Muñiz is Puerto Rican artist who uses Renaissance techniques
to make biting and clever social commentary on today’s global society. Besides
his portfolio website, he maintains an informative blog. I poked around and
discovered his post “Sharing My Own Approach to Painting Sixteenth CenturyVenetian Way.” Artists willing to share their hard-won techniques are rare and should
be celebrated for their magnanimity.
These days, since launching First American Art Magazine, I don’t have any time left to paint;
however, I agreed to participate in ImagoMundi. This international art exhibit showcases Luciano Benetton’s
collection of artworks from around the word—all 12 cm x 10 cm—Imago Mundi is presently focused on
Native America. So I had a tiny panel to paint and a new method about how to
paint it. We’re running an article about Mapuche silverwork, so I thought
perhaps I could paint something on that subject.
When I work from historical photographs, I try to find works
in the public domain, such as Gustavo Milet Ramírez’s 1890 photo of a young
Mapuche woman from Traiguén, Chile. The French-Chilean photographer, who lived
from 1860 to 1917, was known for his photographs of Mapuche people. Milet Ramírez took several shots of the
same girl, many of which were made into postcards; I chose the photo in which
she was grinning. Being extraordinarily nearsided, I’m fairly adept at teasing
out information from grainy black-and-white photographs. The texture of her
clothes and mantle are different; coarse woven material versus fur, which might
be a quillango, a guanaco-fur
cloak. Guanacos are the increasingly rare, wild cousins of llamas and alpacas,
and their pelts are tawny with creamy-white underbellies.
The day before I had painted the wooden panel purple, so I began
sanding it down to create a drawing surface; however, the texture was
appealing, so I left it for the background and just gessoed the area that the
girl would occupy. Gesso is far easier to draw upon than white paint. In
composing the piece, I included the hands, since hands can be an expressive as
the face
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| Step #2 Disegno (drawing) |
In his blog post, “Sharing My Own Approach to Painting
Sixteenth Century Venetian Way,” Patrick McGrath Muñiz’s Step #1 is Bozzetto
(preliminary sketch). He recommends drawing on a separate paper and
transferring it to the canvas for Step #2 Disegno (drawing) I just draw the
girl’s basic features and jewelry directly on the panel.
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| Step #3 is Sotto Disegno (underdrawing) |
His Step #3 is Sotto Disegno (underdrawing), in
which he suggests paints the lines with burnt umber and turpentine. I should
mention I’m painting with Golden acrylics, not oil paints, so mixed the Burnt Umber
with Golden Acrylic Flow Release, which reduces surface tension and makes the
paint “wetter.” The end result looks something like an R. Crumb illustration,
and her eyes are way too big—but it’s painting; it can be fixed!
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| Step #4 Imprimatura (toned canvas), |
Step #4, Imprimatura (toned canvas), requires
a translucent wash of Venetian Red thinned with linseed oil and turpentine.
Golden recommends substituting Red Oxide for Venetian Red. I used my typical
concoction of Acrylic Flow Release, Retarder, and Acrylic Glazing Liquid.
Typically this makes a wonderful “soupy” transparent wash that doesn’t dry
quickly; however, I found Step #5: Togliere Strofinare (wipe-out
technique) challenging. With oils, you can wipe the light areas clean with a
cotton cloth; however, my wash dried quickly. I could wipe away sections but
the transition was not smooth, so I just touched up the lighter areas with
Titanium White. I’m impressed that at every stage of the painting, Muñiz’s
sketch of Titian’s The Gipsy Madonna
was gorgeous. Mine had ups and downs, but wacky looking stages can be redeemed.
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| Left: Step #5: Togliere Strofinare (wipe-out technique). Right: my typical painting formula |
Step #6 is Sotto Dipinto (underpainting)
involves two processes—painting the cool, backgrounds with a grisaille, a range
greys mixed from Ivory Black to White, and a citronage, a range of colors mixed
from Ivory Black, Yellow Ochre, and White. I’m a huge advocate of
underpainting, especially for fleshtones. Typically I use a verdaille, or an
olive-green underpainting, which makes fleshtones pop beautifully.
