Image of the Week: Hands in the Night
© Durga Yael Bernhard
In December of 2006 I had surgery for a torn rotator cuff in my shoulder. For six weeks I lost use of my (dominant) right arm, and for most of 2007 my movements were limited as I slowly healed.
During that time I developed a new technique of monochromatic brush drawings that enabled me to anchor ideas for future works in a painterly style, with minimal precision and detail. Controlled linework was out, for the time being; tonal expression was in.
This forced simplification became a blessing in disguise, compelling me to block out ideas in a way that was both bolder and looser. The brush drawing technique served especially well when approaching emotional subject matter. In the above image, I tried to convey a feeling of being haunted by bittersweet memories in the night – memories that reached like hands, sometimes embracing, other times choking with the sense of loss left in their wake.
The lighter shape of the woman was originally a mid-tone wash, until I deliberately carved her away with white to form a texture like porous rock. I tried to minimize definition, so that we do not know if she is awake or asleep.
Ever since then, I've continued to do these brush drawings, sometimes using the technique to create a tonal underlayer to start a painting. The color is usually raw umber (dark brown) – which I like to think of as "raw under" – the very soil from which an image grows. Once in a while, ochre, mauve or steel blue insists on being used. I never feel like it's up to me; the painting dictates.
Sometimes the image never graduates from this monochromatic phase, and refuses to translate into full color. If I try to force a drawing to become a painting, it inevitably fails. It's like trying to force a caterpillar to become a brightly colored butterfly instead of a moth.
For help with this crucial but subtle distinction, I look to artists like Chagall, whose use of monochromatic tone was fresh and innovative. He used color sparingly, whether muted or vibrant. He intuitively understood the difference between a drawing and a painting, and seemed to effortlessly cross the boundary between the two. I envy such ease, which still evades me after decades of inquiry and practice.
The surgical repair in my shoulder held for a few years, then let go. I've learned to live without a supraspinatus muscle, as the other muscles in my rotator cuff have taken over its job. As an artist, I gained something – a new way of expressing a feeling in texture and tone, free of precise delineation.
Here's a brush drawing I just did yesterday, picturing the story of the golden calf from the Book of Exodus. This is the season for creating the art for my next Jewish Eye calendar. If the painting is successful, you'll see it there.
A good week to all!
D Yael Bernhard