Red Jasper and Sodalite

Making paints from natural clays is relatively easy, which is why I chose to begin my project with them. At some point, I knew that I would have to move on to grinding other materials, including minerals. So I've spent a lot of time doing research. Some jewels are relatively easy to find and cheap. I've bought small samples that were historically used as paints to try out.

My work began with Red Jasper:















I'm crushing everything slowly by hand. Jasper is relatively hard, so this was time consuming. I broke the large pieces with pliers, then ground with the mortar and pestle until I had a fine powder.















A pretty nice, deep red color. The Jasper mixed relatively well into a paste with oil:















I tried out some of the Jasper the other day. I wasn't pleased with its handling qualities in paint. It was very gritty in texture and did not seem to bind well with the oil. I've set this color aside.

The next color I tried out was Sodalite. It was much easier to crush than the Jasper.















As I crushed the rock, the color went from a dark Navy-blue, to a light blue-gray. The color also didn't combine well with oil. Cross another one off the list.















Both colors were added to my color chart.

A Quick Update

The color production goes on-here's a quick update:

A great, intense orange red clay found at a construction site. I collected a few jars...





























The silt separated, the color shifted. Less red, and much more orange.















Now dry, I ground the pigment.















And the final color mixed with oil:

Buoyed from the success of my first efforts, I have continued to work on creating more pigments from scratch. My goal is to have hand-made historic pigments to match or replace everything I currently use on my palette. The only important requirement is that they should be permanent colors. I would like to avoid the highly toxic pigments.

Why not simply buy these colors? There is a niche industry that can still supply them. However, most historic pigments made today are also prepared using modern equipment. These pigments are extremely finely, uniformly ground. These colors lack the unique look and handling qualities of hand made paint.

I have reason to believe that natural hand-ground pigments are much of what made the Old Master's work special. Is it any coincidence that the great search for the "Secrets of the Old Masters" began about the same time modern synthetic tube paints appeared? I don't think so.

For example, people have been analyzing the work of Rembrandt now for over a century, trying to unlock his "magic." Efforts to recreate his style with modern materials fall flat. This has led to claims he employed special mediums, magic elixirs that allowed him to render in a way that is not possible today. Chemical analysis has never shown anything special, yet some continue to persist. I believe it a simple combination of genius and a mastery of the materials used.

Moving on from black, I approached the next set of "easy" colors, the natural earth pigments.















Some clay gathered from the back of our property. The iron minerals in the clay are what gives it its color. To make a pigment, I need to filter it and collect only the smallest particles of clay. I've worked out a method similar to what was done historically to prepare my own.















Some tools of the trade. My first order of business was to sift out organics and really coarse particles. Then I washed what was left over repeatedly with water, passing it between many jars quickly, to collect only the lightest, finest clay particles.

It probably sounds a lot more complicated than it was. The whole process only took about an hour.





































I set aside the full jar for a couple hours. The fine silt settled to the bottom. Then I drained the water away, and can set the clay out to dry.















Here is some yellow clay I'm drying to make yellow ochre.















The clay after several days of drying.






















I scraped it off and ground the final pigment.














The final color, mixed with oil. I've created a large chart to record all of my different pigments. This way I can also compare and reference the different earth colors as I make them.

Vine Black

Artists have made black pigments from a huge variety of sources. The majority have been the by product of burning or charring some material. Probably the earliest pigment ever made, is Vine black. Made from charcoal, it is seen on the walls of famous cave paintings close to 20,000 years old.

This will be the first pigment I've ever made from scratch. I researched how vine black was made in the past. I would need to collect some wood and heat it, but cut off most of the oxygen so that it would char, not burn. To do this, I made a crucible by lining the inside of a flower pot with foil. I read that willow is supposed to make the best charcoal. So I gathered and cut up some thin branches, put them in the crucible and covered the top. I put this in our wood stove.















Twigs of willow in the crucible, ready to go into the fire.





























