Abstract Art

Naming an Abstract Painting

  Abstract Canvas #46 48" x 48"

After completing this painting recently, I needed to find a name for it.  Some artists may have a name in mind when they begin a painting, but I never do.  It's not until I photograph it after it's finished, usually, that I come up with a name.  At that point, some images suggest a name immediately, like this one:

Splash, 44" x 44"

With canvas #46, however, no name immediately came to mind.  But I was listening to a Leonard Cohen album, and the words "what they meant" struck me.  This phrase is abstract enough that it works as a title for abstract art.  Here's the painting on my website:  What They Meant.

Do titles of abstract paintings really matter?  When I was young, I refused to name my paintings because I didn't want to influence what the viewer saw in them.  Some non-objective  (non-representational) painters  give their canvases numbers rather than titles for this reason. 

But it is unwieldy to use numbers, and I believe my clients would prefer to have a painting with an actual title rather than a number.  In fact, sometimes the name is a big influence in the sale.  Someone purchased a print of my painting, "Laughing Lotus" because of the name.  It was a gift for the owner of a yoga center.  I'm sure the buyer also liked the painting, but they found it by searching for the word "lotus" on the internet.  Here it is:

Laughing Lotus 48" x 48"

Since I am bipolar, and sometimes depressed when I paint, there were times when I would give a painting a name with a negative connotation.  I did a series of "death paintings" for example, in which the word "death"  appeared subtly in each canvas.  I titled them "Death Painting One . . . Two . . ." and so forth.  Now that is an extreme example of how not to name your art if you want to sell it.

Death Painting One

Starving Artists

Every so often I hear from an artist who is struggling to make a living, struggling to find time to paint, and struggling to market their art.  Most artists in the United States do not make a living by selling their art.  Some find commercial ways to use their talents--in advertising, business web design, interior design, etc.  Some get MFA degrees and teach.  Others work at anything they can find to put food on the table, making art evenings, weekends, or in the early morning. 

I heard from a young artist today who is struggling simply to put food on the table, with little time for her art or the marketing of it.  My heart goes out to her, for I spent much of my life dealing with the same struggle. 

Our art requires much of us, and what it gives us in return is often unrelated to financial success.  Yet we are bound to pursue it.  I always felt much worse when I wasn't making art, no matter what else was going on in my life. 

Here are two canvases I've been working on, one complete and one not:

  Canvas #44  60" x 60"

  Canvas #46  48" x 48"

Back in the Studio after Chaos

Two days after Adrian and I flew home from California, our son Owen came to visit on a Thursday.  He and his father went out for a walk in the pouring rain, and when Adrian got back, he took to bed sick.  After that, he stayed in bed most of the time, and ate little, complaining of nausea and diarrhea.  That Sunday night about midnight, Owen got violently sick, vomiting and passing out.  The second time he fell flat on his face on the kitchen floor, giving himself a black eye and breaking his glasses.  We had to call 911 and have him taken to the emergency room. 

I could go into all the gory details, but the quick version is that I spent the last week taking care of two sick people, driving back and forth to the hospital, spending numerous hours there, cleaning up vomit, washing bedding, towels, etc. But at least I didn't catch whatever they had!

I finally got back into the studio yesterday to work on these two canvases.  The first is a continuation of my "culmination" theme:

  Canvas #44, 60" x 60"

The next is a background for something new, I hope:

Canvas #46, 48" x 48"

I was enjoying my newfound peace this morning, painting in the studio, when Adrian showed up bleeding all over the place after falling off his bicycle at the end of the driveway.  I got him cleaned up and bandaged up and went back to work. 

Absence Makes the Heart . . .

. . . grow fonder?  Adrian and I went to California on separate trips recently, and I think the separation did help us to appreciate each other more.  I was at my wits end with him before he left because he was not taking care of himself and resisting help from others.  He was angry at me for buying him a walker.  How dare I imply he needed one to get around?  Even if he was leaning on me, or an office chair with wheels, to get from the bedroom to the livingroom?

When I put him on the plane to San Francisco, California, I thought, "Let his sons take care of him for a week."  And they did.  A day later, I went off to my family reunion in Simi Valley.  We played lots of tennis and ping-pong and hung around my niece's beautiful pool--just the R & R I needed. 

I feel like I've been away from my art forever, though.  I managed to paint the top and bottom edges of my last two canvases after I got back, but then son Owen arrived for a visit and what with the Fourth of July, Wimbledon, and general laziness, I haven't done much work.

Here are the two canvases:

  Canvas #43, 60" x 60"

Canvas #45, 60" x 60"