Yavanna, Revealed



Yavanna Kementári
pen & watercolour wash
© Teresa Kirkpatrick 2011



























February in the UK heralds the signs of approaching Spring:  the mornings and evenings are noticeably lighter, the birds are singing more and more to encourage the sap to rise;  trees are showing a first glimpse of colour - blossom, even, in the mildest areas - and snowdrops and crocuses are pushing up through the earth.  These changes, which we have waited for so long, come thick and fast;  and in the spirit of the promise of new life, my painting of Yavanna Kementári, which I blogged about a couple of weeks ago, has come to completion.

I say my painting, but I don't really think of it that way:  this painting, once eventually begun, revealed its subject with the slightest of input from me.  The element which gives life to this image is the original background wash, and the least successful elements (leaves and flowers on the trees) are the ones where I tried to intervene too much.  To my surprise and delight, once I'd laid down some water on Yavanna's cloak and added random brushfuls of paint,  this overwash dried into a texture reminiscent of foliage;  at one point I had thought I might inlcude a representation of flowers or leaves on her dress, but abandoned the idea. And, as Tolkien described, she is 'crowned by the sun' - but I never planned it that way!

Yavanna, emerging

Some things take a while to come to fruition.  My latest project, a painting of Yavanna Kementári from JRR Tolkien's The Silmarillion, took two years to come to the drawing board;  just how do you paint one of the Valar?  Tolkien gives us compelling descriptions of Yavanna:  in the form of a woman she is tall, and robed in green*; some have seen her standing like a tree under heaven, crowned with the Sun*; elsewhere in The Sil he tells of how she sings into existence the Two Trees of Valinor, Telperion and Laurelin, who wax and wane in turn and give a lovely light: Thus in Valinor twice a day there came a gentle hour of softer light when both trees were faint and their gold and silver beams were mingled*. To paint such a vision was an ambitious plan, and for a long time I had no idea how to go about it.


Yavanna Kementári, pen and ink drawing
© Teresa Kirkpatrick 2010




 




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 




Last summer it became clear that any kind of depiction would be better than none, so I started to sketch some basic layouts.  I wanted an Art Nouveau feel to the piece and decided to frame Yavanna with the Two Trees.  How to place her was the next question;  I decided against a pose, preferring to show her almost in passing, perhaps with a fern springing from the hem of her cloak as she walked.  By October I was able to put down a pencil sketch, and eventually, having modified it several times, I felt confident enough to ink it up, holding my breath as I did so.
 
Now came my next decision.  The outline sketch was extremely simple; if I simply filled in the colour it would look lifeless.   There was no way I could make it look realistic - who knows what a Valar looks like?  or the Two Trees?  and how on earth do you depict gold and silver light, mingling??  I had no idea what to do, and Christmas came and went. In the meantime I did some experimental paintings with bold washes and plenty of water, as described on this blog in January.  So I asked myself: what would happen if I used those on my painting of Yavanna?


Yavanna Kementári, first wet washes
© Teresa Kirkpatrick 2011

  




















Action followed thought (not too much thought- counter-productive!). I wetted the paper and dropped in quantities of turquoise and indian yellow.  Then I added some ultramarine and quinacridone gold for good measure.  The whole thing was very, very wet.  For a while I sat there and literally watched the paint drying;  depending on where the pools of water had gathered, colour was marching across the paper, blending and marching back again.  I was pretty sure there were some wonderful greens growing in there, but I couldn't be certain how they would dry.  I made myself walk away until the morning.

Yavanna Kementári, first washes dried
© Teresa Kirkpatrick 2011

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

When I went back the next day, I was astounded with the result.  I almost didn't dare touch it any more; wouldn't it do perfectly well as it was?  Tempted as I was to leave it, I decided to carry on, to find out how Yavanna would present herself to me.  But that will have to wait until the next blog - partly because she isn't finished yet  . . . .!

* The Silmarillion, by JRR Tolkien, published by HarperCollins