Tug o' War

"To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim..." - Oscar Wilde's preface to "The Picture of Dorian Gray"

There is a constant tug of war going on whenever I grab hold of a brush. On one side, the familiar persona of a craftsman wishing to attain technical perfection, and on the other a somewhat boisterous character that glides and whips across brushes without a care in the world.

Lately, I've been enticing the boisterous character to come out and paint. This character silences all other voices and dominates the night air with wild brush strokes and forceful lunges. It lures shadows and highlights out effortlessly onto the canvas, and it tells its story by swiping out emphatic lines that will emotions out onto a flat surface.

Almost like a spectator, I watch my images appear before my bewildered eyes.

I still have no understanding how the process works, but it seems painting "large" frees up this persona, whereas painting detailed sections forces the boisterous character to retreat, giving way to the craftsman.

Like any loaded weapon, a mind must direct it for it to be of any use. The boisterous persona needs to be pointed like a gun. I always plan and contemplate on my paintings before I even start. I've visualized and pondered how my paintings should eventually look like when finished. I might revise midway, but essentially, what I've visualized early on is what I ended up with.

I've allowed myself to run freely away without a clear plan before, and the result was disastrous - and wasteful. This possibility, this risk, is always at the back of my mind whenever I start a work. It's no different with this 36x60in composition I have in mind.




I've thought about the appropriateness of the subject matter in relation to the size of the canvas. I've considered how immature it might seem like, or even how uncreative or cliched it may seem to others, but the image begs to be painted. I can easily choose to paint my Binangonan or even Bulacan compositions in this huge canvas, but still, the virtual cries of the image above will be an incessant noise in my mind if I don't get it done.

I try to reassure myself that the color scheme will be fresh, that the faded and seemingly cubist "male" will be interesting to watch, and that a projected shadow on everything will add another dimension to an otherwise flat composition. If anything else, that fantastically long hair tying everything down longitudinally will be a defining element - the appreciation of which will justify the work.

It begs to be painted, and it begs to be painted "that" large.

Tearing Off a Canvas and Falling Asleep

I should have seen it, but I didn't.  The “Lechon” in the quadtych was too small in proportion to the other panels.  I tore it off the stretcher (well, it was not as dramatic as what you might think) and tried flipping it but I couldn't stretch the creases out of the painting surface.  Good thing I had a length of canvas lying around.  That erroneous “Lechon” would be my second canvas that a trashed.  Frankly, I should do that more often.  It might be a tad wasteful but you can't go wrong with quality control.

I've started on the underpainting for the quadtych and was amazed that I can actually paint while sleeping.  I was trying to pull off an all nighter, fell asleep while painting and... well, woke up with this in front of me:

I don't know how much of it was done while I was asleep – or half asleep.  Heck, I don't even know how I loaded the brush.

These other ones were done while I was fully awake:

I enjoy underpainting.  I feel lost most of the time, but it is really a very liberating exercise.  It feels almost mindless.  Which brings me to lament how I wish I could paint portraits in a very painterly manner.  I don't know if I actually could paint technically acceptable portraits but I think my patience will run out before I even get halfway.  Nonetheless, I've been “studying” a collection of fine portraits from other artists over at Artbreak.  Been re-reading books on Renoir and Manet as well.

Roofscape... hell, I'm fighting for every inch of it.  I think I'll revisit it after a few days.  Besides, I still need reference materials for the boy leaning on the dome structure.

Silly

How far can you push something before it starts looking silly?

These are my canvas sketches for the three panel in the Quadtych.  I like these sketches.  I kind of ran away with it, forgetting it will get painted over anyway.  In any case, establishing my major lines is a good thing to do.  I've blundered in the placements of my elements before, for which I noticed the error only after applying layers of paint. It's better to finalize everything at the primer layer.

They are not caricatures.  I've worked my hardest to avoid that while forcing expressions out of these faces.

Apparition

One of my aunts recalled that when she found out she had cancer, at what seemed to be the lowest moment in her life, an apparition appeared - a young boy who approached the foot of her bed.  She stared at the apparition, not knowing what to think or do next.  Eventually, she shooed away the apparition by invoking the name of Jesus; she was "born again" you see.  Eventually, she succumbed to cancer.

