Stand Back, Cross Your Eyes and Squint
This is what my architectural professors used to tell us to do as students. It was their way of getting us to see the structure and patterns in our own work. We would pin up all of the work due that week; they were not only looking to see who completed what and to what level, but more importantly, they began to look for a distinct language in each student’s work.
To share your work with the world is a vulnerable thing. It is an act of courage.
Sometimes it takes everything in us just to show this very private part of ourselves. Yes, with practice, we do get better - and more confident. But step away from your work for any length of time and you will experience those “first share” jitters. On the flip side of this, I do not think these ‘jitters’ are a bad thing. It means we care about what and how we’re communicating.
This summer, I have been re-examining my work, old and new, with clear eyes. I have been searching for structure and patterns in my work. I have been searching for those intuitive gestures that were present before I even knew how to articulate them.
The results of my search revealed two major things to me: I love using pencils to transcribe my internal trembles, and I use color to convey emotions. I’ve begun to think of my paintings as emotional sketches… emotional mappings if you will. Together, these items (pencil and paint) have the ability to convey amazingly rich and layered stories.
So, a little bit about each one:
I love using pencils to communicate.
Thick lines, thin lines, straight and curved. Hard leads and soft. With smudges and finger manipulations, there is something elemental and approachable about a pencil. Maybe because it was the first “tool” I picked up as a child to scribble with and to “try” and draw what I thought I saw. In school, it was essential for sketching. I love using it to establish a quiet structure or the underpinnings of my work. I love to scribble a gesture or a contour to communicate a feeling or an emotion.
And…
I love using color to evoke mood.
Transparent and quiet washes, opaque and bold moments. I love merging colors to create new and unexpected moments. I love to use color so subtly you have to move around a painting to perceive its presence. For me, this is the magic of watercolor. At the onset, it seems to be such a simple art medium - just add water, right? However, the more you practice with watercolor, the more you learn the ethereal depth of its possibilities.
Reviewing and then acknowledging these elemental tools in my work grounds the work. When I can see a similar thread in the breadth of my work, it becomes so much easier to ‘manage’ expectations before I begin any new work. The work, if I come to it with clarity and an intention to be authentic, evolves into what it is. Variations of a theme with color and pencil.
I have learned that the practice of art is a lot like life…you start off with what you think you know, and with what you think you want. And slowly… it becomes something else. A thing very much its own.
A different kind of beautiful, if you allow.
