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You are here: Home / Architecture & Sense of Place / Surface Queries and Technical Notes on Wax and Vanished Colors

Surface Queries and Technical Notes on Wax and Vanished Colors

October 8, 2015 by Iskra Leave a Comment

Attempting to mix a true match to the vanished quinacridone gold.
Attempting to mix a true match to the vanished Quinacridone Gold.

There are certain colors that just made life so much easier. Not to mention more luminous and radiant with saturated contentment and possibility, as if one were looking through a glass of lillet from a cafe in Firenze, just before dinner. Or surveying the vineyard from the ramparts, in a good year. And this color was not a cheap trick, although it could be used that way.

I am speaking, of course, about the dearly departed Quinacridone Gold, taken from us by unknown and sudden circumstance when I wasn’t looking. What you see above is my vain attempt to spin magic from earth colors, to replace a color originally used as dust on angel wings. Ochres, siennas, Azos, — pfft. Sorry Golden, I know you tried, but Azo is orange. I discovered after a panicked search that I have one nearly dried up jar of the original paint from 2007 (??) that I shall reconstitute and try to make last until the end times. Or I will just squint more and imagine that things looks as I should like them to. This new piece is underpainted with the beloved color and some other blends of earth and mica. Italy is but a dim memory here, muted by soot, but I wanted  Quin Gold here to give a hint of radiance to the industrial scene glimpsed from the bridge above Harbor Island.

Vie from the River, © Iskra Johnson, industrial landscape on plaster
View From the River, © Iskra Johnson, mixed media on plaster

Image transfer onto rough and textured surfaces is not for the faint of heart. There is a lot of trial and error and holding one’s breath to move an image from photographic shimmer to an embedded life as an object. I think it is starting to work reliably, and I can begin to know how closely my imagery will translate. Now I am exploring the final finishes, and the technical issues of waxing over mixed media. Many of the craft solutions I have found online have no track record for longevity, so the scrapbooking community with its decoupage and furniture polishes has not been a lot of help on this.

When an acrylic resin is poured or painted over a surface it feels plastic and shiny, and for work with a textured field I want something more tactile. So far a satin wax from Stucco Italiano seems promising. I have also tried Renaissance Wax, Dorland’s Wax, and various of the Golden acrylic products, which never have the feeling I am looking for. Acrylic also tends to remain tacky forever, which makes shipping and wrapping complicated. On some of the Golden Acrylic resins I have used, like the tar and self-leveling gels, the Renaissance wax has seemed to help “cure” them so they are less fragile. But first the surface has to be scuffed with steel wool or another scrubber, and it tends to dull the colors. Both the Dorlands and Rennaisance don’t seem to “like” acrylic; they are finnicky, and sometimes come right off in burnishing. I welcome any suggestions from the surface fanatics out there. What can you put on acrylic to make it less shiny and more resilient, while keeping the brilliance of the color? What are your favorite final varnishes for mixed media (that won’t eat through paper or yellow over time?)

To unwind at the end of a day in the studio I have become a passionate fan of the Beautiful Italian Men Putting Plaster on Walls channel on YouTube. My new favorite form of “time-based art”: Italian men troweling plaster on walls with immaculate authority. To wordless soundtracks of lugubrious largos and antic allegrettos. Vivaldi never looked so good —I recommend it.

Man putting plaster on a wall, video still
A screenshot of a Man Making Art not War. Click here to see the video.

 

Filed Under: Architecture & Sense of Place, Mixed Media Tagged With: art technique, artprocess, italian plaster, mixed media, quinacridone gold, surface coatings, wax for acrylic

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Media studies. Addition and subtraction. Media studies. Addition and subtraction.
Somehow, between checking the news and the usual d Somehow, between checking the news and the usual distractions I managed to complete a drawing. Going back to the beginning: drawings in dust. 9.5 x 12” Charcoal powder, compressed charcoal, charcoal pencil on Moleskine. I feel peaceful for the first time in weeks.
The train tracks that go along Golden Gardens and The train tracks that go along Golden Gardens and pause briefly at the locks create a rupture in the city landscape. When the trains go by, the roar and squeal is like a thousand wild animals let out of their cage, and the ducks in the pond at the edge of the park shudder and dive under the water. A little farther north at Carkeek there is someone every year who steps in front of the train and whoever witnesses that is never the same. 

Sometimes the cargo containers are filled with coal, uncovered, and I have been part of demonstrations, which included polar bears and Orcas, objecting to that. Now, as we are being asked to casually accept nuclear reactors on every block as the price of having artificial intelligence, coal and its simple visible dust might look a little more friendly. The train brings with it economics and politics and life and death and class and all the people on the beach are just trying to have a moment in the sun. And the boaters at the marina, if they have finished polishing and descaling and mending the sails are lying back with a guitar and getting lost in the mountains. If you are willing to live right next to the train tracks, you can pay a much lower price for your home, but your dreams will change. I have lived next to the train tracks when I was very, very small and every night I woke up screaming and ran across the floor in the beams of the streetlight looking for safety. I have woken up in a train yard on a bed of cardboard and gotten on the train in the dark. Only when you do that, do you know just how hard metal is.

I’ve been drawing recently from life and this study was done from a photograph. It drove me crazy trying to see details that I couldn’t really see and feel them with the pencil. I’ve abandoned the drawing for now, but I learned a great deal about perseverance and obliteration and re-perseverance. Also how machines pretend that they are perfectly symmetrical and are not. And when you don’t draw them with perfection, they look just plain wrong so you have to make them more perfect than they are, at least when they are in perspective.
Tonight’s abandoned bird. The next one will be bet Tonight’s abandoned bird. The next one will be better. I’ve never tried to draw a Robin before. I’ve been obsessed with them since David Lynch sent them over to my childhood house, where they spent day and night getting drunk on the holly berries outside the kitchen window. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about google Laura Dern, Blue Velvet. And the Robin. It’s a hymnal to the good and the normal, done absolutely abnormally. I am learning all kinds of amazing things about how Robins build their nests. They start with mud. I did not know this. And in a drought, they will drag straw into a birdbath to get it wet and then drag the straw over a wormhole. Robins build their nests in the most unlikely places: drain spouts, highway overpasses, really bad motel parking lots. It’s kind of like how people find third place in community, even in the bleakest places. A franchise McDonald’s where people become regulars and always get the fries and just the fries because that’s all they can afford is a similar statement of naive valor: people talking to strangers and becoming known and taking shelter where they can. And if they leave a shredded napkin out there by their car, it will end up woven in with the straw and the leaves and the cigarette butts perched up there in the nest on the backside of the billboard.
Waking up. Waking up.
What if there were no mistakes? What if there were What if there were no mistakes?
What if there were just infinite possibilities?. . .

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