August Endings

Floating Leaves SOLD

August always feels like an ending to me.  Perhaps it has been ingrained from my school years where summer activities come to an end and a new season begins again.  I start to wish for cooler days and the first blush of color in the aspens--and a new color palette and new subjects to paint.

In a few weeks, the garden will be harvested for the last time before the first frost.  There is a finality to storing potatoes and putting that little square of land to bed.  The leaves will start to fly soon. 

Autumn is restful after a busy summer.  It gives me time to build up my inventory before ski season begins and my galleries are bustling again.  I can't imagine painting a place without the rhythms of the four seasons.  There is renewal and a structure to the year that keeps me in its grips in anticipation of the next season and the next canvas to be filled.

Artist Friendships

Backyard Aspens oil 14 x 18



 Artists are solitary by nature.  We live inside our heads.  We communicate through paint or clay or charcoal.

Friendships with other artists come naturally.  We seek out people who understand what drives us.  We vent about the work and about what inspires us.  We spur eachother on. We root for eachother's successes. We know the exact blue that would make a painting work. We share information about supplies. We gather to paint together.

Matisse had Picasso.  Van Gogh had Gaugin.  Do you have an artful friend who spurs your creativity?

Small Works

Apple Branch Study oil 8 x 6



I recently had a request for some small works.  I don't usually work smaller than 8 x 10, but it was fun to sit down and paint a few 6 x 8s--I think it allowed me to let go of the results a bit since there was less time and material invested.  I cut a bunch of boards and painted several to choose from.  It also allowed me to really simplify shape and brushwork.

A friend owns an orchard on the Western Slope of Colorado and we visited during harvesting time while there were apples to be picked and cider to be made. I made several paintings from the trip, watching the sunrise on the mesa. The landscape is different there--it has a high desert feel--it is warmer and drier than the mountains and there are several orchards and vineyards in the area.  We have been invited back this Spring when the trees are in bloom and I am really looking forward to it!

Intention and The Art of Flexibility



Pond Lyric oil 11 x 14

In painting you never do what you set out to do.  Something else happens.  If it always turns out right you are probably doing something wrong.--Ken Kewley

It is very rare that a painting turns out exactly as I had intended or envisioned from the start.  Elements of painting have a life of their own and what I had pictured putting down somehow turns into something else. Hopefully, with a bit of luck and skill, what does end up on the page is worthy of a frame or teaches me something that I can control better in my next attempt.

 Yesterday I made a painting that, with some distance, has a rather bothersome circular pattern that overtakes the subject. I didn't see it at first and I will have to fix it--not what I had envisioned, but hopefully something that can be resolved and maybe enhanced or even made into the main idea of the painting.

I think the intuitive part of painting allows for more flexibility and less attachment to results.  If a shape doesn't turn out just as I had imagined, I try to let it lead me.  Sometimes it can be exciting and sometimes disastrous or disappointing. (There is always that burn pile)!!!  I find that I need the same flexibility in my teaching.  Class planning can be restrictive when a group exceeds your expectations or when they need more work with a certain topic.

 So as much as I try to produce a painting that comes close to my original vision,  I try to stay open to changes that might come up along the way. There. A lesson in bending.

Colorado Governor's Invitational Show

The Golden Hour oil 9 x 12

I am very excited to be participating in this year's Colorado Governor's Invitational Show which opens April 23rd at the Loveland Museum in Colorado.  There is a ticketed opening on Saturday from 5:30-9:30 which benefits the local Rotary Club and the show runs through the month of May.

I have been working for most of the winter to compile four paintings for the show.  If you are in the area, stop by the museum if you have the time--the show presents a cross-section of Colorado's contemporary artists and should be worth the visit!

I always worry a little about my choices for shows like these. The pieces are not juried first. The artists are chosen based on their previous body of work and so there is some pressure to perform. It does keep me focused though! I was captured by the abstract nature of winter and the late day color that happens right before the sun goes down in the painting posted here. It is easy to overlook the beauty of a snow covered landscape.

Pivotal People



Cattails in April oil 10 x 8

 I recently watched a video of a talk given by the artist Bo Barlett and was struck by his artistic journey.  Every time he thought about closing the door on painting, someone would show up and lead him back to a life in paint. He was very fortunate that one of those people was Andrew Wyeth.  He was invited to work with the family to produce a film and that led him back to painting.  Since Wyeth's death, he says he has been even more motivated to do the best paintings he possibly can.

