Atmosphere 2.0

I decide to continue my quest to describe atmosphere with my brush and ink.

I am using the same kind of paper, a semi-sized Xuan.  I am sticking with the basic construct of the composition.  What I have learned from the last exercise is that my technique of using a water brush along with an ink brush seemed a little monotonous.  I am looking for more variations, not only in ink tones but especially in shapes.

I am starting a new experiment by loading the tip of my soaking wet brush with saturated ink and rely on the natural depletion of the brush and the natural dispersion of the ink to effect the change of tonal values.  

Notice that I'm holding my brush flat with the inked tip pointing towards myself.  Thus the subsequent brushstroke will have the dark ink contrasting with the light portion of the previous brushstroke.  This is how I am going to improve on my rather banal brushstrokes from the previous painting.  I find this to be a more expressive method of defining shape and tone, for my purposes anyways.

In short, I am using the dark values of my brush to define and give shape to the voids.  I learned this trick during my days of doing floral Chinese painting.  The example below shows how the dark color of the leaves are used to describe the serrated petals of the flower.

I am glad I am able to recall this time-tested method of painting.  It definitely makes my brushstrokes more lively.  I can actually design the body and shape of my clouds now. 

As I am taking a break from the current painting, my eyes wander to the one I finished a couple of weeks ago, the one that I think looks a bid drab.  Could I change the character of the painting by cropping it?

I eliminated the upper portion of that painting.  The clouds seemed trite and were distracting from the story.  I am liking this new version now.  It is menacing, to say the least.  Not drab anymore.  It packs a punch now.

What if I crop the yet unfinished painting that I'm working on now?

It certainly does not impart the same flavor as the last one.  It needs a lot of work.  I better continue with the painting and see where it leads me.

For the sky on the right side of my painting I shall give the clouds a more compact look, to contrast with the big fat cumulous clouds on the left.

I mean these are still lumpy, but they are more layered.  Almost like dough folding over themselves when being kneaded.  

Of course I still need cloud patches that retain all the tonal values, but garnished with the silver lining. I can't have everything in high contrast.  A few well-placed and diffused dark areas add to the credibility that these are indeed clouds.

I'll be remiss if I don't address the dark bar at the bottom of my painting.  My reason to include that is purely to give anchor to the painting.  Frankly I have problem presenting a story with just clouds.  My vocabulary is rather limited and I do not have the eloquence.  

To avoid presenting the dark strip as dead weight, I used my alum solution to write a few wriggly lines. My intention is to let the alum solution act as a sizing agent, thus help to block out being covered up by subsequent ink brushstrokes.

So how do I account for such void spaces.  

That's up to the viewer.  

For me, I am reminded of waves cresting. 

Under an ominous, boiling sky.

Atmosphere

I viewed a video clip of the SpaceX Starship on a return trip back to earth, re-entering the atmospheric bubble that encases our planet earth.  As it passed through the seemingly invisible air, there was enough friction generated between the Starship and air molecules to produce heat, which was intense enough to make it glow.  I was reminded of glowing crucible from a furnace in my chemistry lab.  Absolutely mesmerizing. 

It is difficult for me to fathom that the invisible air that we breathe everyday is capable of causing such searing heat.  The air looks and feels so innocuous. Of course don't tell that to anyone who has weathered a hurricane, or typhoon in my case.  Or anyone who has gone through severe turbulence during a flight.  Water, we can see and respect but we seem to take air for granted.

An acclaimed quote from my fellow countryman Bruce Lee is "be like water".  I am fascinated by water.  I admire and fear water simultaneously.  The fleeting shimmer, the incessant swells. From the trickling stream to the rhythmic crashes of waves.  Yet I'm not keen to ford every stream because I'm afraid of drowning, even for shallow water.  Incredibly I am a water-sign, I'm told. 

