September 2008

I’ve been sorting through all the candid snapping-while-walking shots I took at the fair this year, focusing in on interesting compositions that include as many people as possible. Here’s the first of the images I cropped and photoshopped to tease out what I thought was visually compelling about it. (Below is the original snapshot)

Sophie picked up her painting yesterday, and was very excited with the results. She immediately exclaimed “I love it!” with a big smile on her face, and beyond that: “There’s not a single thing I don’t like about this painting!” Now, that’s what I like to hear! I love being able to bring that kind of happiness to someone with my work. It’s a moment like that I say to myself “this is why I do it!”

How do you describe that moment…
you step back from the easel as you’ve done hundreds of times already,
your lower back is knotted up and your knees are stiff,
And it sneaks up on you– the relaxed exhale, the feeling of balance.
Nothing left to do but paint the edges and sign it!

One thing that’s interesting to note is that the first time I painted this piece was about four years ago. When I look at the two side-by-side, it looks as though the girls in the picture have aged. I suppose, then, that confirms what they say that every painting has an element of self-portrait in it!

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been working on a commission project that came right to my doorstep… literally. After striking up a conversation with my mail-carrier, I learned that she’s a fellow artist. She’s hired me to paint this portrait of her with friend at the beach when they were 15 years old (she’s in her sixties now). I love this kind of project because it taps into my own memories of spending summers at Santa Cruz beach & boardwalk.

The piece here is about 3/4 of the way finished. I’ve masked off the edges because we agreed that it would be a nice touch to follow closely to the feel of a snapshot and include the off-white borders and color scheme classic of that time.

I saw mothers with their daughters and sons and dogs,
bellies ripe and ready to unfold more
of this American life. I saw each and every one of them
hurrying for their slice:
A woman walking 10 dogs at a time
and the bumbling tangle when
she stooped to pick up their shit,
The pony-tailed Native American
with the Harley Davidson shirt and calloused hands
selling dream-catchers on the street corner,
The Asian man squatting for a cigarette break
in the shade of a dumpster
(the color of which matched his shirt),
The gangly nervousness of the sandwich boy
learning his job,
the smug grin of his co-worker
telling him what to do,
The girl in the black bikini who had 10 different ways
to giggle at her boyfriend,
The middle-aged man, multi-tasking,
flying 3 kites at a time,
The sullen face of the man who drives
the Honey Bucket truck
well past six o’clock,
The half-empty mimosa and martini
of a mother & daughter
laughing together like best friends.

Creative inception, chaotic exasperation, reductive resolution.

(And at this point, tempted to paint the fish out entirely…)

Accident & Intention in tension
in flux, a complex
balance.
Life does not exist apart from this
slipping, breaking & remaking.
Thought I reached the perfection
of a vision–
Stepped away from the painting to
realize it was like a child’s
coloring book creation
So carefully filled in within the lines.
And when we’re in our lives
so closely staring at the bark of one tree
that we can’t even conceive of a
whole forest– so controlled–
That’s when our vision is the poorest.
Why is it so inconceivable to just let go?
Creation begins with our mistakes
To have the courage to take that
step away
To ride the accident into the
blackness
To allow that terrifying
cracking open to happen
And realize it’s
the only way to let the light in
And breathe.

A couple works in progress… First, a detail of the girls at the beach:

Still trying to maintain the right balance of loose/gestural qualities vs. detail as I start into the background. This is definitely a piece I want to be careful not to overwork!

Then, a different style: I’m working on some fish I swam with while snorkeling in Aruba. Now, the process often goes a little like this: you cover the canvas with your overall color. Then you fall in love with that color and don’t want to touch it. You consider becoming an abstract artists strictly working on color fields like Rothko…

Oooo! After tripping out on that for a little while, you realize you’re being ridiculous. You continue on with your painting until you hit another stopping point. Ooooooh:

This is a difficult stage, because you feel like it could be done, but you know it’s not quite there yet. You’re really afraid to touch it now. Look at all those cool textural, almost watercolor sort of effects you got with the oil paint! But soldier on you must, ruin it you must. A painting is usually not truly finished until you give it life, kill it, then resurrect it.