[Psst - excerpt from my blog in 2013]
In Chinese painting, ink of the same colour is used in various ways. There are actually four shades - black, dark grey, light grey, and very very light grey; it depends on how much the link has been diluted. Then there is the VERY DRY black - which is basically undiluted black ink.
In Chinese painting, ink of the same colour is used in various ways. There are actually four shades - black, dark grey, light grey, and very very light grey; it depends on how much the link has been diluted. Then there is the VERY DRY black - which is basically undiluted black ink.
Then there are other considerations:
- Does the painting have BOTH extreme dark and extreme light variations of colour?
- Does the painting have uses of BOTH, the very dry and very wet brush?
- Was the brush used for BOTH, thick and fine strokes?
It's all about the balance.
Taoism features actively in this practice, and in a very tried and beaten, convoluted and overly marketed and highly-priced entity elsewhere known as “art”, and is a personal way of reaching clarity. What else does an artist pray to her paintbrushes and stationery for? Especially one with a short attention span and no patience.
It's all about the balance.
Taoism features actively in this practice, and in a very tried and beaten, convoluted and overly marketed and highly-priced entity elsewhere known as “art”, and is a personal way of reaching clarity. What else does an artist pray to her paintbrushes and stationery for? Especially one with a short attention span and no patience.
The rice paper, after firsthand experience and close contact with it (when the I only heard about it as a kid when I saw The Last Samurai or something) is smooth, with a fabric-like fall, with a kind of reassuring thickness, or weight, or something quite apart from GSM - something my senses on a cold rainy Sunday relished but couldn't quite articulate.
Or really too cautious/ delicate to try and name.
Or really too cautious/ delicate to try and name.
