thoughts on art and creative living

There was a point earlier this week that it suddenly dawned on me that summer was over. Realizing my tendency to shrink into the indoors during winter months, I’ve been making sure that I get some outdoor activity every day before the rains hit. I just came back from a rather magical walk which reminded me why I made a commitment during the spring to take my camera around with me whenever I take my afternoon walks. Well, I started to amass a collection of hundreds of photographs (mostly flowers, plants and textured walls which, for some reason consumed my attention for the moment)…. But I failed to do much of anything with them and didn’t see any reason to add to my unsystemized files. It just seems like such a load of work to go through them all and figure out what’s useful to me.

This evening I went out and began the habit again. Gotta catch that last golden light. It’s always a revelation to me how much more attention I give things when I look at them through a lens. It focuses my attention on the macro-world which one fails to see when keeping a pace to simply “get somewhere”. Another thing that happened this time around is that children playing in the neighborhood were very interested in seeing what I was doing and wanted to talk to me. Usually it’s the cats that come up to me to accept a little cooing and stroking. This time, on 3 separate occasions, children came out to talk to me (first a couple of sisters, then a boy with his dog, then a group of 4). Each incidence had a bit of magic to offer me.

I don’t spend much time with children, so I am pretty out of touch with the way children think sometimes. Being involved with something I am interested in doing somehow makes me less intrusive to their world, as they become inquisitive and start looking at the flowers with me, or start telling me stories, or simply play with each other in my presence. The child above spontaneously bowed a flower down to smell it as I walked away.

I’ve just begun the process of getting back into the studio. I can’t say I’ve made a LOT of progress… but I’m starting to play. I’m just layering colors and patterns, trying to figure out my next step. I also started a new painting based on the process workshop I took a couple weekends ago. So far, I like the original piece best, though it does create some presentation problems (painted on buckly paper that’s not easy to hang). I wanted to re-create it as a layered glass painting. So far it lacks the intensity of wildness of the first. Maybe it’s not a good idea to try to re-create a painting. But I also don’t feel that I should have to reinvent the wheel every time I begin. I know there’s more I can do with this idea, and it’ll be interesting to see where it goes.

The technique of painting on glass is inherently less spontaneous than tempera on paper. It’s necessary to keep areas of the painting clean, so that the lower layers are revealed. This requires me to adopt a more careful attitude towards the work, and it’s already looking more stiff in its composition. (The “moon” in this photo is actually a reflection of the paper lantern hanging in my studio, but it gives me another idea to add to the painting.

In the meantime I might also dig out some of those photos I’ve been collecting. Might be some food for new imagery among all the botanical studies. Though I am transferring my balcony studio back to the basement and it’s starting to get nippy, it can still be a time for blooming.

I took a process-painting workshop this past weekend called “Breakthroughs in Intuitive Painting”, facilitated by Carolyn Winkler (spiritmaskjourneys.com).

The idea of the workshop is to give up one’s habitual modes of painting, instead giving oneself over to a completely intuitive process. We paint with liquid tempera on paper, simulating the experience of painting as a child. From the very beginning, I’m thinking “Yippee! I get to paint like a child!… I don’t have to please anyone but myself!”… Yet, I must admit that there’s another part of me that’s thinking, “I can’t waste a whole weekend on this. I’ve got to create paintings for my upcoming shows. Yes, I want my work to be freer… but I also want to create a product I can sell!”

That dilemma was my shadow throughout the workshop. It really did interfere with my goals of completely letting go and giving myself over to the process. But eventually, the process won out, and I did experience a breakthrough in my work.

Here’s a synopsis of my progress:

I began by painting on a single sheet of paper, 18×24, taped vertically onto a foam support. Red, umber, and blues were the dominant color scheme.  The shape of a woman takes form almost immediately.

I soon realized that I wanted to expand beyond the rectangular edge of the paper, so I started tearing sheets, then adding them to each side, creating an irregular shape. Trees start to frame the woman, piercing a swirling sky.

After lunch, I decided the imagery came too quickly, so I painted over her.

I sorta liked this state, where she was half there, and half erased. I wasn’t completely satisfied, though, so I painted over her face completely.

Another woman appeared in her place.

At the end of the day, I looked at my piece and felt disappointed. She feels contrived… and the composition is stiff. I went home feeling a little annoyed. I asked myself, “Why is it so difficult to make a shift?” I realized that I had too many expectations of an immediate breakthrough. I wanted to paint, but felt too despondent. I read through my book, “Painting from the Source”, by Aviva Gold. I went to bed early, exhausted but hopeful.

The next day, I knew I had to completely obliterate the woman. I turned my paper upside down and taped it to the wall again. I added extensions of more torn paper.

Something definitely shifted within the painting (and myself) once I painted over the woman and started painting more freely.

Swirls of color start to flow from my brush. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m okay with that. I don’t need to have a plan, or to know where it’s going. I’m using more paint than I normally do because it’s cheap, so I’m not constrained by thoughts of cost. I do realize that I’m starting to get attached to these swirls now, though. So, after lunch, I turn the painting over again.

Once I turned it over, I immediately saw the shape of a bird’s head, formed from the swirls. I ask myself, “Is this image from the mind or from the heart?” I’m not certain, but it feels like the right thing to do, so I give myself to this idea… painting a wild bird’s head with a huge, glaring eye. I work further on the swirls of the sky, and as a last touch, green blades of grass against the red earth. Time is up, and I feel satisfied.

yes, it is.

Ever since I stumbled upon another artist’s blog that mentioned making no apologies for not blogging regularly and only when she “damn well felt like it”, I’ve sorta let myself off of the hook. I started this to keep track of my own creative thoughts, but have found myself on a bit of a treadmill lately, between prepping for street art shows and creating websites. I ride the waves between excitement and exhaustion, but little of my time has been spent in true contemplation of the creative process. In fact, I am growing quite tired of the prospect of reproducing myself so that I have affordable art for the masses. I want to give myself to my painting again. I miss it, and the time spent away from it has left me feeling a bit blocked.

Realizing that I’ve been a bit too driven by product and not having enough time to give myself to my authentic creative process, I’ve decided to take a process-painting workshop this weekend (“Breakthroughs in Intuitive Painting” ). Today marks Day One in the workshop, and though I can’t say that I’ve come to my creative breakthrough yet, I can say that I am thoroughly enjoying the process of painting like a child. It’s exactly what I needed. I’ll write more about this when I finish the workshop.

I almost couldn’t even afford to take the workshop, but fortunately sold a painting a couple nights ago. I thought I was having a bad sales night. First Thursday Art Walk in the Pearl is beginning to look too much like Last Thursday on Alberta, with too many drunk people and a parade of people all looking for a scene of cheap entertainment. Finally, I decided I would just enjoy myself whether I sold well or not. A woman came into my booth and decided that she had to have my painting, “Reaching Out, Letting Go”. She is a therapist, which I appreciate because the painting represents a place of healing for me. A girl stands in a field of flowers, picking seeds, and letting them fly into the wind, where a bird swoops down to carry a seed away. The flowers are St. John’s Worts (a natural anti-depressant). The girl looks like me, wearing a head-scarf (my personal trademark, since I have no hair). It took years to accept myself as a hairless woman since I’ve had alopecia since I was a teen. This was the first painting I created that reveals this… and reflects my desire to let go of what I cannot control. As I move deeper into my personal evolution, I want my painting to reflect more of this spirit. I want it to be wild, unconstrained and joyful. I am on my way.

Yes, I am.