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Pearls from artists* # 67

Negombo, Sri Lanka

Negombo, Sri Lanka

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

John Robin Baitz:  I was just thinking that you still manage to write with some kind of miraculous hope.

Athol Fugard:  You’ve got to.  Implicit in the act of creation on the part of the artist is:  I make it because I want to share it with you.  At the end of my process you are waiting for me… Pascal says “Imagine a cell in darkness and the inmates are shackled together.  Every morning at dawn, the door opens and the person at the end of the line is taken out and executed and the door is closed.  Those left behind read their fate in the opening and closing of the door every day.  it is a  metaphor of the human condition.”  That is Pascal.

Camus comes to that paragraph and says, “There is no question about it – that is an image of the human condition.  What do we do during those 24 hours between the opening and closing of the door?  Do we cry?  Or do we tap the next person in the chain and say ‘What’s your name?  I’m Athol Fugard.  Who are you?'”  And that’s how we create meaning.  At the end of the process you are waiting.  And that is the act of faith.  That is the hope that every artist has.    

Quoted by Anne Bogart in “and then you act:  making art in an unpredictable world

Comments are welcome! 

Pearls from artists* # 58

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

* 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 remember as a teenager having a group of friends at school and another group whom I spent the weekends with.  I functioned fine until on occasions when I was with friends from both groups at the same time.  Then it became really difficult, because I was used to acting very differently with the two groups.  With one I was the leader, very vocal and outspoken about my opinions.  With the other group I wanted desperately to belong and so I adapted to fit in, which meant not really being myself.

The lack of authenticity is painful.  It applies to all levels of life.  If our voice as a painter is inauthentic, we’re in trouble.  In the end there is nothing so compelling as to be yourself.  This is why being an artist can be so exhilarating.  If you want to uncover your truth, you have a daily technique to come to terms with your limitations and to overcome them.  You have an opportunity to look at the limiting stories you have written in your head and heart and rewrite them with boldness and vision.  The quality of your attention influences how you see things. 

What you put your attention on grows stronger in your life.  Life, if you look around you, whether inside or in nature, is one bubbling mass of creativity.  Recognize we have no shortage of it.  If you focus your attention on what you now decide is fundamental , that quality will grow in your life.  Not what our parents or teachers or friends or media or anybody says or said.  What we now put our attention on will grow in our life.  If you want to paint and put your focus there you will unleash a torrent of energy and enthusiasm.

Ian Roberts in Creative Authenticity:  16 Principles to Clarify and Deepen Your Artistic Vision

Comments are welcome!   

Pearls from artists* # 55

Alexandria, VA

Alexandria, VA

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

Once a work is completed, I have to wait before undertaking another.  The completed work does not release me quickly.  It moves its chattels slowly.  The wise thing then is a change of air and of room.  The new material comes to me on my walks.  Whatever happens I mustn’t notice it.  If I interfere, it doesn’t come any more.  One fine day the work demands my help.  I give myself up to it in one fell swoop.  My pauses are its own.  If it falls asleep my pen skids.  As soon as it wakes, it gives me a shake.  It couldn’t care less if I am asleep.  Get up, it says, so that I can dictate.  And it is not easy to follow.  Its vocabulary is not of words.  

Jean Cocteau in The difficulty of Being

Comments are welcome!

Q: Your pastel-on-sandpaper paintings are very labor intensive. Do you typically have just one in progress at any given time?

Works in progress, soft pastel on sandpaper, 58" x 38"

Works in progress, soft pastel on sandpaper, 58″ x 38″

A:  For many years I always worked on one at a time because I have only one or two ideas – never more than that – about what I will make next.  Also, I believe that “all art is the result of one’s having gone through an experience to the end.”  (It’s on a note taped to the wall near my easel).  So I would work on one painting at a time until all of the problems in it were resolved.  Each piece that I undertake represents an investment of several months of my life and after nearly three decades as an artist, I know that once I start a piece I will not abandon it for any reason.  When it is the best painting that I can make – when adding or subtracting anything would be a diminishment – I pronounce it “finished.”  In the past I would start the next one only when the completed piece was out of my sight and at the frame shop.

But a few years ago I began working on two pastel paintings at a time.  When I get stuck – or just need a break from looking at the same image day after day (I am in my studio 5 days a week) – I switch to the other one.  This helps me work more efficiently.  The two paintings interact with each other; they play off of each other and one suggests solutions that help me to resolve problem areas in the other.  I’m not sure exactly how this happens – maybe putting a piece aside for awhile alerts my unconscious to begin working deeply on it – but having two in progress at the same time is my preferred way of working now.

A note about the painting on the left above, which was previously called, “Judas.”  I happen to be reading “Cloud Atlas,” by David Mitchell and came across the word “judasing” used as a verb meaning, “doing some evil to a person who profoundly trusted you.”  I’d never heard the word before, but it resonated with an event in my personal life.  So the new title of my painting is “Judasing.”  This is a good reminder that work and life are inextricably (and inexplicably) woven together and that titles can come from anywhere!  

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 22

Alexandria living room

Alexandria living room

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

So inclination you see is not lacking, and yet in all probability I shall have to try right here to clamber in the dark and all alone over the crest of the year, so to speak, for disciplinary reasons.  I shall not deserve it otherwise, that is:  I have long wanted to be here all alone, strictly alone, to go into my cocoon, to pull myself together, in short, to live by my heart and nothing else.  Now since day before yesterday I have really been here all alone inside the old walls – outside, the sea, outside, the Karst, outside, the rain, perhaps tomorrow the storm – now must appear what is within by way of counterweight to such great and fundamental things.  So, if something quite unexpected does not come, it may be the right thing to say, to hold out, to hold still with a kind of curiosity toward oneself, don’t you think?  That is how things stand, and if I stir now everything will shift again; and then hearts are labeled, like certain medicines:  shake before taking; I have been continually shaken in these last years, but never taken, that is why it is better that I should quietly arrive at clarity and precipitation…    

Jane Bannard Greene and M.D. Herter Norton, translators, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke 1910 – 1926

Comments are welcome!