Lately, or so it seems, I find myself so much “smarter” of a painter than I was before.
Is it age? Or has my folio of images of work painted by others before me just enlarged to the point where, given the great material stored, it’s just impossible for me to miss. I sure don’t feel as if I’m borrowing from life experiences when I paint. It seems like much more of a personal, juried art history, gained through years of looking at other’s work. Maybe the real label for this is appropriation? Anyhow, I feel a bit more rocket-fueled lately-no more plain ole’ gasoline.
Chalk-ain’t it lovely? It’s the ghost of the mediums-ok, I guess all “stuff” that makes up chalk that comes from the earth has a loooong, but the stuff looks so much like our Caspar and other cartoon ghosts-and makes a stroke that is unmistakeably wraith-like…and can almost be whisked away with a swipe of yer hand…now you see it, now you don’t…a perfect medium for those in doubt.
The painting process seems so much to me like blood-letting-not to be morbid, but when things are going well in the studio, the process can be described as a flow (awful to use this clichéd word especially talking about art, but it just fits SO well). When the flow is staunched, so ends the spontaneity. So ends the flow that mixes color, physical and emotional reflex and visual prudence (you know, what stops us from outlining a black painted object with a painted black line…) When things are really moving, there is the hope that if you don’t have to stop, you can recreate the world. The brakes do come on with certain distractions (hunger, for one: damn me!) and with that slow-down comes
self-consciousness.
These are shot in a sophisticated manner-notice the shadows of the branches on these works on paper!
Is it age? Or has my folio of images of work painted by others before me just enlarged to the point where, given the great material stored, it’s just impossible for me to miss. I sure don’t feel as if I’m borrowing from life experiences when I paint. It seems like much more of a personal, juried art history, gained through years of looking at other’s work. Maybe the real label for this is appropriation? Anyhow, I feel a bit more rocket-fueled lately-no more plain ole’ gasoline.
Chalk-ain’t it lovely? It’s the ghost of the mediums-ok, I guess all “stuff” that makes up chalk that comes from the earth has a loooong, but the stuff looks so much like our Caspar and other cartoon ghosts-and makes a stroke that is unmistakeably wraith-like…and can almost be whisked away with a swipe of yer hand…now you see it, now you don’t…a perfect medium for those in doubt.
The painting process seems so much to me like blood-letting-not to be morbid, but when things are going well in the studio, the process can be described as a flow (awful to use this clichéd word especially talking about art, but it just fits SO well). When the flow is staunched, so ends the spontaneity. So ends the flow that mixes color, physical and emotional reflex and visual prudence (you know, what stops us from outlining a black painted object with a painted black line…) When things are really moving, there is the hope that if you don’t have to stop, you can recreate the world. The brakes do come on with certain distractions (hunger, for one: damn me!) and with that slow-down comes
self-consciousness.
These are shot in a sophisticated manner-notice the shadows of the branches on these works on paper!
1 comment:
I read somewhere that Michelangelo used to carry a bit of food with him when he was painting the chapel ceiling. Something like a crust of bread and a turnip. No long lunch hours for M.
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