Actually, the method I learned is to start with the mortar and pestle, then do the wet slab grinding. The latter is really the key to getting a reasonably brushable, not chunky, paint. I couldn't afford a real glass muller, but I found an old glass stopper with a flat head at a flea market and had a friend sandblast it... works pretty well; the sandblast texture is all the grit you need. Failing that, though, the base/bottom of a stone mortar actually works pretty well on the slab!
The interesting thing about grinding is that each pigment has its ideal grind. If I recall right, lapis actually goes deader at too fine a particle size; you need a certain amount of (small) chunks to get the light refraction you want. The very knowledgable guy from the Rublev paint company (all historic pigments, fantastic stuff) has an extensive thesis that part of the 'secrets' of old master painting are simply that they/their assistants were hand-grinding each pigment, creating multiple-sized particles instead of the uniform ones we have now, and even using different grinds of the same pigment in different areas of the painting.
Eggshell... good idea, I'll have to try that one. Kids LOVE grinding in mortars. I've done demos both with pigments and with spices. If you want to keep a hyperactive six year old sitting down, give him a mortar full of whole spices and tell him to pulverize them. Works like a charm, plus you get spices! Also old handcrank coffee grinders.
I think you must be mistaken about the blue oxidizing... lapis is an inert mineral, and I've never heard of it turning. (The victorians, on the other hand, had all kinds of nasty media that turned black and cracked.) Silver would blacken, and greens often turn brown.
I love gilding. It feels like alchemy, and it's just so very pretty!
I recommend the Cennini translation by Daniel V. Thompson, who actually tried all the methods and thus does a painter's-view translation. He also did a fantastic book (available cheaply from Dover) called methods and materials of tempera painting, in which he takes the Cennini methods and gives you detailed instructions and measurements. Taught me a lot of what I knew about egg tempera, enough to get started with it in absence of live instruction. Tons of details about gesso etc.
What I find to be the key with tempera is to do an ink wash underpainting. I don't know if the Romans did, but the medievals did, and it makes a huge difference between it looking cartoonishly flat and bright versus deep and subtle. I had a piece on a deadline crunch where I ran out of time to do the underpaintings, and the differences are still painfully obvious (at least to me). Egg tempera is NOT a fast medium. And each pigment behaves differently; some you can glaze with, some you can only hatch. It is unlike any other medium I've tried. Check out Koo Schadler for amazing contemporary egg tempera in Renn. technique.
One way to get a sort of easy egg tempera preview is to mix egg (either glair or yolk, depending on the color) into premade watercolor. Gives it a nice satin shine.
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Date: 2017-03-14 03:30 pm (UTC)The interesting thing about grinding is that each pigment has its ideal grind. If I recall right, lapis actually goes deader at too fine a particle size; you need a certain amount of (small) chunks to get the light refraction you want. The very knowledgable guy from the Rublev paint company (all historic pigments, fantastic stuff) has an extensive thesis that part of the 'secrets' of old master painting are simply that they/their assistants were hand-grinding each pigment, creating multiple-sized particles instead of the uniform ones we have now, and even using different grinds of the same pigment in different areas of the painting.
Eggshell... good idea, I'll have to try that one. Kids LOVE grinding in mortars. I've done demos both with pigments and with spices. If you want to keep a hyperactive six year old sitting down, give him a mortar full of whole spices and tell him to pulverize them. Works like a charm, plus you get spices! Also old handcrank coffee grinders.
I think you must be mistaken about the blue oxidizing... lapis is an inert mineral, and I've never heard of it turning. (The victorians, on the other hand, had all kinds of nasty media that turned black and cracked.) Silver would blacken, and greens often turn brown.
I love gilding. It feels like alchemy, and it's just so very pretty!
I recommend the Cennini translation by Daniel V. Thompson, who actually tried all the methods and thus does a painter's-view translation. He also did a fantastic book (available cheaply from Dover) called methods and materials of tempera painting, in which he takes the Cennini methods and gives you detailed instructions and measurements. Taught me a lot of what I knew about egg tempera, enough to get started with it in absence of live instruction. Tons of details about gesso etc.
What I find to be the key with tempera is to do an ink wash underpainting. I don't know if the Romans did, but the medievals did, and it makes a huge difference between it looking cartoonishly flat and bright versus deep and subtle. I had a piece on a deadline crunch where I ran out of time to do the underpaintings, and the differences are still painfully obvious (at least to me). Egg tempera is NOT a fast medium. And each pigment behaves differently; some you can glaze with, some you can only hatch. It is unlike any other medium I've tried. Check out Koo Schadler for amazing contemporary egg tempera in Renn. technique.
One way to get a sort of easy egg tempera preview is to mix egg (either glair or yolk, depending on the color) into premade watercolor. Gives it a nice satin shine.