Mona Lisa, washes, and impasto

When I started writing this column in 2022, I began with a fundamental method of looking at works of art. Over the first weeks, I discussed the basic building blocks of this approach and eventually I put a name to the approach – Formalism – and I summarised it. But alas, there is more to looking at a work of art than those elements of art and the principles of design which we discussed. When looking at art it also helps to know some things about the materials used, what we call the medium (or media when plural). Therefore, with specific reference to painting and drawing, it also helps to know some things about the kinds of marks different media can make. Meanwhile, in relation to sculpture it helps to know the possibilities and limits of different kinds of materials that may be used. Likewise, with ceramic, photography, etcetera. Therefore, having an idea of some of the technical possibilities and limits of different media can help inform a reading of work.

The overwhelming majority of artists in Guyana are painters so I would like to focus here. It often goes unrecognised how much artists have to learn to paint the pictures they do. Somewhere, I read that viewers spend two seconds on average looking at a painting. Needless to say, this astonished me. But then I remembered seeing people walk through museums and galleries with such speed I could not fathom what they had seen. In a mode of self-consolation, I had decided they had previously seen that which they quickly walked past and were trying to quickly get to the new undiscovered treasures.

I love seeing people transfixed before a painting, intently looking, oblivious to those around them. Sometimes the head leans to one side, remains, then slowly straightens. If they are like me they may get as close as possible, step back, and then step back some more. If there is somewhere to sit, they may sit for a while. Or simply stand for a while. So many blissful hours can be spent this way; transfixed in looking.

When I find myself engaged in this careful choreography of looking, I am not just looking at the elements of art and the principles of design. Sometimes, these aspects of the composition are farthest from my thoughts. Sometimes, I am mesmerised by the manipulation of the medium; what might have been achieved with a notoriously tedious medium like watercolour, slow-drying oils, or fast-drying acrylics. Or the kinds of marks made by the paint’s interaction with objects embedded in it. Or the paint’s interaction with itself. It is important to say some things about painting materials and techniques. However, writing about art materials or art techniques is not fun stuff. Instead, the fun learning comes from playing around with them.

I wonder how many of the scores of people who gather in front of the Mona Lisa at any given moment that the Louvre is open to the public know why this work is so famous. It sits behind bulletproof glass with a barrier creating a semi-circle a few feet in front of it. But good luck getting as close as the barrier allows! Seems the looking is more about being able to take out a camera and photograph the work or oneself in front of the work for a few seconds. A moment of triumph. As someone recently said to me, “The Mona Lisa is like the Kardashians, famous for being famous but unlike the Kardashians she has substance.” The Mona Lisa has had a colourful history. She has been stolen, parodied, and the subject of lost identities. Who is she? Is she

Leonardo dressed as a woman? Is this his male lover in drag? While her identity has been uncovered, the initial mystery alongside her dramatic history has propelled her into stardom. However, her fame is not undeserved. Leonardo innovated in this work both in terms of his composition and his technique. In relation to technique the sfumato (Italian for “to evaporate like smoke”), requires defining form using subtle gradations in shading to produce soft, imperceptible transitions between colours and tones. Prior to this innovation artists used lines to define form resulting in a cartoonish rendering.

This slow building up of colour and tone was possible because oil paints are naturally slow drying as the particles of pigment are bonded together by oil. This also means oil paint can remain relatively wet and workable for days at a time. Even in our hot climate, oil paint dries slowly. To quicken the drying time, it may be thinned with turpentine whereas to further slow the drying time, it may be mixed with linseed oil. As a consequence, and depending on the skill of the artist a highly true-to-life rendering of a face is possible.

Acrylic paint on the other hand is water-based and fast-drying. It requires the artist to work at a faster rate than s/he would if using oil paint. Like oils, it is water-resistant when dry. Depending on the manufacturer and whether the paint is meant to be used by students or professionals, it may have the consistency of a milkshake or toothpaste, respectively. As a result, the paint can be used as is from the jar or tube or it may be thinned using water. Thinning acrylic paint with water can result in it being used in a similar fashion as watercolour paint.

Watercolour paints are, as the name implies, water-based. They come in tablets on trays or as tubes. Either way, when painting with watercolour one adds water to the pigment and applies the paint in thin layers called washes. The technique requires careful layering of colour to produce the desired colour intensity. By layering different colours on top of each other one can also create new colours: overlaying a wash of yellow onto a dried layer of blue, will result in green. Doing the same thing on a wet layer of blue creates a different kind of effect.

Acrylic paints lend themselves well to layering and application using the wash technique, by not thinning the paint – especially when it has a toothpaste consistency – it can be applied in a similar fashion to oil paints. The painter can laden the brush with globs of buttery textured paint or use the palette knife heaped with paint to apply thick layers to the surface. In so doing the painter achieves impasto effects.

I have only scratched the surface on paints and techniques. A useful endeavour may now be to look more closely at paintings. Visit the National Gallery of Art, Castellani House and you just might get to ponder the masterful layering of washes of colour in a George Simon (1947 – 2020) or the narrative impastos of a Merlene Ellis.

Akima McPherson is a multimedia artist, art historian, and educator