My mother, when she was engaged in her last pitched battle with cancer, confronted a male apparition only she could see.  Catholics around her would like to believe it was Jesus, of course.  And of course, I wished it was.

I wonder what my apparition will look like?  I need to know for me to paint a vision of it, and more importantly, for me to work on a highly subjective, mostly non-figurative subject matter.  I would like to work on atmosphere this time around - no more hard edges, except of course the one needed on the gnarled covetous hand of the apparition.

I also have a composition in my head that can be likened to a spatial puzzle of sort.  I'm trying to make a voluptuous woman take the form of an ovoid, while trying to make her gestures a bit more pronounced.  Yes, I have a feeling this composition will sit in my head for a whole lot longer.

Fighting for Every Inch

It feels like I'm fighting for every inch.

Quadtych

Quadtych, I didn't even think that such a word existed.  Apparently, at this day and age, there is always a noun or verb corresponding to everything we can possibly do.  Makes you think, does language confines our actions to a finite set, or does our limited abilities bound the expansion of our language.  Good thing there is imagination which raises us above the physical and mental limitations we have set all around us.  I may not know what to call what I am doing, but I'll be doing this thingamajig anyway.

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I've been wondering how to break free from the two dimensional confines of a canvas, without resorting to the use of relief.  If paintings can speak to the viewer, can't they speak among themselves?  Why not have them interact with each other using real space as a sort of sounding board?

A long time ago, I was fixated with the idea of using triptychs to juxtapose photographs, convey movement, progression and sequences.  Now, I've been contemplating how to use three dimensional space between paintings to convey an idea.

The work in progress above I already have a name for:  Eleksyon Lechon.  The four frames will be tightly displayed with each other, and in the order which I will specify when completed.

Another project I might start working on soon is two vertically oriented figure paintings which are meant to be displayed facing each other in a hall or relatively small room.  One frame depicts a thin woman, while the other frame will depict a heavy set woman who shadows the pose of the other.  Viewers should find themselves  between the gaze of the two paintings.  They should feel torn to choose which side to gravitate towards.

Guiting-Guiting

Guiting-Guiting
66 x 27 in
Oil on canvas

There is nothing more I can do to this painting.  I am sufficiently satisfied to put this behind me.  I was meaning to come up with 2 more paintings for the series, but after this, I've decided to paint one more and leave it to rest.

Perhaps I'm just exhausted and cannot think of anything more to say about this piece, other than I felt liberated working on it.  Things just happened and that led me to explore details and highlights as I went along.  I really did felt free.

After I return from Benguet, I will try to complete the roofscape painting before the end of the month. I will also begin work on the Jowein set.  I might be able to manage to begin work on a particular piece that is really personally relevant to me, but as of now I can't get myself to begin.  I don't know.  We'll see.

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This is a bit embarrassing, but I actually gone back to this and painted in a few things.  It's been bugging me for months.  So I actually finished this painting today, 18 October 2011.  I don't think I can do anything for this piece anymore.  I know I said it before but, I'm now sufficiently satisfied with this to finally put it behind me.

Clouds are meant to be fleeting, not confusing

It's not finished yet, though the more difficult parts are almost done.  That large space to the right is confusing to work on because there is no obvious reference to know where I'm laying my brush.  There's no tree, crest, line or obvious visual reference.  Another thing gnawing at my attention would be all that mental note I have on what to adjust, what to add, what to remove, that are strewn all across the frame.  I've fought the temptation to use Post-It to keep tabs of them all!  Other than those mentioned, it should be smooth sailing with this piece from here on end.

Though it is not the largest canvas I've worked on, it is the widest.  This canvas has given me more confidence to tackle more complex works, I'm happy to say.  I believe I've broken that paralyzing apprehension I've been getting whenever I look at the unfinished Kubol piece.  We'll get there, soon enough. 

This will look good in the master's bedroom.  I've made the painting to fit  the dimension of the wall facing the bed.  When I wake up, this will be the first thing that will greet me.  All I need now is a low and shallow book shelf, a small sound system, and some trinkets and bookends to complement that space under this painting.

After this - maybe a week or two more, I'll begin the last half of the roof scape painting I've put on hold a few weeks back.  I need references to keep on going with that piece.

