It's rare I delve into oils these days (acrylic being my preferred medium) but when I do, look out ! It's a very ritualistic and almost perfume-y adventure for me. Scents definitely trigger memories for me. I can recall being like 5, and fascinated by all the little glass bottles and tubes of colour around my Dad's workspace when he painted with his oils. It's the same smell and has that same oily and grungey , almost childlike messiness to me still. I really let myself go with it. And if I get too carried away, it's nothing that a little turpenoid can't wash out. (By the way, an aromatic nip of Makers Mark and the scent of linseed oil really compliment one another nicely.)
Sometimes I just enjoy the smooth and drawn out process of oil painting. Taking my time, then stepping back and looking it over, defining and re-defining, etc. Plus, it's as forgiving as photoshop in the sense that if it's layered in just such a way, you can pretty much scrape or lift-away any mistakes you make with a knife. (perhaps even long after you've made them.) It's all very free-flowing and spontaneous. Knowing any risks and chances can be taken, and errors can be made but all still easily lopped-off the canvas after inspecting the whole piece over time.
Today, I am working on a nude study. Very soft and curvy.
Cheers,
K~
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