Archives

Portraits of the Artist

I’m working on a commission, presently. A long-time friend who appreciates my work recently commissioned me to do a self-portrait. An interesting commission, and I undertook it enthusiastically, without giving the matter any hesitation at all – now I’m mired in it. lol Self-reflection is deep on a thing like this, but it’s not as if it is the first time I’ve done a self-portrait. They’ve changed over the years.

“Rage” acrylic on paper, 1985, my first self-portrait, at age 22. 12″ x 16″

In the 80’s and early 90’s, when I was still “finding my artistic voice” (still a work in progress, as it turns out), and painting in both watercolor and acrylic, I found emotional safety in abstraction for self-portraiture.

“Portrait of the Artist’s Tears”, 1987, acrylic on paper, 5″ x 7″

I didn’t “stay in that place” indefinitely, things sometimes felt better, sometimes they felt worse. It was a complicated journey, artistically, and I often found that painting was a way of saying what I did not have words for at that time in my life.

“The Night Before Christmas”, 1990, acrylic on paper 8″ x 10″

Some of it I still lack words for, and I’m happy to be in a very different place in life now. My feelings about these works, and the experiences they represent, remain very complicated.

“Marriage” 1991, watercolor on paper, 8″ x 10″

When my first marriage ended, in 1995, I fought hard and went through much to keep a small painting that remains one of my very fondest pieces, and it hangs in my home even now. I’ve never managed to take a decent photograph of it, and I guess I’m okay with that.

“Joy” 1994, watercolor on paper 4″ x 6″

By 2000 I was painting exclusively in acrylic, and doing a lot of 3D mixed-media work, abstractions and pieces that used a lot of glow, glitter, ceramic adornments, and often working quite large. There were certainly pieces I could call self-portraits in the years between 1995 and 2014, when this next piece was painted, but they weren’t necessarily intended that way. (I think art as a form of self-expression of necessity says something about the artist, one way or another.)

“The Price We Pay” 2014, acrylic on canvas with glow, glass, and ceramic details, 11″ x 14″ (the inclusion of the artist’s reflection intentional)

The last self-portrait I started on is still “work in progress”, and I don’t know that I’ll ever finish it. I’ve moved on from that moment. I don’t feel the way I did then, and I’m not sure I can finish it in an honest way because I have changed.

“Chained” acrylic on canvas with glow, ceramic, and chain, 18″ x 24″

So, here I am, now. This person, this woman, this artist, reflecting on self, and preparing to do one sort of self-portrait I’ve never done before; a work on commission for someone else. It’s an interesting project, and it is prompting me to reflect on details of the answer to a question in life that is simultaneously quite deep, and also quite mundane. Possibly one of the least useful questions one can ask oneself; because we already know the answer, however reluctantly we choose to acknowledge it. Self-reflection has value – but does it have hue? I chuckle to myself as I consider how best to portray the woman I see in the mirror every day.

Hard Times, Great Art

I am thinking about art, feeling inspired, but too sick to paint today. It’ll pass, it’s not a big deal, just a cold or virus, or whatever. The local “ick”. So I look over old work that has not previously made it into this blog that I might share, and look for some theme.

Trying times, culturally and politically, in the USA. Hard times often produce some great art – which is not any sort of endorsement of hardship or chaos, it’s just a thing that occurs. It often seems the world is burning (wildfires, warfare, social upheaval)… I guess I’ll need more hues of red, orange, yellow… maybe some organic hues, and hues of violet and magenta? I look at older works that reflect other hard times…

Returning from deployment (Desert Storm) took me awhile to “sort out”. It was strange and difficult to come home to civilian life.

“Don’t Remind Me, I Can’t Forget” watercolor on paper, 16″ x 20″, 1992

Emotional pain, physical pain, cultural pain, violence, warfare, and hardship; it’s not the same sort of inspiration as I feel when I am inspired by love, or a beautiful sunrise. Painting just happens to be the way I communicate what I don’t have words for.

“Mea Culpa” watercolor on paper, 16″x 20″, 1992

A lot of living, a lot of memories, a lot of inspiration – some of it quite personal, some of it less so, are reflected in a lifetime of painting. I have done most of my painting in times of hardship, sorrow, and pain, because I didn’t have language for those experiences (and few experiences of joy in earlier years).

