Evolution of a Heron

Months ago a giant array of feathers visited my backyard. As it descended it momentarily interrupted the rays filtering through my window; that was how it caught my attention.
So I wanted to paint a heron.
The photos tell the story of my attempt. I started to draw out what I recalled as a heron (top photo).
Obviously it looked rather awkward, in fact I had problems deciding what length of its legs should be; hence the two different lengths. As we go down the line, I was trying out the brush stroke styles and the ensuing image takes on a better resemblance of a heron. I have a little bit of practice now. I must point out at this point that my failure in depicting a heron not only lies in the fact that I knew very little about the bird, but I really did no know what I wanted to paint. I was more like a field biologist, wanting desperately to record its features. What grabbed my attention were those seemingly long legs and that gaze.
As the bird frequented my place more often, I realized what made it a heron was not its features, but its poise. The heron's neck seemed to tell all the stories.
With this new understanding I arrived at the third photo attachment.
The outlined drawings (4Th and 5Th photo)are perhaps more "classical"; in the sense that it is how most herons are painted. A smattering of colors, correct proportions to say that this is a heron and not a goose.
Last week the heron stayed for over an hour and was almost oblivious to my presence.
I decided to try my hands again in painting, this time using the brush to paint the forms, rather than relying on lines to define the boundaries. My emphasis now is totally on the neck, which narrates the heron so eloquently. The bottom picture is a record of that encounter. I like the motion and the energy this painting emits.
It seemed raw, but is so honest!

Bi-Fa (pronounced B-Fa)

A reader was a little taken aback by my comments in "What Brush Stroke". The quibble was about my tone of the language. I seemed to suggest that only Chinese Brush Painting pays attention to brush strokes. Whereas I know very little about other brush works, i.e. watercolor, oil, acrylic etc, I do know that Chinese Brush Painting places foremost emphasis on Bi-Fa, the method (discipline) of the writing instrument. Calligraphy and painting is about the same foci, Form and Bi-Fa (brush strokes). In fact, many teachers in Chinese Brush Painting would insist that students "write", and not "paint" the lines.

The Chinese Brush owes its characteristics to a round body with a pointed tip. I am told that there are 8 basic techniques in applying the brush on paper, utilizing not only the tip, but also the belly of the brush. Couple this with various speed, angle, degree of dampness, and whether the point is split or solid, the permutation on the possible ways to reveal with a Chinese Brush is endless.

The picture insert shows the start of a line with a point at the top line. The second line started with a rounded stroke, which is accomplished by travelling the brush in the opposite direction to begin with.





The importance of understanding the basic premise of the brush, is to understand how to take advantage of the brush. In this example I am trying to paint a "line" of various thickness. As I traverse the brush across the Xuan paper, different pressure is exerted, and the brush responded by spreading( or condensing ) its coverage.




Now we shall see how this "line" applies to painting. In the example, I am painting a dragonfly.

The picture on the right shows the result done with this proper technique. The "wing" is a line written with various thickness. It is all about the control of the brush. The wings look natural, and possess "Chi" (energy) and have "Li" (strength)

The picture on the left is done with the wrong technique. I blocked in the color. You might say that I "painted" the wings instead of "writing" the wings. Upon close examination, one can observe the border that I had painted around the outline of the wings, and then filled in with color. Obviously they look like wings, but they are devoid of the "Li" and the "Chi" shown on the other dragonfly. Perhaps it is the small imperceptible irregularities in the brushed shape, versus the static intentionally painted outlines that bestows the energy. I suppose this is the argument about hand tailored suits and hand stamped Ferrari bodies.



One might argue that to the casual patron of the Chinese Brush Painting, what is the big deal. The big deal is whether it matters to you or not. If you accept the premise that Chinese Brush Painting is about Bi-Fa, then you must learn to appreciate that.

You can play a G arpeggio on a violin using all 4 strings, but you can also play the G arpeggio using only the G string. To the untrained ear, they are the same notes. However a violin patron could tell the difference in the timbre of the notes and appreciates the skill level of the performer, lest not forget the composer's expressive intent in having all the notes played on the one string. Same dictum can be applied to the understanding and appreciation of Chinese Brush painting. It is not necessarily a matter of whether my art form is better than yours , but where the emphasis lies.

