Keeping it loose.
11/03/11 11:51 PM
When you take away the gesso and opacity, and keep the
canvas loose, things are different.
For you non art nerds out there, gesso is the primer used for most paintings... it's white paint, with a bit of "tooth" to it (traditionally from marble dust added to the paint), made to give a base of a flat, white, clean surface that grips paint.
Working on loose canvas was honestly something that started out of convenience... I had always wanted to do a really large painting, and loose canvas was both affordable, and easily transportable (even with a BART commute). Even now, it's super convenient, since I have no studio space and my living space doesn't have a ton of room. I can paint, then roll it up neatly and tuck it away! It started with convenience, but what you start out with has impact on the final piece, and this has become one of my favorite ways to paint.
When working this way, instead of using gesso, I treat the support (whether it's bare wood or loose canvas) with PVA size. Think watered-down Elmer's glue, and you've got the idea. It gives a nice, clear flexible barrier so all of my paint doesn't just get sucked up and wasted in a thirsty canvas, but the natural base still shows.
Next, I do a chalk drawing (such as this) to map out my base lines & solidify composition before putting paint to canvas. I can be over-detailed in my base drawings... whether they are pencil or chalk. It's just how I work, and it really helps me take the art that is in my head, and make it real. The beauty about a chalk drawing is that it can be erased with water, leaving no marks at all behind (hello lovely surface). However, it has to be completely erased before painting anything (can't paint over chalk like you can with pencil). So I do my fairly detailed chalk drawing, knowing it will all be erased as I go. I erase a line, let it dry, then paint the memory of the line. There is something peaceful about creating something that you know will not last long... and to be able to manipulate a real, physical drawing as much as I want, with out any permanent marks.
And then, the paint. This is the meat of the painting, and working with color is one of my skills. When I paint like this, I mix very low viscosity, translucent paint... and then I layer. Thin, runny, see-through layers. It takes time and patience, but yields such richness. I've learned the hard way to err on the side of not enough color, rather than too much. I can always add, but cannot subtract. The lightest parts of the painting are already there, before I even begin painting. Depth is added layer by layer. Color can start at subtle and move to rich, if I want it to. Nothing can be undone.
Oh, but the permanent part is so great! All of the permanent marks are free hand... but this I can do. This I can do well. This is the point at which (in any painting I do), everything makes sense. I know what I am doing, trust my skill, and the whole world makes sense. This is there regardless of what I am painting on, or how I’m working. But I'm supposed to be talking about lose canvas painting...
It's not to say that I am perfect, even in this... and I guess that is one of the things that has drawn me to working this way on loose canvas. The natural beauty and imperfections of the support I am working on, and my own skills and missteps are right there. I'm given the chance to create something that I wouldn't normally get. I love the challenge.
It requires thoughtful consideration, contemplation... trust. The mistakes will happen, but when everything can be seen, it's how we roll with these mistakes that counts. Sometimes, gesso is the thing to work with, and washing over the mistakes and starting new is the thing to do. Sometimes, the chalk is the thing, and to be able to work something out knowing it will not leave a mark can give us focus to see where we want to be. I've learned that when working with transparency on loose canvas, the mistakes get worked into the painting... and that's the best thing to do with them. Nothing can be undone, but it all has value... nothing is wasted, even when it is unexpected. When we trust the good things we have been given... when we go out on a limb and take the risk of transparency and let where we started and where we have been show through, the results can be beautiful and unexpected.
For you non art nerds out there, gesso is the primer used for most paintings... it's white paint, with a bit of "tooth" to it (traditionally from marble dust added to the paint), made to give a base of a flat, white, clean surface that grips paint.
Working on loose canvas was honestly something that started out of convenience... I had always wanted to do a really large painting, and loose canvas was both affordable, and easily transportable (even with a BART commute). Even now, it's super convenient, since I have no studio space and my living space doesn't have a ton of room. I can paint, then roll it up neatly and tuck it away! It started with convenience, but what you start out with has impact on the final piece, and this has become one of my favorite ways to paint.
When working this way, instead of using gesso, I treat the support (whether it's bare wood or loose canvas) with PVA size. Think watered-down Elmer's glue, and you've got the idea. It gives a nice, clear flexible barrier so all of my paint doesn't just get sucked up and wasted in a thirsty canvas, but the natural base still shows.
Next, I do a chalk drawing (such as this) to map out my base lines & solidify composition before putting paint to canvas. I can be over-detailed in my base drawings... whether they are pencil or chalk. It's just how I work, and it really helps me take the art that is in my head, and make it real. The beauty about a chalk drawing is that it can be erased with water, leaving no marks at all behind (hello lovely surface). However, it has to be completely erased before painting anything (can't paint over chalk like you can with pencil). So I do my fairly detailed chalk drawing, knowing it will all be erased as I go. I erase a line, let it dry, then paint the memory of the line. There is something peaceful about creating something that you know will not last long... and to be able to manipulate a real, physical drawing as much as I want, with out any permanent marks.
And then, the paint. This is the meat of the painting, and working with color is one of my skills. When I paint like this, I mix very low viscosity, translucent paint... and then I layer. Thin, runny, see-through layers. It takes time and patience, but yields such richness. I've learned the hard way to err on the side of not enough color, rather than too much. I can always add, but cannot subtract. The lightest parts of the painting are already there, before I even begin painting. Depth is added layer by layer. Color can start at subtle and move to rich, if I want it to. Nothing can be undone.
Oh, but the permanent part is so great! All of the permanent marks are free hand... but this I can do. This I can do well. This is the point at which (in any painting I do), everything makes sense. I know what I am doing, trust my skill, and the whole world makes sense. This is there regardless of what I am painting on, or how I’m working. But I'm supposed to be talking about lose canvas painting...
It's not to say that I am perfect, even in this... and I guess that is one of the things that has drawn me to working this way on loose canvas. The natural beauty and imperfections of the support I am working on, and my own skills and missteps are right there. I'm given the chance to create something that I wouldn't normally get. I love the challenge.
It requires thoughtful consideration, contemplation... trust. The mistakes will happen, but when everything can be seen, it's how we roll with these mistakes that counts. Sometimes, gesso is the thing to work with, and washing over the mistakes and starting new is the thing to do. Sometimes, the chalk is the thing, and to be able to work something out knowing it will not leave a mark can give us focus to see where we want to be. I've learned that when working with transparency on loose canvas, the mistakes get worked into the painting... and that's the best thing to do with them. Nothing can be undone, but it all has value... nothing is wasted, even when it is unexpected. When we trust the good things we have been given... when we go out on a limb and take the risk of transparency and let where we started and where we have been show through, the results can be beautiful and unexpected.