The Wrong Way

You’re supposed to stretch the canvas first. That way you make sure the weight of the paint doesn’t buckle the canvas.

You’re supposed to prime the canvas with gesso. Then the paint doesn’t soak through the absorbent canvas.

You’re supposed to use a small amount of water with the paint. Otherwise you risk the pigment separating from the binding agent. 

You’re supposed to keep the canvas clean, and not let bits of sand or grass blow on there.

You’re supposed to paint in a sensible place, where it doesn’t rain on you halfway through.

(Needless to say, I don’t like doing what I’m supposed to).

One of the things I like best about doing things The Wrong Way, is that it introduces a sense of jeopardy. Will it work this time, or have I pushed it too far? 

This inverted approach comes to a head when I paint on unstretched canvas outdoors, and then put it onto a frame back at the studio when the painting is (almost) complete. That’s when I found out if the image I’ve made actually works. That sense of anticipation is addictive.