Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Underpainting

The other day, I said that discovering my anger has been a little like being an artist who finds a new color on her palette. It is reminding me of my lessons in old masters painting techniques almost twenty years ago. 

I had never thought I would want to paint in such a traditional way, but my mom was dying, and helping with her care was quite stressful. I needed something new, just for me. I took lessons from a local painter, learning the basics of still life and portraiture in oils. We would set up a still life -- say a bowl with fruit in it, and a piece of fruit in front of it, with a bright light setting up dramatic contrast in light and shadow -- and then set up on the easel a canvas that I had pre-painted with a dark earth tone. This is called the underpainting. The way I was taught the next step was to sketch the outline of the image, as well as the lightest, brightest parts of the painting, with a transparent white, then use layers of colored "washes" to lay out the full sketch. Then you paint "up" to light and "down" to dark with undiluted paint, almost like a sculptor, using any or all colors in your box (and mixtures of them) except for black. Black from the tube has to be used sparingly, if at all, in this kind of oil painting because that hue is so rarely found in nature. For the darkest shadows or backgrounds, you generally mix dark reds, browns, purples, etc.,  

What is interesting is that, although the underpainting is rarely visible in the finished work, its presence can have a subtle, magical relationship to the work painted on it, and it lends a richness to the painting experience that is nearly impossible to attain starting from a "white," bare canvas. Another thing I found over the years is that sometimes if a painting just didn't work, I'd take solvent on a rag and just rub it out, leaving kind of a ghost painting to paint over. The second try -- even if it was a totally different painting -- was always more successful. In other words, a dark, seemingly formless mess of an underpainting can make for a much richer, more three-dimensional final painting.

So I guess the metaphor here is, I realize I have had a dark underpainting under the surface all along. I think I was simply trying to cover it with paint without working with it. Once I really get a handle on how to "use" my underpainting, I think life will take on more color, more dimension, and a dramatic form that makes more sense for me. Some more thoughts about painting and life are coming to me. Next time!