Wednesday, June 17, 2009

GNOMEGAME, REDUX

Enter the Airbrush

As stated earlier, at the outset of Gnomegame, I adopted a painting approach similar to Sandro Botticelli... small hatching brushstrokes made with pointed sable brushes. Needless to say the approach, while ultimately satisfying, was tedious by nature. It was also a process quite alien to the initial gestural attack.

In a continuation of the serendipity that led to Gnomegame, ENTER THE AIRBRUSH.

It happened while visiting a friend and fellow artist. He had just acquired an inexpensive airbrush and was very excited about it.

Having been exposed to many commercial illustrations created with an airbrush (Time magazine covers, Petty Girls, slick advertising illustrations, etc.), I had developed a strong aversion to that particular painting system.

My friend, in an attempt to amuse (and influence) me, kept insisting that I try using the “brush”. He overcame my resistance by filling his airbrush with India ink and placing an easel with board and paper in front of me.

He turned the compressor on, handed me the brush and I had no choice but to comply.

I opened with a gestural flourish, no subject in mind, more in the nature of a calligraphic drawing. In the few seconds that it took to accomplish the opening, I immediately recognized (or discovered) a potential image. I moved to strengthen it and started to develop modeling to give it dimension. That whole process took less than five minutes...no masterpiece, mind you, but an acceptable effort which, as it developed, gave me insight into a way to synthesized my drawing and painting into one act.
I felt as though I had an airbrush in my hand all my life.

I was thrilled.

As I was leaving, my generous friend offered to loan his airbrush to me, and I jumped at the chance.

Arriving home, I immediately set up and brought out a pad of paper. Two hours later, with experimental freehand "stuff" lying all around me, I realized that I had discovered the perfect medium for me. For the next few days, I worked incessantly drawing with it and incorporating color layer upon layer in painting after painting.

A week passed, I heard a knock at the door and peeked out the window. It was my friend. I knew he probably wanted his equipment back but I wasn’t ready to return it. My obsession with his airbrush prompted me to be very quiet and give the impression that I wasn’t home. This charade repeated itself for two more visits by him. Then, I finally gave in, returned
his airbrush to him and acquired my own within 24 hours.

Ultimately, he was amused by my confessed subterfuge and, in gentle retribution, remarked, “you know, Fred, it’s the perfect voyeur's medium. You never touch the canvas”.

My reply, “that's OK”.