Two Shores: Step 8
On first inspection, you might not notice a significant change between this step and the last one. You might be saying to yourself, “Damon, here I am waiting to see where the painting is headed, and you’ve obviously been snowboarding all day.” Unfortunately, however, that isn’t true. (I generally prefer to sit in the lodge next to the fire with a bowl of 4-alarm chili, anyway)
At this point, I have to carefully paint the support cables for the suspension bridge. There’s really not a lot of room for error, and the work has to be done very carefully. Doing this on large-scale paintings is something of a nightmare, so I’m glad I chose a small canvas this time around. It’s not enough to just paint straight lines. While painting them I also have to, in the moment, make decisions to fade the lines slightly to give the impression of distance or light emersion from the sky behind. It’s easier to control those kinds of fading effects by adding a little turpentine to the umber, but that usually also creates a hard edge on the cables which makes them look too harsh and non-atmospheric. So I use a dry-brushing technique with very little color on the brush and essentially “scrub” the paint in a line. If that sounds troublesome, well, you’re not mistaken.
With the cables painted in nice and straight (whew! Deep breath), it’s time to go back to the sky and water. You’ll notice that I’ve blocked-in all the edges of the bridge, while its interior is still empty. This, of course, was in anticipation of my next concern, which is to go back and add more detail to the clouds and their reflections. With the edges of the bridge blocked in, but the bridge itself still not finished, I can work on the clouds and not worry too much about painting “out of the lines”, safe in the knowledge that I can easily touch up the bridge if I should accidentally get cloud or water color on it. With the colors of the clouds and water already set in place, it’s easy to add more detail and give them more definition.
Tags: Damon Denys, Two Shores
December 9th, 2004 at 9:00 pm
Damon,
Thanks for the thoughtful answer on canvas sizes. You brought up some interesting points that weren’t necessarily as obvious as they might seem to someone who isn’t an artist. Overall it sounds like the entire process is a balance of technical perfection with practicality. Another example I can think of is the fact that not everyone has a home that can accommodate a huge canvas- in fact many middle class homes probably only have one spot that might accommodate something in the 48″ range. In regard to Two Shores, your choice of adding industrial growth on the other shore provoked some thought. Most people, myself included, find industrial areas to be rather unsightly. On the other hand, a person ought to have some appreciation for what these factories, refineries, and plants produce. I was also thinking about this on a recent business trip to the northeast, driving through one of these areas. Sure, it isn’t a beautiful tropical beach- but how many beaches can turn crude oil into gasoline? Man by himself is lucky if he can even get one of the coconuts open (I can barely do it with a hammer and chisel.) Ugly as these areas might be, in many ways they are the heart and soul of America. I said all that so that I could say that I think your painting ties it all together very well, and in an eye-pleasing manner. Perhaps, on the closest shore someone is sitting in their nice warm home enjoying their electricity and various manufactured goods. And they have the other shore to thank for it.
December 11th, 2004 at 7:00 pm
Well stated, Brian. I often hear people make similar statements. Some people ask, “why on earth would you choose to paint the overpass for a freeway?”, and their sense of bewilderment is genuine because they never think to consider the beauty in such a subject. And to be fair, things like overpasses and industrial areas are seldom created with the intention of being overtly “beautiful” or pleasing to the eye in the conventional sense.
And that’s one of the powers and goals of a true artist, in my opinion — to expose the really important qualities of a subject; qualities that may otherwise be hidden, taken for granted, or ignored because the subject is written off as “ordinary”, “plain”, “functional”, or even “ugly” by the casual observer. In the purest sense, a factory isn’t about the dirt, and grime that has accumulated on its machinery or in its corners over the years. These aspects are inconsequential (although some people I know absolutely love those characteristics). The very existence of factories and power plants, which literally pump the blood of our entire society, is quite a sobering and awesome thing when I consider it. The fact that real people conceived of and created such wonders from absolutely nothing is simply amazing. If I’m able to capture a sense of that by stripping away the inconsequential elements and focusing instead on aspects that will illuminate the real beauty of such a subject–glimmering lights on a dusky horizon, the supple curve of steel catching the fading rays of a sleepy sun–then my efforts as an artist will have been a success. And once that beauty is communicated and understood, just the sight of a white plume rising from the city can evoke it.
The same principle is at work when painting people. Everyone, no matter how conventionally beautiful they may be, has flaws and aesthetic imperfections–the “dust in their corners”, if you will. That’s life. But if beauty is his subject of choice, an artist should be attentive to its presence wherever it might exist. Painting a beautiful woman is easy. Everyone can see and understand that kind of beauty. But if you can find and expose the beauty, for all to see, of a steaming factory, a jet engine, or a brilliant mathematician, I think that’s quite an artistic accomplishment. And hopefully, once that beauty is exposed, the viewer will be more inclined to look past life’s dusty corners and focus instead on what is truly inspirational and awe inspiring in the people and things around them.