Monthly Archives: November 2016

Pearls from artists* # 224

"Poker Face," soft pastel on sandpaper, 38" x 58" image, 50" x70" framed

“Poker Face,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 38″ x 58″ image, 50″ x 70″ framed

* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

… wise writers decline to engage in debates over the right way to read their words.  T.S. Eliot was once approached with a question about a cryptic line from his poem “Ash-Wednesday”: “Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree.”  What did the line mean?  The poet replied:  “I mean, ‘Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree .”  Creating a text, Eliot  seems to be saying, like having a child, only means bringing something into the world.  It doesn’t include the power to control it’s destiny.

Adam Kirsch in “Can You Read a Book the Wrong Way?”, The New York Times Book Review, Sept. 27, 2016.    

Comments are welcome!  

Q: Do you have an essential philosophy that guides you in your creative expression?

A wall in Barbara's studio

A wall in Barbara’s studio

A:  Here are my two essential philosophies:

“Give it all you’ve got and keep going.”  I wrote this years ago on a piece of paper and tacked it onto the wall behind my easel so I can always see it.

“Excellence can be attained if you… care more than others think is wise… risk more than others think is safe… dream more than others think is practical… expect more than others think is possible.”  These words are on a small plaque, also tacked on the wall behind my easel.  A co-worker gave this to me when I resigned my Naval commission to pursue an art career.

Comments are welcome!

 

 

Pearls from artists* # 223

"Epiphany," soft pastel on sandpaper, 38" x 58"

“Epiphany,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 38″ x 58″

* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

This is precisely the time when artists get to work.  There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear.  We speak, we write, we do language.  That is how civilizations heal.

I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence.  Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge – even wisdom.  Like art.

Toni Morrison quoted in Brainpickings, Nov. 20, 2016

Comments are welcome!

 

Q: What art marketing activities do you put into practice regularly that work most successfully for you?

"White Star," 38" x58", ready to go to the framer

“White Star,” 38″ x58″, ready to go to the framer

A:  This blog continues to be a crucial part of my overall art practice.  Blogging twice a week forces me to think deeply about my work and to explain it clearly to others.  The process has helped develop a better understanding about why I make art and has encouraged me to become a better writer.

As far as art marketing, one crucial activity is to take my blog posts and repurpose them for posting on social media sites.  Several years ago I realized it’s necessary to put as much time and energy into getting my work seen online as it is to create it.  

With the help of my assistant I stay active on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.  I have sold paintings, in the 5-figure price range, through Facebook connections. Recently an art critic reconnected with me via LinkedIn and went on to write a scholarly essay about my “Black Paintings.”  In December she’s presenting a paper at Oxford University and will speak about my work.

I find online marketing to be a constant challenge, but it does yield rewards.  You never know what might happen.

Comments are welcome!        

Pearls from artists* # 222

Washington, DC

Washington, DC

an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

I always had a sense of being in this for keeps.  If your health lasts you.  And you’re fortunate enough to have the days at your disposal so you can keep doing this.  I never had the sense that there was an end.  That there was a retirement or that there was a jackpot.

Leinard Cohen in Brain Pickings Weekly, Nov. 13, 2016

Comments are welcome!

Start/Finish of “Poker Face,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 38″ x 58″image, 50″ x 70″ framed

Preliminary charcoal sketch

Preliminary charcoal sketch

Finished

Finished

Pearls from artists* # 221

Walking on Spiral Jetty in September 2011

Walking on Spiral Jetty in September 2011

* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

Andre Malraux famously cherished the idea of a museum without walls.  In a way, places like Spiral Jetty are jails without walls.  They are always about time, about how long they can detain or hold you.  I remember the governor of a US prison saying, of a particularly violent inmate, that he already had way more time than he would ever be able to do.  That’s exactly how the Jetty looked – like it had more time than it could ever do – even though, relatively speaking, it had hardly begun to put in any serious time.

Geoff Dyer in White Sands:  Experiences from the Outside World 

Comments are welcome!  

Q: What’s on the easel today?

"A Long Goodbye," soft pastel on sandpaper, 26" x 20"

“A Long Goodbye,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 26″ x 20″

A:  I am putting finishing touches on a small pastel painting called, “A Long Goodbye.”  It’s a smaller, cropped version of a larger piece completed in 2013 called, “The Ancestors” (below).

"The Ancestors" in Barbara's studio

“The Ancestors” in Barbara’s studio

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 220

Lima, Peru

Lima, Peru

* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

 It is the job of the writer to say, look at that.  To point.  To shine a light.  But it isn’t that which is already bright and beckoning that needs our attention.  We develop our sensitivity – to use John Berger’s phrase, our “ways of seeing” – in order to bear witness to what is.  Our tender hopes and dreams, our joy, frailty, grief, fear, longing, desire – every human being is a landscape.  The empathic imagination glimpses the woman working the cash register at a convenience store, the man coming out of the bathroom at the truck stop, the mother chasing her toddler up and down the aisle of the airplane, and knows what it sees.  Look at that.  This human catastrophe, this accumulation of ordinary blessings, of unbearable losses.  And still, a ray of sunlight, a woman doing the wash, a carcass of beef.  The life that holds us.  The life we know.     

Dani Shapiro in Still Writing:  The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life 

Comments are welcome!