Painting, My Life Metaphor
I’m an introvert. I was always that quiet kid at the back of the class, hoping that nobody would see me or call on me. I was not academic, not athletic or popular. I’m sure that few of my peers from those days even remember me at all…in fact, I know they don’t, since I am one of the few to have never received an invitation to any of the grad reunions, even though my mother had the same phone number up until she passed three years ago. Why am I thinking about the childhood years? I guess, as a teacher, it’s that time of year again, back to school. And that always leads to memories and considering who I am, where I’m at and who I might meet and influence in the coming 10 months. I also start thinking about my process and how to best deliver what I know and love, art, in particular, painting, to a brand new group of students. Although I wasn’t the cool kid or the smart kid I know that I was the “art kid”, the one who understood color, line, shape and space better than any of my schoolmates. Partly innate, partly lovingly taught to me by my mother, I’m never better than when I’m creating, especially with paint.
It’s always my hope that passing on the passion and process to students will stick, allowing them a place to express and communicate. It’s critical to fill the well if that is going to happen, that comes from experience, life and passion. I need moments outside, in nature, time with people I love and new reference points to work from. I encourage my students to dig into those memory vaults for fodder. It’s critical, nothing comes from nothing…”what should I make?”…what do you feel a need to create? It begins with some sort of reference, always. For me this is most often a reference to people, places and moments in time. A trip on the road, a great meal or view…assembled together in a single composition.
I believe in teaching foundation skills and materials handling. I never just hand over materials and say, “make…” Success comes from understanding and then being able to apply, in an original and personal way. I know that I benefitted from strong basics, taught at an early age. Is there some innate skill or understanding? Certainly. I see color very well and composition has always been easy for me to understand but I know I had great teachers and mentors as well. Understanding line and space are two of the first things I teach my new grade 8s. Utilizing space well can make the difference between a good painting and a great one. If there is integrity in the drawing and blocking in of a painting it’s usually destined to be impactful. It isn’t necessary to draw in composition every time but I like line references most of the time. I like to know where I’m going. I like a plan. Plan and execute…
Layers. I teach a layering painting technique. I learned this from my secondary mentor teacher and I pass it on to my classes. It’s so beautiful, building the surface of the canvas, a layer at a time, each one influences the next and the paintings become deep and saturated and complex. Much as our previous experiences and learning influences and add to who we are as people, the canvas surface develops surface complexity and vitality through every layer influencing the one that follows. The key is that first layer, the value wash. If this goes down well everything else falls into place. It acts as a surface conditioner, softening up the surface, making it more pliant, less resistant and ready to accept the layers yet to come. What happens at this stage is critical to the final outcome. I love everything about this watery, soft map of value and foundation color. Watching the vision begin to take shape is so addictive. I love seeing students commit to this stage and their shining, happy faces as their image begins to appear on the blank surface.
Next comes the darkness, the shadows and depth that will be so important as the light starts to build in the image. I ere on the side of more here, versus being too conservative with my shadows. Those deep, sombre places will help the painting have complexity and interest, like the secret, dark places that make all of us individuals. The dark lets the light shine so much more beautifully…what is light without the dark? It’s necessary, though, to keep this layer watered down, a bit sheer, so as to let some of the foundation layer show through. If the dark obliterates all of the color underneath then there is nothing but a black hole…not pretty. Also critical is mixing that black with some color. Shading requires some color to keep it juicy and sparkling. Our eyes love color and are drawn more to shade than pure black, which can appear like a hole in the canvas. To keep it simple with students I usually encourage either warmth, mixing in some red, or a cool, mixing with some blue. This requires understanding color theory, mixing and understanding desired outcomes. This is foundation work that occurs long before students (as well as myself) ever even begin to work on an actual canvas.
Building up color foundation and middle value, exhausting what can happen using the primary color palette and mixing comes next. At this stage hue becomes critical and an understanding of good mixing comes into play. I was taught paint with only these three hues, black and white. My mentor teacher suggested to us that what we could make from mixing would be far more personal and dimensional than just squirting easy made colors out of tubes and onto the canvas. I tend to agree. And, so, this is how I teach painting fondations..lots and lots of mixing samples, experimenting and purposeful play with the materials prior to the actual process of creating a chosen image. This is the “ugly phase”…it’s when the true idea of process can be felt. I engage in the building of the foundation colors and feeling of the surface of the painting, Do I want a thin area, am I going to leave this dark or maybe put in a flat area contrasted with more texture over here? It requires patience and acceptance. It takes time and energy. The light can’t happen without this stage but it’s very tempting to jump too soon, craving what I know, the magic that happens, when the light hits the surface. But I hold back, breathe, work, process…
The light, the light, my favorite time! It sparkles, it shines and brings the work to life. Tinting can be a tricky creature. It’s fussy but fun. White is never white, you see, except on rare occasions and under specific circumstance. Much like black, white relies on hue to give it depth, flavor and personality. A pale yellow hue, almost white but not, juxtaposed next to a very dark red violet, is far more exciting and interesting to the eye than just black/white. It will register as though it’s black and white but it’s so much deeper, so much more interesting and beautiful to the eye. Yes, pure white has it’s uses, and it’s a lovely trick to use it to draw the eye, especially when working with landscape. The moonlight or sunshine in the sky, the reflection of light on water, the life in an individual’s eyes in a portrait, all of these rely on the strategy of pure white to create the illusion of life and light. It is almost always minimal for me, in a painting, however, it is the last thing and applied with a heavier hand, as most pale tints are added to a surface.
I never get tired of this phase. It’s so perfect, infusing the life into a painting. I love how the loaded bristles glide against the canvas. The brush feels different in my hand when it’s really loaded up with all those creamy, soft tints. It is luscious, the viscous product flowing so silkily against the layers that took so much time to build t earlier stages of the work. I love seeing the many layers just beneath the surface. If I really dive into the surface of my own work I can see all the effort and beauty of all the layers that came before this one that is sitting on the surface. I can dive, deep down into the paint and see it all. That’s the payoff, to see all of it, every step, underneath that final layer, is to know pleasure, really and truly. I don’t think I will ever tire of exploring paint and what it can do and how it makes me feel, a creator of something. Honestly, I make, therefore I am.