# Monday, March 09, 2009
Artistic License: Will This Require an Exam?
The term “artistic license” is a common one. While it means that artists have the ability to manipulate that which they see at will, the potential for unintended associations with this term are numerous. The one I want to explore is the formal training that so few artists receive. The barometer for this lack of knowledge appears to be the websites dedicated to networking for artists. Through forums and discussion groups, artists get to ask questions of other artists and hopefully come away with solid answers to their dilemmas. In theory, this should work out well. Artists have various levels of experience, and someone will take the time to provide an educated answer based on solid experience and practice.

Unfortunately, this does not always work out. The people that hang out in the beginners or novice sections of the website nearly all have the same level of experience or mostly lack of experience. On occasion, someone with a fair amount of art materials savvy stops in and lends a helping hand. However, many of the exchanges follow this pattern. I’ll put each message exchange on an individual line, except for the final one:

----------
How do you put gesso on a piece of Masonite?
I don’t know, I have never used gesso before. I paint in watercolor.
Thanks
Hey! Great question. What’s gesso?
I got some at the store and they told me to put it on the panel I bought.
Maybe I can help. Gesso is like that stuff you use on wallboard to cover the seams.
How do I put it on my panel?
Try reading the directions.
I did. It is still confusing :()
I heard you can just put it on with a paint roller.
Where can I get a roller?
The hardware store. That’s where I get a lot of my art supplies.
How do you put the gesso on the Masonite?
With the roller.

Read the directions and follow the manufacturer’s suggestion for the number of coats. It is usually three to four. Prepare the hardboard panel with an initial coating of an acrylic medium to block support-induced discoloration; let it dry and then apply the primer coats with a soft bristle brush. Don’t sand between coats.
----------

I think you get the idea of how much ignorance is shared and how long it takes for this exchange to transpire. In my fabricated example you get to view it in a condensed mode without the repetition of each message along with the avatar of the user who is logged onto the website and the other graphics that go along with each block of text.

The last answer is the one that should have followed the first one, but other “fellow travelers” needed to supply their comments. My favorite “answers” are the ones that ask another question. This method of reply is akin to coming upon a stranded motorist with a flat tire.  You stop your car behind them, take off your jacket, roll up your sleeves, look prepared to help, walk up to the stranded motorist and say to them “Is that tire flat?” Then without saying a word, walk back to your car, get in and drive off. Crazy? You be the judge. It happens in online discussion groups constantly. Few questions get addressed properly until the forum moderator intervenes, focuses the topic and sometimes answers the question quickly and efficiently.

Benefits do exist with the shared information. Forums provide comfort and support. They allow artists to know they’re not alone in the world. On occasion these forums share valuable information. However, in many cases a forum just passes on bad information to another novice eager to learn something. A lot of those discussion threads end with some horrible advice given with such authority that it sounds like it should be true.

Anyone can be an artist and you don’t have to have a license to prove it. What do you think? Don’t answer the question with another question!




Monday, March 09, 2009 7:29:41 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #  Comments [5] 
Dreaming of a Pattinson's White Christmas
If you had been in Alston, Cumberland, on December 25, 1796, at the home of Thomas and Margaret Pattinson, you would have been witness to a very special occasion. It was Christmas Day. Obviously, as significant as that day would be for many of Alston’s residents, the Pattinson’s had a more impending birth celebration on their minds. Margaret gave birth to a son they named Hugh Lee Pattinson on that Christmas Day. Like many successful people, Hugh would later bring some level of notoriety to the region of Cumberland.

Hugh studied science and formed an interest in chemistry as it related to metallurgy. This was a smart move given that mining would yield metals that required not only physical extraction from the ground, but a variety of processes that separated and purified them. Hugh was not a one-sided adolescent. He organized a debate society and was the driving force in its success. After reading extensively about electricity, he created experiments that surprised and delighted both his friends and adoring mother. Breaking with traditional hobbies and idle pastimes of young people today, Hugh was the proud operator of a furnace located on the third floor of his mother’s house. His sporadic explosions and fires hot enough to melt metals, by today’s standards, would certainly raise the eyebrows of any family’s household insurance agent.

