When is a work in progress finished?

More than six months ago I started with an idea by adding modeling paste in the form of vertical textures to represent a build up of drips and when I completed this stage, the surface was painted over with acrylic and fine tuned with a number of glazes in oil. Since then it remained tucked away with the other unfinished canvases, along with the blue painters tape still attached to the sides, despite considering it was a finished painting. Still I could not shake the feeling that there was more that needed to be said, even though having followed through on the original concept on all points.

Three weeks ago while working in the garden, I came across a number of very delicate roots from a birch tree that had invaded a flowerbed I was preparing for spring. Upon closer inspection of these roots, I noticed there fragile structure and felt they resembled arteries and veins and could be used in a painting, considering I still had not dealt with the open-heart surgery in artistic terms. While I continued gardening, the mind was actively involved figuring out ways to work with these wonderful roots, when the painting from months ago came to mind.

A few days later I pulled the canvas, dusted off the sides and experimented with a few strands of roots to see how they would interact with the textures. Once satisfied that this would be the path to take, I proceeded with my usual cautionary attitude, covered the surface with regular gel medium and strategically placed the roots onto the medium. That evening I studied the results, analyzing every aspect of the progress, only to decide to wait until morning, when under natural light I could best judge the next step to be taken.

With a fresh perspective I concluded a few more roots would need to be added, especially one that would rise off the surface and so appear three-dimensional, now that I had planned to introduce tissue paper into the mix and did not wish for it to be just a cover. Once the new pieces of roots had adhered and dried to the surface, it was time to add the buff coloured mulberry tissue paper.

I had used tissue paper before as a top layer in which I tore numerous small openings, allowing the textured surface beneath to poke through; it was this approach I was now embarking upon for this canvas. After covering the surface the artwork was set aside, in order to contemplate on the current process and instead of overnight, the canvas remained set aside for almost two weeks.

Though there were still some technical issues to be resolved the art work in progress finally had achieved a level of completion in which it could be considered finished, now that the relationship of surface texture and the roots all interacted with their new skin. All that needed to be resolved was making the suspended tissue paper stronger, then protecting the entire surface and settling upon a title.

Well that was yesterday . . .

After further serious contemplation I decided one more layer of mulberry tissue was required since too much of the roots dominated the surface visually and I still had not achieved the desired effect.

The process of the second tissue paper layer needed to be applied with greater control since there were areas that did have the desired look and were not to be covered. This would mean tearing up larger sections of tissue paper and adding them as if composing a puzzle until a homogenous look was achieved so that it did not resemble having been patched.

Now that I consider this canvas a finished piece of artwork, I view it not as a success nor a failure, but rather a study in the process of materials and their relationship with one another. For it has spawned numerous ideas on how to improve upon the relationship of the materials used in this artwork when considering another canvas that deals directly with my heart and the surgery I underwent.

Art is a process, nothing more. A process of adding, subtracting, subtracting and adding until the artists hand stops, pulls away and the artist takes a step back.

Now I just need to settle on a title; any suggestions?

Painting 101 — Priming a canvas

One of the plans I had for this blog was not only share an artist’s daily routine and challenges, but the knowledge and experience in the field of painting and photography that I gained over the years. With summer pretty much over and school back in session, I figured it is time to begin conducting classes and start by discussing what I do to prepare a canvas for painting. Though one may think it is rather an elementary process, I have found it to be most important.

You might be asking yourself that I should start with how to stretch a canvas onto the stretcher bars, to this I reply that most individuals purchase ready-made canvases. I also believe, most consumers are convinced that since these canvases have received a factory spray of two coats of Gesso, that no further treatment is necessary and that this is adequate as a base for their painting. I on the other hand feel it is most insufficient as a foundation for ones painting and will go as far as to say, that by not undergoing the ritual of preparing ones canvas, the artist loses out on an important psychological benefit, which binds the artist with the canvas on a spiritual level.

The process of priming a canvas takes a couple of days and with each careful application of Gesso I have found the mind engages in a thought process that is linked to what I am planning to paint. So by approaching the method of priming as if painting, we begin to reap numerous advantages and before one can begin to describe the procedure of these ceremonial steps, I should tell you we need to take into account the style and surface of ones intended painting, as each method employs a different approach and technique.

Before uncapping my bottle of Gesso, I seal off the sides of my canvas with Scotch-Blue painter’s tape so that the sides remain free of any Gesso or paint when working on the canvas. Using painter’s tape is not necessary when working with traditional canvases, only those whose sides are 1¾ inches wide and are not going to be framed.

There are three main surfaces, canvas, linen, and hardwood panels. Linen is the only one whose approach greatly differs, since classical artist mostly uses it with classical subject matters in mind and though hardwood panels have increased in popularity and availability, linen is still considered ‘king’ for the time being.

Linen comes in various grades of weave and so far I have only used ‘fine’. Though it is rather smooth from the start, I discovered that after each application of Gesso, I use either 100 or 150 grit fine grade sandpaper to smooth out any brush stroke marks. When it comes to linen and the traditional subject matter, especially portraiture, the desire is to achieve a glass smooth surface upon which one can lay down thin layers of oil paint and this is only achieved with sanding between each application of Gesso.

Searching for longitude along the coast of the Red Sea,O/C 36 x 36 inches (91.44 X 91.44 cm), 2002

Regardless of the surface, each application of Gesso is applied in the opposite direction of the previous and since there are five layers applied to the surface, the first one is always in the horizontal direction of the paintings final position. Yes, I said five layers of Gesso, especially for cotton canvas and hardwood panels! In regards to linen, I discovered that three appears to be the minimum; four is even better, while five coats gives linen a real sumptuous baby skin feel and good rigidity.

Since I primarily paint abstract subject matter, I find this process of applying Gesso critical just as with classical themes, especially since a number of my paintings consist of multiple thin layers of oil paint mixed with Winsor & Newton's Liquin. This technique has a habit of revealing the surface texture beneath and because oil paint mixed with Liquin removes any traces of brush stokes, the five layers of Gesso allow me to create brush patters that are visible in the final stage, while the paintings surface remains mostly smooth.

A painting to which this technique of Gesso painting has been applied, displays not only a greater amount of brush work then was actually painted in oil or acrylic, but also has a visual depth, especially when the Gesso brush stroke goes in one direction and the paint layer in the opposite direction.

By taking into account the subject matter, the artist is able to control how much of their brush marks will show through the painting, as well as to the pattern and the width of the brush marks. The first layer of Gesso is a little thicker than the others, in order to establish a bond for all other applications. Once this has been accomplished it is time to begin making a spiritual connection with the canvas, if one has not do so already.

Symphony Nr. One — Red DawnO/C 36 x 36 inches (91.44 X 91.44 cm), 2007

Select a brush whose width you feel is appropriate for the results you’re aiming for, then work the arm and hand as if actually painting. Though I have used the very same brush the intended painting is being done in later, I have mostly used a cheap bristle brush purchased from a hardware store, because it leaves a more defined brush trail than a refined artist painting brush.

Painting in Gesso while building up the layers is what connects one to the canvas, it is the sanding, and careful layering of Gesso for a smooth surface that has the same effect in bonding as painting the undercoats.

The reason for my building up several layers of Gesso is all about establishing a surface that is worthy to paint on, regardless of the material. It was only a few years later when I began exploring creating subtle brush marks to compliment the artwork because of my extended use of multiple coats of oil with Liquin and it was during this time when I also noticed a spiritual bonding with the art work taking place. I strongly believe that by approaching the canvas with greater reverence, more of the artist personality becomes imbedded into the artwork.