Abstract Art

Step-by-Step Painting Process

The wind is howling through trees dusted with white, I can't seem to shake a two-week winter cold, and I just want to hibernate.  But I have painted this week nevertheless, continuing to work on 5 foot by 5 foot canvasses.  I photographed one of them in several stages as I went along: 

Step 1:    Step 2:

Step 3:    Step 4:

Very little of the background was left when I finished this painting, though it had an impact on the final result.

Here's one I finally completed:  Night at the Improv.  A lot of the background is left in this painting, and the challenge was to make the somewhat random or accidental marks work with the more deliberate.  I struggled to find a balance here. 

Now I am out of canvasses and need to build more. 

New 5 Foot by 5 Foot Paintings

This week when I wasn't down and out with a head cold, I've been working on four 5 foot by 5 foot canvasses. It takes a while to get used to painting larger sizes, but once you get used to it, it seems much more natural than working in a smaller size.  The nature of my abstract art is expansive, and that calls for space, not cramping.

Here are three images I've been working on:  Night at the Improv

Jump Start

Curiouser and Curiouser

   

When Grace Descends

This week I faced four large canvases (5 feet by 5 feet) while under the influence of depression.  And of course, a key ingredient of depression is loss of confidence and self-esteem.  Wow, I thought, I wish I had some small canvasses to work on so I don't have to ruin these large ones. 

I really didn't feel like painting at all, and I was vaguely anxious about everything in my life.  But I know from past experience not to give in to these thoughts if at all possible, and just to go into the studio and work.  I give myself permission, always, to paint crap.  Otherwise I'd be under unbearable pressure. 

I worked on the backgrounds first, which is a gentle way to start.  A background, for me, may have a critical influence on the outcome of a painting, or it may disappear entirely as I paint over it.  I wanted to have light-filled, airy backgrounds on these canvasses in order to encourage me to paint an airy, light-filled result. 

Unfortunately, my first attempt was just the opposite.  I used a background wash that was too dense, and it sucked all the lightness into itself.  On my second try, I did better.

Eventually, I had to actually start painting over these backgrounds, and I wasn't sure where to begin.  But I put some cheerful music on--Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits--and that helped me to start.  I picked up a tube of orange/red, put some on my palette knife, and applied it. 

I expected nothing from my painting this week.  Yet the simple process of applying paint, then stopping to look, and applying more paint, took me to a state of grace where art reveals itself.  I couldn't have gotten there if I hadn't started in spite of my misgivings.  And I still might not have gotten there.  I might have painted messes of mud.  I have and will again.

Expressing Meaning Through Shape, Form and Color

Making abstract art provides an opportunity to express both cultural and personal meaning in a number of ways.  In fact, whether we're consciously aware of it or not, we are always expressing ourselves by the choices we make when we paint. 

By being born in a particular place and time, we are automatically part of that culture and can't help but be influenced by it.  When we see a traffic STOP sign, for example, we know that size and shape and color mean STOP.  This association will always be with us.  Add them all up, and you have a rich vocabulary of meaning to draw from. 

An artist is also influenced visually by all the art that's been done before.  Unless we hide ourselves away so that we never see any other art, we can't help but be affected by the visual expressions that we see.  No one can "discover" the drip painting method now that Jackson Pollack made it famous.  A painter today who uses that method is, instead, making a comment on Pollack. 

In addition to cultural meaning, each of us has our own personal history that affects how we express ourselves.  The color pink may mean something odious to me, for example, if I was forced to wear it as a child when I didn't want to.  The shape of a ring or "O" might give you a sense of choking if a mean uncle tortured you by blowing smoke rings in your face when you were young.  There is a vast storehouse of associations we make with forms, shapes and colors.  Signs and symbols abound in our personal histories.

When I paint, I don't purposefully think about expressing meaning. I'm having fun with the paint, working fast over the whole canvas.  Other times I'm responding to what's already there, nudging the composition or adding a new color I think the painting needs.  When I paint, I'm thinking "visually," not "verbally."  It's only standing back later and looking at the canvas that a word might come to mind. 

Sometimes a painting will mean one thing to me and something else entirely to a viewer.  We each bring our own personal sign-making to the task.  I tend to be more interested in the painting process, and that is what my vision is focused on, not the symbols and signs.  They are still there, however, for those who wish to read them.