Showing posts with label technique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technique. Show all posts

Friday, 14 March 2014

Zen and the art of tempera medium

Magic potion ingredients
Why is adding a layer of egg-tempera medium over the under-painting not only a practical, but also a philosophical and spiritual experience?

... because, having taken to doing my underpaintings using Chroma Atelier interactive acrylic, to avoid the extended drying times of oil glazes in this benighted climate, (I have waxed unlyrical before about the fact that an oil glaze that took a couple of hours to dry when I was living under the Spanish sun now takes a couple of weeks in a more liberally humid mid-Wales), it is necessary to prepare the surface in a suitable way to get the final painting in oils to actually stick, without it embarrassingly parting company with the canvas at a sensitive stage of my career.

Egg-tempera medium is an emulsion, which is to say it contains both oil and water bound together precariously in a more or less stable mixture by the addition of a binder - in this case a beaten egg. I quickly brush on a quick even layer over the completed acrylic underpainting, to which it sticks nicely on account of being water based, and when it's dry it makes the perfect base on which to begin painting in oils, to which it sticks nicely on account of the varnish component, which contains resin and turpentine.

A practical measure then, for convenience's sake, but also a gateway from one realm to another. It marks a transition from the modern technological water-based world of working with acrylics to a realm of working deeply rooted in ancient traditions - the alchemical  discipline of oils and tempera.  I leave behind the modern and embrace the world of Leonardo and Michaelangelo.

Not only a gateway, but a transformational passage - the early stages of the painting are a technical and mechanical process, optically mixing glazes of primary colours masked by opaque white, carefully blalncing the textures of the different layers to create a 'monochrome' ground which is made, on closer inspection, of carefully controlled rainbow colours. At this stage I can still see distinctly and separately every constituent part of the process up to that point, like a complex technical drawing.  When the tempera medium is applied, however, it is a unifying force, binding all that has gone before into a single surface, a blank canvas that is no longer blank, ready for alchemical transformation.

From this point, anything can happen.

Recipe for egg-tempera medium (adapted from a recipe given by Ernst Fuchs):

1 egg
Dammar varnish (I use Kremer Pigmente no. 79300)
Refined linseed oil
De-ionised water

  1. Break the egg into a ramekin and with the tines of a fork, remove the amniotic sac from around the yolk.
  2. Put the egg into a small jar, screw on the lid and shake until the yolk and white are completely mixed.
  3. Add an equal quantity of dammar varnish and a few drops of linseed oil.
  4. Seal and mix again.
  5. Double the volume with distilled/deionised water.
  6. Mix for a last time.
The sealed jar will keep for up to 2 months in the regfrigerator. A slight smell of rotten eggs is nothing to worry about as the turpentine acts as a preservative. Discard if it gets too bad or if it curdles to the point where it can't be remixed to a smooth emulsion by vigorously shaking to jar.


Monday, 24 June 2013

Taking it to the next stage .... and the next ...

"Everything in the Garden was Beautiful" (work in progress) : Acrylics on canvas : 24" x 24"
Copyright © 2013 by Martin Herbert

So ... this is actually really three stages further on from the last posting. I meant to take another photo in between before I started applying colour to the background, but I forgot. Similar to the last (yellow) stage though, I glazed over the whole thing with 2 different blues (cerulean and ultramarine), both with quite a lot of mixing white, until I reached what I thought was a good balance of colours - and suddenly we have rainbows! The aim is to get an overall 'grisaille' effect - i.e. a grey monochrome underpainting, which is actually made up of lots of different colours that look grey from a distance ('optical' greys).  I then lifted up the brightest highlight areas with titanium (i.e. opaque) white.  Kind of like turning up the contrast in Photoshop, only it takes a whole day rather than 2 seconds!

Of course I added another layer of white flowers at this point. Can't have too many flowers ....

Lastly, I brushed over the background areas one by one with plain water, and floated some bright colours in over the flowers, using the acrylic like watercolour.  Just applied the hair-dryer and am now hoping the surface is tough enough for me to glaze over the background areas with some dark blue and green to finish them off (for the moment at least).

Onward ...!

Thursday, 20 June 2013

Painting - first stage done. Work in progress.

