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Texture in Paintings

Lightly textured small section of a painting

Talk with us a little bit about texture. Impasto fascinates me, but then thin brushwork can be beguiling, too. Inquiring minds want to know what you think, see, and do.

  Sidney Oliver

I want to emphasize the subjective quality of these discussions as we all see things differently especially when it comes to whether or not texture on a painting is appealing.

Since most viewers seem to prefer to look at a painting from afar rather than at all angles as an artist sees it, I'm peppering this post with some closeup sections of some of my paintings. As a painter, this is what I'm looking at when I work. I'm in a constant movement of going back and forth, but, to me, this is the view I really enjoy. So, step closer and have a painter's-eye-view.

Looking back, 1965 was a pivotal artistic summer for me. One reason was a visit to the Frick Collection, which sparked my interest in paintings that were either smooth or textured, or "bumpy," as a friend termed them. Prior to this visit to the Frick, I'm not sure I had encountered or registered that there might be a difference. Perhaps I noticed because that summer I was taking an oil painting class at the Dulin Gallery of Art, the forerunner of the Knoxville Museum of Art. The small bit of knowledge I had just gained stood me in good stead as I studied the paintings at the Frick.

I remember having a debate with myself on which method I preferred and I have no recollection on which side won, but I can recall comparing and contrasting the paintings based solely on texture. Texture intrigued me. I also remember being impressed when the absence of brushstrokes made a painting appear as if magic were involved and this enabled a painting to have a smooth as silk, glass-like effect. 

I was 16 years old and about to enter my senior year of high school in 1965. How odd that, at this age, I am still having and writing on that debate except this time I have taken sides.

Up to that time, the only work by the masters that I had seen were those cardboard facsimiles that docents from the Dulin Gallery would drag around to the elementary schools. This was required culture at its worst and was a complete turnoff to a life in the fine arts. Granted, someone might have gotten something out of it, but no one I knew.

These facsimiles lacked that lovely 3-dimensional quality possessed by an actual painting, even a non-textured one. Also lacking was the delivery issued by these docents who, no doubt, were given a printed sheet to memorize. This experience was painful for all involved.

Do I use texture or do I limit texture? Yes, I have painted in both styles, but I am conscious of trying not to produce, what my mother always termed, "just a colored canvas." Much like a fiction author, who lets the characters write themselves, I let each painting guide me in what it needs. 

It's not that one needs every single aspect of the painting to have texture. Too much of anything becomes monotonous.  A totally smooth painting might be lacking some drama and to keep the viewer's interest, it helps to have variety. I have discovered that the paintings I prefer contain a little bit of all of these approaches; brushwork, palette knife work, smoother, textured, and, speaking metaphorically, blood.

Blood? "Playing with blood" is an expression I learned while watching Mozart in the Jungle, an Amazon Prime series. It refers to someone who plays a stringed instrument so much and so hard that one's fingers become bloody. This is the quality I love to see in a painting. The painter has worked the painting to the bone producing ultra-fine strokes as well as some wallow-worthy texture. The painting includes the painter's guts as well as the painter's soul. 

Why I watched a master's class on singing taught by Barbara Cook, I don't know, but I remember that she instructed students to think and feel each word as they sang them. Not being a singer, I had never considered this, but, of course, it would matter, especially to a musician who can easily tell the difference. To the casual listener like me, not so much. To paraphrase Terry Teachout, the noted critic, who maintains in his Wall Street Journal article No Orchids for Ella and Sarah, that Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan lacked feeling as they sang. Perhaps, Ella, Sarah, and painters should have taken Miss Cook's class. You see, at times all of the arts can be transferable.

"Just a colored canvas" often lacks that spark of vitality.  

It might seem that I'm implying that time is a factor in emptying one's guts onto the canvas, but time really isn't a factor as I discussed in the last post, Ah, the Old Time Question.  A painter's soul can be spilled all over a painting without dedicating months and years to a piece of work, just as there are many writers who can produce well-thought out articles in 20 minutes. That's a gift, but a gift that took years to develop.

My preference is for some texture, but with a mixture of both. Regardless of your method or style, put your all into it and leave the viewer with some substance and always

Enjoy the process!

  Ruthie Windsor-Mann

This post is part of a series of Q & As between Ruthie Windsor-Mann and Sidney Oliver. 

We invite the reader to join in with other questions in the comments section. This needs to be interactive in order to work.

All photographs are by Ruthie Windsor-Mann unless otherwise credited.

Copyright 2019 Ruthie Windsor-Mann All Rights Reserved