Category Archives: 2023
Pearls from artists* # 575
Barbara’s Studio
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
Creativity is a harmony of opposite tensions… As we ride through the flux of our own creative processes, we hold onto both poles. If we let go of play, our work becomes ponderous and stiff. If we let go of the sacred, our work loses its connection to the ground on which we live.
Knowledge of the creative process cannot substitute for creativity, but it can save us from giving up on creativity when the challenges seem too intimidating and free play seems blocked. If we know that our inevitable setbacks and frustrations are phases of the natural cycle of creative processes, if we know that our obstacles can become our ornaments, we can persevere and bring our desires to fruition. Such perseverance can be a real test, but there are ways through, there are guideposts. And the struggle, which is guaranteed to take a lifetime, is worth it. It is a struggle that generates incredible pleasure and joy. Every attempt we make is imperfect; yet each one of these imperfect attempts is an occasion for a delight unlike anything else on earth.
The creative path is a spiritual path. The adventure is about us, about the deep self, the composer in all of us, about originality, meaning not that which is all new, but that which is fully and originally ourselves.
Stephen Nachmanovitch in Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art
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Q: Do you ever erase the color? Can you do that with pastel? (Question from Hollis Hildebrand-Mills via Facebook)
My “eraser”
A: Yes, sort of. I take a bristle brush and wipe it off. I do this only occasionally, when the sandpaper’s tooth is filled up and the paper will no longer accept more pastel. So I brush off what’s there and then I can start over.
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Pearls from artists* # 574
Barbara’s Studio
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
A creative life is risky business. To follow your own course, not patterned on parents, peers, or institutions, involves a delicate balance of tradition and personal freedom, a delicate balance of sticking to your guns and remaining open to change. While on some dimensions living a normal life, you are nevertheless a pioneer, breaking away from the molds and models that inhibit the heart’s desire, creating life as it goes. Being, acting, creating in the moment without props and supports, without security, can be supreme play, and it can also be frightening, the very opposite of play. Stepping into the unknown can lead to delight, poetry, invention, humor, lifetime friendships, self-realization, and occasionally a great creative breakthrough. Stepping into the unknown can also lead to failure, disappointment, rejection, sickness, or death.
Stephen Nachmanovitch in Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art
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Travel photo of the month*
*favorite travel photos that have not yet appeared in this blog
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Pearls from artists* # 573
In the studio
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
The literature on creativity is full of tales of breakthrough experiences. These moments come when you let go of some impediment or fear, and boom – in whooshes the muse. You feel clarity, power, freedom, as something unforeseen jumps out at you. The literature of Zen… abounds with accounts of kensho and satori – moments of illumination and moments of total change of heart. There come points in your life when you simply kick the door open. But there is no ultimate breakthrough; what we find in the development of a creative life is an open-ended series of provisional breakthroughs. In this journey there is no endpoint because it is the journey into the soul.
Stephen Nachmanovitch in Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art
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Pearls from artists* # 572
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
The use of color to paint the Chinchorro mummies is interesting. According to anthropologist Victor Turner (1970), colors are experiences of social relationships. The use of particular colors in prehistory, then, has meaning even if today we cannot comprehend these meanings. Turner said that white, red, and black are the earliest colors produced by humans and they “provide a kind of primordial classification of reality” (Turner, 1970:90). This color trilogy is associated with reproduction, life, and death. Obviously, in the case of Chinchorros, black and red colors predominated. Black is equated with darkness, like the night, invisible yet present. Black is what is hidden, it is a mystical transition (Turner, 1970:109, 89-73). Black represents death, but not the end of a cycle, not an annihilating, rather a change of status and existence (Turner, 1970:71-72). Red on the other hand is equal to membership, change, blood, and social place (Turner, 1970:90). Red can be associated with life, here and in the afterworld.
The use of colors as symbols is rather universal, but the meaning of each color varies from culture to culture. In western societies black may be worn to symbolize mourning, but on other occasions it signifies relevance. The Yahgan Indians in South America used body painting with intricate patterns of black, white, and red to show their sadness and grief when someone died (Gusinde, 1937). Black was the color to symbolize mourning among the Incas (Montez, 1929:222; Zuidema, 1992:23).
