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What Painting Is: How to Think about Oil Painting ... - Victoria Vesna

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WHAT PAINTING IS 93<br />

with the correct substance: otherwise they would risk losing<br />

years of work. But more subtly, they worried <strong>about</strong> the idea of<br />

beginning, of needing <strong>to</strong> start somewhere. After all, the first<br />

verses of Genesis are not exactly comforting: they are as deeply<br />

mysterious as the Western mind can stand, and they are hardly<br />

good models for a poor alchemist’s experiments. None of the<br />

other options are that soothing, either: beginning in dung heaps<br />

could not be counted as a promising idea, and starting from lead<br />

—the sickest of the metals, the one farthest from redemption—<br />

must have seemed a desperate measure.<br />

It is beginning itself that is fraught. In the original Hebrew, the<br />

first verse of Genesis begins obliquely, as if it were trying <strong>to</strong><br />

sneak in<strong>to</strong> the creation s<strong>to</strong>ry. In English we have it: “In the<br />

beginning, God created…” but the Hebrew is “In the beginning of<br />

God’s creating of the heavens and earth…” It is never easy <strong>to</strong><br />

begin, and the English misses that subtlety. Artists of all kinds<br />

have difficulties beginning. Physically, it is hard <strong>to</strong> pick up the<br />

brush. Mentally, it is hard <strong>to</strong> decide what <strong>to</strong> do first. <strong>What</strong> kind<br />

of beginning should it be? One that builds rationally from canvas<br />

<strong>to</strong> varnish? One that starts wildly, with big inspiring gestures? In<br />

his early days as a literary critic, Edward Said wrote a book called<br />

Beginnings, unraveling poets’ strategies. 36 If there is one subject<br />

that is treated in every one of the thousand-odd artist’s manuals,<br />

it is starting a painting. Along with knowing how <strong>to</strong> finish a<br />

painting, starting may be the most common <strong>to</strong>pic of conversation<br />

between artists.<br />

But in all that talking and all those books, there is very little<br />

said <strong>about</strong> what it means <strong>to</strong> begin in different ways. Artists tend<br />

<strong>to</strong> trade confidences and tricks: how <strong>to</strong> make yourself start, how<br />

<strong>to</strong> start easily or quickly. The how-<strong>to</strong> manuals are all recipes for<br />

avoiding interesting beginnings in favor of pre-tested ones. Paint<br />

is especially difficult <strong>to</strong> start with: as you can imagine if you’re a<br />

non-painter, the lifeless lumps on the palette and the pristine<br />

canvas can be horrible specters, or implacable enemies. The<br />

alchemists thought longest and most freely <strong>about</strong> how <strong>to</strong> begin<br />

with substances, and it is their myths that I invoke when I think<br />

of starting.

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