Bring on the Gold

"Treeness"  oil and cold wax on panel 7.5" x 8"                             Mary L. Moquin © 2019

Bring on the Gold

A very proficient artist posted a painting on Instagram. She lamented that she had hit a wall and just didn’t feel enthused anymore. She often painted very proficient pet portraits and super realistic still life’s. They are masterfully done. She didn’t know what direction to go and was tired of what she was doing. It happens. We spend so much time figuring out “how” to paint. We become absorbed with understanding all the technical details. We spend years mastering drawing, and then the idiosyncrasies of our chosen medium.  But at some point, if you persevere and cover enough miles of canvas, you will figure out all those technique issues. You will have mastered the materials. But then what? 

I asked her this question: if she knew that the next painting would be her last painting, what would she paint? What would she want to say as her final expression of what this life has been for her? I guarantee it wouldn’t be a portrait of her neighbor’s dog or another exquisitely rendered lemon. She agreed wholeheartedly and thanked me for making her think. I look forward to her next post.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with perfecting craft. It is imperative, poor craft will hinder expression because it can be a distraction to the viewer. Depending on how much painting you do in your life, you may never tire of striving to complete the perfect replica of the subject before you. If that is how you feel, this post isn’t for you, just keep on following your bliss. But, if you have reached a point where you no longer feel elated when you complete that perfectly executed copy of what is in front of you, then it’s time to re-evaluate what and why you are painting. Because the way to find meaning in your work, is to stop painting pictures of what things look like, and to start painting what things are. 

To do this takes a little meditation and soul searching. Subject matter, the “what’ you are painting, can often serve as a metaphor for exploring something you have witnessed in your time on the planet. How can the marks you make, the colors you choose and the orchestration of all those details reveal something about the subject matter beyond what is immediately visible? What can you show me that I don’t already know? If what you see is all I get, then art has lost its power to communicate beyond the surface of appearance. So dig deeper. Experiment by choosing an adjective for your subject like silence, or frustration, stillness or transition. Hold that adjective in your consciousness when working. How does that influence the choices you make? 

Tell me something I don’t already know, or remind me of something I’ve long forgotten. Show me something I haven’t already seen, but somehow I recognize. Bring all those finely honed skills with you, but let your spirit and intuition guide you. Trust that a little imperfection now and then might actually communicate more to me than a slick stroke. The choices you make don’t always have to be in the service of rendering what you see. Your marks can make invisible feelings visible. As artists, we are alchemists, bring on the gold!

A New Perspective

I am sitting here in the small kitchen of my cottage looking at this model, pondering what compelled me to construct it. I continue to gaze at it and then I begin to contemplate the light as it falls across the varied geometric planes. It is mesmerizing and I am filled with a sense of being centered and at peace.

I have stood outside and drawn the actual house as it stands in reality many times. I am usually swatting flies, battling wind, and seeking shade. Yet it was not until I built his model that I felt I truly began to “know” this house.  I now know the true actual shape of each plane because I have held each separate piece in my hand.

Even though perceptually these shapes are always changing depending on the angle of my gaze, there is something about the knowledge of each true shape that allows me to abstract more freely.

There is nothing immediate about my painting process and I am not interested with capturing some fleeting impression. I am more interested in searching for what endures in spite of change. Yet I value direct observation and working from life.  I can now sit and observe shadow patterns and explore shape relationships on the model that I could never see before, because they were always  obscured by trees and foliage.  I could never find a vantage point where I could observe the whole, I was always studying the parts.

If you happen to be on Cape Cod, my model will be at my show opening Saturday, August 1, reception 6-8 at the  Cove Gallery, Wellfleet, MA. The show will be up for a couple of weeks so please stop by.

 

                        

                           "Being Still"  36 x 36, oil on panel

Watching vs. Doing

Relinquish 30" x 30" mixed media

An artist friend that just watched my video commented that she wanted to see me paint more in it. I chuckled at that.  Everyone wants to see how the magic happens, but I’ve come to think that it can become a diversion to someone else’s process to spend too much time watching mine.  I mean, I paint the way I paint because of the myriad of experiences I’ve encountered. The fact that I studied etching and printmaking as an undergrad, my struggles with crossing from black and white to color, my stint as a computer programmer, my somewhat melancholic outlook on life, my struggle to understand the purpose of it all. All these things influence the way I place a mark on the canvas. I don’t drip a line just because I can; I drip it because something cries out in me that can only be expressed by that drip.  For someone else to see that and think, hey, that dripping is cool and then to drip just to drip would be to miss the point.

 I think I mentioned before the book “No More Secondhand Art” by Peter London.  One of my favorite quotes is “It is better to rise to the questions Monet did then to mimic his responses”.  I think that watching other artists paint seduces us into wanting to mimic their responses, and we are such good imitators! It is so much easier to try on and experiment with someone else’s innovations and discoveries that to face the blank canvas and find our own voice and mark that evokes it.

