Variegation in the Light

Variegation in the Light

The artist’s small paintings are richer and darker in tone.

A medium size artwork’s colours are slightly lighter, pitching higher in tonal variegations with lighter tints.

The large easel paintings are even lighter, keying high to allow room to feel.

The tonal arrays used in each case vary in their environment.

A small unit is richer and darkish.

A medium size art is lighter in tone because the overall environment will depress the audience if you do it darkly.

A large piece is even lighter to help the message across the space to the viewers.

Your tonal values are specific of the environment.

The overall environment tells you the values of the tonal arrays it wants to live in.

Your job is to explore those many tonal values and tints available, to invite you to come out and play the great game.

You need a storyboard example.

Here is one:

Central Plateau Moods

The Central Plateau of Tasmania’s highlands goes on forever. The claim is that over 3000 lakes and tarns are located up here.

Parking the four-wheel drive in the reserve at Lake Ada is final. The track actually pushes further on but in less than ideal bogs and tire ruts so we decided to walk the rest of the way.

A small hut guards the curve to the bridge over the narrows between Big Ada and Little Ada lagoons.

Fly fishers stalk the trout of both lakes.

We walk to the shores of both Ada lagoons and veer to check out the little one, hopping among button grasses, tussocks and low scrubs, over mosses and rocks.

A tiny creek runs away in a deep runnel and the fly fisher decides to try his luck in pools and holes along its length.

I sit down to watch the calm lake that mirrors its truncated magenta sienna hills on the opposite shores with the sky blue. It appears to me that nothing much happens here beneath these blue skies and the few wavy heat whispers.

The ancient strangeness of the place washes over me; I’m alone and the outsider, the lonely foreigner in a vast high country. In these miles upon miles of openness I’m the odd one, the stranger.

A platypus breaks the mirror. Rippling shards of liquid glass spear the blue perfection making a silvery shimmer. A water rat swims up to the minor rivulet. It is alarmed, splashes and disappears.

The fly fisher flicks to target a trout below an overhanging bank where dry grasses do sigh dark mysteries.

Caddis hover just above the shrubbery yonder, a few busy pale illuminations against the distant purplish dun heath. Then the atmosphere thickens ready to be carved, sliced and plated for art appreciation.

My reverie is broken by the plop of a beetle that’s instantly slurped with a soft sucking sound hardly discernible in the murmuring monotony, a droning from the Dreaming Time that carries my current hallucinations inside the rings of growing rippling of tailers rising.

I imagine ancient faces, hauntingly staring out from sullen depths among the new wavelets.

The Artist & the Fly Fisher 2007
– book of art and narrative

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