Painting on water

If you have some old books at home, you might be acquainted with those decorated covers and flaps showing colorful designs that resemble marble patterns.
Paper marbling has very ancient origins, probably dating back to 2.000 years ago in China, even though the technique ultimately took hold in Japan during the Heian period (VIII-XII Century), under the name of suminagashi. The secret of suminagashi was jealously kept and passed on from father to son, among families of artists; the most beautiful and pleasant examples were used to adorn poems or sutras.

From Japan through the Indies, this method came to Persia and Turkey, where it became a refined art called ebru. Western travellers brought it back to Europe where marbled paper was eventually produced on a large scale to cover books and boxes.

Today in Turkey ebru is still considered a traditional art. Garip Ay (born 1984), who graduated from Mimar Sinan University in Istanbul, has become one of the best-known ebru artists in the world, holding workshops and seminars from Scandinavia to the United States. Thanks to his extraordinary talents in painting on water, he appeared in documentaries and music videos.

His latest work recently went viral: painting on black water, and using a thickening agent so that the insoluble colors could better float on the surface, Garip Ay recreated two famous Van Gogh paintings, the 1889 Starry night and the iconic Self-portrait. All in just 20 minutes (condensed in a 4-minute video).

The magic and wonder of this suprising exploit reside of course in Ay’s precise artistic execution, but what is most striking is the fluidity, unpredictability, precariousness of the aqueous support: in this regard, ebru really shows to be a product of the East.
There is no need to stress the major symbolic role played by water, and by harmonizing with its movements, in Eastern philosophical disciplines: painting on water becomes a pure exercise in wu wei, an “effortless action” which allows the color to organize following its own nature, while the artist gently puts its qualities to good use in order to obtain the desired effect. Thus, the very obstacle which appeared to make the endeavour difficult (the unsteady water, disturbed by even the smallest breath) turns into an advantage — as long as the artist doesn’t oppose it, but rather uses its natural movement.
At its heart, this technique teaches us a sublime lightness in dealing with reality, seen as a tremulous surface on which we can learn to delicately spread our own colors.

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Here is Garip Ay’s official website, and his YouTube channel where you can witness the fascinating creation of several other works.
On Amazon: Suminagashi: The Japanese Art of Marbling by Anne Chambers. And if you want to try marbling yourself, there is nothing better than a starter kit.

Il vostro prossimo cucciolo – X

Ed eccoci nuovamente qui, con una nuova puntata dell’esclusiva rubrica che vi guida e vi consiglia nella scelta dell’animale da compagnia che fa per voi.

Siete stanchi del vostro acquario? I vostri amici non lo degnano più di uno sguardo? Persino i pesci rossi hanno un’aria annoiata? Regalatevi un rospo del Suriname!

(Foto: Arthur Chapman)

A prima vista non farà proprio un figurone, e qualcuno potrebbe pensare che l’avete raccolto spiaccicato su un’autostrada: questo rospo (Pipa pipa), infatti, è estremamente piatto e dal colorito marroncino-grigiastro, e certamente sfigura al confronto con alcune coloratissime rane tropicali. Vive nelle paludi  nelle foreste del Sudamerica, e al contrario degli altri anfibi non lascia quasi mai l’acqua.

Ma, se avrete pazienza, scoprirete in che cosa il rospo del Suriname è assolutamente unico: il metodo di riproduzione. Il maschio attira la femmina schioccando l’osso ioide che ha in gola (e non con i consueti gracidii), e la femmina si solleva dal fondo per cominciare una strana danza. Durante la fecondazione la femmina si mette a fare delle piroette, e ad ogni piroetta rilascia da 3 a 10 uova, poi si gira di schiena e il maschio, premendo, gliele conficca nella pelle.

Le uova sprofondano nello strato esterno della schiena della madre, e lì creano ognuna una piccola sacca, come una cella di alveare. Lì, dentro quella bolla, protetti dall’epidermide materna, i girini lasciano lo stadio larvale, escono dalle uova, crescono… e soltanto quando sono pienamente formati, spuntano dalla pelle e se ne vanno via.

Garantito: lo spettacolo di questo parto, degno di Alien, lascerà i vostri ospiti senza fiato.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZ7b4spjXhw]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCayq56wHSA]

Ecco la pagina inglese di Wikipedia sul rospo del Suriname. Ed ecco un altro video su YouTube (piuttosto lungo) che mostra l’accoppiamento.

(Grazie, Shade!)