"Ooooooh, oil paint! That rich, malleable substance
that glides and scumbles across my canvas, that fills my soul with
the succulent color that I must tame to transform my dreams onto
that expectant surface.
But
I am starting at the end of the tale, for that delightful application
of color is the frosting and I have yet to bake the cake upon which
to stroke it.
How
do I start? Where does it all begin? Well, it all starts with an
idea, an image that can suddenly or gradually emerge across my imagination.
And if I do not jot it down quickly, in a sketch hardly worthy of
that name, I may lose the idea entirely. Once I have it captured
so it cannot escape me, the real work starts.
I
work two ways. One is simply and directly; a drawing that I conceive
and make defined enough to transfer onto a canvas. The other is
a through the means of a mixture of photos and digital work I do
in Photoshop on the computer to come up with a very realistic image
of the concept. I want to get the lighting right, the color and
a lot of detail, as the subject matter I paint can be very realistic
and yet quite impossible to make a mock-up of to paint from, as
the concepts can be quite beyond what the physical universe will
permit. Once I have arranged everything into a composition that
fits my concept, I start "painting" the whole image with
different brushes and effects in Photoshop. Having in-depth training
as a fine artist in the Old Master's techniques gives me the capability
to use this knowledge to good effect in these "Digital Paintings",
which I can make look very like an actual physical painting. Then
the adventure becomes how do I get this onto canvas with all the
color, detail and import I need it to have?
I
prepare a canvas or panel to paint on (usually linen on canvas or
panel), with many coats of gesso, sanded to a smooth, but still
toothy texture. I love the look and feel of the hard chalky whiteness,
just waiting for tone and texture to inhabit and transform its blankness
into a changing world of light and shadow, color and concept.
The
drawing or digital image is then transferred onto the canvas. I
then take my charcoal pencil and darken the lines on the canvas
and fill in some tones lightly, then go over that with a thin wash
of gesso to lighten and stabilize the charcoal. This way it will
not affect the paint layers that cover it. Sometimes this gesso
is tinted a neutral color like a faint Burnt Sienna; more often
I keep it white to ensure my colors in the white areas stay bright.
I have taken this from a technique used by the old masters on the
14-1500s.
Now
I rub my hands together, as I am happily anticipating my first washes
of tone and color that will form the under painting. Oh, I can’t
wait! But this can take some study of what under painting colors
I want placed in order to bring out the over painted areas or subdue
them. I won’t get too technical here! But I can describe some
of the colors and paints I use. How can I!
Generally
I use a double primary palette of colors. What that means is a red,
blue and yellow that each have a warm tone, and another red, blue
and yellow that each have a cool tone, so that when mixed, clear
and vibrant hues emerge. One can make just about every other color
from these alone, although I just adore some of the pigments used
through the centuries for their texture, drying qualities and inability
to match any other way. Naples Yellow, Raw Umber, Burnt Sienna,
Ochres, Flake White, Capuut Mortuum, Venetian Red, Indian Yellow
are a few, although one must use some of these delicately and with
knowledge of their capabilities and limitations. And some of the
more recent colors are just luscious if used, also, with the most
judicious and discerning care: Idanthrone Blue, Moonglow, Berlin
Blue, Napthamide Maroon. The names alone are exotic and evocative,
but the colors are so enchanting I want to dive into them and glory
in their subtleties and brilliance. But the workhorse colors of
the double palette are the less elusive and rarified pigments: Ultramarine
Blue, Alizarin Crimson, Lemon Yellow; Pthalo Blue, Cadmium Red Light,
Cadmium Yellow Warm. Greens I mostly mix from these combinations
and only rarely use Viridian and hardly ever Sap Green. I do not
like mud!
As
to medium, I am highly sensitive to chemicals and cannot use any
form of turpentine, so I have developed a way to simply use the
paint straight, in very transparent layers, mostly by a method of
scrubbing with the brush (I’m hell on brushes!) and in subsequent
layers adding small amounts of linseed oil, walnut or safflower
oil, depending upon the colors I am using.
Color
choice, light and shadow, has already been decided upon in my earlier
drawing or digital image. I want to get that all out of the way
so that when I get my itchy fingers on the actual paint, I don’t
have to think about it, I can just pull those strokes and permeate
the canvas with the colors that are mixed and ready on my palette.
I don’t have a set palette; each painting demands its own
key (lightness or darkness of the painting as a whole) and color
mixtures.
And
each painting at some point becomes a rebel: resisting, opposing,
defying my attempts to tame it into submission to my original intent.
Yes, there is always that dreaded point in time waiting to be revealed
somewhere on that canvas from the instant I begin my new masterpiece.
I know it’s there to rear its insurgent head at some unwanted
and crucial juncture. This is my moment of crises! I must fight
back, make myself persevere, quell this mutiny of matter and materials
and make them bend to my will. It’s the same in life, isn’t
it? In applying oneself to any project, there comes that moment
when the whole universe seems engineered to screw you up. And it
will, if you let it! Don’t let it! Keep going! I have to say
this to myself over and again until I finally get to the point where
things have started to turn around, and lo! It’s begins to
work! It’s getting there, more and more, emerging, closer
and closer until each application of tone and color, glaze and scumble
becomes that delicious frosting I was speaking of earlier. Yummy,
delectable! And even those surprises that one hadn’t counted
on are materializing into a more complete and considered realization
of my original concept – sometimes even better!
Now
I refine, infuse, imbue my work with all the life and love within
me that this painting needs to pervade the viewer when he lights
upon it for the first time, and then every time. It must saturate
the senses and permeate the mind, but effortlessly and joyfully.
Sometimes wistfully.
I
want to instill within my viewer a moment of connection, a moment
of truth, or beauty, of a world where one can consider things in
a new or fun or momentous way. And this is a something that can
be kept, to experience again and again: An infinity of time brushed
across a one-dimensional plane, a single painting set to survive
for a thousand years.
And
that, actually, is the real frosting, the most delicious and delightful
of all — your pleasure!"
Marcelle La
Cour
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