Revisions

detail from Kaleidoscope: Chinese Pipe and Glass
Before revision (left), and after (right)

Most of the last 2 weeks was spent paying attention to some family issues, and then getting over an ugly cold (I don't get sick all that often, but when I do...). Though it didn't leave much time for work, when I did sit down at my easel, I worked on revising an earlier painting. Revision is something I haven't done all that often, since I don't ordinarily keep works around for long after they're finished. This year, though, I made the decision to hold on to a number of pieces until the economy improves a little.

It was an interesting experience, so I thought I'd talk a little about it. This was a piece I'd finished about 3 months ago. I was completely satisfied with the composition, so I knew nothing about that would change. From the beginning, though, I was also a little dissatisfied with the quality of the color, and the general attention to detail. There wasn't any one thing that struck me as wrong; there was simply this overall feeling that "it could be better".

The entire process consisted of going over almost every piece of the painting, literally moving a square inch at a time, and simply restating brushstrokes. It's my impression that I spent a sizable fraction of the time reworking highlights; where originally I had painted a simple white, introducing a more subtle tint, paying greater attention to the "halo" effects around its edges, and giving more specific definition to it's shape. And so it went; the revision probably took at least half, maybe even more - of the time required to do the initial painting.

The results are anything but dramatic... anything. In fact, when I first made the side-by-side before and after detail shots (see above), I could barely pick out any specific differences, aside from it being overall a little lighter. My first thought was that I'd just wasted my time. The more I looked at it, though, the more I could see the results emerge. Here a highlight popped a little more, there a detail seemed fresher and crisper, and yet another color seemed deeper and richer. In short, the painting ultimately felt like it came to life.

It's just this sort of thing that makes the kind of painting I do worth it. Learning to concentrate more and more deeply this way is really the heart and soul of how I paint; and it's very much an ongoing process. The devil may be in the details, but so are the angels.

Almost there

In progress: untitled still life
oil on panel
8 x 8 inches (20 x 20 cm)

A few more hours' work and this will be finished. Since I probably won't photograph it again until it's dried and varnished, I thought I'd put this final in-progress shot up.

Working on this painting in particular, I found myself mindful of how colors become grays as the objects turn away from the light. This is a very well-known phenomenon, but still beautiful to observe, and gratifying to capture.

In Progress

In Progress: untitled still life
Oil on panel
8 x 8 inches (20 x 20 cm)

As I mentioned a few days ago, I've been painting some slightly larger pieces, so I thought I'd give a glimpse of what's in the works.

This is actually a piece that I very nearly threw out. I started it about 6 months ago, completed the underpainting, and then decided I didn't like it. It's rare for me to not finish paintings, but this one wound up on the shelf, and after a while I almost put it in the trash. I looked at it with fresh eyes this week, decided it had potential, and continued with it. Now that I'm into it, I think this could turn out to be a painting I'm quite proud of.

Although it looks like it's just begun, in reality much of the heavy lifting has already been finished. Obviously there was a lot of intricacy in the knife, but the real challenge has been the cloth backdrop. Accurately capturing both the floral design and in particular the downward flow of the light took a lot of concentration, and in fact some repainting. This was definitely a case where the background was as important as foreground.

The word background itself is problematic. It can easily lead to an attitude that it represents a less-important part of the painting: "Oh that's just background, I don't have to be as careful here as with the foreground". I have been guilty of this many times. However, the more I grow as a painter, the more I realize what an incorrect viewpoint that is, at least for me.

In fact, I've even tried to stop thinking of it as background, and instead try to think of it as context. Inasmuch as the labels we put on things matter, that at least gives it a more dignified standing than "merely the backdrop". As with anything, the context has to be right, or the objects within it will be misunderstood.

The reality is, in order to paint well, I have to challenge myself to be meticulous with everything.