Squares
My friend Cathy’s recent blog post reminds me that I have no business to be playing Spider Solitaire when there is life to be lived. Yes, I have been painting all afternoon so I’m done working for now, but there is a Dorothy Sayers novel I’m looking forward to rereading — why am I still here in front of the computer, instead of cozily ensconced in the happy chair?
Glittering woman
I’ve written before about my feelings of urgency, of the necessity of producing as much work as quickly as possible, since I don’t know how much time I have left. I’m young and healthy: I could live to my nineties — or my days could be counted in single digits. How can any of us know? In one of our IWL meetings this subject came up with my fellow artists too. I’ve read that artists think more about death than other people; I don’t know if that’s true, but certainly many of us find our mortality frustrating. Even a century seems barely enough time, and if that span should be cut short, well, it only makes us more desperate to produce what we can.
Dry brush garden
But on the other hand, my days vibrate with the constant tension between that desperate urgency of creation, and everything in life that conspires to make most of our time spin out slowly and without apparent significance. It’s not only that dishes must be washed and food cooked and eaten, but also that creation takes time: time to improve skills and judgment, time to simmer and process. Sometimes I try to jump-start my day’s work by asking myself, “What would I do if this were my last work day ever?” but that is a question without answer. Whatever the legacy I leave after death, it’s not going to happen in a single day… which is both maddening and deeply reassuring.
Rainbow woman
But I do spend a lot of my time engaged in what looks like nothing, or nothing important, and so I’m always always asking myself if I’m doing the right thing. (It doesn’t help that over in the next room, Erik is always busily programming away… as far as I can tell.) I’ve finally learned to push away from my mind all the myriad other things I “should” be doing, but still, even choosing the one thing is fraught with anxiety. I probably spent three or four hours painting today. It’s vital to log these hours, and yet I look back at my day’s work and ask myself whether this was the best way to spend my time. Probably there is no answer, but I continue to torment myself with the question. This is why, a few days ago when I was in Vegas for my sister’s bachelorette weekend, I was so cranky about having to spend an afternoon browsing the likes of Bulgari and Louis Vuitton. When I put every day of my life under a microscope to decide whether it’s serving my goals, it makes me extra-grumpy at having to spend time in activities not of my choosing!
Dorothy Sayers beckons!
I really like Squares and Dry brush garden, but I’m entranced by Glittering Woman. The background and the dress are striking, but I really love how you’ve rendered her skin, her face. I feel strength and beauty when I look at her. How do you feel about it? Is this a style you want to persue? Or is it more just an exercise for you? Are you searching for something more personal for you — so it doesn’t really matter so much how someone else experiences these specific paintings? Just wondering….
It’s interesting for me that you mention mortality in this post. I always thought those kinds of thoughts might be a part of an artistic temperment, but I’ve never been in a discussion about it before, with other artists. Just yesterday, I read in the paper about a young woman fresh out of college (or maybe not quite?) who has already sold the movie rights to her book that isn’t due in stores for another few weeks. She’s glad that now she can settle back and write novels without worrying about money. I immediately began to wonder if I’d ever have the time or space to get good enough to write a novel. One novel. It may be a telling detail that I made a full batch of peanut butter cookies last night, with the last of almost every ingredient I happened to have on hand, and I’ve just finished them all tonight.
Thank you so much for your thoughts, Ré! (And oh, peanut butter cookies… mmmm!)
I feel Glittering Woman has a calm strength and beauty to her, yes. It’s funny because I started with a magazine photo that has a very different character, but this is what came out. The magazine model is posed in one of these breezy catalogesque “I’m a beautiful, carefree young woman with money! Whee!” ways and in that sense is undistinguishable from all other catalog models. 🙂 But my hope for this picture was that the woman would be even more glittering and eye-catching, and I don’t think I quite achieved that and I’m not sure how I could. Well, I think it helps just to log hours — to keep painting and painting!
As to your question “Are you searching for something more personal for you — so it doesn’t really matter so much how someone else experiences these specific paintings?” I am searching for a personal expression and so in some sense it doesn’t matter how others experience the paintings, but at the same time I’m deeply interested in how others experience them. I want to express myself and I want to move others, but I don’t necessarily need to do the “moving others” by causing them to feel what I’m feeling as I paint. At least that’s where I am right now. I’m really glad you asked this question because I had to think about it, and that made me realize my goal in painting is to try to bring all the breath and richness and complexity of living into the portraits and figures I paint. Whatever that means — because it means something different for each piece. It’s quite curious because I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer when it comes to creating character, and here I find myself being desperately character-driven in my visual work! But character-driven in a more emotional than specific way… I’d rather a viewer feel something than think, “This looks like someone who would enjoy hiking and list-making,” if you get what I mean. You’ve given me lots to chew on and I thank you for it. 🙂
It’s hard for me to read about these wunderkinds like the woman you read about in the paper! That’s something I forgot to mention in my post. I feel like “other people” feel the same urgency I do and somehow manage to translate it into enormous and magnificent output. But I absolutely do not feel capable of that right now.
