zaterdag 18 oktober 2014

Making love in ink: my passion for a beautiful and unpredictable medium


Somebody asked me the other day, when having a look at Witty Art: ''What's it you like so much about working with ink?'' Well, my immediate answer to that was: ''What's not to like?'' - but afterwards, I got thinking and it prompted me to dedicate this blog and perhaps some future ones to what is my favourite medium to work with.

As long as I can remember, even as a young child I have always liked working with ink. There 's just something purely magical about it: the moment you dip your pen or brush into the ink and then, immediately afterwards, in a split second, you need to decide where on that virgin piece of paper to put that first line or brush stroke. It leaves no or very little room for error, and when you make one, you need to either stick with it and work around it or with it, or get rid of the drawing straight away. It's a very pure and intuitive way of working, especially when vigorously using wet-in-wet techniques like I do, thinning thick black Indian ink with water to all kinds and shapes of black, to grey, to almost being translucent. The ink sometimes barely visible on the paper, at other times creating pitchblack surfaces, adding more black and scratching onto the surface of the paper, thus creating multiple layers of black. 


That's what I love about working with and creating in ink. It's both hard, unforgiving, leaving no room for mistakes, but also soft, caring, depending on whether you use a pen or brush, and the amount of force or tenderness you apply the ink onto the paper. Well. There it is. My public confession: guess I like to make love to the paper in ink (no, no ink fetish here - apart from that I secretly would like to learn how to tattoo, tough).

But, on a more serious note, creating images for me is a physical process as well as a more intellectual and a spiritual one as well. Especially as my work is all about the undertow, the invisible streams and currents you do not see at the surface of the water. And ink, like watercolour, has a will of its own. Sometimes I follow the ink, sometimes the ink follows me. That process is less obvious and less strong when creating my more cartoonesque work, like in many of The Series (but not all of them) and definitely more prominent with The Singles, which are more abstract, autonomous and a result of purely intuitive working. But still, with ink, you never know, as it's one beautiful, yet totally unpredictable medium you can never, ever fully master, I think. But one can always hope ;-)




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