Comfort Colors
Comfort Colors
Returning to my Favorite Palette & Subjects
I’m closing out February with an extra post since I couldn’t seem to find the words I needed last week. Instead of finishing what I had originally started writing, however, I am forging onward with my experiences these last few days finding comfort in the colors and materials that bring me joy.
For the month of March, I am taking a planned "Social Media Break" to focus on fully engaged studio time. (I will still provide some informal updates on Patreon, but will be setting my Swatch Project* aside until April.) Last week as I prepared for the month ahead I also found myself in need of my comfort colors and materials and found myself pre-emptively playing with my paints.
I have always been drawn to warm colors. They remind me of those sunny moments in my life (sunsets on the Oregon coast, daffodils blooming in the garden, the flickering light of a campfire, and madrona trees reaching across a warm grassy field or over a beachside cliff). They give me a sense of nostalgia for the places I’ve been and the experiences I’ve enjoyed, allowing me to look back at the images of life with that warm and happy sepia-tinted glow.
Before March (and my planned painting month) even arrived, I pulled out some unused birch panels and started to splash my remaining collection of heavy-body acrylic paints around again - re-discovering how much I enjoy the vivid yellow-oranges, turquoise, lime green, and vermilion red of my past painting exploits.
I soothed my soul with familiar subjects and recent inspirations - poppy pods, trees, and birds - and was surprised at how quickly these shapes and colors filled my table with vibrant, joyful, splashes of paint.
I realized, as my artwork has grown and matured in some ways, I was losing the life and freedom I once had in my paintings. It was more difficult now for me to leave the thick heavy strokes of paint as they fell, sometimes arbitrarily, across lines and shapes as they mixed together, unkempt. I struggled with allowing the shapes to follow their own destiny instead of trying to force them into a chosen subject matter. I had to forget the object I was imagining and focus on the relationships I was creating.
As the spontaneous brushes of paint slowly started to take over my process, I also found gratitude for the painter I’ve become. I’m more fearless with my process and comfortable with my skills than my younger self. I can adapt and change course more easily while having no second thoughts about wiping down a canvas and re-imagining where it’s going. As I reconnect with my painting roots, I am finding greater confidence in who I am as an artist today regardless of the materials I choose (which, honestly, I’ve struggled with recently.)
I am also remembering the lessons I’ve learned over the years and the people who made me the artist I am today. As I joyfully paint, however, I also mourn the loss of my painting professors - most recently that of my University of Washington professor, Michael Spafford, who passed away this year. He taught me the power of letting go of preconceived notions of my art and finding truth in a larger narrative - a truth I feel I’m continually unlocking and understanding. He pushed me out of my comfort zone and into becoming a better artist then (as my instructor) and now (as an imagined voice of wisdom on my shoulder). I was so fortunate to be taught by him and so many other amazing artists and educators at the University at that time - Eugene Pizzuto (1925 - 2004), Kenneth Pawula (1935 - 2019), and Karen Ganz (1963 - ) being my biggest influences.
As I paint, I am realizing my joy for the artist I am today (more thoughtful and methodical) while also embracing the processes of the painter I was taught to be in those early college days (disciplined yet bold and gestural), and the professional painter I later emerged into in my 30s (vibrantly energetic and playful, using imagery easily accessible and comforting to both me and my audience).
As I prepare more canvases and papers for a feast of new fast-paced work in the coming weeks of this dedicated studio time - I'm looking forward to seeing all the colors, images, and abstractions that will find their way into my heart this month (including many more bird paintings!) and onto my assorted canvases, panels, and papers. I look forward to the joy in the making of new art and sharing my experiences in the studio in person (as well as online) during my "Affordable Art Show" in April.
In the meantime, with the passing of each brushstroke, I look to find peace within myself and look forward to the continuing journey of the artist I am yet to be.
May peace prevail within us all.
My warmest wishes,
Jennifer
Notes:
* The Swatch Project: I've come to know the term "swatching" from my recent exploits in knitting. Learning the process of testing gauge, stitches, colors, and even compatibility of fibers using small squares of knitted fabric before jumping into a larger piece is certainly what inspired my latest studio swatch practice. I have no plans for these pieces yet but will collect and consider them throughout the year as I test ideas, processes, and materials for larger work. I'm planning on 30 weeks of swatching during 2022. I'm looking forward to sharing my progress along the way semi-daily on Patreon and periodically here within “An Artist’s Notes”.