is a famous  Master in the Lingnan School.  This style of work exhibits a strong western influence.  Paintings are usually brightly colored, with attention to light and shadows.  He employed two verses in his work below:

The writing is translated as

                            In the rain, a fruit drops
                            On a branch, a bird sings

Again, adherence to the verse structure.


I am using these examples from contemporary Chinese Brush artists.  I use them to illustrate the point that the tradition of writings and calligraphy on our painting is structured, revered and time honored.

Whereas one must appreciate the zeal of a non Chinese in learning  to paint and write with Chinese brush, one must also take into consideration that the person must learn it the correct way, with understanding of the various elements involved.   It is one thing if the artist wanted to incorporate Chinese brush calligraphy as a background or as an element of graphic design but to put it in just because that seemed the proper format  is quite another.  One must not blindly pursue the stereotype. That would be patronizing.

Also important is that if we can clearly see a misconception by a student, it is the duty of those of us who are in the know to point out the truth.  It does not need to be embarrassing, nor demeaning.  How else is one to learn?   The worst thing that can happen to a budding Chinese Brush enthusiast is to be misled.  The discipline is complicated as it is.  After all, mastering painting, poetry and calligraphy and applying them together is considered the Three Perfections in the arena of traditional Chinese Brush painting.

I therefore voiced my observations to this person.  I am convinced that I did the right thing.  Only time would tell.

Guilin Landscape, Chapter 2

I showed my emulation to an art professor.

I did not tell the professor that this was my copy of a painting by Bai Xueshi.  I didn't want the comments to be tainted by any biases.

The professor liked how the mountains were depicted but had issues with a few things.

>The painting was trite.  The presence of boats was too predictable.  The boats were too detailed.
>The thin ribbon representing the foreground made the painting feel cramped.
>The boats on the left impeded the energy emanating from the mist. That space should be left void.

So I painted another version.  I really have gotten better in pursuing an understanding of criticisms.  I am now willing to retrace my footsteps just to see what differences might show up in the end.

This painting had no boats.

It was deemed too austere now.  It lacked a story.

Time to put the incidentals back in.  I drew my boat on a small piece of paper now.  I could move and attach it to various parts of the painting to find a perfect home before any permanent damage was done by the indelible black ink.

Notice that I had simplified the boat to the bare essentials.

It was suggested that I put a boat to the left of the mountains, in the form suggesting a sail.

The reasoning behind this was a vertical line would harmonize better with the pillars of mountains.  This smudge of a line would not block the flow emanating from the mist either;  basically leaving the void space untouched.

My left brain however was having great difficulty with this arrangement. The painting had all the distinctively recognizable traits of Guilin landscape, and the Li River in particular.  Vessels that float on this waterway included small fishing sampans, bamboo rafts and now convoys of tour boats.  Sailboats just weren't common, unless they were used as props for photo shoots.

It is kind of silly to get hung up on a minute detail.  The smudge could be anything.  It is only a vertical sail if I recognized it as such.

I am my worst enemy.

I am therefore still vacillating on my next move.

Guilin Landscape

I know I'm getting old.

I'm getting forgetful, for sure, but that's not it.  I'm actually reminiscing quite often now, more so than ever before.

I was trying to relive some of  the trips I've taken.  One of which was to Guilin, considered to be the most scenic area in the world.  Somehow I was able to locate the obligatory guide book that I purchased while over there, and started to thumb through that, and fill my head with memories again, augmented by the pictures.

Most people might be impressed with the ribbon like strands of strange hills and mountains, rock pillars and conical lime stones.  For me, it was the bamboo groves.  I simply had no idea that groves of bamboo would look nothing like bamboo.  I used to question and doubt my teachers when they depicted  bamboo as rungs on a ladder.  Now I understand.

I also thought of this painter, Mr. Bai Xueshi (1915-2011) who had painted quite a few Guilin landscapes.  I decided to study his painting expression and tried to emulate it.

I picked the semi-sized Xuan again because I needed to be able to layer on my ink; since I had no idea on how to control and render the different ink tones. The un-sized raw Xuan would be too messy for my tentative brush strokes.

For the groves I would dab in the shape of the plant(s) first and then write in the infrastructures.  I was able to be more expressive this way.

After I was done, I thought the painting looked a little stark and cold, so I warmed it up a bit with my notorious coffee.  The sepia was applied mainly to the edges of the mist, and seemed to impart a little drama.

Then I realized that one of the bamboo seemed to line up with the edge of a mountain in the background and the appearance was a little disconcerting, as if I was looking at a scar.

I am sure this was due to my incompetency.  I was not able to distant the foreground from the background with my ink tone.

There was only one thing to do.  Make the mountain bigger.

After this reconstructive surgery, the scar is gone.