Q: Would you speak about how important it was to get back to work after losing your husband on 9/11?

"She Embraced It and Grew Stronger," 2002, the first pastel painting I completed after Bryan was killed

“She Embraced It and Grew Stronger,” 2003, the first pastel painting I completed after Bryan was killed

A:  On September 11, 2001, my husband Bryan, a high-ranking federal government employee, a brilliant economist (with an IQ of 180 he is still the smartest man I’ve ever met) and a budget analyst at the Pentagon, was en route to Monterrey, CA to give his monthly guest lecture for an economics class at the Naval Postgraduate College.  He had the horrible misfortune of flying out of Dulles airport and boarding the plane that was high-jacked and crashed into the Pentagon, killing 189 people.  Losing Bryan was the biggest shock of my life and devastating in every possible way.

The following summer I was ready to – I HAD to – get back to work.  Learning about photography and pastel painting became avenues to my well-being.  I use reference photos for my paintings, so my first challenge was to learn how to use Bryan’s 4 x 5 view camera (Bryan always took these reference photos for me).

In July 2002 I enrolled in a one-week view camera workshop at the International Center of Photography in New York.  Much to my surprise, I had already acquired substantial technical knowledge from watching Bryan.  Still, after the initial workshop, I threw myself into this new medium and continued studying photography at ICP for several years.  I began with Photography I and enrolled in many more classes until I gradually learned how to use Bryan’s extensive camera collection, to properly light my setups, and to print large chromogenic photographs in a darkroom.

In October 2009 it was very gratifying to have my first solo photography exhibition with HP Garcia in New York. (Please see http://barbararachko.art/images/PDFS/BarbaraRachko-HPGargia.pdf).  I vividly remember tearing up at the opening as I imagined Bryan looking down at me with his beautiful smile, beaming as he surely would have, so proud of me for having become a respected photographer.

Continuing to make art had seemed an impossibility after Bryan’s death.  However, the first large pastel painting that I created using a self-made reference photograph proved my life’s work could continue.  The title of that painting, “She Embraced It and Grew Stronger,” is certainly autobiographical.  “She” is me, and “it” means continuing on without Bryan and living life for both of us.

Comments are welcome!

 

Pearls from artists* # 264

Barbara at work, Photo: Marianne Barcellona

Barbara at work, Photo: Marianne Barcellona

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

Science brims with colorful personalities, but the most important thing about a scientific result is not the scientist who found it, but the result itself.  Because that result is universal.  In a sense, that result already exists.  It is only found by the scientist.  For me, this impersonal, disembodied character of science is both its great strength and its great weakness.

I couldn’t help comparing the situation to my other passion, the arts.  In the arts, the individual is the essence.  Individual expression is everything.  You can separate Einstein from the equations of relativity, but you cannot separate Beethoven from the Moonlight Sonata.  No one will ever write The Tempest except Shakespeare or The Trial except Kafka.      

Alan Lightman in A Sense of the Mysterious:  Science and the Human Spirit

Comments are welcome!

Start/Finish of “Survivors,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 20″ x 26,” 2017

 

Erased charcoal underdrawing

Erased charcoal underdrawing

Finished and signed

Finished and signed

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 263

"Alone Together," soft pastel on sandpaper, 20" x 26"

“Alone Together,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 20″ x 26″

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

Making art and viewing art are different at their core.  The sane human being is satisfied that the best he/she can do at any given moment is the best he/she can do at any given moment.  That belief, if widely embraced, would make this book unnecessary, false, or both.  Such sanity is, unfortunately, rare.  Making art provides uncomfortably accurate feedback about the gap that inevitably exists between what you intended to do, and what you did.  In fact, if artmaking did not tell you (the maker) so enormously much about yourself, then making art that matters to you would be impossible.  To all viewers but yourself, what matters is the product:  the finished artwork.  The viewers’ concerns are not your concerns (although it’s dangerously easy to adopt their attitudes).  Their job is whatever it is:  to be moved by art, to be entertained by it, to making a killing off it, whatever.  Your job is to learn to work on your work.

David Bayles and Ted Orlando in Art & Fear:  Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of ARTMAKING

Comments are welcome!

Q: What’s on the easel today?

Work in progress

Work in progress

A:  I am continuing work on “The Orator,” 38″ x 58,” the second pastel painting in my new “Bolivianos” series.

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 262

"Big Deal," soft pastel on sandpaper, 58" x 38"

“Big Deal,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 58″ x 38″

* 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 may have been easier to paint bison on the cave walls long ago than to write this (or any other) sentence today.  Other people, in other times and places, had some robust institutions to shore them up:  witness the Church, the clan, ritual, tradition.  It’s easy to imagine that artists doubted their calling less when working in the service of God than when working in the service of self.

Not so today.  Today almost no one feels shored up.  Today artwork does not emerge from secure common ground:  the bison on the wall is someone else’s magic.  Making art now means working in the face of uncertainty; it means living with doubt and contradiction, doing something no one much cares whether you do, and for which there may be neither audience nor reward.  Making the work you want to make means setting aside these doubts so that you may see clearly what you have done, and thereby see where to go next.  Making the work you want to make means finding nourishment within the work itself.  This is not the Age of Faith, Truth, and Certainty.

David Bayles and Ted Orlando in Art & Fear:  Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of ARTMAKING

Comments are welcome!

Q: Would you elaborate as to how your recent trip to Bolivia is influencing your work just now?

La Paz, Bolivia

La Paz, Bolivia

A:   I consider myself extremely fortunate to have seen a mask exhibition at the National Museum of Ethnography and Folklore when I visited La Paz in May.  Presented as they were against black walls with dramatic spot-lighting, the masks looked exactly like 3D versions of my paintings!  These old Bolivian masks were stunning.

I spent a long time there composing photographs on my iPad.  Immediately I knew this exhibition was a gift because I now had material to keep me busy in the studio for several years.

I have completed the first pastel painting in my new series, “Bolivianos,” and am far along into the second.  I’m looking forward to many more to come!

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 261

Suffolk County

Suffolk County

* 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 think that the sensation and process are almost identical in all creative activities. The pattern seems universal.  The study and hard work,  The prepared mind.  The being stuck. The sudden shift.  The letting go of control.  The letting go of self.

Alan Lightman in A Sense of the Mysterious:  Science and the Human Spirit

Comments are welcome!

Q: What non-art book are you reading now?

Tiwanaku

Tiwanaku

A:  I am reading Kim Mac Quarrie’s, “The Last Days of the Incas.”  It’s fascinating to discover the intricacies of the epic conquest of the short-lived Inca empire.  The book is actually thrilling to read.  Mac Quarrie makes this story come alive.

Last summer I traveled to Peru to investigate the history of the Incas and the civilizations that preceded them.  In May of this year I continued my studies with a trip to Bolivia.  Both trips are proving to be highly inspirational for my art practice. 

Comments are welcome!       

Pearls from artists* # 260

Suffolk County

Suffolk County

* 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 best analogy I’ve been able to find for that intense feeling of the creative moment is sailing a round-bottomed boat in strong wind.  Normally, the hull stays down in the water, with the frictional drag greatly limiting the speed of the boat.  But in high wind, every once in a while the hull lifts out of the water, and the drag goes down to zero.  It feels like a great hand has suddenly grabbed hold and flung you across the surface like a skimming stone.  It’s called planing. 

Alan Lightman in A Sense of the Mysterious:  Science and the Human Spirit

Comments are welcome!