I've done quite a few paintings with a water theme.  Any student of Chinese brush landscape painting has to learn how to paint mountains and water.  The literal translation of 山水畫 is paintings of mountains and water.  Water and air are both fluids by definition; a shapeless substance that moves freely and adopt the shape of its container.  So how do I paint air?

Perhaps I could submit a huge blank piece of Xuan and label it "AIR".  Perhaps some avant-garde gallery would sponsor my brilliant piece of art and it will draw an audience of arms-folding admirers.  Wink. Wink. 

It dawned on me that I don't paint water per se, but the features of it.  The pounding waves, the tremulous ripples.  So I could paint air by it's features, the floating clouds, the veiling mists.  

This new project should offer me a chance for some experimentation.  How to capture the fleeting atmospheric phenomena.  

I'm choosing a semi-sized Xuan for my tinkering.  I wish to benefit from the ability of ink to disperse somewhat before getting fully absorbed into the fibers.  I am hoping that this property will help to bring out the notion of transition, both figuratively and literally. 

I am using two brushes.  One with dark ink, the other just water.  My gist is to write an ink track and immediately apply water to the edges to modify the track and allow the ink to diffuse and disperse under the guidance of the water brush.  My rationale is clouds have dark and bright sides, sometimes defined by bright sharp edges; depending on where the sun is.  I wonder if this is where the term "silver lining" came from. The dark and light sides are not dissimilar to painting lobes of a hill or mountain.  The lobes of clouds are obviously less rigid and more amorphous unless the clouds are those of the anvil thunder clouds variety.  Anyways this is like a game to me.  A game that has a few tenets, but one can wink it most of the time.  

A line is written with ink, and modified with a water brush as shown in the next insert

Subsequent "lines" are written and modified to represent layers of clouds,

Repeating this process to build my atmospheric features,

Here is where I call it quits, enough playing for now.

Gone like a yellow crane

"去如黃鶴 "  for those of you who doesn't read Chinese, that means "Gone like a yellow crane".

Legend has it that some scholar was visited by a crane-riding fairy.  The fairy and the crane departed after a few drinks and no trace could be found of the encounter.  Thus the phrase "gone like a yellow crane" suggests something or someone is gone for good and never coming back.  

Sometime ago I painted a rather dark piece, a figure head with eyes closed and an enigmatic expression on the face.  There were also nondescript people in the background, seemingly ready to vacate the scene in unison.

It was a setting of emptiness, departure, abandonment. 

I don't know why I had painted it the way I did.  I just remembered that I wasn't feeling happy, per se.  I've attached the labels of "Zen" or "Meditation" to the painting, but somehow these labels don't really address my feelings when I painted it.  I just employed the catch words of "Zen", "Meditation" to satisfy the masses.  Pretty stereotypical or perhaps even fashionable for some Asian fellow to exploit or appropriate eastern ideals of Zen and Meditation, right?

Perhaps it is a personality flaw of mine.  I like to paint when I'm not feeling "right".  I like to paint when I am upset.  I like to paint in cramped quarters.  I like to paint when surrounded by noise.  Only then can I translate the swells in my thoughts into something perhaps only I can comprehend. 

I painted this female drinking by herself, her face manifesting an introspective and less than jovial expression.  Perhaps touched by the music from the guitar and lyrics from the singer. 

Could it be that I was painting myself in that picture.  I was in an introspective and less than jovial space myself when this painting was done.

Anyways one day out of the blue I added a crane to my dark painting.  Flying away from the scene.  Right away I knew that was the missing link.  That had always been the story I was trying to narrate.

Aside from being the topic of a legend, the yellow crane happens to be included in the lines of a famous poem.  

I am going to showcase just the two pertinent lines from this poem.  It is difficult for me to type the whole poem in Chinese because I don't seem to be able to learn to type Chinese on my keyboard, despite my younger brother's relentless efforts.

黃鶴一去不復返

白雲千載空悠悠

My English translation is:

The yellow crane has left, never returning,

All is left are white clouds, emptiness, for millenniums.

