The soft light of a rainy day
Gentle music in the background
Telling a story
I find myself alive
Two small works to celebrate my return to the studio.
In preparation for larger works little ones come up, fast and playful.
Happy once again.
When do you stop?
The beauty is in the making,
A story changing as I draw,
It should become a painting…
… or not…
When do I stop?
I do get asked when my exhibition is… often.
“Soon” I’d like to answer.
The problem I have is that painting with an exhibition in mind takes away my enjoyment of actually doing it. And I have tried to give myself deadlines, but have fallen short under the weight of marketing requests.
Every one of my works is an adventure I like to enjoy and make personal. It takes time and cannot be rushed. It is a moment of unique pleasure, the telling of an intimate story. I must paint knowing that the canvas I am working on is the true story I want to tell; selling or not is not the point. Not last, to think of my work towards an exhibition restricts me to the market’s requests and trends [this will never sell.. the gallery won’t show that…] or rush up works because the deadline is near. As a consequence the work I end up making may be soulless or incomplete and ultimately I will regret showing it. It has happened and I have learned not to do it again. Hence, I refrain to commit to dates until I know I have a good number of canvases finished already.
At times I just like to make drawings, or little sketchy paintings… or sit there and do nothing. Funny how some people think the life of an artist is made of leisure and beauty, wine drinking and intimate sessions with beautiful models. Well, there’s bills to pay, drawings that ‘don’t work’ and days of non inspiration… but all this IS part of the creative process and must be savoured. I like the sense of freedom I get from knowing that what I’m working on is the true expression of my artistic experience.
So, to answer the question I have started with…
“I am working towards an exhibition, yes, but am not ready to fix the date yet…”
I’ll advertise, I promise.
And thankyou for asking
When I take photos of animals I also memorise a feeling that will help me later express a story in a picture. That’s why it’s important I am there and take the pics myself.
When I saw the photo that Nicola took in her South African trip, I knew immediately that would become a painting. Or two.
I actually made two, small yes, and quickly painted to stay effective. I watched them grow together, allowing them to become different…
Even though I didn’t take it myself, the photo conveys a powerful story and the composition is very effective. It proved very alive to me.
So I ‘borrowed’ it.
Easy to say.
Yet, the art of subtracting is not as easy to muster as we may want to think.
Take ingredients away from a recipe and make the flavour stronger..
The beauty in a quick passing moment.
How many times I struggle to feel satisfied. What am I looking for?
Always busy looking away. Far away.
Yet beauty is always under my eyes, when I just look.
Like words may distract from the story itself, colours may steal attention from the whole.
Black & White.
At times, less makes it more.
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ché la diritta via era smarrita.
Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura
esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte
che nel pensier rinova la paura!
Tant’è amara che poco è più morte;
ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,
dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.
Io non so ben ridir com’i’ v’intrai,
tant’era pien di sonno a quel punto
che la verace via abbandonai.
. . .
Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.
So bitter is it, death is little more;
But of the good to treat, which there I found,
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.
I cannot well repeat how there I entered,
So full was I of slumber at the moment
In which I had abandoned the true way.
INFERNO, CANTO I
by Dante Alighieri