WATERCOLOR: OUT OF THE ORDINARY! The pleasure of watercolor painting is in the stimulation of performing with brush, paper, water and pigment. We cast ourselves in the roll of artist and go on "stage" to act out feelings and knowledge with our chosen medium. Background music may set the tempo and energize the imagination. For sure, it can invigorate the will to swirl color on the palette, load the brush and charge the awaiting paper. I wish all painters could feel the excitement of color spreading on wet paper, the mingling of paint when opposing tones are dropped on to the damp surface. Some grays, some pure tones, some white paper will result. Exhilaration mounts when the paper is picked up, turned and slanted, causing the pigment to run. All kinds of blends and shapes arise. It is possible to visualize a painting even at this starting point. Color exercises of many descriptions, along with brush talk and experiments with texturing tools, further acquaint the painter with the effects of wet pigment on receptive surfaces. When the painter is comfortable with what a medium can do, he is ready to work on subject matter. I have watched participants unfamiliar with the wide range of watercolor possibilities wallow in frustration, trying to make a statement. There is little joy in that kind of effort or its outcome. Successfully painting can be accomplished with any kind of instrument, not just brushes. Paint can be blown on or dripped on. It can be dabbed on with a rag, paper towel or sponge, a palette knife, even a credit card, to name a few. Blending or accenting may be done with fingers and/or nails as well as the side of the hand. Forget the manicure! Texturing can be with anything at hand, from resists such as crayons and masks to kitchen aids. Try drawing with toothpicks, twigs, straws, any kind of material that will hold a bit of paint. Put simply: experiment. When many approaches have been tried, the paints will be more interesting to both artist and viewer. No mandate says we painters have to be purists and work only with expensive sable brushes. Although there is nothing like them! Watercolor can be removed, scraped off, painted over, combined with other media and painted on just about any surface, except an oil-based tone. Large and small areas can be changed at will. When paper is dry, it can be scraped off carefully or erased. When wet, it can be lifted off or scrubbed. We all see the inexperienced painter with loads of equipment, hands full of brushes, and palette wells filled with superfluous colors. Oftentimes these painters are unaware of which pigment is transparent, which settles into the pores of rough paper, or which separates in certain mixes. Some paints stain; others lay on the surface. Certain combinations of paints can illuminate a white paper with glowing color. The key is practice; usually a gradual elimination of tubes of paint and brushes follows. A more basic palette evolves and the paintings begin to reflect simplified color schemes. The full scale of brush techniques can lead to many expressions; from the stroke of a brush held parallel to the surface, to the finest line with the same brush held differently, and touched to the paper differently. Many experienced painters can make the thinnest of lines with a one inch brush. All kinds of brushes can be pressed onto the paper, twirled, dragged across it, drawn with or scrubbed with, making an unlimited variety of expressions. A difficult challenge for any artist is deciding what should be included in the format. As the colorist looks at nature, a model, or a still life setup, placement of subject and distribution of light and dark patterns affect the design or floor plan. We painters can be temporarily stifled when we approach a blank sheet and wonder how to place an image, or even what the idea will be. I like Winston Churchill's approach; when indecision to get a painting underway stymied him, he commanded himself aloud, "Attack," and he did just that! After many years of working in the studio, I finally removed myself and the French easel to the out-of-doors. A different kind of watercolor painting began, and with it, new excitement. The most awakening part of painting now is to replenish the paint box with plenty of supplies, fill a water bottle, select appropriate paper, load it all into the van, and find a just-right location. Next, I make a few quick sketches in a permanent sketchbook, then await my own "attack." My brain is cleared and I'm ready to being another watercolor experience. The drippy start may be nothing like the view before me, but the inspiration is there, the fragrance of nature is there, the process of eliminating too much subject is there, I am there. The painting is seldom finished on the spot, but usually I have a fairly good one in hand. Occasionally, with simply a twist of the body or an about face, several other ideas crop up. The atmosphere may change, the color dominance may vary. It is very easy to spend an entire day at one site, watching within the 360 degrees for new inspiration. A subject might call for one method of beginning. Another impression may dictate a change in approach. I seldom paint everything in the same style. However, I most often begin with an underpainting, staining the surface with warm and cool pigment, possibly a very pale value. Instead of painting an object, say a building, I find that the fluid underpainting remains the color of the structure and the area around it, called the negative space, becomes the more painted area. For myself, negative painting takes concentration and a reverse thought process. Conversely that building may be painted directly and the shapes surrounding it subdued. There are many ways to bring out a point of interest. Sometimes I wonder that more artists do not have deep wrinkles around their eyes, for in squinting the painter sees the light and dark aspects accented. The tighter the squint, the more contract one sees. That helps simplify the shapes before you. Instead of thinking "tree, bush, grass, path, rocks," the thoughts become more "direction of light source, placement of lightest space, site of the darkest section, location of point of interest, shapes and scale." It takes some training to forget the name of objects before you, replacing them in terms of values, color, form, and contours. This theory holds true for any medium. After many methods of applying watercolor pigment to the paper have been absorbed, the inner self begins to manifest into the paintings. Most of us have been guilty of standing before the easel without any mental preparation, trying to make a painting. But the true artist first has to put his own spirit into a state of being. Distractions must be forgotten or better yet, eliminated. Of course, we may be aware of the telephone if it's not unplugged, or people moving about, or the chatter of birds. But the state of being we instill into our subconscious comes from being quiet, though not necessarily alone; a painter's solitude comes with concentration, letting thoughts dwell on what is to be painted. We make paintings in our minds, color in our minds; we see light and dark patterns in our minds, and attempt to become attuned to the world of ideas that surround us, and try to plug into specific ones. The watercolor medium is especially conducive to letting the paint flow while thoughts develop. It is being able to reach that state of mind and, more importantly, to stay in it that sets the artist apart. An inner spirit shines within those artists who have found such states of being. Their paintings reflect a quality out of the ordinary, set apart from the mundane. Their works give witness to the unique aura of each individual and the finished watercolors are permanent recordings of inspired performances.
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