I don’t either. Hence, my self destructive cookie escapade. It doesn’t really help me in the short term to know that most artists don’t experience that kind of monetary success (which is like getting an A on some “test,” and gives one the power to focus on what they want to do and branch out within it) but I know that it will help in the long term for me to stop comparing my life’s trajectory to to that of anyone else’s.
Thanks for making it clear that you do want to know how I feel when I experience your paintings. I know that I’ve had the experience in the past of an artist dismissing what I ‘ve said because I didn’t have the training to know that I was looking at something that wasn’t “good” work, or properly “finished.” It feels strange to be told that your opinion, or your excitement, is wrong, but I also don’t want to insult an artist. (I’ve also had the experience of not understanding or being moved by pieces that they were very proud of — I always feel so bad about that! I don’t know which is worse!) It feels like a tightrope, because I don’t want to do that to anyone else with my writing either. So, thanks for letting me know that I wasn’t tripping over my feet with my comments to you here! 🙂
“I know that it will help in the long term for me to stop comparing my life’s trajectory to to that of anyone else’s.” AMEN to that… and being reminded of that every day would not be too often. ;b
I feel that anything I make takes on its own life and power after it leaves my hands/computer/whatever. I may have intentions in creating it, but people who see it will respond based on who they are as individuals, and I have no control over that (nor do I want to). I think the only responses that would really bother me would be if people thought they knew what I was thinking, as in, “Obviously you are trying to ____ and send a message that _____.” Of course training — and taste — help a lot when commenting on any work, but I wouldn’t want to dismiss anyone’s response just because they have no education about it!
Speaking of which… I once baked some shortbread cookies and had someone say with utter pleasure that they taste “just like Pepperidge Farm Chessmen!” The person’s partner immediately shushed the speaker and said such a comparison was an insult, but I took it in the spirit in which it was meant. 🙂 But then, I also like Chessmen, so maybe I was biased. 😉
Good morning Lisa,
The stars definitely seemed to be aligned this week, at least for fellow life artists,and writers! (See “Tending My Time”, yesterday’s blog.) I’ve been writing more about this need to create versus just being, and the attention that we give to negotiating the time spent on one versus another.I think that awareness of the need to not simply exist, and to live with meaning, is the real measure of a life well lived, and time well spent. That is the key ingredient and underlying factor in what ultimately goes into building one’s legacy.You are so obviously well aware and attuned, so most of what you do in either space (creating or being) can be meaningful. I’m sure it can be argued that the spaces are one and the same. 🙂
Be Well!
Good morning, Empress! I love your post — speaks to so many of the things I think about too. Sometimes I do feel that the creating and being spaces are the same, and that’s when I feel very calm and harmonious and balanced, and relish every moment to the best of my ability. 🙂 But then I get really antsy at other times and feel the need to be creating as much as I can. Is it because I spent my weekend away from my normal life/surroundings and couldn’t create very much (and wanted to)? Maybe… maybe I’d just swung too far to the other side and was scrabbling desperately back. I’ll have to keep an eye out for this feeling in future, and see if I learn anything about it. 🙂 I’m curious now too, to see how long this feeling of necessary action lasts.
On this gray, dreary, rainy day, ‘Squares’ was like looking at stained glass with bright sunlight pouring through from behind. I needed that light brought into the day; thank you for sharing.
As one who figured death was somewhere over the horizon until lymphoma showed up, I worry about all the scraps of paper that have never been given the chance to grow into a story. Some day my son will be overwhelmed by boxes of bits with abbreviated sentences, jotted notes, single words. I just hope that’s not all I create before that day!
And on that thought, I think I should go bake some peanut butter cookies, too…
Lisa, I am so gratified that Squares gave you that gift. I hadn’t thought of it as having a windowlike effect before, but you’re right; that must be why I put it top and center and big in this post.
I’ve got boxes filled with scraps too… and journals, sketchbooks, scribblings.
Home-baked cookies certainly right many wrongs. 🙂 As does soft-serve yogurt, as my best friend and I discovered one afternoon in 2000 when it turned out no one really cared about us at the party we’d been invited to. 😉