From Brush to Paper: Finding the rhythms in ink painting

Funny thing about art—it slips right under your awareness. You could pass a gallery wall and halt abruptly, lost in those broad strokes, the mystery of black and white shapes defining a full feeling. Especially the technique known as 酒精墨水畫 (alcohol ink painting), ink painting has charm. The technique resembles a dance in that the brush, hand, and even the heartbeat directs pools of ink into their own musical flow. Additional info!

Set that picture against, say, watercolor painting. Watercolors call for control; ink begs submission. Whether you want it or not, alcohol ink, for instance, reacts erratically and spreads and blooms in whispers and tempests. Some methods involve air—actually blowing on the ink helps move the pigment in wild, spontaneous lines and forms. Some let the colors roll across the silky surface as gravity works its magic. What artists yearn for exactly is this spontaneity. Mother Nature herself might get jealous of these abstract riverbeds and landscape veils.

Let us discuss tools for communication. Just a component of it are brushes. Artists now use plastic droppers, straw, even hair driers to induce movement into their media. Every drop of ink has a personality of its own and defies easy wishes. That’s not a problem—sometimes it’s an encouragement to let go and discover what memories or feelings the piece may arouse. Once an artist told me she never really finishes a piece; the ink dries and settles into unexpected forms.

Seeing ink dry is not as boring as the old adage suggests. Real drama with suspense and tension exists there. Ink painting has origins thousands of years in China and Japan, as you might know. Those early pieces include mountains, rivers, birds—often rendered with a stroke so sure it seems simple. But try grabbing a brush; every flick clearly carries years of experimentation and memory.