Abstract Art

Resistance and Struggle

Why is it that some paintings come easy and some come hard?  I have no idea.  It seems like luck or fate sometimes when everything "works" easily, as if the paint strokes were pre-programmed.  I'm exaggerating a bit, but there is certainly a big difference between the ones that seem to flow and the ones that resist.

I was working on a canvas recently that simply would not cooperate.  Every day I would make changes, and they would seem promising at first.  I would like aspects of what I'd done.  But then I'd stand back and be disappointed.  The next day, I'd go to work again.

Finally, I thought I'd have to simply paint over the whole canvas and pretty much start over.  Or at least make some very dramatic changes, since I'd had no success with subtleties.  Here's a view at the point I was ready to give up:

There were some nice subtle effects within the painting, but it lacked punch. 

The next time I worked on this painting, I decided to keep trying to make it work for a while instead of obliterating what I had.  I began adding brighter oranges and red/oranges, reshaping the composition, and accentuating spaces with burnt umber. 

And finally, I stood back and liked what I saw.  Here it is, TOWER OF SONG:

Choosing Colors

Recently the director of one of my galleries requested that I consider painting in particular colors that were popular in her area of the country.  But she warned that she did not want to over-direct me because, "It's so important for an artist to maintain their own style and capture their moment of inspiration." 

For me, the beginning color choices in a painting are not that important.  I always begin by painting "backgrounds" that may or may not be obliterated in the final result.  Normally I pick the colors by using up tubes of paint that are almost empty, thus being economical.  However, it would be wrong to say that I don't control the background colors at all.  Sometimes I want a red/orange or green/blue effect, for example.  Sometimes I work mainly in brown/black and white.  And I like to include dashes of colors that don't belong in a grouping, just for the spice of it.

Certainly, I do have favorite colors to work with, but what's a favorite one moment may not be the next.  I often see the colors in one painting or group of paintings as an antidote to the colors in a previous group.  After a series of black and white paintings, for example, I had to paint in bright colors.

So back to my gallery director's request:  Yes, I can use suggested colors without destroying my "moment of inspiration."  Basically, what I do is set it up as a challenge.  I work to mix the colors she wants, either on or off the canvas, and then see what is suggested by such a beginning.  I may not end up, however, using the colors I started with.  For me, once the painting takes off, it has a life of its own and whatever that life requires must be done to nourish it.

Inspiration

Everything that happens in my life is an inspiration to paint:  everything I see, everything I feel, everything I hear.  That is the general answer to the question, "What inspires you to paint?"  On any particular day, however, I might be strongly influenced by an emotion--anger, sadness, despair or joy. 

Music intensifies my feelings, and I always listen to loud music when I paint.  Yesterday I saw the new movie, Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man, about a Canadian poet, songwriter, singer, and philosopher whose music has had a tremendous impact on my life for over thirty years.  My eyes filled with tears as I watched and listened, and today I painted while listening to one of his old cds, Death of a Ladies Man.

Inspiration is not something I wait for.  I just start to paint when it is time to paint.  I think any working artist, writer, or musician needs to do that, to work on a regular basis whether they feel inspired or not.  On good days, inspiration occurs in the process of applying the paint.  I tap into something meaningful which gets expressed in color, line and form.

The bad days turn out to be just as important as the good days, for they prepare the way.  They make me ready to receive when it is time.  It's not easy to appreciate the bad days, especially when I set up that dichotomy of good and bad in my mind.  Maybe some day I'll learn to love the bad days, or better yet, not to notice the difference.