And so I watch, and wait; step back and look; try to respond to the evolving masses of color; try to add what feels right for me without stressing out too much about what's correct practice or good or sale-worthy, and without becoming too entangled in my shoulds, or in old patterns.
Painting is a lot like meditation; it requires a mix of concentration and openness. And what I'm finding is that every picture stretches me beyond my comfort zone. (It's a bit like raising children...) But, more importantly, every picture has a story it wants to tell; my job is simply to find the elements of that story and create space for them on the canvas. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn't. But it's been a great opportunity to learn, once again and in a new way, that it's the journey, not the arrival, that matters.
5 comments:
Lovely painting and thoughtful words - I wish I could get past my fear and enjoy that feeling of freedom when I attempt to paint! It's an ongoing struggle.
Believe me, I wish the same thing. It's definitely a struggle, and often overwhelming -- not to mention terrifying, when you think you're taking it where it wants to go and suddenly all the good that was there is gone.
My teacher, Christopher Mathie, says "Every mark is the right mark." We just have to trust that every part of the experience has something to teach us -- even (or perhaps especially!) the failures...
I think painting (perhaps other arts as well) is about emptying, too, or being emptied when approaching the new canvas. It's what we already know and feel that so often gets in the way.
I like your painting; the touches of red are just enough, to my eye.
Thoughtful and thought-provoking post, Diane.
It is a beautiful painting. I spent some time last Saturday doing something I've never done before - making block prints in an art studio. I am not artistically inclined; I could be the poster child for the artistically impaired, in fact. So it was with some trepidation that I entered the studio. But it actually turned out quite well, and three hours later I walked out with a concept for a book cover.
Finally... After all the posts of angst at not being able to replicate what your mind/heart/ego says should be included in your paintings...you have arrived. To me being contemplative is being wide awake to what is unfolding in my heart, before my eyes, at the whirring of the shutter...at the end of a paint brush without placing boundaries or barriers in the path of what I create.
I had the same angst to photography back in 2009 until I realized that the "professionals" that I compare myself to and come up short all the time had different purpose to their picture taking than I did. I not only want to record a sight in front of me, but I want my photos to pull you in and make you feel something. I don’t want to just record what my eyes see, I want to share what my heart feels, I want to immerse you in my world and how I see. I want you to see what touches me and what pulls me in and I want to pull you out of your everyday world and open your eyes, to pull the chains from around your heart. I want you alive and awake and mindful of your surroundings and then I want to present you with something that you see everyday, something that doesn’t usually tug at you. I want you to feel the sun on your face, or the texture in your mind’s eye, I want you aware of your world as something new everyday and not just the rut you experience. I want to communicate with you in my language as I seem unable to in yours. Once I finally understood this, it freed me up to enjoy what I create and all the barriers I placed in my path all but disappeared.
Thats why that quote in the Mindful Magazine made me think of you, if you try to force the painting to meet an expectation, are you not then also trying to force the reactions of those that see the painting to replicate your own? Is it not enough that your renderings elicit a feeling, thought, response in those that wander through your blog? Finally...you have arrived at the door of creation without boundaries.
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