I felt so much better after I added the missing crane to my painting.  My painting had finally unveiled its true meaning.

I had wanted to write those two verses onto the painting but I didn't feel the urge at the time.

I was at a happy place, at the time.  I was too busy being a narcissist, enjoying myself.

Well today is one of those days that my emotions get the better of me.  My buddy whom I've known for almost 5 decades is now taking donepezil, a medication used for treating cognitive issues by preserving the neurotransmitter acetylcholine.  I desperately need something positive to steer me into the clear.

There is no better time than now to finish my painting by putting down the calligraphy.  I have always confessed that my calligraphy leaves a lot to be desired.  In order to not deface my painting, I need to make an effort to practice my calligraphy first.  People might frown on me for needing to practice for calligraphy before I pen, or brush in this case, something.   I don't see them frown on musicians rehearsing before a concert.  

One of my go tos is a fa tie that transcribes a thousand characters into different font styles 

Mine happens to include 6 different fonts,

So I start to practice on the two verses of the poem that I alluded,

All that culminates in this

I am in a good place, again.  For now.  Such a catharsis.  I have words to guide me now, GPS for my thoughts.

This all seem anecdotal I am sure.  To me it's more like the chicken and the egg argument.  We paint to express something inside of us, but that "something" might not be lucid in the beginning.

I'm ready for my vision.

The Chinese round brush continued

I've alluded to how and why the Chinese round brush is more than a mark making instrument.  Like almost all utility tools, it sometimes attracts the perversions of fame over function.  I am ashamed to admit that I have fallen victim to the pursuit of the "best" brush; brushes that are handcrafted in limited quantities by supposedly "famous" artisans.  The lure is to manufacture a want.  Wanting a rare product, a unique way of packaging the brush hair, a brush that looks and writes like no others.  I am reminded of automobiles.  Some cars cost over a million dollars.  Yes they are certainly fine pieces of machinery and they go fast but for the average driver they are just symbols of conspicuous consumption.  I am not convinced that owners of such cars are necessarily better drivers.  Do they even use the million dollar car as transportation or as a trophy in their garage.  Thus I am an average painter and I fail to appreciate the virtue of these fine rare brushes.  I just thought rare brushes could buy me status.  What was I thinking.

Anyways I am not here to vent, just because I paid an exorbitant price for a mediocre product.  I am trying to expand on how the brush is used in painting.

I've loaded just the tip of a wet brush with ink, holding it flat on the paper with the tip pointing towards me. Nudging the brush in small arcs I can depict floral petals

If more attention was paid to the voids and the separation between the petals, this flower head could be more wholesome.  But you get the gist of it.

Canada geese is a favorite subject of mine.  The white band just behind its eye on the neck is a distinct identifier.  It is a simple matter of writing the beak, the top of the head and the neck, leaving a gap at the top of the neck.

Holding the brush side tip, write the body of the bird.  I then use a clean wet brush to draw out the ink to the breast and tail area.

This one is done on inkjet photo paper, just for the heck of it.  ( INK-jet, does anyone get the correlation?)

I'll illustrate the different nuances between a center tip and side tip brushstroke.  The following is a crab leg done with side tip brush.  The tip of the brush is loaded with ink so one can see the trek of the brush tip.

In the next example, the image of the left is done with center tip brush.  The ink tone is even across the width of the leg.  The one on the right is done with side tip brush.  

The one on the left feels sturdy and proper whereas the one on the right is more playful, with varying widths and ink tones.

The following is an example of a person using the wrong edge of the brush in painting (writing) the crab legs.  I am drawing your attention to the two crabs on the upper left corner of the insert.  It's not like the person doesn't know how to use the brush, but due to whatever lapses he throws it out of the window. The result is wiry lines that resemble nothing of the exoskeleton of legs of a crab. 

Using side tip brush, writing a short arc

When a succession of such segments are put together, a shrimp is bone.

