cleaning the studio...
...and other adventures in art…and another show…
In addition to the EDGE show I wrote about last week, opening May 6, I also have paintings hanging at Lulu’s at the Octagon, a cafe attached to the Museum of Art and History in downtown Santa Cruz.
This is a fabulous space, with large walls, good light, and a nice line of sight from across the room…perfect for paintings this size. Susan Hillhouse of the museum curates this space, and it was great working with her, Robbie Schoen and Marla Nova to select and hang the work. The show will be up until June 19th. Stop in and see it if you can, because my photo doesn’t do it justice!
the EDGE of town
I’m helping Lila Klapman, a fellow artist, organize an invitational group exhibit for artists working on the west side of Santa Cruz. EDGE: Art on the Westside will be held at the R. Blitzer Gallery, located at the edge of town in a warehouse formerly occupied by the Wrigley company (yes, that Wrigley, of chewing gum fame).
If I can speak for Lila, at least part of her impetus for putting together this show is to help foster a sense of community among the many talented artists on the west side. Plus, it gives us a great excuse to throw a party for the Artists’ Reception on May 21st. And who doesn’t like a party!?!
There’s a lot happening at this end of town. There are wineries, breweries, bakeries, restaurants, this wonderful gallery, and lots of artists. I think there are more artists here than people realize, and hopefully this exhibit will give the public an idea of the diversity and talent found out this way.
One of the artists, Lisa Hochstein, has been instrumental in designing our postcard and web announcement, which use a springtime palette. Click on the card to see a larger version with links to the artists’ websites.
I mention the springtime palette because those same colors have been showing up in my paintings as we’ve been working on the card together, only in a more saturated and ‘dark’ way.
Since no blog post is complete without some art, here is one of my newer paintings, influenced, I think, by the colors on our announcement.
nothing ever stays the same
If it’s in my studio, it’s fair game for revision. That’s my motto, especially with paintings.
This painting, Nice Girls (40″x40″, oil on canvas), shown here as a ‘before’ and ‘after’, was revised a year after I thought it was complete. It’s been in shows in both versions. I really do think it’s finished this time. The revision was simple…just a brightened color in the upper background and some slight linework, but I think the painting is enormously better for it.
This painting (untitled as of now, 24″x18″, oil on canvas) is new. It sat around my studio for some time as I looked at it and thought about it. I liked the abstracted figure but wasn’t happy with the color relationships. I like my colors more assertive and punched up, as you can see in the finished painting.
By the way, this painting had two previous paintings underneath it, completely unrelated to this one. All three paintings were done from a model in my studio. With a model, I tend to work quickly while the model is there and then contemplate for a few weeks while the painting dries. Later, without the model, I can complete the painting. Or I can paint over it, like I did with these two.
Neither of these two earlier paintings piqued my interest much, though perhaps both could have been finished to my satisfaction. Instead, I reused the canvas to see what I might get from a new pose. These two are gone now, you can see the color from them peeking out from under the new painting.
that big, blank canvas
My friend and fellow artist Susana Arias took this photo of me as we were talking. I happened to be positioned directly in front of a new canvas awaiting paint.
So what does one do with a big, blank canvas?
This one quickly turned into this painting. Please note that it is unfinished! But so far I like it, and I think it has good potential.
I frequently like my paintings at this sketchy stage. They often use bright colors with a lot of contrast, because I haven’t had a chance to muddy anything up. The composition is simple and straightforward. But they can lack emotional resonance for me at this stage, and so they feel unfinished. This one I am particularly liking, in spite of the single layer of paint. That doesn’t mean that it’s finished, though…just a good start!
Interior and Interior, in progress, 60″x48″
it doesn’t always need to be good
After the Fall, Oil on Canvas, 60″ x 36″, 2010
After my friend wandered past my open studio door and smelled that distinct smell of oil paint, she asked on Facebook if I’d done some good paintings that day. No, I did not have such luck, and I publicly admitted it on Facebook. In fact, I’d had a frustrating day with the paint.
Some days are like that. And, more and more often, I’m content with that. Maybe it’s character-building. Every painting doesn’t need to be great. Or even good. Sometimes I scrape the paint off as fast as I can put it on. That thing that I’m after…it’s elusive and doesn’t always come quickly.
As the painter, I get to decide which paintings live and which die. If it doesn’t hold my interest in some way, it isn’t going to be seen. Maybe someone would like it, but they won’t have that opportunity.
Paintings will be worked and reworked, or they will be painted over, until there is something of interest in them for me. After I’ve considered and reconsidered them, they may eventually go out into the world.
