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 133<br />
only difference between them was white. Digestive areas are<br />
places where things almost are. They can be reminiscent of the<br />
mono<strong>to</strong>ny of house paint, and they can also adumbrate the full<br />
variety of an abstract composition or an imaginary landscape.<br />
But they hold everything in suspension, letting the forms draw<br />
them-selves almost in<strong>to</strong> clarity.<br />
CERATION<br />
Some substances are skin-like—waxy, pliant, glossy, smooth—but<br />
most are not. Alchemists valued the rare substances that behave<br />
like skin or flesh, and they made things waxy (in the process<br />
called ceration) and soapy (saponification) in order <strong>to</strong> mimic<br />
living tissue. Ceration was a kind of loosening, where the hard<br />
metals and bitter salts became moist and <strong>to</strong>ok on water.<br />
Normally, soap is made from animal fat, so that saponification<br />
only changes one organic thing in<strong>to</strong> another; but it can also be<br />
made from metals: there are iron soaps, aluminum soaps, and<br />
even magnesium and strontium soaps. A sudden change in<strong>to</strong><br />
human skin would be inconceivable, but a slight chemical<br />
softening can begin the melting that might rescue the metallic<br />
back in<strong>to</strong> the world of the human. Soap and wax are halfhuman:<br />
they are halfway conditions, on the path <strong>to</strong> genuine life.<br />
In paint, <strong>to</strong>o, it is essential <strong>to</strong> make the pigment pliable—not<br />
just so that it can be easily spread with a brush, but so that it<br />
recalls the texture and feel of human life. In the eighteenth and<br />
nineteenth centuries painters wanted their paint “buttery” or<br />
“creamy.” (That sense of “cream” comes from Continental and<br />
British creams, which are much thicker than American cream.<br />
French crème fraiche and British jarred cream are more like<br />
American pudding or yogurt.) Those are good consistencies for<br />
most paintbrushes, but they are also appetizing, and pleasing <strong>to</strong><br />
the <strong>to</strong>uch. When the object is <strong>to</strong> make something living, it helps<br />
<strong>to</strong> begin with half-living ingredients. Rembrandt’s textures are<br />
not appetizing, but they are all in the range of the human and<br />
organic. Even <strong>to</strong>day, when some painters find the words<br />
“buttery” and “creamy” old-fashioned or unhealthy, paint has<br />
lost a little of its organic appeal. Painters sometimes call a paint<br />
“fat,” but even that word is less common now than fifty years<br />
ago. The loss of those words is more important than it seems.