Light as Clouds

I shouldn't take these paintings too seriously.  I should just learn to enjoy the moment and not bother about consequences.

The lighter I feel about working on these canvasses, the more likely I would be returning to them.

Yes, I should just make my strokes and smudges, oblivious of nighttime noises, listening to Mraz and whatever song shuffling will lead me to.

Gone Stupid with the Details

I usually paint at night.  I often lose touch of time when I start dabbing in the paint.  I'd blow past three hours and 4 cups of coffee and think I've only been working on a canvas for 30 minutes.  It's a great way to pass the time, and a darn efficient way to escape everything else in life.  Which reminds me, I have other important things to attend to outside of art!

In any case, I was contemplating last night how to resolve two conflicting aims I was having with regards this rooftop painting.  I needed to satisfy this impulse to paint in details.  Usually, if you want to focus on something, you paint in details.  If you want the eyes to flow across briefly but not focus on an area, you just make suggestive strokes, or lighten the tone, or as they say in Photography, just bring it out of focus.  These usually are not friendly to the eyes and a viewer will instinctively move his eyes away from these areas where the brain cannot satiate it's need for hard edged details.  But as what I have said, I was going crazy over the details.

I was wondering whether cluttering everything will force the eyes to move to the foreground where things are not as cluttered as the background because of perspective - where things are of course larger and therefore may seem not as cluttered as the back.

Or then again, I can always use heavy lines and frame a small section where the eyes and mind should focus on.  

Ah yes...and there goes the plan once again.

Humans or No Humans

This painting is coming along well.  It's not quite done yet.  The intended fluffiness and ephemeral quality of the 3 kinds of clouds depicted  has not been applied yet.  Frankly, I only have an inkling on how to execute it and i suspect it will take a number of layers to get the translucent effect I'm aiming for.  Good luck with that.

Because almost everything  is suggested given the freedom I allowed myself on the brush strokes, the viewer's eyes will wander aimlessly across the frame.  I needed an anchor of sorts where the eyes can begin and launch off towards the horizon, then follow a path back to a comfortable point of focus.  I'm torn between putting in a person, or just rendering with more details the light green grassy foreground on the lower left of the frame.  Either one, it will serve a good anchor.  But, choosing either one will alter the philosophy underpinning the painting.

I always maintain that nature cares not for man or our fate.  In fact, nature is not conscious of how she looks like, of how barren or verdant she might be.  Nature just exist and we are a complication in this grand scheme of just being.

I just want us to be out of the frame.  To be able to see and comprehend, but never covet, infect or destroy.

But without the manifestation of man within the frame, it is conceptually a lightweight anchor.  Humans are exasperatingly self-conscious and egomaniacal.  We are obsessed with our own kind and naturally gravitate towards another biped.  A human figure 1/10th the size of the frame is as heavy as the mountain - if not heavier.  We explore the figure not only with our eyes, but also with our minds.

So what will it be?

Distraction

I got distracted from working on the roofscape painting at the moment.  Since the areas I needed to work on were still “wet” and I needed to take reference images of scrawny kids first, I decided to start work on this mountain scape that I have in mind.  It will be part of a three-part series which I will call Guiting-Guiting.

The dimension of the frame was intended really for a somewhat mannerist painting of a woman, but the person that will pose for that had a falling out with me and that planned painting will no longer be feasible.  That falling out had some serious personal ramification for me, and as usual, I revert to the mountains for solace.

Gunning for GSIS

I've finally remembered that there is such a thing as a GSIS Art Competition and the due date for this year's competition hasn't passed yet.

The theme is “Makabagong Kinabukasan” (A New Kind of Future).

I have been contemplating a particular composition, but not for the theme above. However, having a theme allowed me to crystallized the work in my head in no time, and led me in this direction. The moment my lead touched paper, all the elements came together without a fuss. I was pretty amused by the speed in which I arranged my elements.

I wanted to show a landscape of haphazardly built structures – a squatter roofscape. It has come to symbolize in my head everything that has gone wrong with the Philippines. It is a patchwork of temporary and flimsy attempts to build a community. It serves it's purpose marginally, but it simply is wanting of so many things: justice, order, direction.

