"The true painter strives to paint what can only be seen through his world." ~André Malraux
After a year of intermittant "painter's block" I am working again in my studio, and feeling in a tentative positive state. Painting is a solitary activity, and as artists, we are often working in a vacuum. Unless we have a show hanging, reaction to the work is minimal. With several pieces underway, I decided that perhaps if I write about what I am doing or am attempting to do, it might act somewhat as a muse for me as well as give me some feedback on the work I am creating -- hence the establishment of this blog.
As for the blog title, traditional, representational painting is a language for expressing what’s visible. But I feel my work is the most successful, and most interesting, when focused on things not entirely visible. I paint what I see but also what I sense and feel by utilizing my interior and unseen world --- in other words, the invisible world. Plein air work or studio work from photographs are only touchstones or landmarks which guide me to other inner spaces. By so doing, I find that I am pushing the boundaries between representational and abstract work.
You can enlarge the images in this blog by clicking on them.
Apr 27, 2014
I decided that in order to free myself up, I really needed to work large for a time. So I started work on a very large piece, almost 5 feet high. I am painting over an old abstract
canvas I did back in the 80's which never worked for me, and which is partially overlayed with tissue paper, to provide texture.
At first it was a disaster. Nothing came together. The first
couple of forays into the studio left me feeling as if I was
just wasting a lot of time and paint. Because of its size, I
found I was working the canvas in quarters, and not really "feeling it" as a whole. I worked it upside down for a time,
to keep it from becoming too representational.
I had started out doing another forsythia to combat the three feet of snow around my house, claiming every view from the windows, but my heart was not in it, and what I ended up with just sort of evolved by playing with the paint.
I think about California a lot with half my family now living there, and somehow this piece speaks to that emotional
connection. It is now in the "take it down from the studio
and look at it for a week" stage, but I think it is finished. It is tentatively titled
" Trees make a long shadow and a light sound"
And now, a few small winter scenes to finish, and onward to abstracted seascapes for the Nantucket gallery.