I don’t know if you may be interested in the making of art, but I hope so. In this newsletter, I thought I’d give a closer look into the process that results in my finished pieces. Of course, each artist’s process is different. For some, the process can be cumbersome with many challenging steps. It may be tedious, or even arduous. Over the years, I have experimented. My large acrylic paintings used to take a long time. However I’ve realized that I now prefer working in a size and medium that allows ideas to come to fruition more quickly. Paradoxically, instead of greater complexity, time and experimentation has brought greater simplicity. Could that be a metaphor for life? Water media, like acrylic paints and inks are odorless, easy to set-up, to keep out on a work surface, and to tidy up as needed. This is especially practical when one prefers to work indoors. Here’s a look at my space and materials.
This was the initial sketch shown in the previous video after a tracing had been transferred into an art journal and readied for completion in ink. It’s unusual for me because it’s an abstract landscape (no figures) and because the first sketch was done in colored marker.
Because I now work relatively small (7.5” x 7.5”), in only a few days I can complete each piece. This also allows keeping a number of pieces in process simultaneously. So when I come to a pause in one, I can easily move to another. I work in two journals. Eventually, facing pages will include quotes and poetry. Upon my passing, each of my daughters will receive a collection of originals that will easily fit onto a bookshelf. This removes the niggling concern, “What will my children do with all of these paintings?” As with most creative endeavors, it seems that art and poetry contain the artist’s essence. Of course, my children will have memories, but I hope these journals will feel more like a piece of me. I suppose the images reveal facets of myself that even I had not known until they emerged on the page.
It would be easy to suppose that these journals are the same as artist sketchbooks. But that is not the case. Instead, I see them as final repositories. Each is a collection of finished images that pour from within and without, in rudimentary form, into dozens of working sketchbooks. It is such fun to bring to fruition the seeds that are sown in rough and messy sketchbook pages. I suspect most artists consider their sketchbooks intimate and personal and are reluctant to display them, at least while alive. Truth be told, that’s true for me too. But for this studio visit, I thought I’d offer a flip-through. There is never a lack of ideas; imagination, memories, photos, places and people, books, songs, film, and daily experiences; more than there will ever be time to bring to fruition. Luckily, as you’ll see, only 10% really deserve completion. But that doesn’t mean sketches are a waste. It’s like looking through a thrift store. You can’t find a gem, unless you comb through what’s not.
Sketches in sketchbooks are like wildflowers. We don’t want all of them in our garden. Their seeds are collected and culled. Those that are chosen germinate unseen. Eventually, they sprout, are transplanted, and cultivated into an art collection. For me, each journal is a collection of many pages (over three hundred). Now, I am about half way through each, so they’ll keep me busy for years. Once I decide to transplant a seed i.e. proceed with an idea, it is reduced or enlarged to fit the 7.5 x 7.5 journal page. In this phase, I play with a variety of possible compositions. Afterwards, the bones of the composition are traced. By reverse tracing with a soft graphite pencil, an image is transferred onto each journal page. It may be days (or weeks) before there is clarity about where to begin. A thought such as, “this triangular shape absolutely needs to be blue” usually signals the beginning. Like a puzzle, that step then points to the next step, and so on. There are numerous pauses, but little by little, the image miraculously reveals itself.
Of course, I’m happy to answer questions if you have any. I hope that you, too, find joy in the creative process. May you have a lovely end to summer; for into the fall we go.