Freedom and the Artist
Artists desire freedom, yet we often put restrictions on ourselves. We set out to solve an artistic problem within a particular limited framework that we design. We love solving our own challenges, but chafe under the yoke of imposed restrictions.
Historically, artists have always found a way to create their own space under confinement. In the days of patrons and commissions, options were limited. Yet artists were able to find their own unique expression within such boundaries.
When there are no boundaries, freedom can become a handicap. If there is nothing to push against, if there is no possibility of being new or outrageous, we may fall into a lethargic ennui. Perhaps this explains the lure of conceptual art today. Commenting on our cultural, social, and political worlds is a way to engage them when we no longer feel able to make a unique expression of our own.
As an abstract, non-representational painter, freedom to me means getting into a zone where anything can happen on the canvas, finding a way to side-track my habitual response. Freedom for me means not painting what I painted yesterday. This demands that I bring everything I have to the project, including emotion, intellect, and craft. And then letting go. I walk the line between chance and purpose, looking for interesting ways to integrate them.
Perhaps I am also making a conceptual statement by refusing explicit social commentary. Implicitly, I am fighting for the preservation of the direct experience one may have in the presence of visual art that moves us.
