Titles

"Elise" (24 x 18 oil) is one of my favorite pieces.  She evolved from a full figure into a portrait.  There are times the paint and canvas have their own plans.  She was done a few years ago, and I no longer own her.  I liked the piece enough that I use the image as my desktop on both by personal and business computers. 

Process is most important to me, not product.  Yet, here is a product that evolved from moving, pushing, spreading, spilling and pulling the paint around.  Playing with a brush and color without a definite destination in mind is the way I work.  I let the paint and image speak to me, and listen with an open mind.  Then my hands execute instructions. 

The title came from nowhere.  I don't know anyone named Elise.  I do like the name ...

Titles are always difficult.  I no longer give titles to my work unless I feel strongly the piece would be enhanced.  Yet, how can words enhance a visual image?  People are always asking me what the title is.  Does it matter?  I like "untitled."  Or, one year I gave each painting a number ... like cattle on a large dairy farm.  One piece was "No. 32" and the lady that bought it wanted to know what it meant.  I did tell her the truth and said I was tired of thinking of titles for pieces and numbered them instead.  I did assign them random numbers, so perhaps the title did mean something.  How does  "No. 3,658" sound?  Pricing too ... why even numbers?  I like $2,345.  Or, $543.  It doesn't take that much cash to make change, and most people pay by check or credit card anyway.  If the piece is in a gallery, it's not the artist's problem. 

I've decided to put a price on the pieces I'm not attached to, and leave it at that.  There are some I keep around for several years.  Then there are some, I don't care if I ever see them again.  "Elise" was one I do wish I had kept.  I needed cash at the time and she paid a lot of bills.

"How much time will I save by not writing or typing titles, explaining them, etc.?  I think a title prejudices a viewer.  I like my work to be enjoyed, and the viewer can react and put themselves, or their own story, into the piece.  I don't want to try to define my work with words for the public.  I'd prefer to put my energy into painting.

I had my first "sunshine art" show last Saturday.  I didn't take much work and didn't sell anything.  Lots of compliments, great conversation (I like to converse with the public that likes and appreciates my work) but all of that does not put food on the table. I did enjoy the day, hot as it was.  I like seeing  the public's reactions to my art.  You're always wondering how people will react to work, especially if it is new.  I have good part-time enployment, and am grateful for that.  Unemployment is very high, and I am fortunate to have found a perfect position to supplement my artistic income. 

The title of this blog is "Visual Conversation."  And, here I sit typing away words.  I guess we can't live without words.  I do think visual communication is deeper, and natural. 

Where the "Start" Ended

I'm calling this piece finished.  I had a difficult time getting a decent digital of it, due to reflections and my lack of knowledge of the digital camera.  Sometime I should sit with the owner's manual and figure out all the settings.  It's not really that complicated. 

There is a lot of detail that can't  be seen in this little image, but one can get the idea.  I see something different each time I look.  This is also a piece that works whichever way you hang it. 

I've delayed really working by painting the sides of several gallery wrapped canvases, and now by arraging this post.  Time's up, I have two pieces to work on today.  My first show sale is in two weeks.  It may be pushing it to have the ones I side painted today completely dry, but it should work.  Once I have an inventory, I usually don't add to it until the next year.  This year is an exception.  I think I mentioned I have a solo show coming up in October, but to my pleasure, it's been changed to the month of December.  I thought about painting things I "thought" would sell ... and changed my mind.  I'll keep on painting what I want to. 

Some pieces I keep for awhile, some I give away, and the rest I cart around and have fun talking to people at shows.  I know my work only appeals to a small percentage of the population.  I've found those that stop and look, and talk, are people I really like.  Go figure.  They've already met me through my work, and feel comfortable enough to be friendly.  Time's up again.