How manufacturers get the lead to turn into a wonderful white pigment becomes something of a mystery. The chemistry of the process gets a bit complicated. Lead rarely presents itself on this planet in a pure form as gold sometimes does. Lead needs to be separated from surrounding rock and purified mechanically. It can be found in relatively rich ore deposits in the minerals called galena, cerussite and anglesite, but it’s also combined with more commonly known metals like copper, zinc and silver. Refinement separates metals from each other and subsequent processing drives off additional impurities or isolates other usable metals to render pure samples.

Hugh Pattinson’s claim to fame comes from the patent he filed for creating a process of separating silver from lead. As stated earlier, lead is usually mixed with a variety of metals. Hugh’s patent described a method of separating silver from lead but historic editorial comments note that the cost of doing the separation was not economical given the amount of energy and time that was needed to extract a small amount of silver.

The traditional process of making lead white pigment is well documented. Sheets or buckles of lead were transformed to lead acetate through exposure to vapors of acetic acid. Heat and carbon dioxide turn the lead acetate into lead carbonate. That chemical process, by a variety of methods, created the lead white pigment artists have used for centuries. It was time consuming and tricky to get the lead to consistently transform into the carbonate form of the metal. Experimenters looked for faster, cheaper ways to make a substantial white colorant that would have the same superior characteristics as lead white. Hugh Pattinson used his knowledge of metallurgy to come up with a traditional lead white substitute.

The documentation of Pattinson’s lead white pigment is somewhat fragmented. The lifespan and popularity of his pigment discovery remains obscure. Pattinson took a different chemical route to create a lead white pigment. He precipitated a solution of chloride and oxide of lead in a hydrated state to create lead oxychloride. It yielded a white pigment with fairly good covering power. Lead oxychloride is a chemical relative of another pigment called Turner’s yellow. As is evident, lead oxychloride is not the same as lead carbonate, the chemical name for lead white pigment.

Turning again to the history of this material, it’s curious that the pigment referred to as Pattinson’s white does not have a date of origin. Guessing that it was invented around the time that Pattinson was in his prime when he was working out the process for separating silver from lead, the approximate date of the invention of Pattinson’s white could have been around 1830. A.H. Church refers to Pattinson’s white in the 1890 edition of The Chemistry of Paints and Painting. But by 1913, Hurst’s A Manual of Painters’ Colours, Oils, and Varnishes refers to lead oxychloride as “now obsolete.”  

I’m speculating that Pattinson’s white must have had a fair degree of success since it was marketed for approximately 70 years. However, it must have had some inherent problems since lead carbonate white remained high in production and sales throughout the first half of the 20th century. Lead white sales and production start to diminish only after the acceptance of titanium dioxide as a pigment with superior performance characteristics.

It might be urban folklore to think that once it was discovered that lead white was toxic and harmful to people, a race to find a substitute was initiated. The literature on lead white periodically reminds us that the dangers of lead white were well known. The lack of a suitable replacement with the same performance characteristics and well as a powerful lead production lobby, delayed the changeover from lead-based white paints to titanium and titanium-zinc combinations.

This story doesn’t end with the apotheosis of Hugh Pattinson. They didn’t name Alston’s town square after him, though he did reach a level of celebrity that allowed him the honor of laying the cornerstone of Alston’s city hall in 1857, just one year before he died. His Pattinson’s white paint didn’t have a sustained market, although approximately 70 years of sales isn’t a bad run. His success was the product of a time period when inventing a fledgling industrial process yielded financial growth and security.



Paint ingredients
Monday, March 09, 2009 7:18:21 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #  Comments [2] 
# Friday, October 24, 2008
Bending Spoons and Breaking the Laws of Physics

This has been a busy lecture preparation season for me.  Most of the summer was spent preparing for talks given at the Savannah College of Art and Design in early October 2008. The school is wonderful, and the professors could not have been more welcoming and open to discussion on a variety of topics. However in meeting with students, some intriguing ideas were exchanged in our conversations. 

Students at Savannah, and any other art school, are in the processing of finding their own niche, staking claim to their personal voice in artistic expression. In their experimentation, they may stumble upon an art material or industrial fabrication that works to meet their needs. It might be a type of paint that they modify to perform a certain way or a substrate that acts to their liking. After investing a lot of time in working with these “out of the mainstream” materials, they attend one of my lectures. I tend to scare them with stories and pictures of what can happen when artists don’t think through the long-term problems and issues regarding inherent vice.