I didn't want to show a living person amid the squalor. You will not see a single Filipino in the picture because this landscape is not Filipino. It is not what we are. It is just a predicament we have found ourselves in. It is a mere situation. There is even what appears to be a classical structure of sorts, but you will find it almost built over by the corrugated sheet iron structures surrounding it. A person should wonder what else is underneath all that rusted corrugated iron sheets. Will it reveal our true selves?

The only human form in the roofscape is the image of a construction worker wielding a sledgehammer in a tarpaulin banner. I'm just suggesting it, but in my opinion, the only way to move forward is to rid ourselves of things we have become comfortable with. We have been so used to the dysfunctions, that we are bewildered by reactions of visitors to our shores.

I gave the painting horizon gaps which should make the viewer feel that beyond the roofs, is a large open space - perhaps a beach of sorts. You should notice that the sky seems overly “nice” for the scene at the foreground. I just what the viewer to see my idea of hope. Beyond all that mess, is what we've all been working for. We just have to wield that sledgehammer with the conviction that it will demand.

The image above is about 60% complete.  It's not that easy to render rusted corrugated iron sheets without making it look like an absolute mess. 

This is my first painting after a year's hiatus!  Rock climbing had messed up my hands.  I can't control them as well as before.  It forced me to feather my brush strokes and I am mystified by the results.

UPDATE:

The new GSIS Painting Competition size requirement is 4 feet by 5 feet.  Last year it was 3x4 and I assumed wrong or perhaps read wrong.  I will not have any entry this year.  What a let down.

Now that the theme doesn't apply anymore, I feel that I may have to rethink the elements in my frame and go back to my original concept of having a thin kid balancing on the rooftops - a play on juxtaposition.

What's that?

Do you know what this is?

  

Not my finger!  I was talking about what I was pointing at.  Yup.  A blank canvas.  And I have two for that matter.

I had the frames for these custom-made by Sunga.  Cost me a thousand pesos for the two.  A bit pricey, but I can't really complain given the weight of the wood and the quality of the workmanship.  I use to make my own frames but my skills in carpentry can't overcome my usual problems: warping, usual flimsy construction and the ever annoying trapezoidal shape I end up with.

We're trying to work out a solution to bring down the price of the frame.  Some of the cheaper wood are just not workable as frames.  I told the people at Sunga if they can bring my 3x4s to P300, then we're dandy.

Yes, I do my own stretching, priming, sanding and whatever else that is necessary to come up with a nice consistent bite on the surface.  I think of it as part of the creative process.  Before you can paint anything, you have to create space for your other creations to exist in.

Wonder what's going to be pulled out of the air and plastered on these white surfaces?  Well, do come back every now and then to find out.  One of them is due on May 7!  I may have to use those spray on varnish for that.  Damn!

Devoid of a Center

There was a piece of heavy paper lying around, and I can't get myself to sleep just yet.  When worries and woes numb the mind, I really appreciate regressing into momentary peace that working on a simple piece such as this affords me.  It has no center, and nothing is really defined.  Anything more is just added burden that I don't need.

Ortigas
10.25 x 7.75 in
Oil Pastel on Paper

Hitting the Pavement Running

There was no sense in prolonging this hiatus from art which I found myself stuck in.  Come to think of it, these past couple of weeks I've been going over in my head works which I am yet to do.  Also, it is hard not to think about art after coming back from Batanes last weekend.  There, the medium that was at my disposal was photography.  It was a perfect medium to capture the fickleness and dynamism of the landscape - it was a landscape in flux!

I've decided to work on this image I had sketched out for quite some time, just to get me back into rhythm.  I told myself to use the plate to just loosen up - no expectations, no direction.  I just wanted to shake off the cobwebs.

Pilipit
Oil Pastel on Paper
12x15 inches
Unmounted

I've been rock and wall climbing these past few months - since November actually.  I've always had reservations in that the activity might affect the tactile feelings on my fingers. It does, apparently.

I find my hands less nimble, working on this sketch.  I don't think it was because I haven't held a brush for more than a year.  The brush still felt the same, and after a few minutes on this work, I felt I was back into it.  But my strokes felt more forced - there is too much jerkiness at the end of every movement.  I knew what I wanted to do with my hands, but all the movements seem exaggerated.

I don't know how all this will play out when I start painting with oils again.