When I look back at my winding path in the arts, there have been several pivotal people that have shown up at the right time. There are memorable people who tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me to stay on course when I thought I wouldn't be able to make a living in the arts. People who opened doors for me and provided opportunity when I needed it, oftentimes immediately after a run-in with someone who did everything in their power to discourage me.

In fact, every time I tried to head in a different direction where I thought I should pursue something more stable, roadblocks appeared, and someone would show up and whisper, "hey you, remember painting?" Nothing but a career in art has made sense to me and I am lucky that there have been positive influences and pivotal people who make me want to work harder every day.

Your Own History

Early Winter oil 18 x 36

Robert Genn has a recent post about getting rid of your old or inferior works.  His advice was to destroy the bad work instead of selling it at a discounted price. Good advice. However, I would add to this by saying give the pieces at least six months before you burn them.

I turn many of my boards over and paint on the other side, gessoing the first attempt (now on the back) out. I keep about 60-70% of what I paint. So while I largely agree with making a "burn pile", the post did make me squirm a little bit.

I ask my students to keep what they have made--even if they hate what they have done at the moment.  It shows progress which can be otherwise difficult to see--like how much your own child has grown. At the very least, photograph the piece and keep the photo in the recesses of your files. No one needs to look at it except for you. Remind yourself of how much you have grown. If you must burn it or paint over it at this point, do.

Many of my better paintings started out in the burn pile.  Something in them made me come back and rework what I didn't like.  If I had destroyed them immediately, they wouldn't have made it on the wall. Furthermore, the more distance I gave them--some sat for six months, the more potential I saw in them.  The time lapse let me separate myself from the initial frustration. The painting posted here was saved from just that fate.

So, save your work for awhile before you destroy it. It shows your own history, your growth, and can end in some pretty good work.

Recharging



Relics oil 9 x 12

A while back I wrote about cabin fever--the urge to be outside during the long winter months. April has arrived in the high country and the weather is chaotic and unpredictable.  The trees remain bare and the snowbanks are receding but dirty and the landscape is rather unappealing. Definitely not the stuff for hanging on your wall.

When I need some inspiration for upcoming shows, I have found the best thing to do is get in the car and drive to points south to recharge.  Taking in a different landscape, warmer weather, and unmuddied roads allows me to sit at my desk the next day with a clearer head and new ideas. We drove to Salida over the weekend and though there is just a tinge of green, the snow has melted and the ranches are filled with new babies and it was just good to get out and see the promise of Spring. I have been busy the past few days painting from that trip with a renewed energy.

The Making of Magic



Tracks by the River oil 16 x 12



 Working at art was different--I could do it, then I couldn't do it.  This cycle repeated itself again and again.  Sometimes I spent as much time trying to work as I did working.  I talked to friends--"maybe you're not inspired now," they often said. "Screw being inspired, I don't want to be inspired, I just want to be able to work." So in the making of magic, there is no magic in doing it.--William Accorsi

In painting, there are days that everything flows easily. Those are few and far between, but when they happen, I am extremely grateful.   More often, every brushstroke is hard work and struggle and a whole lot of concentration and I really have to earn a painting for the day.  Sometimes I will wipe out or sand down a whole day's work.

People often ask me how long it takes to make a painting.  There is no answer for that.  Some flow easily and some take days or weeks. I make many more paintings than I actually show.

Picasso said each painting had taken his whole life. The process really isn't magic.  It is a lifetime of hard earned skill and hours in the studio.  I had a beginning student once, who after the first day in class announced, "Now I know why paintings are so expensive!" It is certainly a lot more work than one might think.

The public enjoys the magic part.  The artist knows that if we can make the process seem like magic, then we have really done our job.

The painting I posted above was on of those magic moments where everything just works.

Absorbedness

Autumn Passage 12 x 12

 It was hard to sit down to work this morning.  Week days and weekends tend to blend together when you work as an artist.  I don't paint when I feel like it, I paint most everyday because it is what I do.  I was fighting that a little this morning, but once I sat down, the hours disappeared and at the end of it, I had something to show for my time.

The author, Donald Hall said, "Contentment is work so engrossing that you do not know that you are working.  Contentment is absorbedness." A good day of painting embodies that for me.