It keeps going. When you can do it, it must be done! This is about the painting "Pulling Onions." It is creeping toward completion, but with each change it becomes obvious another refinement is necessary. The bent-over man's left arm and hand (on viewer's right) must be altered completely. This required change comes despite my recent efforts to get that hand and arm right. Looking at it here, in reproduction, it is not bad, but being "not bad" is not good enough. Perhaps today's coming alteration will finish it off, as all else appears acceptable. I have done due diligence. My introspective inspection of this painting has been intense. I have worried about each element. This has included the invented anatomy of the bent-over figure, which I have concluded is compositionally necessary. The bent-over figure's playfulness and inventiveness speaks to this painting's metaphorical concept. Thinking of this reminds me of the problems of Marc Chagall. As reference to the difficulties of making art where fantasy and mythology supersede reality and anatomy, I show two of Chagall's paintings after my work. A choice must always be made toward achieving one's goal. I choose allegorical, metaphorical expression through personal mythological invention. Chagall made similar choices.
Yesterday's drawing was a simple warm-up for the work on "Pulling Onions." It is happening, but speedy it is not. The painting "Pulling Onions" has me engaged, with a bit of reluctance. Knowing I can do this makes it important. Today, once again, I will go into the studio and work toward its completion. Perfection is impossible, but improvements are possible. As example, look at the hand that now resides near the center of painting. Yesterday I worried this hand's form should not be altered and only its color should be touched. I liked the way it sat in front of the arm of the bent-over figure, thus pushing one figure in front of the other. Now I have proved this is not necessary. I spent well over an hour playing with this hand, and it is much better. It is like a knot in the middle of the painting, giving the painting a important central compositional focal point. This reminds me of a story I read about a painting by Joseph Mallord William Turner. Turner was famous for never feeling a painting was complete (this is something I share with him). He exhibited a painting, which is reproduced at the end of today's blog. A student, who felt the painting lacked a focal point, and knowing it was to be shown in the exhibit, brought a cut-out of a dog from a magazine. At the exhibit the student pasted the dog on the painting. Turner saw the dog, enjoyed its ability to animate the composition with its contrast in light, form, and focal point, took the cut-out, positioned the dog to his liking, and painted it in (Turner always brought paints to his exhibits for final touch-ups). The dog works wonderfully. I have always loved this painting.
Yesterday's warm-up drawing is a good one, more expressive than many of my recent drawings. The painting "Pulling Onions" is closing down. It will be ending soon. Emotions surrounding endings are confusing. I have been working toward this end for a few months. Now that it nears, I have fear I have not done well enough. Such is the process of making art. I will drag with me all the knowledge I have gained in making this painting. This knowledge will be there while making the next painting. More important, it is in the making, the moments of creation, touch by touch, which gratifies living with satisfaction of extreme awareness. A painting is an amalgam of thousands of decisions. As I finish "Pulling Onions" I will look at the result of these and question the efficacy of each. There will never be complete satisfaction in the final product. This is the reason the process of making art feels so much better than the act of acknowledgement that a work of art is complete.
Yesterday's drawing was another of those warm-up drawings, with little more than me stretching my muscles. In other words, it came with little inspiration, but with some introspection. Yesterday produced just one drawing. A couple other events took my time. First, Mondays have become my day of the week to deal with the mundane in life and art, i.e. money & finances. This usually takes a few hours. After this I prepared the painting "Pond" for hanging, then delivered it and hung it at Long River Studios in Lyme, New Hampshire. I was in my studio for about an hour, where I produced an interesting drawing. It was also my day to exercise, so I did that. The day went quickly.
Yesterday's drawing was important in its freshness of approach. I made an effort NOT to worry about form as I drew; instead I felt my way though the expressive qualities of each element. This actually means I have begun to accept my form-making ability. I am allowing myself to expeditiously follow my expressive intuition. In yesterday's blog I mentioned that a major change would be coming to the legs of the standing man in the painting "Pulling Onions." It happened. And it works, despite my intuitive reluctance. This is me educating myself. The incongruity between the open-palm hand of the bent-over man, and the feet of the standing man, has been solved. More than that, the composition easily accepts the increased verticality of the standing man, and the standing man's legs are now substantial enough to support his large torso. All of this makes sense. I ask myself, "Why did I wait so long?" I was busy solving other problems. This process of making "Pulling Onions" is an exhibit of the systematic solving of the myriad of problems which a painting presents. It is not a straight line toward solution, but two steps forward, one back, as I have previously written.
