Gessoing And Priming
A novice might think this is a fairly mundane prelude to the whole painting process, scarcely worth more than a sentence and possibly something best left to the factory to do, or some underling.
Although it seemed frustrating when I first primed my own canvases in High School, I can say that I’ve subsequently grown to really like and respect the process of priming my own support surface.
Firstly, don’t waste your time with those pre-primed canvas boards that you can get at the art store. Yeah I know, I started on them too. But they are the safety-guardrails for people who are brand new to all this. Seek to move on from them as soon as you can.
For my panels I usually use an acrylic primer, and occassionally an oil-based one. However oil-based primers have fumes which are nauseating and I’ve not noticed a superior end-result, more just a different feel. Smoother and silkier is how I would describe it, vs acrylic’s rough toothiness. But one is not necessarilly better than the other and I can paint on either.
There is also a mix you can make with gesso powder and rabbit-skin glue. This was the true Rennaisance old-school way that dominated in the pre-industrial era. I recommend trying this once for the fun of it. I think it’s cool to learn about the sources and history of the craft of painting and this is the way it was done, and who knows, in our post-apocalyptic dystopia, the way we might do it again.
As the name implies, the glue is derived from the skin of the rabbit. In the art stores, it comes in a pack of dry granules that are water-soluble. It looks like raw sugar. You first mix the granules with the water to create the glue, over a low heat on a double-boiler and then add the gesso powder (formerly called “whiting”) to that to create a creamy paste. It thickens into a jelly as it cools. The trick is that you have to know how much to prepare for that session of use, as this mix doesn’t have much of a shelf life. You can store rabbit-skin glue in the firdge for a while to extend its longevity, but I wouldn’t advise it. It stinks up the fridge and you don’t want that to permeate your food. Perhaps give it a go if you have a second fridge that you can use for non-food items. All the same, I found the preserved stuff to be of inferior use to a freshly-made batch, but I haven’t done this for many years so maybe was a bit inexperienced to the whole process.
I have found that Rabbit-skin-glue gesso can be okay to use up to about 24 hours later, depending on your climate. In fact the jelly state seems much easier to control as the gesso doesn’t run off the surface. But therein lies the issue with rabbit-skin-glue gesso. It’s very temperature sensitive. So you have to think alot more about your current climate, in addition to thinking about the mix being right for your support, and all the extra prep time involved.
The end-result? When done right, very good. Nice and smooth, so great for detail. Although it’s liable to cracking over time, which can affect the application of paint (you may get unexpected colour spots as the oil drains through the crack and adhereance problems for). If you are a true traditionalist or doomsdayer, give it a go. Have some handy as a just-in-case. It is pretty inexpensive. Is it superior to all other gessoes? Not that I can see.
That leaves the everyman’s choice: run-of-the-mill acrylic. I actually think this is the best way to go. It’s economical, safe, quick and easy. No fumes, a variety of colours to experiment with, and scope for you to mix your own colours or apply gradient combinations and other special effects.
Acrylic or oil gessoes can harden in their containers or separate, especially if there is too much air inside or they aren’t sealed properly. Close them properly. You can also put them in a zip-lock bag. Separated-acrylics can be stirred back into a usable state, and dried stuff can be made somewhat useful by diluting with water. But if you are near the end of a container, in my experience you are better off just finishing the batch by preparing some surfaces for future use.
Fwiw I use Michael-Harding Acrylic for the base white, but I mix this with less glamourous and cheaper acrylic brands like Derwent or Matisse and have found no inferiority in end-result. I also find it a fun part of the painting process where I can try new effects, or also a good activity to do for a low-concentration day: when you are too tired, the light is too bad, its too cold, too hot, you’re in a hurry, distracted, you are stressed out or in a bad mood and want to just clear your head, or you just have no ideas of what to paint but want to do SOMETHING. In fact, it can help the creative part of the brain because you are imitating the act by picking up the paintbrush.
Thus you can find a time when you do this as a filler activity and in turn prepare for several paintings ahead in the future.
How many coats? I usually do 2 or 3, making sure each one is completely dry before applying the next. I have an orbital-sander but rarely use it these days and find a large hand-sander with 400-grit sandpaper sufficient. In saying that I have become more accepting of rough uneven surfaces. Occassionally a hair from myself or the brush, or a small fly or spec of dust will land on the wet paint. I flick them off with a palette knife if I can, but it’s not the end of the world if a hair has hardened into place. There are impressionist works hanging in museums with grains of sand in them. Jackson Pollock left cigarette butts and bottle-caps in his work. (that’s extreme, so dont do that, and I advise you don’t smoke while painting if you are a smoker, but think about how an imperfection may not necessarilly ruin the work and even express something about who you are as an artist).
Brush or palette knife? I use both, as the mood suits me. As someone who focused for a long time on getting more smoothness and detail in my work, I’ve veered more towards the knife in recent times and find something cheerfully defiant about it. One’s a ball of squishy mozzarella, one’s a chunk of hard parmesan. One’s a soulful ballad, one’s a hard rocker. One is wonder-white, one is a crusty whole-grain sourdough. You get the idea. Lately i’ve also gotten onto the roller as I am finally making use of this badass one I found years ago at the art-store which is made of hard rubber, and I beleive was intended for lino prints.
Don’t forget to seal the back and sides of the panel to protect from moisture damage or mould affecting te wooden core.