Starting with three simple lines, center tip, we have the basic construct of the leg of an insect.

Using a side tip brushstroke, write the wings and thorax and head of the insect

Write lines for body and whiskers etc. using center tip brushstroke,  we have a complete insect with just a few simple brushstrokes.

Three  simple side tip nudges become the body of a frog

Add limbs to complete the painting

Here is an example of a frog on a lily pad employing these simple brushstrokes

This writing is not meant as a tutorial for painting.  There are different ways to skin a cat.  The crux of the matter is how to use the Chinese round brush properly to get the results we want.  As the round brush does not come with an edge, only a tip.  The blog hopes to emphasize the importance of knowing the aesthetic difference between a center tip and side tip brushstroke, and allow them to be our allies. 

Poetry by Wang Zhihuan (王之渙)

I'm not a scholar, literary or otherwise.

My Caucasian friends are bantering with me, each insisting our form of poetry is better and reaches deeper depths in our emotional abyss.  Neither my friends nor I are what one would consider scholars, so the argument is just a way to bond, strangely enough.  One thing that often rubs me the wrong way is however that they always use the term Haiku generically.  They call any Asian poetry Haiku and they think Chinese poetry is the same as Haiku. Thus their perspective is to compare western poetry to Haiku, which I know nothing about.  Sure lemurs and humans are all primates, but they really are not the same animal, right?  

Enough said. 

That leads me to thumb through my Tang Poetry 300, which is the only text book from my primary school days that is still relevant.  Granted I was too young to be pulled in by meanings of these poetries, but with age and life experiences I am able to distill more from the verses.  

I revisited a poem by Wang Zhihuan, a Tang Dynasty poet.

白日依山盡  黃诃入海流  欲窮千里目  更上一層樓   

"The sun disappears behind the hills, the yellow river flows to the sea.  If the wish is to see for a thousand miles, one needs to climb another floor."

The first two line describes the setting.  One creates the imagery of a a river, hills, disappearing sun and distance.  The next two verses however addresses a wish, a yearning, a philosophy.  This is when the poet urges us to use our own imagination, based on the framework that he has provided.  In fact the last two verses were extremely popular when I was a kid signing graduation year-books.  They are meant to inspire and encourage a person to reach for loftier heights, set bigger goals.  

I have this painting that's been pinned on my wall and I deem it incomplete.  It's missing something.  This poem somehow fits the narrative of my painting, with a few modifications of the painting, that is.

I altered the sky around where the sun would set to denote an impending evening, without revealing the actual sun.  As in poetry, the conjured emotion is more persuasive than the terse words.  

I increased the dark tone on the rock formations, especially around the bottom, to add perspective and to say that this is positioned directly against the light.  Thus this area should assume the darkest value.

Conversely I let the exposed rock formation from across the river assume a more orange-reddish hue, bathing in the setting sunlight.  The golden hour!

The problem with me is I often get carried away.  "Quit when you're ahead" was never my mantra.  The pedantic and pretentious me decided that I should write Wang's poem onto the newly modified painting, just so that I can satisfy the 3 absolutes; painting, poetry and calligraphy.

Chinese brush calligraphy is the bane of my existence, and to make matter worse, I opted for an easy way out.  Instead of using a proper Chinese round brush, I used a fountain-brush, one that has nylon bristles and an ink cartridge.

I can tell you now that this is not meant for calligraphy.  Put it that way, I'm not good enough to control this contraption to make it a calligraphic instrument.  It seems like this modern invention would only respond to my pressing but not lifting.   Not much modulations in the brushstrokes that I can see.  I seem to be nudging all the way.  Perhaps I had subconsciously planned to use this as an excuse all along.  

Fortunately this was all fun and game for me.  My ego wouldn't be hurt if someone disapproves my irreverence.  I thought I was being smart to use a gadget like a fountain brush and I didn't know better to not try it.  