“All I Am” tinted linseed oil on paper, 8″ x 10″, 1988

We grow, we move on, we experience more and different and other, and we live again. I’m grateful that there have been more moments of joy than of hardship, and I’m grateful to be able to paint when I don’t have words. Hard times come and go, the art remains.

“Be Like Water” acrylic on canvas with glow and India ink, 12″ x 14″, 2018

Incomplete, Unfinished, Work-in-Progress

I’m in the studio working on unfinished projects and new work, on this last day of 2021. Seems a good way to mark the end of one year, the transition to the next, as much as anything is. It’s rare for me to hold on to unfinished work long – most pieces are finished within a few days, at most. One or two, over some 40 years as a painter, have lingered months (even years) before finally being finished. Complex work, sometimes, other times it’s been more about a change of context, circumstance, or emotion, that stalls the work and then, more rarely, it becomes lost in the noise of a busy life, forgotten until discovered some time later.

Ending the year in the studio.

Currently, I have 14 unfinished canvases, in various stages of completion, and the oldest of these is a piece I began back in 2015 (a self-portrait). 6 years later, and I am still not ready to finish it (I may have missed my moment on that one). The rest of them are a mixed bag of lost inspiration, technical challenges I haven’t solved yet, and “what the fuck-ery” (where the piece somehow just isn’t coming together as I envisioned, and I haven’t sorted out what to do to recover the piece in some other way).

I hope to end this year here in the studio, in some productive fashion. I hope to begin the new year also here in the studio, productively, looking ahead with new vision. I don’t really do “resolutions” to celebrate the new year. This next year I do hope to post more of my work here, make more of it more easily available, and give a little more time and attention to the craft of the business of art.

I cue the next track on this playlist and get to work.

Gypsy Drums

"Gypsy Drums" 5" x 7" watercolor on paper 1996

“Gypsy Drums” 5″ x 7″ watercolor on paper 1996

Like it’s companion piece, “Gypsy Dancer”, “Gypsy Drums”  is a small watercolor on paper that was painted on a weekend at a local renaissance fair, in 1996. This small piece was inspired by the dancing of an associate of that time, named Margrit, an exotic and passionate Armenian woman of great beauty.  Shortly after these pieces were painted, I changed artistic direction and began to work almost exclusively in acrylic on canvas, in the abstract, and exploring mixed-media work. I have often found that between big changes in style or focus, I return to small watercolors, or pen & ink sketches to ‘get by on’ creatively.

Gypsy Dancer

"Gypsy Dancer"  5" x 7" watercolor on paper 1996

“Gypsy Dancer” 5″ x 7″ watercolor on paper 1996

“Gypsy Dancer” is a small watercolor on paper that was painted on a weekend at a local renaissance fair, in 1996. I had made a major life change, and my artistic focus and direction often also change as a result. This is one of a handful of pieces of small relaxed watercolor sketches I did just before I dropped everything to work in bolder, larger acrylics in the abstract. This small piece, and the companion piece “Gypsy Drums” were inspired by the dancing of an associate of that time, named Margrit, an exotic and passionate Armenian woman of great beauty.

Augsburg

"Augsburg" 5" x 7" watercolor on paper 1985

“Augsburg” 5″ x 7″ watercolor on paper 1985

In the early 80’s, when I began to paint seriously, I painted primarily in watercolor, and on paper. This small piece (5″ x 7″) painted of the city of Augsburg, where I lived at that time, is very typical of the period. Painted in 1985, it is reminiscent, for me, of the delicate watercolor and gouache illustrations in so many of the children’s books I grew up with. This watercolor remains in my personal collection out of sentiment, however it is available for sale.

Portrait of the Artist’s Tears

"Portrait of the Artist's Tears" 5" x 7" watercolor on paper 1986

“Portrait of the Artist’s Tears” 5″ x 7″ watercolor on paper 1986

One of my earliest abstractions, this small ‘self-portrait’ of the emotional climate of my life at the time remains a personal favorite, in my own collection.  On a more trivial note, it is also the first piece I chose to upload to the new site, although I have no particular ‘reason why’. Fondness? Sentiment? Hard to say; I know I continue to value the simple lines, and powerful colors in this small piece.