Baggage

This piece is not new.  My studio is in the basement, and I'd hung it at the bottom of the stairs.  I titled it "Baggage" and it's purpose was to absorb any baggage in my life before I entered my creative space.  It's a 30 x 40 stretched canvas.  It was the first large canvas I stretched myself.  Experimenting with different methods of applying paint and medium was the goal when it was created.  After a couple of years, I decided to add a frame.  I purchased a thin metal shadow box frame and learned the lesson that canvases you stretch yourself aren't necessarily square, and you're better off with a frame that can hide the fact.  I didn't have the funds to purchase another, so made it work.  I framed it so it could be exhibited in a juried show.  When it returned home from that show, it found a place in my living room.  The reason I'm posting this today is I've lent it out for an exhibition where I work.  I work in the fiscal department of a non-profit social service agency, and was depressed by the state of the building.  There were no funds for anything other than basic maintenance.  The agency had purchased an antique school building from a town for $1.00.  I think the town got the better deal.  There was no color, nothing on the walls.  Blank space.  I started talking about inviting local artists to exhibit their work.  I finally managed to get one other person excited about the possibility and it spread to one other.  We went through all the channels, wrote up a proposal, got approval, and I'm pleased to say the building was transformed yesterday, when two old friends and I curated and hung 47 pieces by 20 local artists.  There was a call for artists, on a first come first to exhibit basis, inviting them to exhibit one to three pieces, no jury, no fee.  The space is not a gallery, has no special lights, the invitation was meant to allow the energy of original art transform a building and offer artists an open opportunity to exhibit.  The exhibit will hang until October, when we hope to repeat the process.  The goal is to have three exhibits a year. 

There is a reception scheduled for next Thursday evening.  The exhibit reception will also mark the 45th anniversay of the agency.  I am energized, sore and tired at the same time.  We didn't know what the artists would bring.  We had a collection of different sizes, medium, subject, style, and color to arrange.  We found the almost perfect place for each piece.  The quality of all the work is incredible.  Visitors, partners in service, executives, and employees frequent the building, so the exposure for the artists is reasonable.  Not great, but reasonable. 

I believe it is very important for artists to share their work, close up and personal.  The public needs to see art in everyday places, not just in museums, galleries, and libraries.  Art should be everywhere, sharing it's energy.  There may not be an economic factor in simply "putting it out there."  However, the benefits to society cannot be counted.  Everyone wins.  Art takes two people, one to create and another to see. 

I thank everyone that takes the time to post and write about their work in this venue.  Sharing is the key to creativity.  All that said, I will now turn my focus to my own work with joy. 

Start Over

Last Sunday I worked on a start all afternoon, and wiped it all off on Monday.  There are times I feel it is okay to do that.  I'm not compelled to work with something I'm not attracted to.  I was feeling frustrated and threw the paint on this canvas, stabbed it with my brush, pulled it around, had my rag handy and was wiping paint off as fast as it was being applied.  When I was done, I stood the piece on a shelf and walked away.  When I returned to the studio, the paint had been thin and wet enough (oil mixed with paint thinner) some of it dripped through the painting and I had a puddle of indigo on the shelf.  I could have wiped it all off at that point, but there is something here that fascinates me.  I don't know what it is yet.  I've been looking at this piece for a week now.  It's almost dry enough to work on, but I'll wait until I have a longer block of time.  My obligations at my paying job kept me out of the studio the latter part of the week, and a family visit for the weekend did the same. 

I was excited by a previous start I posted, now I wish I had it back.  I developed the painting too soon.  Patience is what I don't always have.  The painting that did result from that one is beginning to grow on me.  There are no mistakes, I need to remember that. 

This start has water, wind, plant life, sky,earth and human elements in it.  I will bring it into what it is, and will abstain from forcing images into the paint.  There are enough there to keep me busy and content for several hours of painting. 

Visual Conversation

I named this blog "Visual Conversation."  I've never written about the process.

