About Working in Series

I have spoken before about working in “series” and that is what I am doing now. I have seen this operation apparent in the work of other visual artists and in artists of other disciplines. I believe that the impetus behind this repeated reach for the same or similar vision is born of never quite succeeding. It’s about reaching that peak after pushing the boulder up the side of the mountain only to have to start the trek again. That’s a dismal picture of a quest that is often actually a good hike. The boulder only occasionally rolls all the way back down to the foothills. Those are the days when we ask ourselves  “What for? Why am I doing this? What makes me think I am a painter?” Or some variation of the above. We have our resident demons. And then there are those delicious moments when something looks just right and we see ourselves as ten feet tall and capable of miracles (until the next day when we become critical again).

I know this experience is shared because artists speak of it and write about it. Self doubt is ever present, more for some than for others but evidently it belongs with the creative effort and may be an essential part of it. Some humility might be a good thing.

That is what I see in the “series” operation. It is the tangible result of the quest for the impossible vision, the miraculous realization, the creative dream come true. But, luckily for us, when the whole of a series is together and finished, the producer is usually sated and ready to go on to the next push. Never completely satisfied but somehow that’s just fine. Wouldn’t want it any other way.

In the words of T. S. Eliot: Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.  The above image of a quartet is part of the “Structures” series currently being pushed up the side of the mountain within my studio. This body of 32 paintings is moving along well, not quite ready to be called “finished” and not quite perfect. But the next group will be.

About Truth

Yesterday I answered questions put to me by an astute interviewer. Before writing this week’s blog post, I went to my computer to look at what topics I had written about in the past. Repeating oneself becomes even more of a danger as we grow older.

I read over some of my old posts and saw that some of the questions that I answered during yesterday’s interview, I had regarded differently as little as a year ago. I aspired to honesty in all instances but the responses were not consistent. Since not much time has passed I can’t attribute the changes to newly acquired wisdom; I have to think that they are about the moment and the mood. And sometimes whether or not I have had a glass of wine to loosen my thought processes. (En vino veritas.) I’d rather not consider myself flakey since I often speak of issues or subjects I hold dear and give serious thought to. No, it’s more like looking from a different angle. Maybe even stepping into other shoes at times. In conversation, it is often the first thing that my brain lights on.

A question posed to me yesterday was “What is art?”. It takes some arrogance to answer that one and I have done it publicly now twice. (Not counting the intemperate comments made in party situations which I hope nobody remembers.) My carefully worded response would be that art is what connects us to our humanity. Yesterday I said it was a response to a human need. I suppose that truth can take many forms depending on who is expressing it, and where and when he/she is at in history and geography. Truths can be in conflict with each other and still they are truths — at least for the speakers. I have at times convinced myself of something that was in accordance with my perception of the world and of how everything works (or should). That kind of self-deception usually leads to a sorrowful enlightenment when reality sets in. 

When responding to an interviewer, I will say whatever comes to mind that seems right at the moment. If I am writing, I will contemplate and go back to the issue in question and fine tune the wording and the thinking. Which is closer to true? Damned if I know. What is true is that it matters. Honesty matters but truth is an abstraction. 

Frank Lloyd Wright said: The truth is more important than the facts”.

The image above is Nocturne, ©1997, Acrylic on Paper mounted on Canvas, 23" x 70". It is a particular favorite of mine.

About the Time It Takes

I have been asked many times about the time it takes to make a painting. The answer is that it varies a great deal and another answer is that I really don’t know. I have written a couple of times about work started twenty or so years ago which I am finishing now. I have had that experience before, of putting something aside because I am not sure of where I want to go with it and it’s usually about not feeling capable of fulfilling what I see as its potential. And then one day, kind of miraculously, I look at the work and know exactly what it needs. I feel able of carrying the work to a satisfying resolution. My guess is that the learning that happens as one plods on plus some clarity that comes with time make the magic. I also wonder if at some level the brain is just doing its work while one is at other tasks. That would be nice.

