Guppies and Goldfish

Fireweed. Acrylic 36x12”

Fireweed. Acrylic 36x12”

During the cleaning frenzy of March, I excavated several unfinished paintings 15 to 40 years old in several mediums. They survived the moves and mayhem and all have several thousand miles on them. The images still resonate.
There’s a popular bravado in art cliques today to throw away, hose off, burn or paint over what we self-determine to be a bad or outdated art work. Lack of sleep, impatience or life issues often influence our assessment when we feel a painting doesn’t respond. Good or bad are words steeped in childhood injunctions and only serve as a reason to make up excuses not to paint. Ineffective is a more descriptive term.

Time is a faithful friend and if we patiently wait, we override the cultural disposability of all things. Often our consistent life symbols and archetypes manifest through older work. We validate ourselves when we recognize and honor the knowledge moving within us. We free the work to new interpretation. Old paintings are like having a guppy for a pet. We don’t flush the guppy when it doesn’t grow up to be the goldfish we thought we were getting.

Our Muse is devoted, however pouts like a neglected lover if we repudiate the proffered gifts. Intuition may get miffed and require coaxing back. We need to respect our artist and the work. We have an obligation to help the art become the best guppy it can be.

When the Universe moves us to birth an impression, quantum physics assures us it’s already complete. Even though we feel inadequate at the moment to see the concept through, the idea lives. Conception is exciting. Completion euphoric. Showing up to the work in the middle is where good or bad generates unless we stuff a sock in our critical voice and keep pressing on.

Before you take a hose to the work, assess the potential strengths of the piece. Enjoy the challenge of figuring out how to use skills you’ve developed in the interim to resuscitate it. Consider what could make the painting more effective. Are there new materials or techniques available to try? What about a shift toward stronger composition? Would values benefit from adjustment? Would nudging proportions or exaggerating color excite the surface?

There is a stunning piece in a local museum that took over 60 year to complete. The Mona Lisa? Over a decade. While goldfish are great, I advocate for the guppy.

Lenny would be proud...

Can’t remember what laws of physics, biology, gravity et al I bent to deserve the boot. Didn’t seem to get in the way. Breaking out my first metal pour.

Can’t remember what laws of physics, biology, gravity et al I bent to deserve the boot. Didn’t seem to get in the way. Breaking out my first metal pour.

Recently, a friend challenged, “It’s like you have to prove you know how to use every medium.” The question resurrected an injunction from thirty years ago to “settle down and do one thing.” I seriously consider the things friends say before choosing not to take them too seriously.

In college, I decided to proficiently use as many mediums as I was exposed to. The idea was not limiting myself when an opportunity came along. How can I know which mediums I like if I don’t experiment? Is there some rule about having to grow up and pick one thing? (Actually, there is but that’s for next post.) Early on, I was commissioned to produce anything from a pen and ink brochure master to oil portraits. I was paid for being good at the medium the client wanted. And how is that a different kind of compromise from posting a couple of paintings a day onto an internet shop?

What’s not to like? My polymath’s constant curiosity is satisfied on a regular basis, although an eagerness for expansion is often misconstrued for inexperience. One of my role models is an ER doc who plays tuba in the orchestra, lives with a sketchbook as constant companion, paints stunning watercolors and carved the Stations of the Cross for the church. I mean, what if the Gods of Art had whispered to Lenny, “Stick to science and leave Mona to Buonarroti. Europe is gonna need your bridge designs in the 21st century. BTW can you hustle it up on the helicopter?”

It’s the difference between the person who moves around a lot, initiates into global citizenship yet suffers attachment disorder and the person who lives decades of complacent security in the same town knowing the same people. One way is not better than the other although the ones who never experience a different environment are occasionally frightened by those who have.

News Flash! We all come to art making from a different perspective. Some truly feel our way through a piece while others of us think all the way to the finish. Nothing dictates we have the same process. Let’s not let our prejudices and preconceived ideas decide who is acceptable and who isn’t a “real” artist. There’s enough bigotry in the world.

Did I miss out on the deep dive? Possibly, yet as long as I keep waking up each day there’s time. The exploration of mediums informing each other is thrilling for me. There are a few I’ve let go of through the years because they don’t help articulate my vision. Others have strengthened and matured as relationships do over time. Now I’m exploring ways to combine mediums. Do we eat broccoli simply because it was served at every meal growing up or do we take the time to consider we might prefer kale?

Lightening up...

Winter sketching kit…

Winter sketching kit…

The winter painting kit is much smaller and easier to carry than the warmer weather “haul the whole studio if you can fit it all in the back of a Mini with the back seats down” effort. At the top is a water cartridge paintbrush and Pitt indelible marker. I usually pick one paint kit - the smaller Altoids box of gouache primaries or the watercolor kit with more colors. The cut-off sock cuff slips onto the paint container and fastens down with the rubber band. On site, I pull the sock onto the wrist to serve as a “paint rag.” Completing the winter kit a 3.5x8.25” Handbook. An even more compact choice is a 4.25x3” Pentalic Travelers book, or for real winter luxury, a Handbook 7x10.25.” Everything fits in the secret phone compartment everyone has in a coat or a hip pocket. Add a headband to warm the ears, fingerless foldaway mittens and you’re all set.