It’s been a long-ass week. Undistinguished except for the miserable heat, mugginess, and torrential rain. I’m not much of a drinker but when I saw this challenge, I knew exactly what I’d make: a cool, crispy gin and tonic.
And I’d make it with sumi ink and a dash of watercolor (and a soupcon of salt).
Sumi is the everlasting gobstopper of art supplies. You get a beautiful carved black block embossed with gold and silver designs. You splash your cool stone chalice and rub it with the block a couple of times and, hey presto, ink. But it’s ink that’s so forgiving and compliant. It hits your brush looking all dark and full of intent, but then when you slap it on the page, it backs off, dissolving to a smoky wave.
You can modulate it in so many ways that perfectly suit my way of painting. I can dilute it to a whisper and then build up layers up on layers that transition smoothly into each other like a delicate moire. As it dries, sumi becomes a dusky, matte layer of grey that doesn’t feel like paint or ink or pencil or anything, like it was just meant to be there, like some sort of organic residue left by my gesture. And that ebony brick of oriental exotica last forever, through fecund years of rubbing against the stone palette and daubing on the page. Ah, suuuuumi.
Can you tell by my writing that I’ve consumed my model?