The Wrong Side of the Paper?

“Does a sheet of paper have a right and a wrong side” is one of those questions that I think gets answered with that frustrating “it depends”.

It depends whether there’s any texture to the surface and whether it’s primed painting paper or not. The latter is the easy: it will be primed on one side only, so that’s the “right side” (not that you can’t use the other side too). The former depends on which texture you like the best., you can use either.

The watercolour paper I’m using (350gsm Seawhite of Brighton NOT) has a gridded texture on one side and slight bumps on the other. I mostly prefer the latter, because I find the grid can tell a contradictory story if I end up highlighting it with, for example, wet paint catching on the ridges as it dries vertically, by dry brushing, or using oil pastel run across the surface lightly.

In the photo below you see the difference between the two sides (click on the photo to enlarge it). I was working on two A3 sheets side by side, and inadvertently had one the wrong way around.

Is it a difference most other people would notice? Probably not. Would someone else prefer the side I think is the “wrong” side? Probably. Does it matter. No. The right side is the side you like, and if anyone says otherwise they’re on the wrong side.

What are your thoughts? Post a comment below.

PS: A big thank you to Christine M; you know why.

How I Do It : Splattering Paint

So having discovered my phone has a slow-motion option on its videos, I’ve been playing with it a bit. This short clip shows how I splatter paint, a technique I use a lot for my sheep and seascape paintings.

It’s a “happy accident” technique you learn to control through practice. The consistency of the paint is crucial, and that you learn through trial-and-error.

If you don’t see the video above, click on this link.

The quality of the video isn’t brilliant because it was done late afternoon in low winter light. And imagine my phone balance precariously on my tripod, held by various bulldogclips. Perhaps I ought to set a Patreon goal that relates to better video equipment?

The Rule of Odds

Monsieur P big pencil

Monsieur P big pencilThe Rule of Odds in art runs along the lines of “whatever odd thing you do, people will put it down to your being arty”.

No, wait, that’s the Rule of Oddbods.

The Rule of Odds in art is that a composition will be more dynamic if there’s an odd number of elements in the composition, say three or seven, rather than an even number, say two or six. The reasoning is that having an odd number  means your brain can’t pair them up or group them as easily, that there’s somehow always one thing left over, which keeps your eyes moving across the composition.

Why do we pair things up naturally? Perhaps it’s because our body is designed in pairs: two eyes, two ears, two hands, two feet, and so on. (Okay, only one nose, but it’s got two nostrils!) Whether we’re painting apples, apple trees, or apple-eating creatures (aka still-life, landscape, or figures), the same Rule of Odds applies.

Take a look at the brushes in the jar in these two versions of a painting.

Rule of odds and evens in art

If I asked you to count the brushes in the left-hand photo, you’d likely be able to do so quickly — once glance and you’ve taken it all in. Whereas in the right-hand version you’d have to spend a little more time and you may, ultimately, be uncertain because some brushes are hidden behind others — you’re spending longer looking and engaging with the composition.

It’s the Rule of Odds in action. That I painted this scene at all, well that’s the Rule of Oddbods.

If a Paint Tube Cap Breaks

“I have a question regarding acrylic paint in tubes. When the lid breaks, as it so often does on a new tube, is it okay to keep the paint in a small glass jar and should I add water to it to keep it from going solid.” — Lyn

Yes, and if the lid is airtight you shouldn’t have to add water to it. You’ll easily tell if it’s drying though, and then a little water does the trick, just don’t leave it for weeks before you check! If in doubt, put a piece of clingfilm over the top before screwing on the lid for a tighter seal.

It’s worth saving caps from used-up tubes as spares (in wherever you put your tubes, not in a never-to-be-found-again safe place). Also check the size of other things with caps, starting with your toothpaste, as often while the cap itself is bigger overall than a paint tube’s but the screw thread is the same size.

If you’re in a hurry, invert the tube in a container with a little water, enough to cover the broken cap.

Paint Tubes From My Stash Skye Artist

Did I Stop Too Late? (or When is a Painting Finished?)

When is a Painting Finished? Step 2

When is a painting finished is one of those “how long is a piece of string” questions. I usually say “sooner rather than later” because you can always add to a painting tomorrow. But conversely, if you don’t push a painting past a certain point, how do you develop? The danger is to under-work a painting for fear of over-working it.

These photos are from a painting where I was consciously thinking of this. I’d set out with the intention of using opaque colours on top of transparent, to explore the possibilities. (It partly comes from looking at Joan Eardley‘s paintings again.) At various points in the painting I very nearly stopped because I really liked where it was. But instead I kept going because I wanted to go further, to see where the journey might lead.

Should I have stopped painting at this point:

When is a Painting Finished? Step 1
Acrylic ink on A2 paper. Payne’s grey and a yellow.

Or should I have stopped painting at this point:
When is a Painting Finished? Step 2

Or should I have stopped painting at this point:
When is a Painting Finished? Step 3

Or should I have stopped painting at this point: When is a Painting Finished? Step 4

This is where I did stop (the changes to the step above are minimal): When is a Painting Finished?

Was it the right point to stop painting? Yes, in that I like the result, the layers of colour, the opaque colour over transparent, and that I pursued the version of the painting I had envisaged when I started through several points at which I was tempted to stop. No, because I regret I don’t have that minimalist version in the very first photo.

I could have stopped and started a new version to push further. Would I still have ended up at the same final point with the interruption(s)? That’s impossible to know and ultimately not the right question to be asking. The better question is: how do I feel about what I did do and where I ended up, not what I might have done but didn’t.