I believe that Art is about more than technique, and technique is about more than a toolbox of tricks. In order to discover who we are as unique individuals with something personal to say through our art, we have to find our own way of ordering marks and colors. That is why I feel my best service, as a teacher, is to help each artist put together a toolbox of skills that they can then use to go out and innovate with. They must discover all the marks that only they can make, all the colors that they can mix, first hand, by doing!

My process has developed over a lifetime of moving marks and paint around on the canvas.  It also doesn't follow the same approach every time. How can I demonstrate that? I try to remain open to discovery and chance each time I face the canvas, because I feel that is what life is about.  Here is an example of the above painting in process, and I think watching it evolve over the course of several weeks shows how open I am to letting the painting take it's own direction. Go out and paint, stop worrying about how to do it, stop watching how everyone else is doing it, take a tip from Nike and "Just do it"!

I Believe

The other day a student asked me whether I could come up with four or five questions that an artist could internally ask to help figure out where they want to go with their work. I wish I could think of an easy answer, but I fear it is a life long pursuit. That is both the good and bad news. If there were an end to the journey, then once it was reached what incentive would there be to press on? The bad news is that this means you are embarking on a journey of self-discovery that will more than likely be never ending, with the destination always feeling just beyond your reach. The more we know, the more we realize there is to know. At first it is easy because your focus is on perfecting the craft of your work. The real struggle only begins once you have achieved most of the technical hurdles.  That is the point when you must no longer draw from what is outside of you, but begin to draw from the well within you. This may feel daunting at first, but you need to just focus on the next step of your journey.

I believe there is more to art than just reproducing what something looks like. I say “just” but I realize that painting what something “looks” like is not an easy task, which is why so many artists continue to spend so much time trying to do just that.  Don’t misunderstand me, I am not discounting the need to perfect craft, I just don’t think that is the final destination. Once craft is perfected we may find ourselves thinking “now what?”  If perfecting craft is your present goal along this journey and it brings you satisfaction, then continue on. When the goal of perfecting craft has been achieved, you may feel yourself questioning whether there is something more to discover.

This does not have to be some sort of deep trip into psycho self-analysis.  But, it is the realization that all art is a form of communication. There is room for all levels of communication. It depends on what you are trying to communicate and who you want to be in conversation with. I think that music is a good analogy. Musicians must hit the right notes, but great musicians do more than hit the right notes, they impart something of themselves in the performance. There is more than the accuracy of their craft. There is something that can’t be described. That “something” is fleeting in a musical performance, as painters, we seek to give that “something” permanence in paint. Kandinsky did his best to explain this phenomenon.  He felt that a work of art is a physical object that springs from the inner being of the artist, but it is also the trigger point that begins a reverse process back into the inner being of the viewer. So the physical work of art becomes the bridge to an inner experience that was deeply felt by the artist.  If there is no initial force that was deeply felt within the artist, the work may be visually pleasing and adept, but lack that emotional bridge and connection. This connection is similar to the one that makes us weep when we hear a musician perform a piece with all his being.  We all have been moved my real art. But how do we create it?

Whatever your subject matter is, your painting should strive to be your intimate reaction to something. If what you see is all I get as a viewer, then art has lot some of its purpose and power.  I believe that the artist is more than a cook that knows how to put the ingredients together to make a tasty meal. As an artist, you must find the secret ingredient that only you possess.  You must somehow transform the materials into something that is more than the summation of its parts. As I often say, depending on your religious persuasion, you are either searching for magic or the hand of God in your work!

So back to my students question; if the answer lies within you, then that is where you must look for clues. We are very good at hiding from ourselves. A good idea is to keep a small journal where you can write down notes.  Perhaps begin a list of words that resonate with you, or sometimes one will jump out when you are reading. Write it down. Start to figure out what really interests or puzzles you. Do you like things organized or chaotic? What type of things do you collect? What makes your happy, what makes you angry?  Is there something that currently perplexes you? What is your personality, for better for worse? Make a list of adjectives that describe you, list your preferences and your dislikes. Watch for things that trigger you during the day for good or bad and write them down. What do you want to say?  If tomorrow was your last day on earth, and your next painting was all that was left behind to communicate to the future, what message would you want to send? Would you yell it or whisper it?

These are just possible jumping off points to begin a series. A series becomes the next step on your journey to discovering meaningful work. A series may go 4-6 paintings and then be exhausted, but lead you in a new direction. Or, a series may take 100 paintings to work through.  The important thing is that you start thinking about your work as being more that the depiction of something, it is something new and separate that has been created by you, through you, because of YOU.  Begin to paint what only you can paint!