Building to a Conclusion

I have worked on this same canvas four times - building layers of paint and color without arriving at a satisfactory result, until today when inspiration struck (in the bathtub).

I am currently intrigued with understanding how to develop texture and interest under the layer of paint that shows. As I study the abstract images I find most successful, I am becoming more aware of all that appears to be going on under the surface. So, I thought I would use this much painted canvas to create a color field painting. I applied a surface pattern with tape, and just for the heck of it, added a thin layer of gold paint to the existing (now under) painting. There was already lots of texture in the paint, and I thought it would work through. I chose a limited palette of blue, turquoise, yellow ocher and white.

I used my new fat brush to lay thick paint in the taped areas, mixing on the surface of the canvas, dried with a hair dryer, untaped, retaped the areas that I wanted to work on next, and repeated the process. I added a touch more gold, and thickened some texture. If you look closely, you can see lines and swirls, darks and light subtlely through the stripes. Finally, I think this canvas is done ... at least until the next inspiration strikes.

Q is for Questions

In the style of Richard Diebenkorn

Is this good? What is wrong with this? How can I do this? Why doesn't this look right? Who can help me? Why is this so hard?

Artistic confidence is not always my strong suit. Sometimes, no matter what I do, the image I am working on fails to satisfy my toughest audience ... me.

Maybe the only thing I do not question on my creative quest is my own  sense of what is beautiful to me. In my eyes, either it works or it doesn't. I trust my sense of esthetics, just not my ability to create it.

Sometimes, as I am working along I suddenly know - this is good. More often, far more often, I know I am off - but I am not sure why.

One of my teachers suggests that a good way to learn technique is to copy the work of masters. I have learned a great deal about working with pastels in this way - and the results are often pleasing, and always worth the effort.

Today, in preparation for my Saturday Dynamic Abstract Painting class, I decided to explore the work of the artist we are going to study - Richard Diebenkorn. As I scrolled through images of his work, I found this simple semi-abstract seascape. I decided to copy this and see what the artist was doing  - how did he use such simple forms, and yet tell a clear story of time and place? How did his colors impact the affect?

Though the original is painted, I knew that pastels would work well for me. I started by drawing the shapes - and began to color. Something was off - the questions started up - why doesn't this work? What is wrong? Stepping back and staring at the work for awhile, an answer appeared - I had drawn the trees too large and they completely threw off the perspective and depth. Once I redrew them, the proportions fit. Then, of course I had a few more questions - how can I create the depth in the clouds? Are the colors right? Is it raining too hard to take this outside to spray?  After awhile - it all worked out - at least for now.

It is good to know that sometimes, if I ask the right questions, the answer will come. So. my questions to you - and I would be grateful for answers posted below ... What questions do you ask yourself as you work? Where do you find answers? Who do you trust to help you? What is the hardest part of creating art? I look forward to learning more about you.

By the way, this is 18"x24" on Canson Mi Tiente paper. It felt so good to have my hands back in the messy pastels for a change.

N is for Nice and Warm

November weather is nasty more often than not. Its grey, its rainy. What could be more comforting that swirling great globs of sunshine colors across the canvas and basking in the warmth.

M is for Many Colors

So, what did I learn in school yesterday?

I am privileged to be studying Dynamic Abstract Painting with Illa Guttman at PCC this term. I have repeatedly referred to something I have learned from her in this blog - but yesterday's class was particularly enthralling.

The subject was Color Field painting "with its emphasis on stain painting and visual gorgeousness."

In class, we explored the often HUGE works of Helen Frankenthaler and Mark Rothko, among others.

Often in museums, when standing in front of a work of art that looks like nothing more than a line on a field of color, I think, I could do that. This kind of work looks easy - but ...  Ha ha ha ... not so fast.

Yesterday was a chance to try. I began by finding a photo (a sea scene) with vivid colors that laid out in lines.) On  a canvas 2'x3', and following the guidance of my teacher, I laid down a strong underlayer of a dark violet. Then, using painters tape, I laid out a pattern of stripes and began to paint, changing, mixing and layering colors - and seeing the effects of the color that lay beneath.

I was lucky to have 4 hours to work - because I needed time for layers to dry, and to watch how one stripe of color affected the next (and to remove and replace tape.) In the end, the simple stripes were too flat for me so I added the other lines. I am not sure if this works, but I know that I learned a tremendous amount, and already have several ideas for ways to use what I have learned in some new work.