Here I am in the lush and luscious nation of Samoa, being a student of myself. Struggling with my paper choice, tolerating it like a hair shirt; and quite unable to match the clear, rich-yet-transparent emerald of the water with the watercolour ‘inks’ I’ve been using since December.
This got me thinking, and remembering the trouble so often caused by the turquoise waters of Achmelvich. During the Windswept Wilderness itinerary in northern Scotland, we perch high on a cliff above the brightest, greenest sea inlet imaginable and undertake a colour mixing ‘race’. The first to believe they’ve mixed the colour of the water declares victory, but is only the winner if we all agree it’s the closest match. Very often, it’s not quite there.
It’s an informal game, of course; there is more than one combination of colours possible for achieving our aim, and usually we all arrive at the same place via a different route. What is striking, however, is that almost everyone makes the same ‘mistake’ early on. I caught myself about to do the same the other day, which is why I recalled the exercise.
One particular colour is key (read no further if you’re coming on Windswept Wilderness or you will now have an unfair advantage!). It’s the oft-misused and misunderstood, though occasionally invaluable, Viridian.
I stopped including Viridian in the watercolour collections I provide, (and in classes), because this intense, jewel-like blue-green is a magnet to the inexperienced. I became weary of explaining the dangers of using it unmixed, which often fell on deaf ears as it was seemingly just too tempting to use it straight from the pan, as a ready-made, all-purpose ‘green’, with alarmingly unnatural results.
Nowadays, I carry a spare tube on some of the itineraries to be dished out sparingly, when appropriate. This could be in Sri Lanka, when the usual greens aren’t quite sweet enough for glossy tropical leaves. Or in the Dolomites, when a base of Viridian with a touch of Ultramarine, calmed down with Burnt Sienna, creates perfect fir trees. Unmixed it should be treated with extreme caution, but may be just the right shade for an emerald sari; a wooden boat; brightly-painted Moroccan ceramics; colourful houses tumbling down a Canarian hillside, or, most notably, for clear tropical – or Northwest Scottish – seas.
The palette of vibrant watercolour ‘inks’ I’m using – the set I provide for Land of Smiles and Painted Desert – has colours which don’t fully correspond to the watercolours we’re familiar with. Learning their qualities and how to work with them is an art form in itself, though the results can be striking. But they do behave differently and are generally not as transparent. There is, however, a Viridian, or a close approximation, which I spend most of the time ignoring. Until I realise it’s the key to painting Samoan waters. Best of all, I can just use it neat.
The beauty of Viridian lies in its transparency; it’s usually has excellent permanence, too. It mixes like a dream with blues, yellows and even purples to form subtle landscape hues, so I can recommend it as an addition to your palette. As long as you have the discipline to never, ever use it unmixed in a representational landscape painting – unless you’re at the coast!
Alternatives which could be used, unmixed (but with plenty of water, of course) for depicting water are Winsor Green (blue shade) and Pthalo Green. They don’t always produce the same results when mixed, however, so be prepared to practise and experiment if you are planning to substitute.
I recommend: Winsor & Newton Professional Watercolour paint in Viridian. 5ml tube, around £7.00.
In the next post I’ll reveal the common ‘mistake’ made in the colour matching race and discuss another colour which is often abused. This one will surely surprise you!
