If you've been following my blogs, or get my newsletter, or "like" my page on Facebook, you know that I've been pretty silent - both in my writing and my painting - for the last several months. Okay, since January. Part of the reason has been "life issues". Some of that has been alleviated, most notably my back problems. 3 days a week at the chiropractor's plus a new home exercise regime has got the ol' back feeling much better. But one of the main reasons that I haven't been very creative is a lack of inspiration. In my last blog, I wrote about painting for myself. But when I'd find the time to get into my studio and paint, the work seemed uninspired... and it seemed like I'd forgotten how to be loose and spontaneous.
Then yesterday, while looking up an artist for my "day job" at Art for Conservation, I came across the work of another artist, Robert Joyner. Not only was I blown away by his work, but everything about him rang true. Plus, he has an awesome video series on his website - all free - that show him painting. Last night I watched a couple before heading into my studio - just watching him slop the paint onto the paper (like me, he often uses "reject" paintings as the background for new paintings) got me juiced up - I could hardly wait to start painting.
So I found a painting I did a few months ago and then it hit me... what did I want to paint? One of the exercises Robert recommends is getting something out of the refrigerator and painting that. In my studio, I have a small fridge/freezer. Nothing much in the fridge...but the freezer - well, that's where I store my collection of dead birds. Sparrow, robin, starling, meadowlark, hummingbird, flycatcher. I've had them in there a long time, but rarely do I feel confident enough to paint them as a still-life. But last night I figured, what the heck, and pulled out a small bird (not even sure what it is) and started painting.
Here's the thing about using a frozen dead bird as a subject for a painting. You don't have much time before it starts warming up, especially in the heat of the summer. And when it starts warming, well, lets just say its not the scent I want clinging to my nostrils. So I had to sketch in the bird quickly before returning it to its frozen tomb. When Robert Joyner paints, he only uses his photo reference for the very beginning of the painting, to get down basic shapes. Then he puts it away and lets his imagingation go.
Another artist whom I admire, Lance Green, has a similar way of working, tapping into his imagination and letting the painting evolve without a whole lot of analytical thought. I recently read a blog post he wrote where he talked about knowing when a painting is "done." It's almost like the painting shouts "stop!" I've experienced that - and ignored it - working on a painting far beyond where I should have stopped, because my left brain starts wanting neater brush strokes, more "perfect" trees, a more literal interpretation. And when I do that, although the painting may turn out ok, it has lost the spark, the energy that it had when it yelled "STOP!"
So with this one, I listened when it whispered "stop." Are there things I might want to "fix"? Yes. But I am resisting that, because fixing will cause me to tighten up, and in this exercise, I wanted to stay loose and spontaneous through the who process of painting.