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| Palette for the citronage: tones of Titanium White mixed with Yellow Ochre, and shades of Ivory Black mixed with Yellow Ochre |
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| Step #6 Sotto Dipinto (underpainting) |
The heavy lifting is done, so Muñiz’s final step is Step #7 Velaturas
(color glazing)—the fun part! First step—I hate the Red Oxide wash over the
purple, so to move the background back to the back, I gave it an Anthraquinone
Blue wash. I also painted her clothing blue, then used Payne’s Gray and
Titanium White for her silver jewelry.
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| Step #7 Velaturas (color glazing) |
I laid down the base colors for her guanaco fur cloak, then
painted on the furry texture. Here soupy paint bleeds too much; the paint
should be less diluted, because the individual strokes should show clearly. I
had to fight myself and use the No. 2 brush as much as possible before skipping
to the extremely fine 0/20 brush. I tweaked out too much on the right side of
the fur, so tried to stay loose on the left side, then went back and smoothed
over areas on the right side of the fur cloak. More work does not necessarily mean
a better painting, nor does more detail. The detail should be concentrated on
the composition’s focus—in this case, the girl’s face—not every corner of the
painting.
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| Step #7 Velaturas (color glazing) |
Finally the time has come to cure the girl’s extreme case of
jaudice! Her eyes and teeth both look okay as is, so I add color to her
lips—the challenge being to make her look natural, not as if she were wearing
lipstick. Dramatic shifts between the lip color and dots of white highlights
help make the lips appear moist.
I can finally give her skin some color. My typical palette
for fleshtones include Titanium White, Naples Yellow, Pyrrole Red, Burnt
Sienna, Raw Umber, and Payne’s Gray. In larger, more detailed portraits,
Violent Oxide is fantastic for shadows, but not needed here. Here’s where the
paint should be extremely soupy, with generous portions of Acrylic Glazing Liquid
for transparency and blending. Each stroke is nerve-wracking because the
slightest shift to a mouth, an eyelid, etc. completely changes the expression
of the subject.
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| This is a seriously tiny painting: 12 cm x 10 cm |
The purple dress was annoying me, so I gave it a glaze of Alizarin
Crimson Hue (Golden doesn’t create toxic colors, so approximates the more historical
toxic colors as close as possible). Her jewelry was lumpy, so I tried to
straighten it out with bolder edges. It’s a gamble whether to paint silver-like
colors or actually to use silver paint; however, this can often look fake and
cheap. Gold paint is very attractive, but silver paint can flop, so I opted to
leave the jewelry blue-white.
In lieu of a frame, I sanded down the edges to the white
gesso. So small, kind of funky, but finished!
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| Mapuche Girl after Milet Ramírez, 2014, acrylic on wooden panel |
While painting I have hours to ponder issues such as
cultural appropriation. Why am I, a Swedish-Cherokee artist painting a Mapuche
person when I’ve never even been to Chile? By painting a portrait, hopefully I’m not
stepping over the line of respectful outsider. I’m not trying to assume Mapuche
identity; it would be bizarre if I tried to create Mapuche silver jewelry or
painted drums—to attempt usurp their style.
Painting portraits based on historical photographs, although
a ubiquitous practice is not by any stretch of the imagination cutting-edge
art, and yet it does have some value. Our tribal histories are still invisible
in mainstream culture. Painting is not a neutral representation—it’s a
time-consuming practice laden with its own ancient history. Painting someone puts
them on a pedestal, exults them. Taking this antique image and bringing into
the 21st century, in vivid color, is a form of time travel and a statement that
this person and her culture are important—that we in North America should look
at and learn from South American tribes. I kept thinking about the idea of an
“Indian princess,” because a “princess” is most ready European archetype to describe
this young woman—confident and smiling—draped in luxurious furs and extravagant
silver jewelry.
Thanks to Patrick McGrath Muñiz in sharing guidelines for this small experiment in painting!
