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Pearls from artists* # 328

Barbara in her studio, Photo: Izzy Nova

Barbara in her studio, Photo: Izzy Nova

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

An artist’s words are always to be taken cautiously… The artist who discusses the so-called meaning of his work is usually describing a literary side-issue.  The core of his original impulse is to be found, if at all, in the work itself.  Just the same, the artist must say what he feels…

I want to explain why I did the piece, I don’t see why artists should say anything because the work is supposed to speak for itself.  So whatever the artist says about it is like an apology, it is not necessary.

I never talk literally; you have to use analogy and interpretation and leaps of all kinds…

I am suspicious of words.  They do not interest me, they do not satisfy me.  I suffer from the ways in which words wear themselves out.  I distrust the Lacans and Bossuets because they gargle with their own words.  I am a very concrete woman.  The forms are everything…

With words you can say anything.  You can lie as long as the day, but you cannot lie in the recreation of experience…        

Louise Bourgeois:  Destruction of the Father, Reconstruction of the Father: Writings and interview 1923-1997, edited and with texts by Marie-Laure Bernadac and Hans-Ulrich Obrist

Comments are welcome!

Q: In the “Black Paintings” you create a deep intellectual interaction and communicate a wide variety of states of mind. I admit that certain “Black Paintings” unsettle me a bit. I see in this series an effective mix between anguish and happiness. Rather than simply describing something, these paintings pose a question and force us to contemplation. Can you talk about this aspect of your work?

"The Storyteller," soft pastel on sandpaper, 20" x 26"

“The Storyteller,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 20″ x 26″

A:  I’m sure you and other viewers will see all kinds of states of mind, like anguish, happiness, and everything in between.  I think that’s wonderful because it means my work is communicating a message to you.  Sometimes people have told me that my images are unsettling and that’s fine, too.  I would never presume to tell anyone what to think about my work.  As one reviewer put it, “What you bring to my work you get back in spades!”  

Some of this is intentional, but some is not.  My day-to-day experiences – what I’m thinking about, what I’m feeling, what I’m reading, the music I’m listening to, etc. –  get embedded into the work. I don’t understand exactly how that happens, but I am glad it happens. This work does come from a deep place, much deeper than I am able to explain even to myself. After nearly three decades as an artist, the intricacies of my creative process are still a mystery. Personally, I am very fond of mysteries and don’t need to understand it all.  

Comments are welcome!