To Be or Not To Be

In a perfect world, under ideal conditions, we work on a painting, from start to finish, everything as planned, eyes to the heaven, say THANK YOU.

Reality is, we often sway from our original sketch, be it conceptual or physical.
Artistic expression, or any expression for that matter, is a dynamic process. This light might suddenly pop up in our head, or our own tentacles of curiosity might drag us into saying...WHAT IF ?

I usually resort to one of two ways of deciding which path I should follow.

The first one involves a transparent sheet of material... could be a plate of glass, acrylic, overhead projection transparency or a sheet protector. I would then lay this transparency over the spot where I am dubious as to what should be done, and I would do a rough sketch on it. Thus I am able to see the effect of before and after, without ever committing myself.

In this example, I have a painting of 2 fishermen working at night. I was trying to capture the reflection of the lantern and the moon in the water. Where I failed was the composition... I had the fishermen and the Beacon Rock all lined up in a straight line, and this is visually awkward. So I wanted to see if I could cover up the bottom fisherman with silhouettes of tree tops. Well, the jury is still out on this one.



The other trick I use is to just paint it out in plain water. Xuan paper is so absorbent, plain, clear water will leave its' traces, long enough for us to consider and reconsider. Note of caution, the brush should be on the dry side.... just wet enough to leave a mark for us to see the spatial relationship. In this example, I am trying to see if there could be a dialogue of trees and the bridge.

Since any brush mark on Xuan paper is almost indelible, the above tricks are most useful before you attempt on that part of the painting. It does not bode well if your intention was to totally change or substitute something after the fact.

Gesso Tricks

One of the attributes that I can exert some further control in working with my Xuan-Boo, is the matter of white balance/contrast.

Depending on the type of Xuan paper one uses, the "white" ( or blank space ) space is anything but white. While it is not necessary, nor is it critical, for me to display true white, nonetheless I would welcome the opportunity to modify my shades of white if possible. On top of that, my style of Chinese Brush painting requires the help of shading quite a bit.

Work done on Xuan paper loses its vividness once the pigment dries and before it is mounted. The depth of this brilliance is restored once the paper is wet. It is therefore paramount for a Xuan artist to not correct his/her work when the paper has dried up. I always wet my work first before I tidy up my work.

To facilitate in varying the contrast in my work, Xuan-Boo offers an unique avenue.... I can manipulate the gesso. By laying down a differentiated map of gesso, according to my needs, I can accentuate or tone down a particular area or color of the painting. I can actually affect the overall presentation of my mounted Xuan.

Example on the bottom picture shows the dried painting before it was mounted. To the left of that painting is the canvas with my custom gesso. Notice I painted the gesso in a gray scale according to my need.

The picture on the top shows the finished work on Xuan-Boo.
One can observe that the hill on which the gazebo sits on is now more 3 dimensional, thanks to the increased shading offered by the custom gesso. The staircase shows off better because the tree to the left of it is now darker and offers better contrast. The black roof tiles on the house is now more saturated.

Granted all these changes are subtle, but nonetheless palpable. I think it can be a very useful tool to remedy a "flat" painting.

Presenting my Xuan-Boo

As a kid I remembered looking up at the radio that perched on top of our 5 drawer dresser. Each time my dad would put his fingers on one of those big black knobs my breathing would stop for a second. I wanted to catch the magic. The magic of the front glass panel on the radio lighting up. A few minutes later I could hear high pitched whistles rising and ebbing, and then music or voices would be discernible amongst the interference. Turning another black knob left and right brings the program into clear. "Where did the voice come from?" I would ask. "There is a man inside the box!" said my father.

I remembered climbing on a chair, behind the dresser, looking through the perforated backing on the radio, to find that "man". Instead, I found several "light bulbs" inside the box; I could "smell" the heat emanating from these bulbs. As my dad turned the dial knob, I could see a string hooked up to a spring, which was attached to a slider on a track, and a needle moved. The whole thing was so mesmerising.....I can still smell that heat. I can still feel its radiance.

