(This photograph is not good and the dark areas were not that dark.)
Sometimes we encounter a benefactor who will say: “I like this painting, but it must be much bigger, much bigger.” Once we have come to terms with the enormous implications and we have agreed to take on the commission we realise we are actually not prepared for the challenge; the logistical demands are foremost in our minds. Most of us in the hobby category cannot afford the luxury of working on a large scale and our studios are not large enough for such works. The person who ordered this painting told me that is must be 2 metres long and 1 metre wide. The painting had to be rolled after the drying process had run its course and then it had to placed inside a PVC-tube so that it could board a plane, to Korea, to be precise. How did I do this? (I hope my arty friends do not laugh when they hear what I did.)
I bought a sheet of hardboard (known in South Africa as “masonite”) which was 2,4 m long and 1,2 m wide; I taped the primed canvas to the board using masking tape; created the artwork in oil colour and then I waited three months for it to dry before I could roll it (with the painting facing outward). This sounds rather easy?
Well, it was not that easy. I had to prepare all my tricks and go to the art room of the school where I was teaching at the time and set up a studio there for the Saturday. I tried my best to replicate the painting the benefactor liked on the larger scale. Once I had reached my version of success, I had to call the client who had a vehicle with an open loading bed so that we could transport the painting to my little apartment. I sat at the back of the little truck making sure that no foreign objects would land on the wet painting. We carefully carried the painting up the two flights of stairs and I made it stand against the wall in the lounge where it could dry in peace for the next three months. So, all in all, quite manageable with a little help from my benefactor. That is not the end of the story. I started to hear “sounds” one day, the painting started to “grumble”.
About two months later, as I was working so peacefully at the computer in the adjacent room completing a university assignment, I heard a rather scary noise. It was as if someone had entered my house and there was some kind of ripping or tearing going on. It all felt rather eerie and I went to see what was going on. Well, after two months the layers of masking tape at the top right-hand corner of the painting had decided they had enough of the tension and they started to let go and the heaviness of the canvas agreed it was time to complain. So, what I heard was the masking tape saying good-bye to the board. I was relieved to see what the noise was, so I grabbed a fresh roll of masking tape and I secured the “culprits”. (I know I have just made a suspense drama out of something insignificant, but why can’t we paint a story about a painting?)
Here is the little nugget I want to pass on today: A large scale work impacts us positively, even though the creative process is complicated. If one always works on a small scale one can never be drawn in by one’s own work. For the three months I could “foster” this painting in my house it filled me with dreams of possibility, because it filled the entire one side of the little lounge. I think we all need to do a large work every once in a while, (pray that a benefactor finds you beforehand) so that we can truly “feel” the impact of our work. It is difficult to ignore a large work, even if you do not like it. Scale up! Don’t give up!
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