August 30, 2016 – Our Love Affairs with our Paintings

One, big apple – just in time for back-to-school.

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Last Wednesday, just after posting about how I was able to be really productive by not making myself do anything, but shifting gears to keep myself fresh and engaged, I called foul on myself. I had been using this as a strategy to keep going on a painting, that I was indeed making myself paint. I had intended – I had really wanted – to finish the big painting of apple blossoms and bees in time for my big festival this weekend. I wanted a big, new piece to show off – and deadlines offer helpful structure to me – they help me get things finished. But this can only go so far – especially when making art.

I took the photos that inspired this painting in March, when spring was busting out – everything was fresh with brand-new petals – which on that day, were lit through with bright sunshine. I dove in to paint it, but it is big and complex – I’ve yet to take on a painting, with as much detail over such a large space – and detail takes time to paint. I took a break to finish “Offering” to enter in the County Fair – and then to paint “Global” – the eggplants I started for the “Painting Shiny Things” Special Saturday in June. I returned to it and worked diligently, while up at Lake Tahoe this summer. I’ve painted on it, every day since the beginning of July – and have been having moments of sweet enjoyment doing so. But after a weekend up in the vineyards, surrounded by the fullness of ripe summer fruit – all in jewel-y colors, the need for something else crept in. It was no longer the time to paint softly colored blossoms. And making myself do so, felt like I was putting myself on a creative diet.

The time and place that we paint, matters. Looking back at these paintings, I can see how where I am in the world, and the time of year it is, is reflected in the artwork. I painted most of “Tropical Peaches” while on vacation in Kauai. The blues in the reflections of the light on the leaves became turquoise, as my eyes were filled with the color of the tropical ocean. On a later trip to Kauai I started “Firelight,” but then stopped because the hot reds, oranges and pinks felt incongruous, as I smelled the plumeria and felt the breezes on my skin. Instead I painted “Melia,” changing the pink flowers to white, to suit my softer mood. I picked up and finished “Firelight” late last year, when it was chilly – and there was real firelight in the fireplace. At this time and place, I found the rich colors warm and comforting.

Tropical peaches, Firelight and Melia – time and place are in these paintings.

This brings me to the life-of-its-own that each painting has. “Firelight” had been kicking around in my studio, unfinished, as I regarded it as “that old thing”, for a couple years. The same with “Raindance,” which, when finished, became a big favorite of all my work. I have to believe that if I’d pushed through to finish these two paintings when I had first started them, they could not have been the paintings they were. The time and place changed – and so did I.

Apart from time and place, I’ve noticed also that paintings seem to have a lifespan, going through several stages. Here are the ones I’ve been through:

• We begin with the Courtship Stage – before ever starting a painting, the idea of it captivates us. We think about it, play with images. We may have a long engagement with the idea – or we may start work on it right away. I’ve got a whole folder of these “candidates” that I sometimes visit – asking: are any of you coming through next?
• When the time comes to paint, usually – hopefully – we start out eager, hungry to paint it. The first paint to touch the paper is thrilling, as we dream of the finished painting. This is the Twitterpated Stage.
• After a while we may hit the Ugly Duckling Stage (which often goes by less delicate names) – the first layers look clunky, awkward, colors may be off. We can feel like we’ve lost our way.
• We might hit an Ee-Gads Stage – we’ve made a mistake, spilled something on it, mis-read our drawing, painting where we didn’t want to. This can bring the terror, that we’ve absolutely ruined it!
• After painting a while, we may wonder if we will ever be done with it – it seems to be taking so long! Welcome to the Sick and Tired Stage. This is where we might need a planned separation.
• Once enough of it starts coming together though, the spark that got us going can return, re-energizing us to see it through – to realize our vision – or maybe – because of time and place – it could be coming out differently, than we had even imagined. Regardless, we’ve arrived in the Homestretch.
• The Am I Done? Stage comes at or towards the end. It seems like it could be finished, but there are still places that might vex us, things that still look funny, awkward. For me, these parts can be all I can see – like the pimple that just arose on my chin. This is where we really, really need each other, to help us sort out what needs to be attended to and what is better to leave well enough alone.
• With any luck, we’ll eventually come to the Oh, There You Are! Stage. For me, this is after it’s been framed and I’ve moved in with the next painting. I’ve forgotten the parts that bugged me, and I can see what everyone else has been seeing all along – the spirit that the painting carries that is entirely apart from me.

I had started on this one here, the one big apple, with the thought that it might be good for the 2017 calendar. I started it at the San Anselmo Festival in late June, loving the colors. But then, fell flat when we hit the Ugly Ducking Stage, while I was painting the leaves. Last week, after deciding to set aside the big blossom painting, I picked it back up again. All that remained unpainted, was the apple. I dove in, playing with colors and textures, layering and having a great time. I finished it in one day – on Thursday – during my two groups. Just a few hours was all it took! It’s not one of my best, but I love the light and the freedom I took with the colors. I’m happy to report, that the leaf in the lower right that had me hating it, no longer bothers me. Thank goodness for how a little breather can settle everything down.

I used to say, that I only had two disciplines – that I finish every painting and I keep my website updated. Finishing every painting was a really good thing to do early on. It taught me a ton about how watercolor works – and how fixable it really is – contrary to what most people think. Now that I’m sure that I won’t fill my studio with partially painted sheets of watercolor paper, never finishing anything, I’ve allowed myself more freedom to set things aside. Maybe a temporary break-up with a painting, is just what we both need. The big blossom painting is tucked away, waiting for me to crave painting luminous petals again. And until then, I’m excited to be painting my newest infatuation – these Zinfandel grapes, that I took two Sunday mornings ago in Cloverdale. Oh, those yummy colors!

The image on the left, the just-started painting on the right. I’m in LOVE!

Just like any love affair, painting our love isn’t always bliss. We are related to our paintings and the creative process bringing them through us, like we are related to anything and anyone. How we relate changes day to day. I see how listening to our own voices and the voices of our paintings – and then responding accordingly, is the best kind of refreshment – allowing real intimacy with our creations and with their source – the source of all of us.

With my love,

Cara