I define "inherent vice" as elements within the physical makeup of a material that will cause it to change in appearance, fail to maintain long-term integrity or compromise the existence of an object. As art objects age, the potential for degradation of any materials rises.This is especially true as new, industrial materials and/or combinations of commercial and artists’ materials and experiments with mixing various formulations enter the art realm. 

The vast array of products found at a home improvement store can be used to make art, but will they hold together for a reasonable amount of time and sustain the visual appearance an artist intended when the piece was fabricated? Some of my conservator colleagues will say, let artists make whatever they want, however they want, out of whatever artists want. My counter argument to that is as follows. If you don’t do a bit of “homework” and think through the fabrication process, the mixing of potentially disparate or incompatible materials and how they will become integrated as an art object, you might doom them to a premature death. I am not a firm believer in the notion of trusting artists to use whatever they want, however they want for one main reason. In talking to artists I find that in many cases they select materials impulsively, without thought as to how they will work together or hold up to the effects of aging. Mature artists may have very sound reasons for selecting materials and wishing to exploit the effects of the interaction between disparate products. They may even select a material for its symbolic meaning. I respect that notion and applaud it. However, lots of artist will take shortcuts and skip basic research into what would be best to use to achieve an effect and maintain the look and feel for an appreciable length of time.  Experiment all you want, but don’t expect your potential buyers to support the brunt of your cutting edge work as the piece you create melts or crumbles before their eyes. To use a color related analogy, we would not want the folks who apply the highly technical paint application to the car we buy to “go creative” one day and add something strange to the coating mixture because they thought it would look really cool. That might be fine if you want to give away the car, but if I am paying for it, I expect the paint to perform over a long period of time without failing.

Let’s go back to the world of art students starting out with building their portfolios and satisfying their class assignments. I see so many of them work with materials that they have no idea as to how they will perform over time. Some even pick paints or substrates that are made with products that are known to be incompatible with paints or adhesives they are using. However, they like the way the stuff looks. They did not pick a clear sheet of acrylic glazing material from the hardware store because it symbolized the death of natural products in what is an endless sea of artificial, chemical confusion. They selected it because it was on sale and rubber cement mixed with plastic beads they spread about the surface of the acrylic sheet looks good. Using materials that we know will change in appearance fairly quickly will have a dramatic impact on how their artwork will be viewed and interpreted. Their artists' statements should anticipate the acrylic changing as the solvents interact with the plastic. They should preemptively comment on the brown appearance of the rubber cement even though at the time the art was created the adhesive was clear and colorless. A few better-planned choices made with some thought could have saved them from the inevitable changes that would take place by using materials that change so drastically in a short period of time. Many artists however continue to struggle to attempt to perform the equivalent of the mentalist Kreskin and bend spoons before our eyes. You can try to defy physics, but in the end, physics always wins.


Archival standards | Paint ingredients
Friday, October 24, 2008 8:03:17 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)  #  Comments [3] 
# Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Some Thoughts on Making Art
I was passing by an office building under construction and suddenly an idea came to mind that relates to making works of art. When a building is under construction, do you think the architect and the construction company gather together to figure out the minimal amount of effort and poorest quality materials that will be needed to assemble a building? Construction firms could build a structure, with the thought that after they finish the project, someone else can be hired to fix the deficiencies in the quality of the materials used and the poor techniques they employed to assemble the components. Just get it to look right and hope it holds together long enough for the checks to clear the bank. Fortunately, a sense of integrity, reputation, compliance to building codes, as well as a healthy fear of legal action, govern the construction of most of the commercial buildings erected in the United States today.

Why is it that many artists ignore the notion of integrity, reputation, and fear of legal action? I skipped the building codes because they don’t apply, but perhaps that would not be a bad idea.  Many art schools today impart no sense of the need for “building codes” for works of art. Some schools don’t even make it an academic challenge by confronting students with the exercise of creating works of art that appear to use materials with inherent vice but are really very sound and stable. 