At least I know now.  

Live and learn. 

When I wet mounted this piece, I used a single weight Xuan as my backing.  Apparently it was too thin and no match for the forces generated by the drying and shrinking paper and tears showed up.  Stress fractures!

I don't know if this has to do with the fact that we are having a hot day today.  92 degrees F outside and the room thermometer here registers 80 degrees.  Perhaps the evaporation was too much, too fast?  I've been told to not do any wet mounting in a hot room.  Could this be the reason?  This is something I need to keep an eye on in the future.

The Chinese round brush, more than a mark making instrument

I grew up in the era when composition class required the use of writing with a Chinese brush and ink.  The brush might as well be a piece of twig for me.  Something that I could leave a legible mark on my exercise book so that my teacher could read and grade my work.  In those formative days, I was not fortunate enough to receive the mentorship of how to properly use a brush.  Sure the teachers showed the different roots of the Chinese character and there were Fa Tie ( books of model letter, model character) for us to copy during penmanship classes, but we did not receive individual guidance.  Perhaps the class size was too big.

A brand new Chinese brush has its hair glued together to form a point and is rather stiff.  The new brush is meant to be soaked in water to dissolve the glue such that the hair is separated to its individual strands.  The scattered and spread out hairs would come back to a point after wetting with water or ink; when surface tension works its wonders.

The new brush is on the left and a used brush is in the middle.  The brush on the right shows how the hairs would come back to a point when wet.

Imagine having a wet wad of hair at the end of a thin stick and I was suppose to wield that and write thin lines with that floppy mess?  No way!

My answer to that was to not soak the new brush in water.  I would just jam the tip of the new brush onto the desk, such that the first few millimeters of hair separates, and I would write with that very limited "point".  Obviously that negated all the virtues bestowed by a Chinese round brush.  My lines were all thin and even.  Neat!

As the act of writing continued, the bristles of the brush became more scattered.  Ink and water had crept up to the belly part of the brush and was dissolving the glue.  The writing process became more labored. I became more frustrated.  My lines were getting fatter and irregular.  Fortunately I never washed my brush after each writing.  The ink would dry on the brush and it became stiff again.  

I wonder how many of us have the same story to tell.

I might as well be using a ballpoint pen, but this was before ballpoint pens were invented.  Yes, I'm that old!

It wasn't until I was in secondary school when Chinese Brush painting was part of the curriculum that I realized the wonders of the Chinese brush.  I basically had to re-learn everything about the brush.  All that became more succinct when I started to learn brush calligraphy in earnest.  It became clear to me why people say that calligraphy is the foundation of brush painting.  It's all about the brush, and the brush is more than a mark making instrument.

In calligraphy class, we were told to pay attention to the tip of the brush.  As the brush traverses the paper to write a line, the tip could be placed at the center of the line, hence the center-tip brushstroke. The brush tip is in line with the direction of travel of the brush.  If the tip however is pointing at any angle other than the direction of the travel, then the nab of the brush is basically dragging along and not in the orientation of the travel and that describes the side-tip brushstroke.

To illustrate the cumbersome statements above, I am write two lines with a brush that has the dark ink on the tip of the brush only.  Obviously the ink is going to migrate to the sides and belly of the brush, but the brush tip should leave the darkest mark on paper.

Hence the top line is done with the center-tip brushstroke.  Dark ink is at the center at the start of the brushstroke and gets fainter as the brush travels.  The center white line is actually the mark left by the tip of the brush as the ink on the tip depletes and only water remains.  This brings up the special quality of the Xuan paper we use for our paintings.  It registers everything from our brushstroke.

The line on the bottom shows ink at the start, but loaded to the top and continues to load up on the top margin of the line.  This is due to the position of the brush tip, which is pointed towards the top of the paper as the brush is dragged to the right.  In essence the brush tip is at a 90 degree angle to the line of travel.  Again the void space in the brushstroke represents the part of the brush where ink is depleted.