It started about eight or nine years ago ... time flies ... with my friend Marni Lawson.  She  is an artist and was then residing in Temple, Maine.  We'd come to know each other gradually over several years.  One day, I asked her to engage in a creative experiment.  The process was ... I I took an original piece of Marni's work and created a response.  I returned her work along with my response and Marni responded to my work.  We never talked about the pieces.  There were no rules on size or medium.  There were no wrong answers.  The shared energy was tremendous.  All possibilities were in front of us.  We had two "conversations" going at the same time, so each of us always had a piece to respond to.  The original "Conversations" generated forty pieces each and took over a year to complete.

We wanted to share the process, and conversed with other artists.  Other artists began their own conversations.  The image above was a part of a short conversation I had with the late artist Susan Pomeroy.  I now call it "Memories of the Future."  It hangs in my dining room. 

We shared the process with all age levels of students to see if it worked the same for others.  It did!  Elementary school children created responses on their computers with a paint program.  They also learned how to use the computer program.  Middle school students were quickly grabbing art supplies to begin a response.  It held the undivided attention of pre-schoolers with crayons and paper.  I borrowed the art class at the local "alternative" high school.  I brought fifteen of my matted and packaged original paintings in a pillowcase.  The students all choose one blind, and got right to work.  That was amazing.  Paint conversations was all the "bad" boys wanted to do in school.  It kept them there.  I returned to the class several times to paint with them.  I cannot describe the energy.  

Marni and I decided to call the process ... BEYOND WORDS, A VISUAL CONVERSATION.

The term "visual conversation" has been part of my artist's statement for so long, it seemed appropriate.  A book we shared about the formation of ice crystals exposed to positive and negative energy ... I do not remember the title or author of the book, was published by Beyond Words Publishing Company. 

To see some of Marni's work, visit http://www.marnilawsonwatercolors.com/. 

From Marni's Website:

"It (Visual Conversation) is not about our artwork but about the energy that is created through sharing, non-verbally, with another human being.  We envision responses in movement and dance as well.  Others are responding with words to our images.  we believe that this process opens RECEPTIVE  channels that open your mind to new ways of thinking and processing information.   Ask another, and try it  yourself."


 

Success or Failure

Here is that "start" I posted a day or two ago.  I kept some of the elements but lost some too.  I'm not sure which version I like the best.  This piece ... I think it works no matter which way it ends up being hung.  Left is the same position as the start ... on the right another view.  I do like using a square canvas ... when a piece turns out like this one ... it can also be hung on the diagonal.  I see different images in each view.  Directly above is yet another possibility.  I'm not used to this blogging tool, and the pictures keep slipping around.  I can't seem to keep them in any order, so will skip the last view. 

I was tempted to bring each section of the painting to a representational state.  My goal is to engage the viewer and let them define or not define the images.  The little digitals do not show the subtle details.  The changing light of the studio change the image.  I succeeded.  I failed to keep the essence of the start.  I painted the start with my fingers and a rag.  It was a very satisfying experience.  I enjoyed creating the final image, and as process is more important than product ... the one element lacking was excitement seeing images take shape ... there is something foreign to me in this latest effort.  I believe all of my work is a self portrait, and like touch drawings, I'll know what it is in due time.

I've had my seat outside in sun, watched and heard the Canadian geese land on the river, the goose families multiply each year, heard the song of the loon, and all the other birdsong.  With that inspiration, I'll spend some time in the studio.

A Start

The weather was perfect today.  Bright and clear, mild breeze and not too warm or humid.  Perfect day to be painting outside.  I choose to remain in the studio, as I rarely paint what I see, and I was too lazy to pack the paints up, and walk or drive to another location.

This is a "start" and I don't know where it's going to go.  It should be an interesting journey.  This is after the first round of applying paint.  18 x 24 wrapped canvas.  The afternoon slipped by quickly.  I need long stretches of time to immerse myself in my work.  An hour here and there doesn't work for me.  I have the next several days ... don't have to be back to my day job (we all have to eat) until Thursday and the house is clean enough. 

Now that I've committed myself to my own process, I don't have studio avoidance syndrome.  I can't wait to get there!   Should be a great summer for artwork.