Suppose you were fixated on making an artistic statement where the focus of your work was the typical American hamburger and its potential ill effects on the health and well being of the population. A painted image of a hamburger just wouldn't be enough. You would want it to appear to be a real and tangible object that exudes the essence of hamburger on a bun with all the extras. The simple, short-term answer would be to obtain a real hamburger and mount it, as appropriate, to your artwork. The long-term outcome is easy to figure out. The fresh, glistening, juicy hamburger will, in short order, be reduced to a blue-green, furry biohazard. This could be your intention, but you are likely to encourage the wrath of anyone who has to deal with your artwork professionally——from the gallery director who will have to cope with the byproducts of the deterioration process to the hazmat team that will be called in at some point to deal with the new life form that has established itself on your artwork. Nobody will be happy. Either way, your artwork will be delivered to a “suitable” exhibition space if you find that a garbage dumpster is an appealing alternate art gallery. Unless you are as rich as Warren Buffett and/or have a valued reputation as an artist, nobody is going to put up with your deteriorating hamburger nonsense.

Now let’s go back to something more realistic and equally applicable. Why should artists be afforded the luxury to make objects without thought as to their longevity, leaving the difficult task of maintaining the artist's intent to a future generation of conservators? Conservators will have enough gainful employment treating the fairly stable, natural deterioration of materials found in works of art, without having the challenge of holding together a totally ill-planned nightmare.

As I often find now, it is all a matter of economics. Will a poorly made work of art be worth the money needed to keep it looking the way an artist intended? No standard answer exists. However, unless you, as an artist, have a devoted following, your “brilliant” idea to paint with dry pigment mixed with vegetable shortening may not make it to a museum wall, when a curator and acquisition committee looks at how much it will cost to preserve a painting that is currently “wet” and will NEVER dry.


Archival standards | Paint ingredients
Tuesday, June 10, 2008 7:42:33 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)  #  Comments [2] 
# Thursday, March 27, 2008
My Somewhat Secret Life
It seems I am always in the process of getting myself into projects that consume a huge amount of time. I am drawn to them like moths to a candle. It doesn't mean that I am not thinking about art and art materials. Those thoughts are always with me. It’s just a matter of sitting down and writing them out. Currently I'm trying to figure out how to use the combined 80 minutes that I sit on a commuter train each day of the workweek to get these thoughts out. 

So let’s catch up on what is going on right now. Within the last year I became the chairman of the subcommittee of the American Society of Testing and Materials (ASTM) D01.57 group on Artists’ Materials.This is the group that creates standards for art materials and whose claim to fame is the mandatory standard D2436 that is found on almost every art and craft material around. I even saw it recently on a kit for coloring Easter eggs! I will comment from time to time on relevant issues related to the important work this subcommittee performs. We are headed for a meeting in Reno, NV and the National Art Materials Trade Association show late in April.

For those of you who are dedicated readers of The Artist's Magazine, I provide entries for the “Ask the Experts” column. Some days I really question that “Expert” word in the title. The more I learn about the art materials world, the more I realize that I have no clue as to what is happening. (Keep this a secret.  Don’t let my editor know about this!  Actually, all the editors involved with the writing I do work very hard to keep me looking good. My thanks go out to them.) The questions posed by The Artist's Magazine's readers are challenging, especially one that I'll address shortly in an upcoming issue on the use of zinc in oil paints. That answer will spark some interesting discussions.

That would be enough stuff to keep anyone busy but, as a glutton for punishment, I have the truly thankless job of serving as treasurer and board member of the Mid-Atlantic Plein Air Painters Association. It’s a great organization and the opportunities are only limited by the imagination and hard work that its committee coordinators can produce. I can only wonder what we might do if we had unlimited time to put toward running the organization. 

I have had a passion for prints ever since I went to undergraduate and graduate school and had nearly free reign to open drawers of the print collections of the university art galleries that I volunteered for during my days as a student. Luscious velvety black mezzotints, the fine lines and subtle plate tones of drypoint, and engraved images were all intriguing. Right now I am pouring through articles, books and websites in the hopes of learning how to make some of these beautiful images. I am so serious that I even bought an etching press and nearly killed myself lugging it into my house. How could something so small weigh so much?  I have yet to pull a print but I might share one of my disasters with you in the future.

That about brings you up to date. Spring is coming soon and the trees are showing their characteristic red tinge. Soon it will be both prime allergy and plein air painting season. I will be ready to charge outside as soon as I see the first robin in the yard. 