Yesterday's drawing was a simple toss-off, a warm-up. Upon completion it promptly hit my "archive" file. This drawing will not be exhibited in my lifetime. After yesterday's work I show you the final version of the painting "Pond." You will notice I have accepted incomplete details in this painting. I feel a bit like the young Picasso in doing so. The expression of "Pond" is complete. I needed to move on to other paintings so I stopped working on it. You will the same minor "incomplete details" in Picasso's famous painting from 1905, "The Family of Saltimbanques," which I show after my work. "Pond" goes on exhibit today at "Long River Studios" in Lyme, New Hampshire." OK, the painting "Pulling Onions" is almost complete, but, how about those legs of the figure on the right? Do they look too small to you? Let me tell you about my dilemma. The composition works, with the standing figure running vertically along the right side in contrast to the bent-over form on the left—this contrast animates the composition. Now look at the newly painted right foot of the standing figure (on viewer's left) and notice its disturbing contrast with the hand of the left figure that sits next to it. The bent-over figure's hand is very large in contrast to the minuscule size of the standing figure's right foot. To justify a larger foot for the standing figure I will need to paint his legs larger, which will cause him to take a spatial jump forward. Can the composition take this? Perhaps the composition needs it. The result of this transformation would make the standing figure more robust, with stronger legs supporting his strong upper torso. Perhaps the resulting larger right figure would increase compositional vigor, as the standing figure's stronger vertical form would increase its contrast to the rest of the composition. In quest of perfection, I must venture this change.
Yesterday's drawing was a simple warm-up. In this drawing you can see me warm up in order: central figure, right figure, left figure. One after the other were drawn, each more quickly, and more simply, than the last. Before I go to the studio, take another look at disparate sizes of figures within the same composition. After my work I show Michelangelo's "Pieta." The Christ figure is extremely small when compared to his sitting mother, Mary. It has been said, if these two figures were to stand up, Mary would be be over seven feet tall and Christ would be around 5 feet 6 inches. So contrast from reality, within a composition, is sometimes necessary. This is my question concerning the two figures in "Pulling Onions." The bent-over figure is definitely must larger in stature than the standing one. The changes I have proposed for today will alter this extreme contrast of relative sizes, but it will not remove it; the standing figure will forever be the diminutive one. In yesterday's blog I referred to the nearing conclusion of the painting "Pulling Onions." Easier said than done. "Pulling Onions" is getting better. Yesterday's most important change occurred in the spatial orientation of the left figure's arms, hands, and head. They make much more sense than in the previous version. Today I will continue to push this painting toward completion. I am not anticipating any more major changes, but when I walked into the studio yesterday I had not anticipated them either. The best thing that's happening to me is my change in approach. I am feeling, and knowing, my way through this painting. My activity is very natural, without the worrisome stress which accompanies a search for a solution when there is a great distance between the idea and what must be known to bring the idea into reality. I am solving this painting with knowledge, i.e. I know how to go about solving its problems without immediately knowing the answers.
Yesterday's only drawing continues to explore the "flood" theme. The flood of the Susquehanna River in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania brought back bad childhood memories. One of my favorite Uncles, Uncle Eddie, lost his sign painting business in Wilkes-Barre in the 1972 Susquehanna flood. I was very young, and felt great pain seeing my Uncle Eddie so distraught. He had no flood insurance. The news channel said this year's flooding by the Susquehanna is worse than in 1972. I am so sorry. There are mixed emotions surrounding the conclusion of a painting. Actually, a painting is never finished. It approaches perfection, but never achieves it. I must accept a painting as "concluded" when it is as good as it gets at this moment in my life and ability. "Pulling Onions" tells this story. It is about me, right here right now. There are things I absolutely love about "Pulling Onions." I know it intimately, as one would know their own child. I love it, but I also see its problems. When a painting sings true, and the problems are not enough to overwhelm its personality, the painting is done. Yesterday the figure on the left was completely repainted. A myriad of decisions were made and executed; so many as to be overwhelming to discuss, and boring in content as well. I do not want to over-work this painting. There are a few more details to be revisited. "Pulling Onions" is almost done.
Yesterday's drawing is a study for a painting, "Flood." Floods are ripe with allegory, metaphor, and myth. We live in a time when human tragedies, as a result of floods, have been immense. This new painting will allow me to deal with reality, and with my need to create a personal mythology. It should not be this way. It exhibits a lack of self-confidence. Yesterday I defeated this problem by simply acting, and painting on "Pulling Onions." It went well. My fear is mistrust of my training. It reminds me of my days as a long distance runner: despite my extensive and thorough training I went to the starting line with trepidation. In art-making the vast extent of my training allows me to follow instincts to the proper solution. Yet, when in the final laps of making a painting, I feel like I did on the starting line of an important race. Yesterday's work on "Pulling Onions" included the elegant solution to the bent figure's left hand (on viewer's right). I am happy with this solution, including the arm to which this hand is attached. It echoes the bent figure's other arm and hand. It works! I am going to re-visit both figures in this manner. Yesterday's work gave me the confidence to push "Pulling Onions" to conclusion. More than that, it gave me the confidence to push any painting to where it wants to go. I can do this! I continue to be surprised by my skill, but obviously I am afraid to accept my mastery. It is not a terrible dilemma to have as a burden, but it is an encumbrance which must be defeated to achieve full mastery.
Yesterday's drawings were nothing special. I made them while in a nervous state prior to working on "Pulling Onions." In the first drawing the physiognomy of the figure on the left exhibits this anxiety. There is a brand of fear for things good. The painting "Pulling Onions" waits on my painting wall. It requires I finish it before I move on. It is a very good painting. Touching it brings me fear. Today I will.
Yesterday's drawings are nothing special. They were good practice, preparing me for the revisit to "Pulling Onions." |
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May 2024
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