Painting

     It is just my third full day at my studio space in town. I came a couple of times to drop things off, to set things up, hang plastic, unwrap the first three canvas, hang signs that say things like, “Artist working on stage. Please do not enter.” I am sharing the space with the boy scouts, who play basketball on Tuesday nights and a Taekwondo class that meets here a few afternoons a week and Saturday mornings. The first day I came to hang plastic to protect the walls and floor, the stage floor was covered in enormous, heavy red and blue rubber mats from the Taekwondo class. I dragged them, inch by inch, to the edge of the stage and then jumped down and pulled them off and onto the floor in a heavy, disorganized heap. I left a note for the Taekwondo guy, apologizing. But a girl’s gotta work when a girl’s gotta work. I think we have everything straightened out though. Now they know there is someone using the stage and that I will toss off whatever they put in my space. I imagine to them I am like a strange, protective bird who has built her nest nearby, unexpectedly. Don’t mess with my nest. I paid for this spot.
    I am only here from 9:00 till 3:00 during the week and no-one else is here then. I suppose if I came when a class was going on or a basketball game, I could listen to them play or get some good headphones and tune them out.
    So far, it is proving a little tricky to get here for the whole school day. Things come up. But I also think, now that I am set up and have begun to paint, I will find a rhythm and a schedule that works. This week, I spent Monday in the hospital with Joseph who had some surgery on his wrist. Tuesday I was not ready in time to walk Desmond to school and then walk to my space. So, I dropped him off and came back home and had breakfast and packed my bag. I got here by 10:00 and stayed till 3:00. Yesterday I went to the gym and then had to focus a little on working out getting some glasses so I can really focus on everything. And the day was gone. But today, I am here, I was able to walk Desmond to school and walk the extra two blocks over here. I am so close to his school, I can hear them playing outside at recess. I love this spot. I can walk here, it is quiet, it has such personality, this building. I eat my lunch in the cemetery which is right outside. Right now, I am sitting on a little wooden deck off a side door. I can hear someone talking nearby, some one hammering something a couple of blocks away, birds, crickets, and occasional car goes by. The sun is bright and warm today and there is a slight breeze. Heaven.
    Today, I secured this building to use for my birthday party too. How fitting. This November, I turn 40 and have been trying out and tossing aside all kinds of ideas on how to celebrate, But this one is best. So I will have a big birthday bash, in the same space I am painting. This way, my paintings can attend the party. And my paint.
    I had wondered what it would be like to be here, to be painting, to commit to a project like this, to spend time alone, away from my usual list of things to do. It is lovely, really. I remind myself to relax. My usual mode is a slightly panicked and rushed. Must hurry. Quick, before I run out of time. I feel that come over me here and I remind myself to take my time. No rush. And I breathe. And drop my shoulders and smile and I take my time. My time.
    Taking time with the painting takes some of the pressure off too. I am thinking carefully about what I am doing, what to do next, trying things out. So far, it is going smoothly. I think I had a little bit of a bumpy take-off, remembering how to paint. It’s like I'm making it up every time. And then I think, oh yeah, that’s how that works.
    I got here today and started to work. I am working on one painting so far. The image of the open door. Looking, mixing color, layering, glazing, wiping away, brushing on, cleaning and smudging edges. I had lunch in the cemetery again. Then laid on my back in the grass, in the sun and read a little of Robert Henri’s, The Artist Spirit. I’ve never read it before. I hate to read more of it, the first pages are so brilliant and match my sentiments about art so exactly, I feel the more I read the more chance I will disagree with something or be disappointed. But, bravely, I will read it all. Like painting, I love this perfect beginning, when everything is right and going so well and the sky is clear for take off and it’s a beautiful day. Not knowing if there are storms ahead and what will happen next. But quite possibly, the book will be just right beginning to end and maybe this school year of painting and these 6 paintings will be just right too. The only way to find out is to go ahead and read. Go ahead and paint. Was it Woody Allen who said something like, 99% of doing anything is just showing up. To be present for the possibility of something great. That’s what I am doing. It is joyful. I am so grateful.

 

Work begins.

Color match.

Another dimension.

    I found these images on line, without credit to the artist that made them, so I don't have that to post but wanted to keep these images here anyway. I feel like they would be friends with the paintings I have in mind to make. A kind of crossing over of spaces, time, and dimension. Dimension is such a funny word and I can't say it or hear it without thinking of The Beasty Boys song with the "another dimension, another dimension, another dimension, another dimension", or the Twighlight Zone, so sci-fi. Which, are things I like so it's okay. But the idea of parallel dimensions, is sort of mind blowing, isn't it? And something I think about. And that seems like sort of a new-agey thing to be thinking about trying to paint but that's what's happening people. If I had been a better student, and if it had occurred to me to study these things, maybe I would have been a scientist. In another life maybe. These things fascinate me. And thrill me. Truly. I hope I can make some paintings that hold some of the mystery of this life that we are living. I am hoping that they will convey something about time and memory and our deep connections to each other and to places and spaces we inhabit. I want them to be simple and strong and hold you in space in front of them. I hope they will hold the viewer for a while. And I want the viewer to feel like they are in a space within the painting. And that it makes them want to linger there and wonder. This is why I got canvases that size. They could feel like you are standing in a space, life sized, like you are right there.