Archival standards | Paint ingredients
Thursday, March 27, 2008 3:40:53 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #  Comments [2] 
# Thursday, January 17, 2008
Paints for a Palette::Musicians for an Orchestra
So, a lot of you took the title of this discussion, "Paints for a Desert Island," seriously. I meant it only as a reference to an old radio program; nevertheless, it made for an interesting theme. If I'd called this entry “Vacation in the Mountains” or “Journey to the Amazon,” would the palette have been different? My point is that I want you to think of a scenario where you can’t anticipate what subject matter you will paint but are restricted as to what tubes of colors you can bring along.

I really like analogies to music when talking about paint because I want the discussion to be about feelings and perceptions—rather than numbers or concrete amounts. So here is another musical analogy. How many musicians would it take to make a group sound like a symphony orchestra?  Imagine you are seated in the audience with your back facing the stage but the conductor keeps calling in string, wind and brass and percussion players who join the group and pick up with the rest of those already playing a classical piece. You get to yell stop when you think it sounds like the volume and depth you expect from a symphony orchestra. How few or, looking at it another way, how many people do you need before the overall sound feels like a complete orchestra?  Music experts, please don’t scrutinize this too carefully. I realize that various symphonic pieces need multiple players to fulfill the parts written for a score, so a small number of players would not be able to provide all that is needed. However, you get the general idea.

The same hold true with paints.  How many colors would it take to assure that in nearly any situation you could have the right pigments to create anything that is required?

I really liked the answers you gave. Many followed all the conventional rules even without conferring with each other, although the last few entries could have been influenced by reading those entries already posted. Most of you came up with the classical palette choices that artists have assembled for a long time. Purposefully or not, lots of you selected warm/cool primary palettes.

Other observations:

Some of you selected primary palettes of warm and cool, but I noticed that both blue colors listed were warm. Ultramarine and cobalt blue have lots of red reflectance, making them both warm colors. Selecting a cool blue like cerulean or phthalocyanine provides the counterpart to the warm hues of ultramarine or cobalt.

I was interested in which yellows were selected. Many of you place a lot of emphasis on all the other primary colors but yellow. Perhaps that works for watercolorist, but lacking good warm and cool yellow colors in oil paints can be quite a handicap. The palette with quinacridone gold brought this issue of selecting a broad range of yellow colors to mind.

I sensed that most of you don’t use the palettes you describe so using the colors you choose would be a new experience. Try them and see if they fulfill your wishes.

Some of you cheated a bit and went over the 8 colors allowed. That’s fine. Our astute
color police stationed at the airport will confiscate your extra choices.

Why do some of you apologize for using earth colors?  I thought black would be annoying to most of you, but some focused on avoiding earth colors as though they were evil. Go ahead and paint the way you wish and make earth colors out of primary pigments. I suppose I am cheap, but I find it annoying to use expensive cadmium colors to make earth colors. So many earth colors are beautiful, transparent hues that can add so much to a painting.

Food for Further Thought:  Look at your palette and not only think about warm verses cool primaries, but examine the colors you might use to create a transparent versus opaque palette of primary colors. It gets a bit complicated because you could wind up with warm and cool transparent yellows and warm and cool opaque yellows, etc. That would make up a palette of 12 primary colors alone with no secondary hues. However, think about how to play transparent off of opaque colors to achieve fantastic effects.

One question was posed on making a good transparent violet. Several ways exist but the main thing is that both red and blue choices must be transparent to achieve this mixture. Try alizarin crimson with ultramarine blue or quinacridone red with phthalocyanine blue for a higher chroma violet. For variations experiment with other transparent organic red hues like perylene red or pyrrol red with a transparent blue to see if the hue is appropriate for your work.

Finally, the first three entries will be receiving a one -year subscription to The Artist’s Magazine.  My choice for the 4th subscription goes to Dorothy Riley’s entry. This palette, while following the warm cool primary layout, boldly reaches into cadmium yellow deep and Prussian blue to expand the range of the palette. Mixing cadmium yellow deep with a citron (lemon) yellow can achieve a wide range of warm yellow hues. 

Want to read more about artists' palettes?  Look for an upcoming article (April 08) in The Artist’s Magazine called “Palettes of the Masters,”  where I'll discuss the palette choices of several artists who selected colors that provide us with a wonderful tool for learning about materials and techniques.





