Rules? There are no Rules...

Many years ago, I was one of those artists that planned stuff. I did sketches. I worked out compositions using thumbnails, just like I was taught to decades ago. I sketched out my large version of what I had decided on in my sketchbook, and then filled in areas one at a time. I followed compositional rules. I used my colour theory. I did it the way I was supposed to.

I know this works for some people, but it really did not work for me. I was always disappointed in my results. And if something wasn't working, even if I knew it wasn't working, I had a hard time abandoning it. Somehow I felt that since I had already sunk in so much time, I had to see it through to the end.

As you can imagine, I eventually earned myself one very large, very long artist's block. I say earned, because it was totally my own fault. I worked my way into it, one bad painting at a time.

For five long years, I did nothing creative whatsoever. I told myself I wasn't inspired, I had nothing to say, I didn't want to, I didn't have time.... the excuses went on and on. Thing was, I did still have moments when I wondered what the hell had happened to me. It was usually during my kid's birthday parties, when I had him and a bunch of his friend in my driveway creating an imaginary world in sidewalk chalk. Or I was showing him how to draw spiderman while we waited to be called at the doctor's office.

Finished painting from the above video, "Spring Fever".
10x10" on wood panel. 

I missed that side of myself, so I signed up for a class. I enjoyed the class, but we worked from photos, and while my painting turned out ok, I didn't really feel it. So I signed up for another one. I watched videos and did Zentangles and made some stamps. It wasn't until I flew across the country to take a class with Jesse Reno that my Eureka moment happened. He broke through that block with one short conversation.

Just start. There are no rules. Put the paint on your brush and the brush on the paper. Keep going until you are happy. Don't make it more difficult than it is.

WHAT??? It was like he was giving me permission to ignore everything I had ever been taught and go do whatever I wanted.

I've been working like that ever since, and I haven't had even an inkling of a block. Ive done a series of figurative pieces, and a series of abstract pieces. I've gone back to drawing because I like to draw, instead of as a planning device. Sure, things like composition, design, and colour harmony still matter, but now I work it out as I go instead of sticking to some pre-envisioned plan. I enjoy seeing what happens when I try something new, even if it doesn't work. It's fun again.

I may, at some point, take another class with someone who I think can take what I'm doing now and make it better. I've got my eye on a workshop with Nicholas Wilton that I think would be awesome. But for now I will just carry on with what I'm doing, and try to make the most of what time I have.

After all, I'm not getting any younger.

Abstract Painting: Where Spirit Meets Bone, Part 2

"Where Spirit Meets Bone", Diptych, 60x40", Mixed Media on Canvas. Available.

The original drawing for this piece came from a video of a couple dancing. They were connected, yet separate... two people that seemed so much a part of each other, I couldn't really imagine them as single entities.

It's funny how certain images and ideas trigger other thoughts. They were young, they moved so gracefully, but what came to mind was my parents. My mom is here, my dad is gone... but they are still so intertwined in my memory that I suspect they will always be like one unit to me. Trying to get this idea across... visually... that was a tough one. I decided to accentuate it through the format. Each canvas is successful on it's own, but they look like they belong together. They look better together. I won't separate them... as far as I'm concerned, this is one piece. But once it's out of my hands, it's out of my control.

The right side alone... still works as an
individual piece, but definitely works better
with it's partner.

Doing the original drawing I took a similar approach. I held one watercolour crayon in each hand, and followed the dancer's movements simultaneously. It was difficult to watch them both at the same time... I set myself up at a distance and tried to concentrate on the motion as a unit, not as individual bodies (If you want to try something that really gets you into the present, try doing that. It's impossible to think about anything but what you are doing...).

As I couldn't do more than glance at my actual drawing while I was working on it, my starting point was somewhat unplanned. Anyone who has followed along for a while knows this is an ongoing trend in the way I work... give myself a problem, then work my way out of it.  I find that while I am a decent problem solver (at least as far as visuals go), staring at a blank canvas with a world of possibilities open to me will cause me to freeze up. There are just too many choices. I love those creative exercises where you just scribble a few lines, then try to make an image out of it. Having that limitation put on myself will spark my creativity. Once I figured that out, it seemed I was away to the races. I'm hopeful that creative blocks are a thing of the past for me. Of course nobody knows what the future holds... but I have some tools at my disposal to help me work my way out of whatever life throws my way.

If you are in the Toronto area, I will be at Arts on the Credit, April 9-10 at the lovely Waterside hotel in Port Credit. It's always a wonderful show, with over 40 artists showing off their latest work. Drop by to check it out, and be sure to say hello.

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New Artwork: Navigation of Memory

"Navigation of Memory (All Roads Lead to Now)", 30x40" Mixed Media on Canvas

I've been working on an exercise from Julia Cameron's creativity book, "The Vein of Gold". I did the Artists Way years ago... twice actually... and found it to be really helpful in getting through a creative block. This one is different, and though I've started it a few times, I've always stopped part way through the first section. I'm going to try to get a bit further into it this time. It's not easy, but I have to think it will be worth it in the end.

