New Art in Process
Back when I was doing art shows and enjoyed the luxury of hundreds of personal interactions and opportunities to talk about my art, I was often asked “Where do you get your inspiration?” And I probably responded a bit flummoxed even after all the times I’d been asked, but it just seemed obvious to me - from nature. Now, the more time I spend apart from art shows and personal interactions, the more I realize my inspirations are much more nuanced than what I presumed, and the question is more interesting than I realized and deserved a much more thoughtful response.
A current study in art inspiration
I have always been one to enjoy a walk around the neighborhood or a hike in the surrounding natural areas. Now, with time seemingly standing still, I find I need these moments even more and make sure to get outside every day. While I definitely enjoy walks with family and friends, I also especially enjoy the times when I am by myself, deep in thought, with only nature to surround me in the moment.
And last Monday was no different.
Walking around our neighborhood wetlands, letting my thoughts meander, I imagined a grandiose new painting reflecting my swirling emotions in this moment of history. As I watched ducks calmly floating upon the pond, birds flitting within the weeds, and nutria nibbling at grass I imagined what it would look like to purge these feelings of frustration with the past and to find calmer waters within the boundaries of a new future AND a new canvas.
When I returned to the studio, I opted for the largest canvas frame I had on hand (30x40 inches), found my new roll of canvas, and began the stretching process. As I worked I imagined swirling dark solar beams exploding across the canvas and creating the text I felt compelled to shout. I then imagined a process of calming and blending the words into a slowly moving abstract rainbow of light, providing that soothing calm I felt as I walked in the wetlands.
I knew I needed to start with acrylics for their immediacy in creating that first dark and emotional layer. I then used my newly acquired oil sticks to write my thoughts of the past across the canvas. With oil paints, I then began the process of blending, calming, and bringing lightness into the painting. As my brush pushed paint across the canvas, I could feel my frustrations and emotions of the past slowly turn towards hope. In my mind I could see exactly where this painting would go.
As I put paint to canvas, however, that painted image I first imagined while walking the wetlands was not what appeared. And I knew that many of the layers I was building now would likely be unseen in the end. Yet after years of practicing my art, I also knew - that’s OK. It’s even expected.
I paint with intuition and by reaction. As such, for better or worse, I have learned to let go of preconceived notions of what a painting will be and instead, let the painting guide me to my destination. And so, this painting took on a life of its own and continues to be worked slowly and patiently as I choose the techniques, textures, colors, and imagery I feel best represents the thoughts I want to portray - thoughts that also change and grow as I watch the painting move forward. After years of working paintings, I have learned to smile when I see pieces of the painting disappear into the canvas as I work. It’s not a failure to me, but an interesting history - a history with secrets that only I can see and know.
And so I continue to paint and I continue to meander, much like I did as I walked the wetlands - alone with my thoughts but far from alone…
…with a new sense of hope for the future.
(This painting in process will eventually have its secrets shared in May when it’s introduced in my next Virtual Art Show - more event details coming soon.)