Showing posts with label gouache on watercolor paper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gouache on watercolor paper. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Wednesday June 23, 2010


Yesterday was productive and I got a lot done at my desk, with time left over for painting. The painting goes well. There is a dialog going on. I am aware I need paint, I need yellow!

"In the narrowest meaning of the concept, it is touch, after all, that I am after in my work, the touch of my hand I hope to find transmitted into something that touches the spirit." --Ann Truitt, Day Book

This has always been one of my favorite quotes. And I used it as the beginning of my statement about my own work for years. Our own touch is what we are after. Saying it (painting it) in our own way. Hiding nothing, being who we are. It is something we really have no control over, and something we seek. It is what is beautiful in our work. I remember taking a workshop, years ago, from Miles Batts, and he said to us one day, "You accept the work of others so easily, but you are so critical of your own work. And what you do not like, it the very thing that makes your work unique." And I think he was right. How do we learn to be accepting of our own work? Perhaps like everything else, it is practice. See that it is beautiful, tell ourselves it is. It is said our cells respond to our every thought. And can you imagine, how someone might feel, if their inner voice was saying unkind things to them, on a daily basis? I think we can make our practice a positive thing, take a deep breath and love what you are doing, be amazed and say so. Give yourself encouragement, be your own best critic. Know that nothing happens, that you don't create it. And if for some reason it isn't pleasing, fix it. And know that the challenge of perfection is beyond our ability. The best we can do is to be authentic in our work.

Something that goes with the touch, and being authentic in the work, is that, it is the idea behind the work, that dictates the image the artist creates. We do not experience the world, memory or thought, as a whole, but rather in bits or fragments, which are part revealed and part concealed. I think art should be required to be new, fresh, with a sense of the new, not like something we have seen before. Even if the subject is something that has been done many times before, as the artist we have a unique way of looking at things, and that is what we should share. It should give the viewer a different way of viewing the world, as never seen before, satisfying the curiosity that each viewer brings to the work.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Friday June 18, 2010




Friday the last day of the work-week, if one is getting paid for what they do. But to an artist, Friday is just another opportunity to try to get it "right." The morning is quiet, the sun is shinning.

I have been working with gouache for a very long time. There are advantages to working with gouache; it is a beautiful medium, it is a clean medium, you can work on paper, therefore you can store a lot of works in a small space, and there is a special quality to the color. But on the other hand I have been wanting to return to oils. I got some paper at the art supply that is supposed to be for oils, I decided yesterday I would try it. It seems I have to work up to a change in medium. I don't know for sure what the reluctance is? And yet my desire for change, seems stronger than the need to continue in the same way. I think of myself, as an artist, like a big ship, and it takes time to change directions. I have always been told just to shake things up a bit, change your medium...and I have always followed that advise.

As I create new works in this series, Poems of The Desert, I realize what I am "getting at." It is Desert as actual place or as a metaphor for a part of the creative process. Sometimes we feel "lost" with out new ideas, we seem to be wandering in a wasteland. We wonder if we will ever have another new idea?

We are told, as artists, to paint what we love. And I am also painting Desert as actual place. "This land is a poem of ochre and burnt sand I could never write (paint), unless paper were the sacrament of sky, and ink (paint) the broken line of wild horses staggering the horizon several miles away. Even then, does anything written (painted) ever matter to the earth, wind and sky?" --Joy Harjo, Secrets from the Center of the World.

Not Just A Cup

  Not Just a Cup       Southern born Not a tea drinker Always coffee For me   Although I often find  Bitter taste Of the dark brew A bit muc...