Paint ingredients | Palettes
Thursday, January 17, 2008 6:48:01 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #  Comments [0] 
# Thursday, December 13, 2007
Paints for a Desert Island
I want to explore a theme that has been rattling around in the back of my mind for some time.  Years ago I listened to a public radio station in New York that had a program called Desert Island Disks. The premise was simple. A guest musician for the weekly program would be asked to select only eight pieces of music to take to a desert island. Which albums would he choose as the only things the guest artist would ever be able to listen to for as long as he lived? Yes, it is a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. Certainly, this exercise is about the choice made, but I find it intriguing to consider the scope of the music that had to be left behind. 

What if we were to play this game with paints? Which ones would you take to a desolate location to be the only things you could paint with forever? Let’s limit the palette to 8 colors. That should be generous enough. As a bonus, black and white will not be counted as part of the eight pigments. To put it into modern day practical thinking, the airline taking you to this land without art materials stores is limiting your checked bag volume to 12.5 ounces of paint in tubes that do not exceed 1.25 ounces; hence, 10 tubes of paint. No substituting two other colors for the black and white. In fact, white will be mandatory.

Limited palettes create discipline, and who could not use a bit more discipline in their lives? This exercise makes us think of what is really important about selecting a color. It makes us think about what colors we use as convenience mixtures, and which ones we cannot make by any other means.

Thinking through this strategy from various perspectives, you could select a suitable yellow, red and blue pigment so that you will not have to bring the secondary colors of orange, violet and green.  That leaves you with 5 more color choices.

For split primary devotees, the 3 most obvious choices would be the other yellow, red and blue colors to create the warm verses cool separation.  For those who do not paint with a split primary palette, the field is wide open. 

An artist might start with yellow, red and blue hues that are transparent, followed by 3 opaque primary colors. Since a few of the blue hues we may choose tend to make weak greens, an obvious choice would be to select one secondary green to fortify this side of the palette. The 1 or 2 (if a secondary green is not chosen) remaining open choices, once the first round of decisions is made, require careful consideration.

The color to select beyond the mandatory ones should be unique in their ability to extend the range of the hues that have already been selected. What colors cannot be made from the hues selected thus far? How difficult is it to mix some of the desired hues and select one or two convenience colors to make painting easier? If a maximum range is sought, an artist must become comfortable knowing exactly what colors are attainable with the 6 he first selected. Some artists find that mixing earth tones is a bore so they will supplement their palette with an ochre, umber or sienna. Others find some unique working property of a pigment that allows them to have a tremendous range of hues, using one or two well-planned selections.

In summary, here is the challenge that I would like you to ponder. Select a palette of 8 colors,  with black and white having permanent status, that you would take on a trip that required you to limit your equipment. The environment will vary, so just imagine that all landscape possibilities will be presented for you to paint. Post your replies for all to see: which palette will supply the widest possible range of color mixing solutions, and justify your choices. Let’s see who comes up with the most unique solution. Similarities will abound, but as each artist approaches color mixing in a somewhat unique way, I believe that we can all learn from each other. I will post my choices in a later entry on this blog.

Returning to the musical theme that I started with, selecting 8 colors for your palette is similar to finding a set of audio speakers with the greatest dynamic range. We don’t think of colors in that respect, but this is exactly the goal of this exercise. Find 8 paints that will create the greatest number of colors to suit the demands of any landscape painting.

I feel we are far better at predicting the limits of a color than knowing just how far a pigment will expand to produce a wide array of color combinations. It takes a bit of exploring to see just how much we can “squeeze” out of a color. In landscape painting we rarely exploit the highest chroma achievable with any color, since the natural world is somewhat muted and we mix paint to deliberately dull down colors.

I look forward to seeing your posts. And because you're no doubt in the midst of the holiday rush, I'm going to offer an incentive. The first three artists who post replies will receive a free one year's subscription to The Artist's Magazine. Once at least ten replies have been posted, I'll award another free one year's subscription to the most interesting argument for Eight Colors To Take To A Desert Island. So, what are you waiting for?





Palettes
Thursday, December 13, 2007 1:30:50 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #  Comments [16] 
# Friday, September 21, 2007
Setting the Record Straight on Repairing a Painting
In the October issue of The Artist's Magazine, a letter from James Caldwell presented an amateur's procedure, derived from an old set of Encyclopedia Brittanica, for repairing a tear in a painting. Mr. Caldwell was responding to an Ask the Experts column I'd written for the March 07 issue; in answering a question about repairing an oil painting that had been cut, I'd advised the reader to consult a professional conservator. The editor of The Artist's Magazine asked me to respond to Mr. Caldwell; here is my response (a slightly shorter version will be printed in the December issue of The Artist's Magazine).

