She began with a grayscale image of a single, violent brushstroke, painted with a rough, chalky brush on a transparent layer. She saved it as a PSD. Then, she went to 3D > New Mesh from Grayscale > Plane .
Elara smiled. She had learned the secret: Photoshop's impasto isn't a single button. It's a marriage of . It’s a lie that tells a deeper truth.
The magic happened.
But it was just a gray, metallic-looking object. To make it impasto , she needed to wrap her color around the texture.
She created a second layer, a vibrant red poppy petal. She placed the 3D mesh above it. Then, in the 3D panel, she changed the mesh’s material. She set the color to the red petal layer. She turned the Shine and Reflection way down, but cranked the Bump map to 100%—using her original grayscale stroke as the bump. photoshop impasto
Elara had always been jealous of oil painters. She worked in pixels, in the flat, infinite grid of a digital canvas. She could mimic the color of a thick swipe of cadmium red, but never its shadow —the tiny cliff of paint that catches the light, the physical thereness of a real stroke.
Now the red petal clung to the high peaks of the stroke. She began with a grayscale image of a
Her flat stroke lifted off the screen . The white parts of the stroke became towering peaks; the black parts, deep valleys; the grays, smooth slopes. Photoshop had built a 3D model of her stroke—a digital mountain range of paint.