Here’s one that recently went out into the world. You can see it at the Figuratively Speaking show at the Davenport Gallery, through the month of February.
the couch
Here it is, my studio couch. It’s humble, paint-spattered, and very comfortable.
I got to thinking about my couch when my new studio neighbors, both sculptors, commented on how my studio looks like a ‘painter’s studio’ because of the couch.
At first I thought they were talking about the paint drips on the couch, but then realized that they were referring to the fact of the couch itself. I have a couch in my studio, and they don’t. Which begs the question: Why don’t they need a couch? Or, more accurately (since this is my blog and not theirs), why do I?
Does a painter need a couch? Does a sculptor not need a couch?
It may seem trivial, but the couch is actually an integral part of my studio. In my new studio I positioned it just about at the very center of the space, looking towards my painting wall. And of course that’s right where it belongs.
Here’s the view from the couch.
And here’s my own answer to the questions posed above:
Painting is a direct process. The rhythm is: I paint, and then I step back and look and think. That’s what the couch is for. If I don’t step back and look, it’s very easy to ‘lose’ the painting. All it takes is one errant brushstroke to make or break a painting, and if I’m not stepping back regularly it’s easy to pile on problem after problem.
Conversely, sculpture and encaustic are indirect processes. I spend a lot of time doing “grunt labor’, such as welding and grinding metal, or fusing and scraping wax. While I’m doing that work, I can ‘step back’ mentally and assess the piece, and do my thinking while I’m doing my work.
I have the option–which I exercise regularly–to step back from a painting and go work on a sculpture, giving me ample time to contemplate the next brushstrokes.
But the couch always beckons.
figuratively speaking
dusty little secrets
This excerpt is from Colum McCann’s discussion that is printed at the end of his novel, Let The Great World Spin. Wonderful book, by the way. I enjoyed his discussion as much as I enjoyed the book.
He said it as well as I can. Actually, he said it better, because he’s a writer. These two points I find so familiar:
1) We don’t always know what we’re doing, and much of it is instinct. What he doesn’t say is that sometimes it’s difficult to hear the faint voice of instinct. I know that I have to listen carefully, and not get lost in all the other noise.
2) The book (or painting) is finished by the reader (or viewer). I do believe this about my own work. I don’t feel that my pieces are finished without interaction with a viewer. Occasionally that sole viewer is me, but more often it is someone other than me. This isn’t to say that I do the work with a viewer in mind, but once I send a piece out into the world it acquires new meaning, something other than what I intentionally put into it.
Richard Diebenkorn had some good things to say about the creative process, but that’s a post for another day. You can see the interview here, though, if you can’t wait.
some catching up to do
I neglected to post photos from my show at Monterey Peninsula College before the holidays, so I have some catching up to do. Here I am, breathing deeply in front of two of my canvases, preparing for the artists’ talk.
It was a beautiful show, and many thanks to Melissa Pickford, gallery director, for being such a joy to work with. We had a good turnout for the artists’ talk. The talks were illuminating…it’s always interesting to get in the head of another artist, to see their work through their own eyes, hear what they have to say about their process, and, since this is a teaching gallery, to hear their pointers for other artists.
Here’s my good friend and painting compatriot Tom Maderos contemplating my pieces.
a new year, a new beginning
I haven’t posted for a while, have I? It’s a new year, and with that new year I have some changes afloat. But, first, a happy new year to one and all!
In the waning days of 2010, I had the fortunate experience of being offered a wonderful studio, and so my year ended with the signing of a lease. I hope to stay in this studio for a very long time.
Mind you, I love my current studio–especially the wonderful natural light in it–but the new studio is an offer I can’t refuse. I will have some great neighbors too, and I look forward to forming new artistic alliances and renewing some old ones.
The studio needed some work, though. Here’s what it looked like when I signed the lease, and then a photo of what it looks like now, with sheetrock, paint, and the beginnings of electrical outlets:
I’ll be moving before the end of the month, and I’m anxious to get back to work.
My working methods may change in the new space. My current studio is cut into three rooms, and I separate the encaustic, sculpture and painting into separate rooms. This studio is one big, open space, which I think will be very interesting for me. When I’m painting, I’ll be able to easily see the sculptural work I’m doing, and vice-versa.
I know I will maintain one long, empty wall for painting, and I should be able to hang and work on perhaps 4-6 paintings at a time, which is a huge luxury. I will also have a very open space for sculpture, which would enable me to work larger than I’ve been working.
The studio is such a big, beautiful, empty space right now that I almost wish I could not bring anything over other than the bare necessities, but, unfortunately, all my history also gets dragged along. Much like life.