Quarantined
For many of us, in quarantine during the Covid-19 pandemic, it is a time of stillness. If we are lucky and not among those stricken with the virus or on the front lines caring for those who have, we are, hopefully, at home doing our part to slow the tide of the outbreak. Our lives have slowed down, and it is up to us to chose how to spend this time.
I am currently in Florida setting up a new vacation home, and, a new art studio. I brought along two unfinished paintings. One, a portrait that I thought was done, but, time away and closer inspection told me it was not. The other is a still life that I began many months ago and set aside for other projects. I have since finished the portrait and have finished the first local color pass on the still life.
Restless
And then, I felt restless. I felt bogged down by doing exactly what I have been doing for the past 5 or so years since I dove into classical realism in oil painting. Maybe it is the sudden lack of other activity, but I felt a need to break out a bit. If I could not break out of the house, I would break out of the confines of my artistic practice.
Couple that restlessness with the shortages at the grocery store and I found I was creating small conservation practices. My husband has been puzzled by the half pieces of paper towel left behind for later use and the two squares of toilet paper resting atop the roll. I realize I am channeling my depression-era grandmother. I rolled my eyes at her jars of soap slivers, but here I am.
I use the highest quality, expensive paint and materials available so that when I sell my work, I feel good about passing along an artwork that will last a lifetime and longer. At the end of each session I am left with an excess supply of this expensive resource.
The Remains of the Day
All this came together one day a couple weeks ago. I grabbed a blank canvas and the remains of the day’s paint and brushed on a mix of all the colors on the palette, resulting in a warm brown slurry that I brushed thickly onto the stark white canvas. It felt good. No plan. One step down a mysterious path. And yes, I did not waste the paint.
The next day I picked a palette knife up and spread on thick layers of a cool blue. And that felt good. I love the interesting textures and accidental abstract shapes you get when you spread paint in broad strokes with a knife.
The day after that, the balance of my palette was taken up by rosy hues. On it went. It was a little garish, but joyful in its chromatic exuberance. And that felt good.
As a computer programmer I know that even random number generator algorithms do not produce truly random numbers, but, I attempted, as much as possible, to let go and create random marks and color combinations. I was waiting to see where it would lead.
Another thing that I find interesting about creating works of art is that I often don’t know what a piece means, what it says, reminds me of, etc., and that development over the days of working on it is part of the excitement. It unfolds and becomes a rich source of mystery and discovery. Even representational images reveal various meaning and associations beyond the objects depicted.
At this point the painting reminded me of old photographs so I purposely added a dark vignette around the border, keeping the looseness, not wanting to tighten it up too much yet.
I let it sit for a few days while I worked on the still life. Eventually I picked it up from its resting spot on the table where I had kept it so I would not be able to look at it too objectively. I propped it up and stepped back. Nothing. I turned it 90 degrees. Nothing. 90 degrees again. It was then that I felt a rush of recognition. It was like seeing an image suddenly develop in a photograph lifted from a developer bath. It was there, waiting for me to see it, to develop it further.
What I saw was a shape that suggested a spit of land jutting out into the sea, perhaps a port at the edge of a cove. I keep a trove of photos I take almost daily, so I scrolled through my landscape folder to see if inspiration would strike. What did this nascent composition need? I landed on a photo I had taken a few years ago while on Marco Island here in Florida. It was of a sunset over the Gulf of Mexico with a tall sailboat against the orangey sky blanketed with softly glowing clouds in a V-formation. It also had a silhouetted biplane soaring up into the sky. The decidedly un-modern scene was reminiscent of bygone times. It fit the old-time photo vibe.
The video below shows a portion of the painting of the landscape scene over the abstract under-painting. I have not finished it, and I may never do so. Right now, I find that the direction it is going in is not where I want to go. It feels dark and foreboding, and I feel the need for lightness and vibrancy.
I feel, though, that this is a success, because I have learned something about myself as an artist and where I want to go. I still have a process of discovery ahead of me, but I also have a direction to explore. I hope that you are safely enjoying your time and finding things to do that bring you joy and perhaps even a little self-discovery.