I am reminded of the attention-catching idea used to advertise a popular chain of motels that touts the main character in the commercial as one who has received a jolt of expert knowledge because he/she experienced an overnight stay in one of the advertiser’s facilities. In the end the obvious is revealed and the viewer can laugh at the creative effort of the author of the commercial.

Unfortunately, this is not the case with the advice given on the conservation of works of art as described in the letter to the editor. I shudder to think of all of the unfortunate readers who might be foolish enough to embark on following this advice and ruin a painting that could have been repaired by skilled hands.

This “one size fits all” form of advice ignores the fact that problems with works of art are filled with variables that influence the method of treatment selected. For example, a painting with heavy impasto is treated one way while a canvas with a smooth surface is handled another way. Obviously, accidentally torn canvas will not take place in a uniform way and the method used to attack each type of puncture and cut made to a painting can be different. The position of the tear, the frayed ends of the canvas, the loss of paint, etc., all play a part in formulating a treatment plan. Specialized knowledge and experience is needed to sort out the important factors and customize the treatment based on the variables encountered.

The central point that is most disturbing about this letter on repairing a tear is the assumption that little to no knowledge of conservation is required in order to make complex repairs to works of art.  This is an antiquated idea dating back to when conservation was simply an artist who repaired works of art by means that would make modern conservators cringe. Today, conservators start their careers with an undergraduate degree in art history and studio art with a concentration in chemistry. Then they spend a year or two of apprentice training with an experienced conservator learning about the methods and materials used to treat works of art. After that, they apply to graduate programs in conservation where they spend two years studying conservation. This is followed by a one-year internship at a museum or other institution where they are assigned practical treatments that perfect their skills. Most conservators go on to spend 3 years in post-graduate study via fellowship opportunities at museums.

It is absurd to think that an encyclopedia article can replace 5 to 7 years of intense training followed by a career of work experience. This is especially frustrating when the advice is filled with errors.  For those curious to know, beeswax alone is not the answer to repairing a tear. At best, the repair will undo itself shortly and, at worst, the patch will show through. As a bonus, if enough beeswax is applied to make the patch firmly stick to the back of the painting, the heat applied can allow the wax to seep through the tear and disfigure the front of the painting, as well as adhere the painting to the table used for the treatment. If this home repair is attempted, an artist may face the headache and expense of both repair of the original tear and the removal of wax from the surface of the painting. The lesson that should be learned is do not work beyond your level of skill and understanding. Things can go horribly wrong when following generalized instructions, especially if the instructions are wrong from the start.

Reading the formula for amateur repairing of tear in oil paintings begs the analogy to the medical world. What if your doctor told you that you needed a fairly simple operation but that the procedure would cost you a lot of money? Ignoring the academic training and experience of a skilled surgeon, if you could obtain instructions for the operation from a surgical textbook, would you ask a family member who was “good with their hands” to perform the surgery to save the cost of the treatment?  The same holds true for conservation of works of art.  Do-it-yourself surgery and conservation both come to the same bad end.



Friday, September 21, 2007 3:59:46 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)  #  Comments [3] 
# Wednesday, September 05, 2007
On ASTM
Part of my absence in July has been my attention to many projects at work.  Plans for a series of lectures and a demonstration in October at the Savannah College of Art and Design have taken up large parts of my workday. Another exciting opportunity to contribute to the art world has developed over the last month.

Mark Gottsegen has become more involved in his venture to provide lectures and educational opportunity for the art community through his organization AMIEN; he asked me to take over his previous position as Chair of the American Society for Testing and Materials for Artists’ Materials (ASTM).

This will be a great personal challenge for me. In recent years, participation by manufacturer members has been slipping. While this may be a part of a natural cycle of interest in ASTM as the Artists’ Materials group moves from creating standards for some of the high visibility, large volume art materials to the smaller-revenue generators in a manufacturer’s product line. Regardless, a lot of work will need to be done to bring back some of the old familiar participants and attract a new generation of enthusiastic manufacturers. Exciting new products are coming into the marketplace, and both the consumer and manufacturer stand to benefit from participation in ASTM.