"Everything in the Garden was Beautiful" (work in progress) : 24" x 24" : Acrylic on canvas : Copyright © 2013 by Martin Herbert

The first stage of painting complete. I sealed the surface of the drawing with a couple of coats of matt acrylic medium. (This was the point at which I didn't really know that the whole thing was going to work - it could have just dissolved the whole surface and I would have lost 2 weeks work!). Then I covered the whole thing with 2 successive transparent yellow glazes, one in lemon yellow and one in deep cadmium with a bit of mixing white. I blotted off some colour at each stage with a rag to get in a bit of texture and depth. Once that was all dry I washed a very thin veil of titanium white over everything. That makes the next stage highlights easier to feather and blend.

After preparing the surface as above I worked on reinforcing all the highlighted areas in titanium white, improving the '3D' modelling of the shapes and adding specular highlights. This process gets continued in the next stage, but hopefully I'm beginning to get a bit of depth appearing. At this stage the colour ranges from white through various shades of yellow and orange to the dark red / terracotta background which is still evident in some areas. That last is important - I don't want the red to get completely obscured since it's going to make an interesting violet (I hope!) when combined with the blue glaze that goes on next ...

Oh, and I added a few more flowers for luck.

All the way through here I'm using ordinary Windsor & Newton Finity & Galleria acrylics, mixed with Daler-Rowney System 3 glaze medium for the transparent colour glazes. I'll be getting on to the fancy new Atelier Interactive acrylics in the latter stages.

Today I'm concentrating on getting the next colour glazes onto the surface - that's where the magic happens, I hope! While coats are drying I'm off to the builder's merchant to pick up wood for the custom frame...

Monday, 18 July 2011

On Artistic Practice - an essay

Well, my first pass at an 'Artist Statement' having produced predictable pretentious waffle (see here), I have unavoidably been forced to think more about art and, basically, What It's All About.  The result is the following essay on artistic practice, goals and technique, and hopefully I will get enough from it to construct a more digestible and concise definition of what it is I do......

On Artistic Practice.

My goal as an artist is to make pictures which capture people's attention - something which when they see it from across the room or out of the corner of their eye will make them say "Hey, what was that?" and go back for a closer look.  Something which gives them a feeling that something has changed in their lives, although they may not be able to formulate exactly what. Something, in other words, which makes people think.

Why do this?  Because, as artists, we can.  In the same way in which a great writer can change people's lives, if we are serious about our art, we should also be able to catalyze change.  When we sit down in front of a blank canvas (or a wall, a lump of clay, a raw stone, or a computer screen) we are God.  We can create whatever we want, and if we are good enough; 'in the zone' or 'in flow', we can make people believe in our creation.  If we have the ability to do it, then perhaps we also have the obligation to do it.

In my own case, I try to create something which will make a change in people, to 'make my mark' (for that, of course, is what artists do), by searching for combinations of shape, colour, form and texture which evoke a subliminal emotional response in the viewer. My goal is for someone to look a picture and feel that it 'resonates', that it 'strikes a chord' (note how we use expressions for visual art which echo the impressions we get from music - both are visceral experiences).  They need not understand exactly why it gives them that feeling - my goal is to work on the archetypal level, so that the viewer cannot help but respond in a certain way to what they are seeing.

The content of my art sometimes incorporates symbols which are widely recognisable (and therefore likely to be reacted to) by the majority of people.  Clouds symbolise flights of the imagination and dreams.  Flowers are for springtime and rebirth. Baroque carving evokes a feeling of luxury, exclusivity - even spirituality, and archaic lettering for nostalgia and a sense of the presence of the past.  More than this, though, I try to allow my own intuition to select shapes, forms and colour combinations which resonate on a more subtle level - that which gives me a particular feeling, evokes a particular emotion, I hope will have the same effect on someone viewing the picture. Often the meaning of an image only becomes apparent to me well after I have created it - at the time of creation it is simply in the process of becoming, and the act of facilitating that process can be conscious, unconscious and subconscious, in any combination.