    These two images here may be a little over the top for me if they were just paintings. They are more like book cover art. They are saying more than I would want to say. There is a lot of information. But they also make me stop and wonder and sort of delight in the "what if" that they suggest. 

    A painting professor I had in college asked us what makes something art. He said it was intention. If you make a plate of pancakes and call it art, it is art. Then he asked what makes "good"art. He said he thought it was the art's ability to make you ask questions. This was such an important idea to me. And I believe it to be true. If I can make some paintings that will stop people from walking by and take a minute or more, to wonder about them, then I think I will have accomplished something.

    Another thing I learned in college is to throw out my first idea, it is usually not very good. And I have been a little nervous because I though that this idea I have  for these paintings was my first idea. But I am just realizing I had really been wanting to make paintings of ghosts for a long time. And that is along the same lines as this but that was the throw away idea. This is better. 

    A poetry teacher in college said to me once, "These poems are good. You already know what to leave out." I loved that. It reminded me of a drawing I made in high school. It was the first drawing I ever made without lines. It was a pencil drawing and it was just shading. To me, it looked so real. Without the lines telling you it was a drawing. I think you can over say things and they lose their mystery. Things that are obvious do not need to be looked at for long. I hope I leave out the right things and choose just the right ones to leave in.

    I guess art school was good for something. Good for making art.

 

It is time.

 

     Well, September has arrived, and so has summer it seems. Hot, humid and sunny, finally, and I am grateful for the warmth and the sun, even it is on it's way out. Yesterday Joseph, Desmond and I drove over to the space with the six canvases strapped to the roof of the car and brought them inside and up onto the stage. We pulled them out of their cardboard boxes and lined them up. They barely fit side by side and I was glad I hadn't bought ten after all which had been my original plan. Ten months and ten paintings made sense. But they are big and so they were not cheap and they came in a box of three so I got two boxes. They seem enormous and they are new, clean and white. They are pure potential.
    I was talking to a friend today and said, this is the best part really, the beginning, the canvases are blank. They still might be the six greatest paintings I have ever painted. Or the worst. Or, more likely, something in between. It is all to come and from where I'm standing it is exciting, and scary and a still a bit of a surprise. Like anything that is new, you hope for the very best and the very best is possible. As time goes by, the very best may be whittled down to something else.
    I feel like I have some big expectations and have been thinking that I should probably reel myself in a bit and just allow myself this time, these blank canvases, the space, the paint, the experience to be what it will be, without pressure. Pressure to paint something amazing. Or even "good". Maybe they will be great. They might be terrible, or mediocre. I hope to try to look at it more like 10 months of me having a place to go and be alone, to think, to breathe, to be creative and to remember what it was like to spend hours painting. It is a real gift to be able to do this. To have chosen to do this. I don't think it will be easy, but maybe it will be. I am not so sure what it will like at all. Will it be like detoxing? Will I want to run out the door? Will I have a hard time being still? Detoxing from the need to get things done? Practical things, things on my list, things that "need" to be. Paintings don't need to be painted. Not by me anyway. I just want to paint. It is just desire. I wonder if it will be hard to let myself just be there. And be free. From 9:30 until 3:00. A window of freedom. Like a ride.
    Sometimes painting is a struggle. When it's not working. When it doesn't look the way I want it to. I feel like I am not a very knowledgeable painter. Most of what I know I have sort of fudged or guessed and I make it up as I go along. Most things I do in life, I do this way.
    Most paintings I have painted, I have hated midway through. And I push through until I come out on the other side and like them in the end. I wonder if it will be hard to stop at 3:00 to pick up Desmond at school. Probably some days it will. My mother was a writer and she scheduled her own  hours. She said it was better to stop working when she was in the middle of something because it was easier to pick it back up the next day. She had a calender with blocks of time marked off that said, "write".  Her studio was a little room in our attic with a couple of windows and built in bookcases and a desk with her word processor, later, her computer. I still dream about that little office, studio of hers. A light at the top of attic stairs.
    So, these are my six big blank canvases, on an otherwise empty stage. Already a metaphor.  Although I'm not sure what it is exactly. What a wonderfully odd place to paint, behind a velvet curtain on a stage in an old parish hall of a church. I don't think I could have thought of anything better really. Something about it is just right. It is already a story. And I feel like this old wooden stage will be watching me and enjoy having me there. And we'll share a sandwich.
    Desmond starts school tomorrow, but only for a half day. I think on Thursday, I will go back and start to cover the walls and floor with some plastic drop cloths. Bring a few things over. In the meantime, I am working on making decisions about backgrounds. Choosing from photographs I have taken this summer. I'll have to print them out and buy paint and paint brushes. Maybe on Friday I will make my first marks. And then we're off and running.