Abstract Paintings and Musings on Art
I recently read an article by a representational painter on another blog, in which the writer said that one should very carefully and thoroughly plan one’s paintings. My first thought was, “No waaaaay!” That would take all the fun out the process of discovery that, for me at least, is a great deal of what painting is about. Feeling a little smug, I thought of the following much-loved quote:
You are lost the instant you know what the result will be. – Juan Gris
Solo show this October at Bay6 Gallery & Studios, Austin
My new exhibition, “The E Word,” explores life at different scales: from the elements of evolution to the essentials of our environment, and on to the endless reaches of space. Through the interplay and juxtaposition of the micro with the macro, I try to depict on canvas what nature could do in the world, but hasn’t gotten around to yet. There are always new combinations, and with them, new opportunities for capturing the kind of emergent qualities that animate the world; new ways of discovering parts whose sum creates a greater whole.
This wealth of possibilites lies in the inescapable fractal nature of the physical world: tiny crystals under a microscope resemble mountain ranges; neurons mirror nebulae; zoosphores echo supernovae.
I love seeing other artists’ spaces, and got just such an opportunity when Farrell Brickhouse posted pics of his friends’ palettes on Facebook a while back. They have now been reposted on Sharon L. Butler’s blog, Two Coats of Paint, so you can see them, too.
I’d love to have so much space. Last weekend at the encaustic workshop at Majestic Ranch, I got to work in a large, airy well-lit studio, on a large table with plenty of space for all my tools, palette, painting panels, and miscellaneous extras. It really helped my workflow.
For the past year or two, I’ve been thinking a lot about what really matters to me as an artist. What matters most…and what doesn’t?
Let me start with a list, and if all goes well, I will explore these issues in depth over the coming weeks:
And it’s a perfect spring day here in Austin. It’s sunny and warm, and the trees are all leafing out in a lovely shade of fresh green. My bougainvillea, lantana, and various other flowering plants are in spectacular bloom. My garden presented me today with the 4 beautiful calla lilies you see here.
(written in 1996)
It’s been 3 years since I left art school. I’ve been painting and drawing nightly for a while — it’s amazing how I’m starting to really ‘get’ some of the things I heard in art school, but somehow didn’t make it all the way through from my ears and eyes to my brain to my hands and brushes.
It was such an immersive and exciting experience to be in art school in Chicago, always doing, thinking, breathing, reading, seeing, smelling, tasting art, and always surrounded by others like me. At times it seemed like I was experiencing a sensory overload – I was like a kid in a candy store – there was so much I wanted to do and see – so much I DID do and see – our museum (hundreds of times), other museums, galleries, artist talks (like Ross Blechner and John Cage), school art openings and art openings in galleries, participating in some art shows, art camp at Oxbow, watching the beautiful iron-pour from the roof of the painting studio there, the sunset over Lake Michigan just like the painting we had seen in a slide just days before, parties, cheap dinners at great ethnic restaurants, a few nights out on the town, listening to great Chicago Blues, the occasional movie, the zoo, free music at Grant Park, riding my bike along Lake Michigan, riding the El, sliding on ice, trying to drive through snow. Getting in touch with the language and culture of my ancestors (which is so easy to do in Chicago, and so hard to do in Texas); having gobs of friends of so many ages from all over the world.
With all that going on, plus full-time classes and part-time working, it’s great to discover years later that somehow the lessons I kind of missed then were planted somewhere inside that didn’t manage to get lost.
Such as:
