When I was about ten years old, my father took me to the family
home where he grew up along the rocky shores of coastal New England. At the
time the house belonged to my dear uncle and aunt who had raised their
children there, but the attic held remnants of past
inhabitants. Among these items was an old set of oil paints that belonged to my
father.
I've forgotten how it all came
about exactly, but it seems that my dad had recognized my interest in art,
perhaps even before I had become conscious of it. I was one of those lucky girls
who had a father that encouraged her to explore her heart's curiosities; a
trait he and I shared. Unfortunately, I also inherited his crippling
passiveness which left me vulnerable to negativity and defenseless to authority,
resulting in the limited faith I’ve had in my capabilities and personal worth in the world.
After retrieving the paint set
and tossing any old paint that had dried up, my father gave me his paints and
taught me the basics: how to prime Masonite panels (which he cut for me, and
later taught me how to cut myself), mix paints, and clean brushes. I was
on my own for the rest, but fortunately a friend of my father taped new Bob Ross
episodes on VHS for me so I could learn to paint and take my time.
I had painted one big landscape
(which I still have somewhere), and a few smaller pieces. I loved to paint
mountains, evergreen trees, and water - a sure indication of what I would
always consider paradise. To this day, I crave mountain vistas, and cannot
fathom living away from a lake, the ocean, or at least a fresh running stream.
And the trees... I have had nightmares of being without trees! There are plenty
of oak, ash, and even birch trees around here, but not nearly enough pines,
firs, and cedar for my liking.
Unfortunately, for the last 25+ years, I haven't done much oil
painting. I worked with it again in the early 2000s for one painting class, but
because ventilation (and Teflon flooring) is needed, it just isn’t practical
when living in rentals. But I’ve thought of it often, how satisfying it is, and
vow to get back to it. Thanks to healthier solvents and cleaning alternatives,
I am hoping to start painting in oils again.
I wanted to try to paint a
portrait first. I had made my first [graphite pencil] portrait attempt in 2004 and
was surprised by the results, but have since only done a handful of serious
portrait attempts (in graphite). Since the human figure is now what I focus on
in my personal work, I figured portraiture would be an enjoyable challenge. I
decided to do a self-portrait because it would give me the best access to reference
material, and historically it seems to be an unspoken requirement if you’re
going to take yourself seriously as an artist. It reflects physical appearance,
as well as personal background and style. Underpainting has been a
technique I have wanted to try for a long time. It's what the masters often
used, and it makes practical sense.
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| Layer One: Acrylic Underpainting (Grumbacher: White & Raw Umber) |
This is only the finished underpainting. I think I went a little overboard with the detail. It's my understanding that underpaintings are not so tight and blended, but I am particular and wanted to do a good job. Plus, once you get in the zone things just happen. I just hope the oil paint layer doesn't completely ruin or negate all I've done so far. It is fairly dark and "harsh" right now, but I've tried to consider the transparency of the colors I will be using and how they will interact with the values on the underpainting. For example, if I were doing the composition in graphite pencil, I would have done the values differently and given a higher contrast between the skin and lips. However, red paint (applied to the lips) is translucent, whereas white (which will dominate the flesh) is opaque, therefore the skin will [theoretically] get brighter while the value on the lips will stay relatively as they are now with the underpainting coming through more in that portion of the painting. It’s definitely an experiment, and I hope my logic plays out well.
Honestly, I did this because I wanted to see what I could do. I had no idea if it was going turn out to be good or awful, but so far I'm satisfied and it's given me some hope for future paintings. It’s helping me expand in a direction that should bring me back to the type of art I have always loved, but wasn’t confident enough to create. So, in a way it's exploring in order to return home. As someone who suffers from hiraeth, the irony is not lost.