Bernardo T. Arrizabalaga in Beyond Death: The Chinchorro Mummies of Ancient Chile
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Q: You make it look effortless when we know it is not. Would you explain how you started your blog 11 years ago? (Question from Colette C. McBratney via Facebook)
An Early Blog Post, Above
A: My blog turned 11 on July 15th. To learn how to set up, publish, and maintain a blog, I took a class at the International Center of Photography in New York. It was called “The Daily Blog” and that’s where I learned how to work with WordPress.
I decided to use a question and answer format because I had a backlog of material from interviews I had done over the years. During the class, which lasted five weeks, I published blog posts every day. Once the class ended, I cut back to a more manageable schedule of publishing posts twice a week.
Writing about my work quickly became an important part of my creative process. As most people probably know, I am very persistent so these days I just make sure to keep going!
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Pearls from artists* #571
The Studio
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
To put it simply, but accurately, artists are often lost to the world because of their obsessions with their art. They may be just as lost as they prepare to work or incubate a new idea as in those feverish days when they make their final cuts on a film or race toward a publishing deadline. They may obsess about artistic questions and feel bursts of creative energy day or night, alone or in the company of others, in the middle of the work week or on vacation in the Bahamas.
Lost in time and space, the artist may feel more connected to Picasso, Emily Dickinson, Ingmar Bergman, Gertrude Stein, Handel, or Tennessee Williams than to the people in his immediate world. The living past holds extraordinary meaning for him. He travels elsewhere, removing his spirit and attention from the present. He may reside, as he works on his novel, in the childhood of a character, walking the garden paths and living the household dramas there. He may come upon a Rembrandt drawing and find himself wrenched, not to any particular place or time, but just elsewhere, as he experiences the greatness of his traditions, measures himself anew, and dreams again of his future.
Eric Maisel in A Life in the Arts: Practical Guidance and Inspiration for Creative and Performing Artists
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Q: The first pastel painting you see every morning when you arrive at your studio is “Myth Meets Dream.” It must have special meaning. Would you elaborate? (Question suggested by Marlissa Gardner via Facebook)
A: “Myth Meets Dream,” an early pastel painting from the “Domestic Threats” series, is one I have never wanted to sell. It marks the first time I included Mexican folk art figures in my work. In 1992 as a Christmas present, my future sister-in-law sent the two Oaxacan painted wooden figures you see depicted above – the blue winged creature and the red, white, and black figure behind it. The other three figures in this painting are hand-puppets.
Previously, I had been creating elaborate staged photographs in my Alexandria house using stuffed animals and hand-puppets. (The latter were made by a company called “Folk Tails”). I used the photos as reference material for pastel paintings. In other words, rather than work exclusively from life, I mostly looked at these photos while I made the painting. Although I have simplified my process since those early days, I still create pastel paintings using reference photographs.
In “Myth Meets Dream” you can see both puppets and my then new Oaxacan folk art figures. This pastel painting marks an important transition in subject matter and was the start of decades-worth of foreign travel, study, adventure, hard work, and yes, fun. It’s true that “Myth Meets Dream” hangs in my studio and is the first thing I see every morning. It brings back so many precious memories.
Every painting has a story!
If you’re interested to learn more, please see https://barbararachko.art/en/art-market
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Pearls from artists* # 570
Barbara’s Studio
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
One of the main differences between the young girl who drew a line in chalk from the Metropolitan Museum all the way to her home on Park Avenue and the young woman who drew lines on canvas and paper twenty years later was that the latter understood the willfulness that drove the child. She was facing “the monster,” the consuming need to create, which was beyond her control but no longer beyond her comprehension. Helen [Frankenthaler] had long understood that her gift set her apart, and that it would be nearly impossible to describe how and why without sounding arrogant or cruel. “It’s saying I’m different, I’m special, consider me differently,” she explained years later. “And it’s also on the other side, a recognition that one is lonely, that one is not run of the mill, that the values are different, and yet we all go into the same supermarkets… and we are all moved one way or another by children and seasons, and dreams. So that art separates you…”
The separation she described was not merely the result of what one did, whether it be painting or sculpting or writing poetry. Helen said the distance between an artist and society was due to a quality both intangible and intrinsic, a “spiritual” or “magical” aspect that nonartists did not always understand and were sometimes frightened by. “They want you to behave a certain way. They want you to explain what you do and why you do it. Or they want you removed, either put on a pedestal or victimized. They can’t handle it.” Helen concluded that existing outside so-called normal life was simply the price an artist paid to create.
Mary Gabriel in Ninth Street Women
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