The willow out of the fire. I tried a piece out, it makes excellent drawing charcoal!















Onto grinding. Once my charcoal was ground, I washed it in water. Wood ashes contain potash, which lye is made from. This should remove most of it. Once the charcoal was dry again, I did a final grinding.















The finished pigment.

Sizing Canvas

My adventure into traditional materials begins with the foundation the picture rests upon. Up until recently, I had been using quality pre-primed canvas. Interested friends and family had tried to convince me for years to try sizing and priming canvas myself. I finally decided to try it.

Linseed oil is acidic. If it were to come into contact with raw canvas, left on its own it would destroy it. So it will need to be sealed somehow before the primer. For thousands of years the traditional material was some kind of glue, made from animal hides. Artists felt the best kind was rabbit skin-glue. Here is the process:


A bag of glue I got on a recent trip abroad. The dry glue will usually come in the form of a powder or granules like this.

To make a size, I will need to mix the glue with water under heat.














You want a nice, steady controllable heat to make decent glue. Ideally, it should be around 130 degrees F. Boiling the glue will weaken it. There are a lot of different ways to do this...

Someone recommended a hotpot. I bought an inexpensive adjustable model.

Here you can see the mix in the pot under heat. All I need to do is stir occasionally until the glue has totally dissolved. Once the glue has mixed thoroughly, I can remove it from the heat and let it cool off. As the glue cools, it will harden into a smooth gel.






Here is the size now that it has cooled off. Getting the mix so the glue is just right can involve a bit trial and error.













The little spot in the middle is where I have tested the feel of the glue with my finger. If it feels loose and wobbly, I know that the mix is too weak, I will reheat it and add more glue. If it is more like a hard gel I will reheat and add more water. Then I will let if cool off and test it again...





To apply size to the canvas, I will need to reheat it again into a liquid. Here I am stirring the size under heat.












Once the size goes on, an amazing thing happens. The canvas tightens like the head of a drum. So I don't have to do much stretching beforehand, it does much of the work for me.













Once the size has dried, I'm ready to prime. I use an oil primer on canvas since its a flexible support. The canvas will need to cure for several months before use. I try to plan my projects around this downtime the best I can, so that I'm never without fresh canvas.

I'm going to take a step away from my paintings for awhile on this blog. I was feeling things were getting a little stale, and there are several new avenues I want to explore and experiment with. For the time being, I'm going to be focusing on improving the materials I use.

Artists can never focus enough on materials. Most of us hope our pictures will endure at least as long as the works we see in museums, that are still giving pleasure to folks all over the world after hundreds of years. The art materials industry is full of reassurances, that the materials they sell are the best yet. Many of these products have not yet stood the test of time. Some notable works less than fifty years old are already falling apart.

Some conservators have come out against the use of many older materials. They argue that a lot of what artists traditionally relied upon was inferior; they had no choice in many cases. The results: fading and shift of colors, cracking, etc. There is some truth to this. Some of the colors were impermanent. Others were very poisonous. Some were so rare and expensive only the most successful artists could afford to use them.

Nonetheless, I've decided to use more traditional materials, producing as much of them as I can. It will be a lot more work, but its the only way to ensure I know exactly what's going into what I use. Here's a case in point:


This is the reverse side of a painting done by my brother about 20 years ago. He primed the raw canvas with a modern acrylic "gesso", made by a reputable company. As you can see, the oil from the paint has penetrated through the primer, into the raw canvas. The acidic oil will slowly eat away at the canvas until it disintegrates.

Next time, I will talk about my efforts to size and prime my canvases using traditional materials and methods.

Winter Morning

Morning, Queen's Creek
Oil on Canvas 20" x 14"
This painting is available. Contact me.

I live on the flat coastal plain, surrounded by the expanding wide mouths of rivers. This is where salt and fresh waters meet, flowing along towards the ocean. The tidal marsh and swamp are ubiquitous-all have their moments. As long as I am here, I will continue to experiment with capturing their magic.