The Macallan and Painting
When my nighttime work comes to a pause, I pour the amber liquid into a small glass. The Macallan. As its aroma slowly rises, I turn back to my canvas. I don't paint to drink whisky, nor do I drink to paint. Yet, strangely, the time spent with this distilled spirit quietly resonates somewhere with my creative process.
Today, about The Macallan and painting. Not about taste or brand superiority, but I'd like to put into words, just a little, where that deep amber color and my abstract paintings intersect.
The time of the cask and the time of the painting
The character of Macallan is said to come from its maturation in sherry casks. Over long years, it breathes quietly within the wood, deepening its color and aroma. This process is almost invisible from the outside. Yet, time undeniably layers itself within the liquid.
I sometimes feel painting is the same. A single stroke placed on the canvas may seem like a momentary movement, yet behind it lie layers of time. Books read, music heard, conversations with someone, lonely nights. Even if not directly painted, these seep into the choice of color or the speed of the brush.
Whiskey aging feels less like a process of stripping away and more like an accumulation of acceptance. It takes in the wood's essence, embraces the air, and slowly transforms. My own creative work, too, may be less about constantly adding something and more about accepting time. If I rush to finish, the painting becomes shallow. When I let it rest without haste, unexpected depth can emerge.
The Depth of Amber
That deep amber hue when you pour Macallan into a glass. When light passes through it, you see a shimmer that's neither quite gold nor quite red. I love gazing at that color. That brief moment of observation before drinking. I feel as if there are invisible layers beneath the color.
In abstract painting, color is not mere decoration. It is the temperature of emotion, the speed of thought. When layering a brown close to black, I always seek "depth." My goal isn't simply to place a dark color; I want to hold a faint light within it. The amber hue of Macallan is also captivating not just for its richness, but because it holds a shimmering light within.
I often slip a color close to gold into just one part of the canvas. It's not to assert itself, but to breathe. A tiny bit of light within heavy tones keeps the canvas from closing in. Like the nuances of raisins or orange peel in a whiskey's aroma, a slight brightness changes the entire impression.
Quiet Dialogue
After creating, when I take a sip of Macallan, a subtle bitterness emerges beneath the sweetness. This complexity cannot be fully captured by the simple word "delicious." I am drawn to that ambiguity. To things not being too clear-cut. To the presence of unexplained space.
Abstract paintings also exist at a slight distance from explanation. Instead of clearly showing what is depicted, they evoke memories and emotions within the viewer. Just as each person perceives different aromas when tasting whisky, I hope paintings too will yield as many interpretations as there are people.
Tilting my glass, I reflect on today's painting. Was that brushstroke a bit too forceful? Was that negative space too confined? As the whisky slides down my throat, I reconsider the composition's balance. This quiet time of dialogue connects me to my next creation.
The Distance to Avoid Drunkenness
To be clear, I don't drink to get drunk. Rather, I value not getting too drunk. Just enough to soften the senses slightly. That vague, swaying feeling loosens my thoughts just right.
It's the same with painting. If I get swallowed by emotion, the canvas becomes too heavy. If I'm too cool-headed, it dries up. I search for that faint sway in between. Perhaps that glass of Macallan is what reminds me of that balance.
Creation isn't about swinging to extremes, but walking between depth and lightness. Just as the amber liquid holds both light and shadow, I too wish to place both stillness and passion upon the canvas.
If you ever hold a glass of whisky at night, gaze just a little at its color. Time is dissolved within it. And if you ever happen to see my paintings somewhere, I would be delighted if you could also let your thoughts wander just a little to the time hidden within that color.
Macallan and painting. Both reveal worlds that can only be seen when savored without haste. I intend to keep placing my brush within that quiet depth, forevermore.