"Me da la Cabeza de Juan Bautista" : Oils & egg-tempera on canvas : 97 x 55 cm
Copyright © 2010 by Martin Herbert
Technique is an important part of my practice.  When trying to evoke an emotional response, the response is unavoidably affected by the medium and execution of the painting.  There are many traditional ways in which the viewer is affected indirectly by the technique and materials used.  As an art-viewing collective we may react differently to a painting in acrylics to one in oils (the medium is more modern and plastic, so the piece may not be as worthy).  We react differently to a drawing in pencil to one in a child's crayons.  We certainly react differently to a painting done on a computer than we do to one done entirely in traditional media.  In general, if the art is representational, we react 'better' to a piece which is painted with a high degree of technical skill than we do to one which is 'messy', regardless of the message.  If the art is more 'emotional' in content, then we may consider a loose ('messy'!) expressionist style a good thing as a painstaking meticulous technique might smack of emotional detachment.  If the piece is 'industrial' in character, then digital art is no bad thing.

"A Thing of Hair and Feathers" : Ink & sanguine pencil on tempera-washed paper :
11" x 14" : Copyright © 2010 by Martin Herbert
One thing I try to do in painting is to mix the techniques - to use media which are unexpected and unpredictable for the particular subject in question.  I use digital, computer-generated, mathematically based shapes to make metamorphosing organic objects reminiscent of plants, seeds and microscopic sea creatures.  I use traditional 'old-master' oil and tempera media to make paintings which also contain whimsical references in archaic typefaces.  Meticulous representational work is used to portray the fantastic in the manner of the Visionary and Symbolist schools, reminiscent of Ernst Fuch´s 'Fantastic Realism'.  Bringing an ironic, fantastical or mythical (or archetypal) element into a superficially realistic painting, or using a computer to generate something which looks like an 18th century engraving, but one so complex it could not have been traced by hand, provides that slightly unsettling element which (see above) makes the viewer say "Hey, what was that?", and go back for another look.

"The Last Rabbit" : Oil on canvas, 2000 : Mark Ryden
Please visit the artist's website for more
It is that process of unsettling the viewer, as well, which provides the element of emotional connection which may help to change the viewer's thought processes more profoundly in the moment off viewing.  If we link the act of 'unsettling' with a subject which is in itself emotionally engaging then the connection felt by the viewer becomes deeper.  It is for this reason that 'lowbrow' art, a recent growing art movement, is so successful.  It uses realistic depictions of 'cute' cartoon-like characters (fluffy bunnies, big-eyed innocent looking Bambi creatures, and equally big-eyed, small-breasted and innocent 'Lolita' figures) in worrying and unsettling situations and with worrying and unsettling facial expressions to provoke an instant response in the viewer of "Er..... something wrong here....!"  My hope is that my paintings effect similar responses, though on a less obvious and superficial level.  The cartoon figures are not for me, but the juxtaposition of the familiar and comforting with elements which seem out of place is one of which I wholeheartedly approve.

"My Dishonest Heart" :Mixed Media on Wood : 2008 :
: Audrey Kawasaki :
Please visit the artist's website for more. 
An underlying theme in my paintings is that of physicality versus abstraction and intuition.  We live in a society which increasingly values the mental process over the physical, the intuituve approach to the pragmatic, and the generalisation to the specific definition.  We, as humans with (allegedly) highly evolved mental processes unavoidably live in a state of tension between the sheer physicality of bodies which contact the world in a myriad of sensory impressions and concrete connections, and the lofty thought processes to which we would often rather devote ourselves.  It seems sometimes all too easy to view the necessity of maintaining our physical presence here on this planet as an irritating distraction from more important things.  I like to use the lines and forms of my compositions to highlight, and hopefully help to resolve, this tension - in my ideal drawing, the beauty of line and curve contrasts with the solidity of form, expressing both aesthetics and grounded physicality in a single artistic expression.  My goal is to remind the viewer that yes, we are humans capable of high thought, but we should also be grounded in physical reality, knowing ourselves to be an integral part of the natural world, the Earth, the forest, the rock and the mountain.  All contain some expression of spirit, and therefore all are inextricably tied to our spiritual and physical selves.  We are the brain cells; the cognitive thought processes, of the body that is Gaia - however detached and lofty those thoughts, when removed from the body we die as surely as any other sloughed-off cell.

This then, is the conclusion when considering how my own artistic process manifests itself: that it should remind the viewer of the necessity to reconcile our physical and mental states of being, by using all the techniques available to the artist - shape, colour, texture, perfection of technique, to arrest their attention.  To make them stop and look again, to think and say to themselves not "Er... something is wrong here...", but "Wow! Something is very right here".  It is that striving towards wholeness which distinguishes my art and, I hope, makes it unique.