These works that are coming together now are still not easy but they are clear. I know what I want from them and feel sure of the path I am taking. But there is always that shadow of uncertainty, that question that hovers behind the vision. I believe I will forever be haunted by the desire to create something that will be universally embraced, so perfect in its appearance (remember, visual art is about appearances), so strong and effective, that it will bring my viewers to rain abundant praise on me. And of course these masterpieces would be best-sellers.

Okay, got a little carried away there; fantasy has always been my preferred leisure activity. To get back to the original question of the time it takes, I would have to say it takes a long time and a lot of determination and maybe a little bit of madness to produce a work of art worthy to be called such. A lifetime of trial and effort and one after another of works that are not quite the miracles that one is after. It’s a really nice lifetime.

The image above is of more of the current works in progress. These have had some of their final embellishments, but not all. They measure 26” x 20” each and are painted and collaged on a heavy etching paper.

About Structure

I am totally engrossed in the project I am working on now in my studio. While I like writing this blog, it is hard for me today. To stay focused where my interest is, I will write about it.

This project is the one I spoke of in the blog post About Yaddo; I am finishing some pieces started more than twenty years ago. I spent several days making a working studio of what had become a kind of exhibition space for my December open studio event. I then sorted these twenty-seven 26” x 20” promising beginnings into cohesive groups and hung them to look carefully at what I had.  In the week just past I added collage elements to all of the originally painted pieces. What comes next is some illumination which is about brightening the lights and deepening the dark areas. And then, and this is most important, providing these pieces with some structure; I don’t like “floaty” elements in my work. 

That leads me to contemplate the need for structure in my life. Putting it into a painting, which I do by means of lines which anchor the separate elements into a two-dimensional asymmetrical network, leads to an image in which the separate elements are connected and supported. The structure of my days, my beloved routine, brings a sense of calm. If my quest for inner and outer peace is always a challenge, I can make it  happen in my work. A significant blessing.

The image above is a partial view of these works in progress. I have coated them with a transparent medium which is receptive to pencil and pastel and these will be the final materials used on what will have to be called “mixed media” works. They started with acrylic paint, were given some collage components and now will be polished with line and light. Julia Childs, before she entered into health consciousness, often gave her recipes a final embellishment of heavy cream or butter. I will do something similar here.

About Time Off

I have taken time off, away from my usual and beloved routine, to spend with family and friends during these holidays. It is not easy for me to do that as I love to work and feel safest when I am taking care of the business of life. My parents each had small shops in Brooklyn at a time when it was against the law to open a business on Sundays. The cop on the beat would turn the doorknob on the front door to make sure you weren’t trying to fool anybody and doing business on this day of rest. My father locked his door and worked in the back part of his cabinet shop. My mother would try to get him out to a movie and sometimes succeeded. I understand my father’s need to work. It feels like the right thing to be doing most of the time.

The biggest painting I have done is named Time Off (see also About Scale) because I did it for fun in intermittent bursts between what I considered more serious pursuits. The other projects that were in progress were well thought out and I had plans for them. Time Off was about putting colors together to please myself with no thought about any kind of outcome; I thought I would play with it and then take it apart. I put twelve inch squares of color painted on paper into groups on a twenty foot wall in my studio. I started with one group of five rows, four panels in each and went on to make three groups of that format. At that point I thought I might mount each of these groups separately as I did later with Structures and some others in 2008. But then I filled in the gaps and it became one painting. After that came a big job. I had to think of it differently. It was one thing to compose groups of sixteen or twenty pieces and keep each color panel close to those others that most enhanced it, and at the same time have the color distributed through the entire piece in a way that made some visual sense. I had never attempted to do that on such scale as had come together here. It could look like total chaos, which is not my inclination ever, or it could be harmonious and serene and coherent.

While that took a lot of time it never became tedious or laborious. It was always time off for me and a joy to work on from inception to completion. If I ever were to win a to week of all paid vacation on a beach in a tropical paradise I would give it away. I would rather have time off at work or with my family any place on this earth.

I use Time Off (with me in it for scale) at my web site. The image above was taken at the show I had with The University of California, Humboldt Division, two years ago. The details are ©2002, Mixed Media Collage on Canvas, image 62” x 198” on canvas 84” x 255” .

