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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COAGULATING, COHOBATING, MACERATING, REVERBERATING 123<br />
twilight combinations, like this one where the collection vessels<br />
are lined up like piglets suckling at their mother’s teats (Figure 5).<br />
A modern chemist might say that only the most infinitesimal<br />
differences between compounds could ever be separated this<br />
way, and even so it would be <strong>to</strong>o unreliable <strong>to</strong> ever produce<br />
dependable results. The alchemists also distilled their substances<br />
over and over, hoping <strong>to</strong> discover different forms of the same<br />
substance. They called that process cohobation, and they had a<br />
beautiful symbol for it: showing two cycles, with a zigzag<br />
suggesting more <strong>to</strong> follow. (It’s also possible <strong>to</strong> think of Fig. 5 as a<br />
symbolic diagram, and not an actual piece of labora<strong>to</strong>ry<br />
equipment, in which case it hints at how many times the<br />
distillation must be repeated.)<br />
Illogical apparatuses made distillation in<strong>to</strong> a mystery. It was<br />
fitting that distillation should be at least partly unknowable, as<br />
long as it was a metaphor for transcendence. The English<br />
Renaissance alchemist George Ripley describes an experiment in<br />
which a thickened, crystallized mixture of lead oxide and glacial<br />
acetic acid—he calls it his Green Lion—is put in a flask and<br />
distilled. When it is heated, the Green Lion gives off white fumes<br />
which condense in<strong>to</strong> a clear liquid, just the way steam would fill<br />
a glass container and condense back in<strong>to</strong> clear liquid. But then<br />
all of a sudden there is an ustulation: the remaining mixture<br />
puffs up <strong>to</strong> three times its height and solidifies in<strong>to</strong> a brittle white<br />
mass, like a glass sponge. It is a startling effect, and it happens<br />
with no warning. If the sponge is heated further, the collection<br />
vessel will fill with a strong-smelling liquid that Ripley calls his<br />
Blessed Liquor. The sponge can be broken down, and if<br />
powdered remnants of it are heated again, they will turn black.<br />
Then, when they are taken out of the still and <strong>to</strong>uched by a<br />
match, a beautiful rainbow of colors glides across their surface<br />
and is fixed in place. I have a sample I made several years ago;<br />
even now, it glows with burnt-out reds and oranges. 6 It’s the<br />
kind of beautiful and utterly unexpected chain of transformation<br />
that painters also know: the moments when it seems one thing is<br />
absolutely certain, and then something entirely unexpected<br />
happens instead. Even the most unpromising lef<strong>to</strong>vers, like<br />
Ripley’s black powder, can be ignited in<strong>to</strong> gorgeous displays.<br />
For people who care only <strong>about</strong> what paint can depict,<br />
distillation is the rudimentary step that all painters make in order<br />
<strong>to</strong> represent anything. It’s the business of painting, and what