| THE TECHNIQUE |
The underdrawing
When undertaking the Technique Mixed, one must first understand that
it will take a considerable amount of time to complete a picture.
At no stage can the painting can be rushed in any way. This fundamental
rule was emphasised to me at the beginning of my tutorship by the
acute attention to detail required in every aspect of preparation,
contemplation and execution. Even the sharpening of a pencil, undertook
by hand with a razor blade in order to create the longest and sharpest
possible point, was an art form that needed to be mastered.
For me, a painting begins its life when I choose the canvas. I have
become more and more discerning over the types of canvas that I use,
tending to choose very fine canvases, with minimal grain, which do
not blunt the pencils so rapidly and allow for a finer finish when
the glazes are applied at the later stage.
I assemble the stretcher and stretch out the canvas by hand, taking
time to decide which side of the canvas I will use. I sometimes feel
a bizarre pity for the reverse side of a canvas; as it is attached
to its frame I condemn it to a dusty, twilit life, whilst the other
side is painstakingly crafted upon, destined for a life on view. Historically
however, this was not the case, as both sides of the canvas were often
worked upon when materials were scarce.
The canvas is then prepared with one coat of size (a glue based preparation,
which prevents the canvas from rotting when paints are applied). After
this has dried a number of thin layers of gesso are painted carefully
on, sanding the surface down in between each layer, until a smooth
and flawless surface is achieved.
Once the canvas is prepared and has settled for a few days, the execution
begins with an exceptionally detailed underdrawing in compressed carbon
pencil. Every shade is rendered from black through to brightest white.
This extreme detail lays the foundations for the incandescence and
illusion of my paintings. Starting in the background I begin mapping
out the entire image. In this way I work around the picture comparing
each thing I am drawing to the next, never finishing a specific area,
leaving scope for the widest of tonal range - the white of the canvas
to the darkest charcoal of the pencil. To achieve the very darkest
aspects of the drawing, I use a series of dry brushes to darken the
charcoal lines still further, pushing the pigment into the grain of
the canvas to completely remove all traces of white. This drawing
stage can be the longest and most painstaking part of the process,
often taking three months or more to complete. I work using the cross-hatching
method, favoured by the draughtsmen of the Renaissance; never drawing
lines around objects, always defining them within their own space
- if you look carefully around you, you will observe that lines simply
do not exist in nature, all objects have dimension and can only be
seen in relation to the light and shapes around them.
Only when I am totally satisfied that I can push the drawing no further
do I move on to the next stage. On occasions when people have seen
the picture at the end of the drawing stage, they have compared it
to (or even believed it to be) a photograph. Many people have pleaded
with me to go no further and leave it as just a drawing. This is when
I am ready to start the painting. I like to take a photograph of the
work at this stage to later observe the changes and development of
the image.
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