A Certain Approach Is Required
I wasted a lot of paper before realizing that the only path forward was not to rush and to control the brush – its pressure and movement – throughout the entire stroke.
In this article I’d like to step away from lofty reflections and move toward technical details. One would think there’s nothing simpler than painting a blot. I actually love textured patches – they mesmerize me. After a long break I decided to give them a try.
It didn’t take long to realize that this requires very precise brush control – true control. You need to understand what you’re doing and why. It sounds banal, but relying on chance is, unfortunately, very unwise. So where’s the problem? A brush absorbs a lot of ink and tries to dump most of it at once. As a result, instead of a beautiful transition from a solid shape to a “dry-brush” effect, you get a puddle, then a bald patch (that’s where the main ink load runs out and the brush literally catches on the paper and bounces), then a harsh jump into “dry.” Not pretty.
My solution was this: first dip the brush in clean water – better not be lazy and actually change it – then blot the excess on a cloth, leaving most of the moisture in the thick base of the brush, and only then dip the very tip into the ink. By the way, my ink is so thick that I always add a single drop of water, even for the darkest shade. But only a drop.
The urge to sweep the brush passionately back and forth in creative frenzy had to be suppressed. I waved enthusiastically for a long time, yet nothing came out. (Not enthusiastically enough?) I wasted a lot of paper before realizing that the only path forward was not to rush and to control the brush – its pressure and movement – throughout the entire stroke. Traditional Chinese music works very well as accompaniment. Alas, I’m repeating myself – but at least time confirms my conclusions. Only then can you notice problems early and respond, and you also have time to think. This matters when you have no idea what the final composition will look like. Intuition and artistic instinct are a lot, but not everything. Only one of the five pieces “called” to me, and with that one I painted intuitively – a magical moment. The others required thought. Usually I find a composition and paint it repeatedly until I arrive at the perfect solution, but this time I let my imagination roam. An interesting experience.
Smoky patches with softened edges are especially difficult. To be honest, I still haven’t learned how to get consistently good results. It all depends on how you add water. If the water travels together with the ink or if there’s too much of it, you get a puddle. And even if you achieve a beautiful gradient, the ink will later spread and flood the entire wet area. easy to explain, hard to do. For now, I’m still searching.
And we cannot forget the treachery of ink: as soon as a significant amount of water gets into it, it immediately begins to fade as it dries. It’s very upsetting when everything looks beautiful but the work pales, and all contrast is lost.
As for paper, I used raw rice paper. It’s extremely absorbent. It allows beautiful transitions – a blessing and a curse at once. It’s very easy to overdo it and ruin the piece. I wondered what would happen if I used half-ripe or ripe paper? Unfortunately, I only have the latter. It’s usually used for calligraphy because it absorbs almost nothing, so soft transitions are impossible. I should try it someday.
It didn’t take long to realize that this requires very precise brush control – true control. You need to understand what you’re doing and why. It sounds banal, but relying on chance is, unfortunately, very unwise. So where’s the problem? A brush absorbs a lot of ink and tries to dump most of it at once. As a result, instead of a beautiful transition from a solid shape to a “dry-brush” effect, you get a puddle, then a bald patch (that’s where the main ink load runs out and the brush literally catches on the paper and bounces), then a harsh jump into “dry.” Not pretty.
My solution was this: first dip the brush in clean water – better not be lazy and actually change it – then blot the excess on a cloth, leaving most of the moisture in the thick base of the brush, and only then dip the very tip into the ink. By the way, my ink is so thick that I always add a single drop of water, even for the darkest shade. But only a drop.
The urge to sweep the brush passionately back and forth in creative frenzy had to be suppressed. I waved enthusiastically for a long time, yet nothing came out. (Not enthusiastically enough?) I wasted a lot of paper before realizing that the only path forward was not to rush and to control the brush – its pressure and movement – throughout the entire stroke. Traditional Chinese music works very well as accompaniment. Alas, I’m repeating myself – but at least time confirms my conclusions. Only then can you notice problems early and respond, and you also have time to think. This matters when you have no idea what the final composition will look like. Intuition and artistic instinct are a lot, but not everything. Only one of the five pieces “called” to me, and with that one I painted intuitively – a magical moment. The others required thought. Usually I find a composition and paint it repeatedly until I arrive at the perfect solution, but this time I let my imagination roam. An interesting experience.
Smoky patches with softened edges are especially difficult. To be honest, I still haven’t learned how to get consistently good results. It all depends on how you add water. If the water travels together with the ink or if there’s too much of it, you get a puddle. And even if you achieve a beautiful gradient, the ink will later spread and flood the entire wet area. easy to explain, hard to do. For now, I’m still searching.
And we cannot forget the treachery of ink: as soon as a significant amount of water gets into it, it immediately begins to fade as it dries. It’s very upsetting when everything looks beautiful but the work pales, and all contrast is lost.
As for paper, I used raw rice paper. It’s extremely absorbent. It allows beautiful transitions – a blessing and a curse at once. It’s very easy to overdo it and ruin the piece. I wondered what would happen if I used half-ripe or ripe paper? Unfortunately, I only have the latter. It’s usually used for calligraphy because it absorbs almost nothing, so soft transitions are impossible. I should try it someday.
