What Painting Is: How to Think about Oil Painting ... - Victoria Vesna

What Painting Is: How to Think about Oil Painting ... - Victoria Vesna What Painting Is: How to Think about Oil Painting ... - Victoria Vesna

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WHAT PAINTING IS 99 probably stumbles over the more complex compounds. So alchemy can help answer our question about artists' substances by showing what the body knows, as opposed to what the mind memorizes. Taking mercury first, as the alchemists nearly always did: its sign is very like the sign for Venus or copper —they are both feminine and “volatile.” Mercury is apt to move around, and show a lively desire to combine with other metals. 1 It is also called quicksilver because it looks like cold liquid silver, and the alchemists thought it could dissolve gold, silver, and other metals. It is a penetrating liquid, they said: it can seep into stones and find precious metals. If a sample of powdered rock is heated with mercury, the mercury will attach itself to whatever gold there might be and draw it out. 2 Quicksilver is associated with fluids, especially semen, blood, and the humid breath: it is “primordial humidity” (humiditas radicalis). Mircea Eliade reports that Hindu alchemists call it the “semen of Shiva.” 3 For Andreas Libavius, a late sixteenth century alchemist, mercury is the “material, vaporous principle” of water itself, as if mercury were what made water wet. 4 More sober metallurgists like the medieval Marius report that mercury has “an abundance of water” in it, so that “it is very similar to cold water and ice and is readily congealed”—that is, made into amalgams. It has only a small portion of fire in it, since it does not burn easily, nor scorch the tongue like fiery substances. Its high water content, he observes, also “forces it to scatter if it is thrown into a fire.” 5 The sources paint a picture of mercury as a principle of wateriness, a kind of liquid more fundamental than water itself. It washes itself into crevices, ferrets out hidden things, melts and dissolves whatever appears solid. In painting, therefore, mercury is the very principle of the solvent—the turpentine, turpenoid, benzene, or mineral oil. Its liquidity has no limits: the more powerful the solvent, the thinner the paint layer can be. Benzene can make very thin matte layers of paint that dry almost immediately and can be put down one over another. Other volatile oils like turpentine are less strident and carry the gloss of

100 HOW DO SUBSTANCES OCCUPY THE MIND? the linseed oil with them as they spread over the canvas, forming shiny glazes instead of dull sheets. The strong solvent is also a penetrator: if the brush bears down too hard, it might begin to dissolve the dried paint underneath it. Especially in tempera, painters have to go delicately over the layers of paint that have already set, or else their solvents will begin eating into their own paintings. It is disconcertingly easy to wipe through carefully laid layers of tempera, right down to the white gesso underneath. There is no way to patch such a hole: it leaves a permanent scar in the painting. To a painter, the solvent is a kind of anti-paint, because it is what pigment must be balanced against in order to make it possible to paint at all. Like mercury, the solvent is volatile, unable to remain fixed in place, or to take on color. The principle of fluidity, liquidity, or solubility is a universal requirement in paint, and one-half of the two fundamental ingredients of paint (water and stone). Sulfur is quicksilver’s opposite, complement, and “consort.” Its masculinity is shown by its “fieriness”—its affinity to fire, smoke, and stench. Paracelsus simply called it Fire. 6 It can turn mercury into a solid, and even give it color. The result of the union of mercury and sulfur is cinnabar (HgS), whose brilliant red color is said to come from the male sulfur. The ability to color is masculine, because sulfur “impresses” itself into more flighty, changeable substances. Sulfur is also called the “balsam of nature,” since it is the “formative” power and life in substances. 7 As the giver of form (informator), sulfur is masculine, the seed par excellence. “In a certain sense,” writes Titus Burckhardt, “‘rigid’ Sulphur is theoretical understanding,” containing “the gold of the Spirit in unfruitful form.” 8 Certainly the idea that sulfur is infertile without mercury is rooted deep in the alchemical tradition, though the explicit equation between sulfur’s bodily nature and theoretical reasoning is new to this century. Considered as a principle, sulfur can be anything that does not evaporate or turn liquid, just as mercury can be whatever is volatile or easily liquefies. Ordinarily, alchemists thought raw sulfur was impure

WHAT PAINTING IS 99<br />

probably stumbles over the more complex compounds. So<br />

alchemy can help answer our question <strong>about</strong> artists' substances<br />

by showing what the body knows, as opposed <strong>to</strong> what the mind<br />

memorizes.<br />

Taking mercury first, as the alchemists nearly always did: its<br />

sign is very like the sign for Venus or copper —they are both<br />

feminine and “volatile.” Mercury is apt <strong>to</strong> move around, and<br />

show a lively desire <strong>to</strong> combine with other metals. 1 It is also<br />

called quicksilver because it looks like cold liquid silver, and the<br />

alchemists thought it could dissolve gold, silver, and other<br />

metals. It is a penetrating liquid, they said: it can seep in<strong>to</strong> s<strong>to</strong>nes<br />

and find precious metals. If a sample of powdered rock is heated<br />

with mercury, the mercury will attach itself <strong>to</strong> whatever gold<br />

there might be and draw it out. 2 Quicksilver is associated with<br />

fluids, especially semen, blood, and the humid breath: it is<br />

“primordial humidity” (humiditas radicalis). Mircea Eliade reports<br />

that Hindu alchemists call it the “semen of Shiva.” 3 For Andreas<br />

Libavius, a late sixteenth century alchemist, mercury is the<br />

“material, vaporous principle” of water itself, as if mercury were<br />

what made water wet. 4 More sober metallurgists like the<br />

medieval Marius report that mercury has “an abundance of<br />

water” in it, so that “it is very similar <strong>to</strong> cold water and ice and is<br />

readily congealed”—that is, made in<strong>to</strong> amalgams. It has only a<br />

small portion of fire in it, since it does not burn easily, nor scorch<br />

the <strong>to</strong>ngue like fiery substances. Its high water content, he<br />

observes, also “forces it <strong>to</strong> scatter if it is thrown in<strong>to</strong> a fire.” 5<br />

The sources paint a picture of mercury as a principle of<br />

wateriness, a kind of liquid more fundamental than water itself.<br />

It washes itself in<strong>to</strong> crevices, ferrets out hidden things, melts and<br />

dissolves whatever appears solid. In painting, therefore, mercury<br />

is the very principle of the solvent—the turpentine, turpenoid,<br />

benzene, or mineral oil. Its liquidity has no limits: the more<br />

powerful the solvent, the thinner the paint layer can be. Benzene<br />

can make very thin matte layers of paint that dry almost<br />

immediately and can be put down one over another. Other<br />

volatile oils like turpentine are less strident and carry the gloss of

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