The moment I actually grab a paintbrush to begin the painting is now close. The Physical Process has begun. I have a wood panel on the easel that has been primed with gesso and sanded between several layers, usually I will mix white and black gesso together to get a middle gray. I like to work on values “from the middle out”, which means that I will put on the deepest shadows and brightest highlights last.
At this point I have decided on the orientation of the canvas, I might have some reference material or thumbnail sketches to outline a composition. These might be complex photos or two or three lines of pencil. I may use a projector to transfer an outline to the board. I use chalk to get the general composition started. I am thinking the entire board at this stage, thinking about a landscape with depth and horizon line, just as an artist would paint a mountain scene or a city scene.
This chalk phase continues as I add contours and a few details. I am looking for what I call “graceful” lines and planes while at the same time avoiding and removing awkward ones. The phase could be over in minutes or last a day or two.
Even at this beginning I am looking at the possibilities of change. The relationship between the painting and me has become a conversation, one that starts with me asking “what do you need?” and the painting answering (hopefully quickly).
It is important to explain that I am not filling in details, but actually doing the opposite; that is, I am actively leaving open possibilities for later. The “drawback” to acrylic paint is that it dries very quickly as opposed to oil paint, so that “keep it or discard it” decisions must be made almost immediately. The upside to acrylics is that you can paint over them. The result of this Physical process is that the Creative Process is extended throughout the project. This is different than the way many painters work. Where others may have a plan laid out for the work from beginning to end, I do not want to know how it will come out, at least for the most part. I may want to impart a mood or feeling, but I may add or remove many sections as I go. There are often many layers under the visible top layer. Right up to the end, I am having that “what do you need?” conversation. Another often-asked question is “How do you know when a painting is done?” The answer: The painting is never done, I am done working on it.