As I grew older, there is a new addition to our family. A much larger cabinet with a tiny gray window in the front. After the black knob was turned, this cabinet gave out a extraterrestrial high frequency hum, and after what seemed like eternity, a gray and white picture appeared. It took a another life time for the picture to get brighter and became "watchable". We had television. Again I somehow managed to get to the back of the cabinet, looking through the perforated backing, to look for the bulbs, and to "smell" the heat. The moments of anticipating an image appearing on the screen, and to have events happening in expected sequences,from the transformers humming, the capacitors charging up, to the flickers, and finally having my senses satisfied, are moments that I still cherish today.


Painting for me is very similar to the experiences I just described. There has to be awe, curiosity and appreciation. I paint because it is not instantaneous, no immediate gratification at play here. There is a process of going from conception to finished work, all the while filled with anticipation.

When we paint on Xuan paper, the overall appearance of the work changes as the work dries. Wetting the finished work restores most of the original saturation, hence mounting Xuan paper on another piece of Xuan paper is mandatory not only to give it stiffness, but to restore the brilliance and color accuracy. After days, sometimes weeks of working on a piece, we then spend hours on affixing it and hanging it up to dry. We really don't know what our work looks like until it is all mounted and dried.

My curiosity led me to explore new ways of mounting. Hence I invented this process/medium I called Xuan-Boo. Along with this new platform comes new challenges and that led to my making my own frames. I kept thinking how turning the knob made the dial move. Perhaps that is why I am not satisfied to just paint, but I want to be involved in as many facets as I can. I enjoy the complete process from laying down the first stroke, to hanging the work up. Today I am presenting you with the first batch of Xuan-Boo.

Of course the end is gratifying too, sometimes. There are some works that I would really hate to part with, because I had invested so much of myself in them.... "Every time you go away, you take a part of me with you!"

Every so often, after the National Anthem has played, and the TV station has signed off, I would still be watching the Station Calibration Wheel. There is nothing to anticipate now,nothing to be awed about, but at least I know the damn set still works.

Student Works from Hong Kong

The Municipal Park in Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon hosted a painting exhibition by students ( grade school and high school ). The paintings have to use the park as a theme.

Most of the nominated works are displayed in page protectors in a binder, therefore difficult to take photographs of. The few that I have posted here are on bulletin boards., i.e. the top 3 mentions.

The ones on top are from high school students, the ones on the bottom are from grade school kids.

Their works are so inspiring that I feel compelled to post them to share with readers of my blog

Crying Fowl

Greetings from Hong Kong !! I thought it would be interesting to lay down a couple of blogs while I am visiting Hong Kong, my birth place. Like a salmon returning to the river where it was born, I have followed the the scent of the water and my instincts and landed here a few days ago; not to mate, but to enrich my life cycle, I hope.

I am happy to say that I escaped the jurists' waste baskets and have gained my place at the Portland Open Studios tours again this year. I have decided that the majority of my new works would be in the Xuan-Boo style, and I have picked the heron as my entry piece.

This painting was done on fibrous Xuan paper. The sizing on this paper is a little bit different ( not as absorbent ) and the color presentation is not as deep and saturated as the normally sized Xuan. However when mated to canvas, the apparent texture it imparts is particularly suitable for our feathery friend here.

I am trying to keep the color scheme really simple here, after all I am not creating a document nor an accurate depiction of the bird. However the characterisation, the mannerism of the bird is vital. My mission is not to let color overrun my pictorial essay. The simple creature is then garnished with a few blades of leaves.

One of the challenges is to describe the feathers without actually drawing them out. I have allowed a controlled bleeding of strokes along the frontal side of the neck to give it that feathered look. A brief outline helps to define the physical structure.

Intersecting leaf blades is a real headache as far as composition and presentation goes in Chinese Brush Painting. I have placed a few drops of water at strategic points of the cluster so that ink disperses to a much larger extent along those fronts. This is not a blemish, but a controlled artistic technique, a la moss dots in many of the traditional works.

Finally, instead of allowing the background to be blank, I used a Mosaic of nondescript patches of colors. I find great similarity between this and a photograph with a shallow depth of field. Perhaps this is an instinct carried over from my hobby in photography.

I must mention that for this piece of work, I stretched my own canvas, and built my own frame for the canvas. My only debate right now is whether to finish the frame in the traditional black color, or to leave it as is, with the gray primer only.