Stating the Obvious

It has been forever (almost) since I last made an entry in this blog. Every now and then, I visit this place on the internet, to reminisce about the past, and sometimes see what someone would refer to in a conversation about something they saw or read in my old blogs.

The brushes have hardened and turned brittle, the paints had gone stiff inside their tubes, and the turps have evaporated from their loosely sealed bottles.

Fine, the past is the past. We all grow out of certain useless endevours and things as we grow old.

But just recently, I had to come up with gifts for my partner. Christmas was easy - I got her jewelry. Her birthday, which was was just a couple of days after Christmas was slightly more problematic when it comes to chosing a gift for the occasion. I had to give something that wont seem anti-climactic in relation to the Christmas gift I gave. Well, I could have given her a ticket to "Wicked" but I've heard the songs during a Cebu Pacific flight and to tell you the truth, I'm not a fan.

So I decided to come up with something handmade. I've thought of making a bead bracelet but that seems... well... gay. If anything, I'm suppose to highlight my masculinity. Macho is the word of the day.

So I came up with a few drawings. Well, it might not be as macho as macho would go, but it's a better alternative to all the other handmade items I could think of.



This is not it of course.  This is just a preliminary sketch.  I'd post the finish drawings after I give the final pieces to her.

Doing artsy stuff ain't so bad. It's kinda therapeutic. I should however, make sure it doesn't interfere with the other things that I do. I tend to lose focus on important things in favor of a sketch or painting.

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.