I am never convinced, never certain. Today's version could be better, the previous version may have been the best. Of all the visual forms and elements in the final state of "Drawing-04·23·2013" (state 3) some are probably better, some worse, then in the previous version (but I am not certain). It is an endless question: when to proceed to alter, when to call it finished? A frustrating part of my personality is my desire to play the game of a little change here, and a little change there, in pursuit of small enhancements (e.g., compare the alligator's teeth in today's version to his teeth in yesterday's post). This bewilders in life choices as well. At the fork in the road, do you go left, or right? I think Yogi Berra said it best: "When you come to a fork in the road...take it."
Yesterday's second drawing went well. It is smaller in size, and therefore my movement through it felt less risky. In today's post I am complaining about the pain of self-doubt. It is best if I simply move on, and follow the idea of another great baseball player: Satchel Paige said, “Don't look back, something might be gaining on you." Satchel Paige also expressed another thought relevant to art: "Mother always told me, if you tell a lie, always rehearse it. If it don't sound good to you, it won't sound good to no one else." To put this in the context of art, here is a quote from Pablo Picasso: "Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth." The title of today's post could have been "Visual Excitement," but that would not be the true crux. I do not have much to write or say because my work is speaking loudly and well. I need to follow the clues and revelations in the work and not try to clarity it verbally.
After completing Drawing-04·20·2013 (seen in the previous post) I promptly felt exhausted. It took a couple days away from the studio for me to recover. Back again yesterday, I spent 3½ hours on this new drawing. This one surprises me as much as the last. It appears that right now I need to draw and draw, one after another, in order to sort out this break in my smooth learning curve. The drawing shown today needs some important alterations, including the over-sized and over-emotional head of the man on the left and the alligator's front leg. Check in tomorrow for the final state of Drawing-04·23·2013.
I have been struggling to find my way. This drawing feels right and good: authentically mine. Yay!
How do I know if Painting-02·26·2013 is becoming a masterpiece? There is no way for me to know, but I do know this painting, as conservative and limited as it seems to me, is coming together well. There are successful subtleties which are surprising me. These subtleties feel very satisfactory: the composition is strong, the forms are full, the light is enjoyable, and there is sensitivity found in small nuances. It is a discovery in process, and therefore, I believe, it will be a discovery to observe in real time. "A discovery to observe in real time" describes well my most wonderful experiences with works of art that have been labelled masterpieces. Just before writing today's post I came across an advertisement for a video called "Masterpieces in the Louvre". On its cover was a painting by Georges de la Tour (shown below my work). This is a painting a viewer can observe for long time while continuously discovering. Yes, this is the definition of a masterpiece.
“There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness." (from "Moby Dick" by Herman Melville) I must not try too hard to further clarify this idea from Herman Melville. it feels so very right to me. Making art is seeking wisdom within a madness that is always present in living with our myriad of limitations. We are limited by everything, from life span to perception, comprehension, and understanding. It is maddening, and it is woe, but it is because of the woe that I make art. The wisdom that "is a woe" is acceptance of consistent failure. A work of art never quite gets there, it always falls short of true expression of knowledge and feelings. Accepting this is the wisdom that drives one back to make art, always seeking closure, always seeking to get to full and correct expression. At the bottom of today's post the Herman Melville quote is given with its entire paragraph from Moby Dick. The quote's meaning deepens when in full context. “There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.”
-Herman Melville, from "Moby Dick" There are components and idiosyncrasies of being an adult human that are not going away. Etherial, exquisite, supernatural powers we do not have. Struggle and process is our game. Playing it well is the best we can do. This means balance. It means listening to our internal human mechanisms. Doing this stuff daily, art-making, is making me better at recognizing my true priorities. Adaptation means constant adjustment; the tweaking will never end. There is a discomfort in my current work. I am trying to break down, and break out, from the mundane. Here is the dictionary definition of "mundane": "of this earthly world rather than a heavenly or spiritual one: the boundaries of the mundane world." Yes, I am trying to break through the boundaries. The boundaries are me; I manufactured them by living. I'll be back.
Can you see it? In my drawing (above), can you see the bit of dishonesty under the table? There are five table legs, and they make no sense. It works for me. This means I am accepting the visual ideas I once believed "dishonest" to be "honest." The painter Seymour Leichman pointed to this acceptance as the preeminence of the honesty of drawing over the honesty of mirroring visual reality (I was Seymour's apprentice for four years). Seymour demonstrated this truth using Leonardo da Vinci's cartoon, The Virgin and Child with St Anne and St John the Baptist (~1506-1508). Seymour asked, "Look at the legs of Mary and Anne, which legs belong to which woman? It doesn't matter! It's the drawing that matters!" Although it seems clear to me now (whose leg is whose), the doubt Seymour placed in my mind insured a lasting lesson. And so it is, I increasingly shed visual truth for the reality I am inventing as I draw. This transition is striking to me because it portends big changes. I am frightened and excited. Frightened, as this marks a beginning of self-inflicted whippings; there is going to be some hurt a-coming because I am required to give up that which I have constructed as truths for the actual truths submerged in my intuition, genuine truths born of things seen, and known, but hidden out of fear. Truth can be cruel while one transitions from the arm chair easiness of observation to the effort of manufacturing visual honesty on paper and canvas.
When I'm talking cyclone I'm talking throwing it all up in the air and seeing where it all lands. Some of the debris will be thrown so far afield as not to be recoverable. I hope the stuff that passes from sight is not important (but that too must be questioned). This is the essence of the problem. Even that which is lost from view may be important. No solution can be perfectly authentic. Suspicion and doubt is a fundamental part of the process. Constructing trustworthy images is impossible. Perception is so complicated as not to be logically discerned, so trust in intuition is required. This is frightful. Intuition is formed within the mess that is the cyclone, so it is, itself, messy. Entangled fragments are useless. Perceiving truth requires unravelling. Billions of lengths of string have become intertwined. There is no good way to discern the true strength of any one piece. The whole ball is overwhelming. Some strings, when unraveled, are weak, useless, unable to hold weight. So, one by one, I choose a length to set down. I will follow these notions. Some will be true and strong; these I will recognize and use. Many others I will discard. This process will take a lot of time.
I feel jumpy and anxious. This is a good thing, though annoying. One minor example is my mislabeling the date on yesterday's drawing. The mislabel is just a sign, only a hint that I am restless and unsettled. I am not paying close attention to extraneous details, such as the date, which is merely an announcement, and has nothing to do with the quality of the work of art. However, I am paying closer attention, more than ever before, while in the process of making art. My work is changing in its process, and consequently its qualities have changed as well. The art-making process totally takes me over, and when doing it I am nowhere except within the effort to get it right. On the surface this seems the way it should always have been, and should always be. It is not so long ago that I questioned the validity of my activity while in the process of that activity. You can find this concern in earlier blog posts.
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April 2024
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