The first section of the book is devoted to your story... noting down significant events in your life and seeing how your reactions/thoughts/feelings about yourself were shaped. It's interesting to try to remember things that happened decades ago and understand how it has influenced you. I was thinking about that as I was working on this piece. Decisions made, paths taken and not taken... all these things have made me the person I am. When I graduated from school I chose to go get a "real job" instead of getting something temporary and working on my art. I chose to have a family and buy a house instead of living in a small apartment and working on my art. Once I had a house I had to keep the real job... I had a mortgage to pay. I stayed in the job I found tedious and dull because it had more flexible hours than other jobs I was qualified for. Those were my choices... I have to remember that when I see a brilliant 20something win an award or a residency, and then I look at myself nearing 50 and feel like somehow I missed the boat. Looked at in a different light, at 20 I didn't have a whole lot to say. I didn't trust my own opinions and I was constantly looking to others to validate my views. Now, not only do I know what I want to say, and have a much more expansive visual vocabulary with which to say it. Sometimes, not achieving any type of notoriety can be useful... it gives you time to develop and mature without having to worry about disappointing your collectors.

Malcom Gladwell has written about the phenomenon of the  "Late Bloomer"... contrasting creative people who hit their stride later in life, like Cezanne, to those who can achieve brilliance right out of the gate, like Picasso. I wonder sometimes how many late bloomers don't actually get to bloom, because life has beaten them down before they got there. It's all too easy to just give up, but ultimately your best bet is to follow the path that leads to happiness. All roads really do lead to now.

My past as an artist: Change and Growth

"Butterfly", Oil pastel and graphite
 on paper from about 2005

A few weeks ago I ran into someone who had purchased something from me many years ago. I was dropping off some work at a gallery, and he happened to be a friend of the owner and had stopped by for a visit. He took a look at my paintings and said he would never have realized they were done by the same artist, they were that different.

A simple, off the cuff observation... but it caused me to take a look at some of my older work that I had put away into the back recesses of my brain. I pulled up my old pictures. I looked at the few pieces I still had hanging around the house (much of my older work was destroyed in last year's flood). And while I see that my work has changed pretty dramatically, I can still see many similarities.

"The Journey", Charcoal on paper from about 2006/07. I think.
My records are somewhat incomplete here... I was working
full-time and had a small child. I was exhausted. 

Thematically, my work is much... well, happier I suppose is the best word for it. Like a lot of artists, I am prone to introspection, and when I started to seriously use art as a tool for self-expression, my life was in a bit of turmoil. But as far as subject matter goes, I am still working with the figure, and still exploring how the figure blends into and stands out of their surroundings. Still fully forming some areas and leaving some parts flat. I thought today I would share some photos of my older work. Keep in mind, art is one of those things that improves immensely with time and practice. For this reason, I'm not going too far back...

"Flying", oil pastel and graphite on paper. Again, from 2004/05. I was simultaneously looking
at cubist art, trying to figure out if yoga would help with my physical issues, and studying the mandala
as a spiritual symbol. I still have this piece, though it has been a bit battered and bruised. 

"Sorrow", oil pastel and graphite on paper, from the same series.

Another example of my charcoal drawings. I was studying native art and trying to figure out what, if anything,  my Metis heritage meant to me. I still have this one... It was framed but the frame broke during the move and it happened to be upstairs waiting to get fixed when the basement flooded. Only one other piece from this series has survived. C'est la vie. 

Ink drawing from 2009. I had been completely blocked for quite some time before I started working on these little drawings. They came from discovering the whole "Zentangle" thing, combined with a creative exercise where you take one word and do a mind-map type of expansion based on that single thought. These are just little drawings. I had intended to rework them as paintings, but I couldn't figure out how exactly to get what i had in my head onto my canvas. I gave up after a couple attempts.  

Another example form the same series of drawings. 

The Aftermath

I had a definite "what's the point" moment this week. I have these fairly regularly... a couple times a year at least. I get that overwhelming desire to just give up. Give away all my art supplies, convert my studio to a guest room and be done with it. Don't know if I'm alone in this, but I suspect not... working at a creative endeavor, trying to keep going and growing when sales are few and far between, and there is so much other stuff that needs to be done... well, it's not easy to stay motivated. It hit me this week as I was sorting through a portfolio full of sodden, ruined artwork, trying to see what, if anything, could be salvaged. The answer? Not much. I manage to save a couple oil pastel pieces, and about 15 watercolours from a summer spent in Europe some 25 years ago (tossing the rest of those out hurt... they may not have been particularly good, but they held sentimental value for me. But the thing about watercolour... well, it isn't waterproof). The rest of it filled up a couple garbage bags (and recycle bags, depending on what it was), and headed for the landfill.

I know that if I take a break now I will get stuck. Been there, done that. And then I will wallow in my stuck-ness. Obviously, not a very good option. But I'm so tired... the last 6 months have been incredibly stressful for me. Recap: a solo show with only 2 months advance warning, a move from the house I've lived in for 17 years, and then the flash flood and sewer backup into my basement while my husband and son were away on vacation. And all this time working a 40+ hour/week job with increasing pressure to do more/ be better/ work faster. Not even mentioning the daily cooking/ cleaning/ never ending mountain of laundry. It's exhausting. And depressing.

So, what's my plan? Well, I'm open to suggestions. This week I didn't do much, creatively speaking. I think I have to take some of the pressure off myself to produce. Maybe take a couple weeks and just play. Get back to the joyful part of creating. Try something new... maybe pick up a new medium or do a bunch of small pieces in experimental mode, or maybe try a completely new art form, like writing. Might not accomplish anything worth sharing, but if I can get myself to a place where I can't wait to get back into my studio, it will have served it's purpose, right?

Seriously... I'm open to suggestions. Any comments are appreciated.