Experimenting with new media is always a wild ride. My conclusions on linseed oil as a paint thinner? Not sure I can say. I don't know that I have enough experience with it to draw any meaningful opinions. I will say, however, that it had its strengths as well as its drawbacks. Let's start with what's negative. It get muddy, really muddy. While turpentoid allows excess pigment to sink to the bottom of the jar, producing a clean layer of paint thinner on the top, linseed oil traps these pigments and mixes them throughout itself. So, there is no clean area to dip clean brushes/colors in. This means I have to replace it a lot and it ends up polluting some of my color mixes. Now for some positives. It's blending ability is unreal. It effortlessly meshes colors at the stroke of a brush. Additionally, this thick and smooth consistency keeps the brush loaded with pigment and allows the paint to flow effortlessly into the grooves of the canvas. What's more? It's quick-dry quality sets paint (not completely but just enough) allowing my layers to be cleaner. This contrasts with the turpentoid which often makes paint set tacky and pull off the canvas when overworked.
Texture, often overlooked and forgotten, is incredibly important in giving a piece life and form. It was hard for me to develop a consistent and satisfactory texture in this piece while I blended out my colors. I realized, though, that in painting, texture isn't necessarily tangible. Unlike last week's palette knife painting, you couldn't physically feel the texture in this piece. It's all illusionary, like a lot of realism. Through this process, though, I eventually settled on the idea of a light, subtle, almost squishy-looking texture. I think I was semi-successful in achieving this. The slight deviations in color and small brush strokes, along with a stark contrast with highlights helped, but my decision to paint on raw canvas board (as opposed to gessoing the canvas prior to painting) proved to be a unfortunate one. I really wish I had gessoed the canvas, for the canvas threads push through the paint more than I'd like them to. It's a little distracting to the oil work that I wanted to stand out. The background, though, did add more textural-complexity to the piece, though I can't decide how I feel about it.
Well the Mona Lisa doesn't have them... why should I have to slave over painting them? Well, I know, her eyebrows were actually just dissolved in an early restoration attempt... but still, the point is valid! She is still, arguably, the most famous portrait icon of the renaissance... even without facial hair! (Eyebrows and Eyelashes I mean). Long story short, I hate painting both eyebrows and eyelashes and whole-heartedly believe that deleting them would have no significant negative impact on those who I paint nor the paintings I paint themselves. Eyebrows (especially) are just pointless. Just think about it. Further, I don't know about you, but I'd welcome dust and debris into my eyes if it meant that I never had to paint another eyelash.
By this, I don't mean that the psychological concept of perfectionism is an illusion. I do mean, though, that the concept of perfection itself, especially in artwork, is an illusion. Though perfection is subjective, I fall for it in all its ambiguity every time. Better said, I chase it. But most paintings (in my opinion) are not supposed to be copies of photographs. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that perfection is as close to the picture as possible. But it's actually what deviates from the photo that makes it art. In the end I'm not trying to paint some photo-realistic painting. Quite honestly my technical ability is not far enough developed to even come close to achieving anything close to hyperrealism. Long story short, copying every pixel of a photograph doesn't make art, it's the "imperfections" that do.
Ok... so maybe the "messy palette knife look" isn't quite as technically advanced or labor intensive as Van Eyck's incredibly detailed and symbolic background of his Arnolfini Portrait. This was a but of a wake up call for me in a way, though. I have never given much thought to the backgrounds of my pieces. By the time I get to figuring it out I'm always so tired of staring at the piece and painting that I never end up doing anything interesting... this piece included. But in looking through the AP Art History slide show while reviewing for the upcoming exam, this portrait in particular caught my eye. The background is a cohesive part of the portrait as a whole. I think that in my next piece I might try to incorporate the background into the piece as a whole. Probably not to the degree that Van Eyck might have, but more than the purely aesthetic palette knife in this piece.
I touched on this topic in my earlier post, but this week was particularly difficult in this regard. With realism it becomes particularly difficult to pull yourself away. The painting never turns out exactly like the picture. This, for me, is the hardest part to wrap my head around. I had to physically force myself to drop my palette knife and hang it in the lobby so I wouldn't be tempted to touch it. It's hard because editing a painting too much can overwork the paint. Paintings then become flat and over-blended. They loose their texture and emotion. In my opinion, the brush stokes and deviations from the photograph are what make the piece flow, what creates movement, and what makes it art rather than a copy of something digital.
It is incredibly difficult to understand that imperfections make art art. And even as I type that, I know that I don't completely believe it to be true in my work. Looking back on this I think about the left eye that drags too much, the incomplete hair on the top of the head, the inaccuracy of the purple tone on the left cheek, and the blocky neck. But if I didn't feel that way about my art how would I ever progress? I can say, however, with confidence, that I'll look back when I'm older, more experienced, more cultured, more everything, and appreciate the time I took on this piece as well as the skill I have at this point in time.
Sketches drawn whilst waiting for six hours of footage to download after approximately three hours clearing enough disk storage to receive that footage. It is a wee bit scary, but thats how I felt in the moment I guess!