Certain fonts in Chinese calligraphy mandates the use of strict center-tip brushstrokes, whereas others require both center-tip and side-tip brushstrokes.  The accomplishment and hubris  ( or lack of ) a calligrapher depends on the correct application of the brushstrokes.  When one looks at a piece of Chinese calligraphy, each brushstroke encompasses different widths, shapes, bends and corners. and yet they are all discrete brushstrokes.  A stick or twig certainly can't do that. They would have to go back and fill in to modify the shape of the markings. 

When we say "we write a painting", we mean exactly that.  We use center-tip and side-tip brushstrokes to achieve the shapes and lines of objects.  A prime example would be paintings of bamboo.

Bamboo leaves are nothing but lines.  The entire shape of the bamboo leave, or stem, is done by discrete brushstrokes and not by filling in the space as one would normally associate with painting.  Again, using my "tip-loaded-only" brush, I have "written" the following "painting",

The 3 bamboo leaves on the left are center-tip brushstrokes and the one on the right is side-tip.  An easy way to tell is by look for the points at the start of the brushstroke.  If the point is in the middle, it is likely center-tip.  If the point in at a corner, then the brushstroke is side-tip.

In the example above, C denotes center-tip brushstroke, and S is for side-tip brushstrokes.  The arrows point to the line (edge) left by the tip of the ink-loaded brush tip.  One can see the point at the start of the brushstroke is at the corner, and the brushstroke has ink loaded on one side only.

A painting often requires both kinds of brushstrokes to make it interesting and harmonious.  

The following is a pointing of bamboo leaves done mostly with center-tip brushstrokes

Here is an example of one done mostly with side-tip brushstrokes (you can see the start of the brushstroke is a flat end, feels like putty knife)

Hopefully you can feel the different nuances presented by the two examples above.  Generally speaking, in paintings anyways, center-tip brushstrokes can be so "proper" that they become dry and monotonous.  Side-tip brushstrokes are more rambunctious and spirited, but can get away from you really easily.  

Speaking of being rambunctious, here is an example of just one bamboo leaf, done in the side-tip brushstroke:

The painting is the work of the famous Ling-nan style Master Chao Shao-An.

Which one do you prefer?  Do you paint (write) with those distinctions in mind?

Using the side-tip brushstroke, I "wrote" two half-circles.  I loaded the brush tip only with ink to better show the track of the tip.

I then garnished my half circles with some lines and now we have an insect.

These are all discrete brushstrokes but I am making a case of the character of the brushstrokes.  The legs on the left side of the insect were done center-tip.  The ones on the right were done in side-tip brushstroke, where I could modulate the shape of the line with greater ease.  Perhaps this is not too evident due to the small size of the brushstroke, but hopefully one can at least surmise that the legs on the right are more interesting and life-like.

Here's another example of how simple written lines and appropriate brushstrokes can represent an insect in this case.  This is what  "writing" a painting means.

When we mix center-tip and side-tip brushstrokes, we can transform simple lines in a fish.  I am hoping that one could easily tell that the pectoral fins are definitely side-tip brushstrokes.

Just for fun, I am including the following photo is see if one can distinguish the two different brushstrokes

In painting, we would use the entire nap of the brush.  We use the tip, the side and the belly.  We hold the brush vertical, leaning, or even rolling flat.  I suppose the side-tip brushstroke is more exaggerated and expansive in brush painting.

Again using a tip-loaded brush with ink, side-tip brushstrokes describe the petals of a flower.

When the brush is totally flat on the paper, the with judicious positioning of the ink-loaded tip, we can see how a variegated petal or leaf can be described.

I hope to plead my case that the Chinese round brush is not just a tool for mark making, or dabbing.  The proper use of the brush demands knowledge, and most of all, practice.  If we fail to see it as a calligraphy instrument first, then we have minimized its importance in the realm of Chinese paintings.