Education of the public is lacking. Many artists I contact do not know the work of ASTM. Others see it as “that group that does the health and safety thing.”  This “health and safety thing” is more commonly referred to in ASTM parlance as D4236.  This standard was a major undertaking by both ASTM and the Congress of the United States when they decided that art materials needed to have some point of official contact so that— if by some reason an art material was ingested or came into accidental contact with sensitive parts of the human body—a source of authority on the composition of the product could communicate with health care professionals to provide vital information on the composition and toxicity of the material in question. Other standards familiar to artists relate to the lightfastness of art materials. ASTM has provided manufacturers with a forum to come together to evaluate the durability of pigments. While many pigments remain unchanged when exposed to light over long periods of time, other pigments fade and pose problems for the artist. ASTM provided the means to test and evaluate the major pigments used for making art materials, and ASTM came up with a rating system that’s easy for an artist to understand.

My task, and the task of those who wish to help, will be to educate artists as to the importance of ASTM and how their involvement as smart consumers can influence the art materials industry. If the public desired new standards, ASTM could provide them.  This would forge a partnership—between the consumer who wants quality art materials and the manufacturer who could provide them.  In my time as an observer of the art materials industry, I’ve impressed overall with the genuine care and concern that manufacturers have toward their customers. I believe they want to sell good materials because it makes good business sense, and it’s the right thing to do.  Many manufacturers are artists as well; they accordingly feel a sense of responsibility to produce good quality art materials. 


Archival standards | Lightfastness
Wednesday, September 05, 2007 8:31:16 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)  #  Comments [1] 
# Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Color Compromises
I’m continuing my experimentation with selecting a palette of colors that have the fewest hues and the widest range. I regularly employ a spectrophotometer that measures the relative intensities of light in different parts of a spectrum, but all the color measuring in the world will not substitute for actual mixing. I can tell you about the subtle bias of a color and how it leans toward warm or cool, but for all practical purposes, mixing is still the only way to know how any paint will behave when combined with other hues.  Spectral measurements verify and will provide an extension of what the eye can see by revealing the amount of reflectance at regularly spaced intervals over the visible range of the electromagnetic spectrum. While telling me a lot, it still doesn’t provide enough data for me to select an ideal palette.

The set I selected this time was muted primaries supplemented by high chroma colors that extend the range of hues when the muted primaries run to the limit of chroma that they can deliver. My first experiment was with cadmium yellow deep, cadmium yellow, ultramarine blue and iron oxide red. (See the Color Wheel Diagram explanation in a separate blog entry.) Regarding secondary color mixtures, this palette makes nice bright orange and red-orange hues, very low chroma greens and muddy purples. Iron oxide red is a very useful color but is no substitute for cadmium red. Iron oxide red is just a muted form of an earthy orange. Mixing red oxide with yellow provides lots of orange hues.  Combining red oxide with blue activates the color complement rule so that a lovely group of warm or cool grays is achievable. These grays are fantastic—well worth the effort in keeping iron oxide red as part of the palette. Finally, ultramarine blue mixed with cadmium yellow provides a very low chroma green, much like mixtures of cadmium yellow and black.  That is when I thought of incorporating both cadmium red to help boost the range of the warm yellow and orange hues as well as phthalocyanine green to increase the intensity of green hues. I’m happy to say that the addition of the two worked rather well. All phthalocyanine colors are very strong. Combining phthalo green with the cadmium yellow/ultramarine blue boosts the chroma of the yellow/blue mixture.  Conversely, the muted green mixture softens the harshness of straight phthalocyanine green, thus making it an ideal color for a variety of landscape situations. Adding yellow, orange or blue warmed and cooled the green mixture very nicely. The addition of cadmium red provided a respectable violet, since iron oxide red and ultramarine blue made a weak purple. Adding cadmium red also expanded the range of orange hues (when mixed with cadmium yellow). I suppose I could drop the cadmium yellow deep and settle for mixed orange hues. The color is fairly redundant, if the proper selection of warm primaries is determined. 

I’ll use this palette on a few paintings before I decide to settle down and learn its intricacies. I will miss my earth colors, but I can hold them to the side and introduce them as guest colors when needed. I will relish the wide range of grays that can be made with ultramarine blue and iron oxide red. Next time, I’ll discuss a variation of this palette.



Palettes
Wednesday, June 27, 2007 6:10:21 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)  #  Comments [0]