So I make sketches. I use soft pencils and scrap paper until I'm happy
the layout will work. If it's a big commission I will make more detailed
cartoons. Then it's time to stretch some paper.
I use 140lb Arches paper cut from the roll. It is 100% cotton and slowly
relaxes as it absorbs water when I immerse it. Then it is fixed to the
drawing board where it dries tight, and won't wrinkle.
The sketch is matched to the stretched paper, and lined out faintly
with a harder pencil. The pencil lines will be erased in due course.
My studio faces East. It has good light.
I test the first color. This is a pale wash that serves to set the subject's
outline. I use Windsor and Newton paint in tubes, about ten of them,
and brushes from Malaysia. The paper and paint are expensive, but the
brushes are incredibly cheap. I've tried sable and it just isn't springy
enough. I have alot of brushes.
The first wash sets an edge that the brush will follow thereafter, so
it has to be done carefully. The early work all has to be done carefully
in fact, and its pretty slow. I keep a record of the colors I mix in
a sketchbook. It has a 'visual index'. I riffle the pages till the right
colour and its notes appear. Mixing colors can be frustrating. There
are great books on color theory, but none of them pay much attention
to intuition, which I rely on frequently.
When I discovered the Arches paper I left behind many of the additives
I'd experimented with. Ox gall, wetting agents, lifting preparation
and even gum arabic. The qualities of the paper made them unnecessary.
I still use a little block out fluid, but the bottle I have now has
lasted six months.
The paper also answered many questions about paint. Best paint - best
results, no surprise there. But the ability to move, blend, and lift
off washes already put down, and dry was astonishing. I delight in the
effects I see. From minute frost patterns to implied horizons.
What happens by accident can with practice, be used deliberately. In
this way I learned to marble washes by blotting them with a loosely
folded rag, print textures with anything from a sponge to a potato (especially
good for fish), draw off excess paint with a dry brush, keep a hairdryer
to hand and a dozen other things. All learned while overcoming and correcting
various mistakes.
As the picture nears completion small changes have greater and greater
effect. It'll be time to stop. It's not a time for big decisions. At
this point, often three weeks work on a large piece, I will turn the
painting to the wall and leave it, able to see nothing but its faults.
Its a good time to go surfing, walk the dogs or watch an old film with
the kids, and forget about painting. After a suitable lapse of time
the virtues are more apparent than the faults. The picture is finished.
It's time to deliver.