About Yaddo

Some years ago I had the great good fortune of a month’s residency at Yaddo, the artists’ retreat in Upstate New York. The memory is with me now as I finally finish, after twenty years, work that was begun there. The process was interrupted when I left Yaddo and did some museum-ing and family visiting. The vision I was working with was lost. It took this long to feel ready to go back to these paintings and feel confident that I would be able to finish what I started without turning them into something entirely different.

I did take the largest of those works to a very satisfying resolution a couple of years ago — but it became who I am now with no respect for the vision that originally gave rise it.  And that was okay because it wasn’t really very far along and not much was lost. As a matter of fact, it had gotten itself painted into a corner and I was happy to make it into something totally different.

The other, somewhat smaller works, were a different story. They were pretty close to being what they could be and at the same time some distance from complete. I needed to respect what I had there because I liked them so much. What I had to deal with was that in the intervening years I had learned and changed. But I guess there is something within us that in spite of growth and learning remains a constant, solid core. I wanted to respect what they were and bring them to their full promise. I have now given them my all and they are complete. I will wait a few days and then hang them in my studio and look them over. I am a harsh and demanding critic and I usually ask of myself something more than I am capable of. But I will be gentle with these works as they are from somebody I used to be and I am kind of attached to her.

The image at the top of this post is the Yaddo studio where composer Aaron Copland worked during his residency. The image below is of the studio I was in during my stay with some beginnings on the wall.

More About Painting

Painting is the concern of this blog though admittedly I do stray often. My readers will discover, if they haven’t already, that there are certain themes I will go back to and never finish with. Aging is one of those and that will continue to be of interest to me until I croak, assuming that I remain in writing fitness until my day comes. Art in general is another; today, it will be the visual, two-dimensional variety that inspires the words.

Abstract expressionist painter Robert Motherwell said: “Painting consists of pieces of cloth tacked to some boards and then defaced by means of colored grease applied with a stick with hairs tied to its end”. Wikipedia is more respectful and less narrow of definition: “Painting is the practice of applying paint, pigment, color or other medium to a surface.”

An article in a recent Art in America stated:  “Many contemporary artists are more interested in making arguments than delighting the eye.” That is not what I’m talking about here as that is not my cup of tea. The article goes on to say: “Visual attributes aren’t intended to be the works’ prime considerations, let alone their exclusive reason for being”. Well, I don’t know about the exclusive part, but remove the negatives and you will have my bias. I would leave the arguments to those who use words. Nevertheless, I have to acknowledge that there are some works engraved in my memory cells that are spirited statements about our human history. But the paintings I have in mind, Goya’s Tres de Mayo, for example, are so well painted that they could be about birthday parties and still be great. Well, okay, maybe not so memorable. 

Some painters pursue a vision, others let their process lead the way. The artist’s “style” will develop as he/she struggles with the intent or the medium. We’re different from each other; a painting by one person’s hand can usually be distinguished from that of another (unless we are consciously imitating or copying). Just as we can recognize composers by their sound. Amazing isn’t it? So many unique looks and sounds? Humans are like snowflakes, no two alike. And if you ask a dog, we don’t smell alike either.

What heightens these differences for painters are the choices they make. Some of the non-tangible tools the artist might employ to project her vision onto a surface are line or drawing and color, which may or may not be an important factor. Then there is the composition which, when I was at school, was about having a “center of interest” and being sure to repeat certain elements and absolutely avoiding tangential lines or shapes that just touch at their edges. I hope that sort of teaching is passé now. The painter might also use texture, as did Van Gogh, or pattern, as did Bonnard and Matisse. There’s a lot to choose from. And now there is the advent of technology in art which has me hooked.

I could go on. And on. And I will. I have been told that you, dear reader, will balk at a long essay. My friend Richard said something like “We spend our time alone making marks on canvas or paper. What nonsense.”  I too have some doubts. Life is short. And now I’m spending some of it at writing this blog. 

The image above is Eden, 2009,  50 x 38" Acrylic & Mixed Media Collage on Etching Paper. For information about any of the paintings seen on this site please email Joan.