Blog Archives
Pearls from artists* # 720
“Gatecrasher” (in progress), 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
An artist without a vision is like an individual programmed just to live, breathe fresh air, eat, and then move on. It is that important vision that we see with our mind’s eye and believe in that society cannot live without. The artist with foresight is the one who is responsible for making it possible. Vision encourages us to pursue art and it gives us reasons to live a purposeful life. But without a conscious effort to maintain and focus our vision, some unimportant thing can sway us from our path and persuade the artist to become something else. And without technical skills to clarify what we think is purposeful and meaningful, the artist can be misunderstood.
Samuel Adoquei in Origin of Inspiration: Seven Short Essays for Creative People
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Pearls from artists* # 719
With “Magisterial,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 70” x 50” 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
The secret of success is to find out what your talent is for and then seek to develop the technical abilities you will need to assist you in acquiring the necessary skills. It is here that the secret of success or the forming of great achievements lies for every noble artist, no matter what their medium is. Passion and inspiration will come automatically to assist your noble vision when you broaden your experience and knowledge to become an expert in your particular field, thus helping to improve the lives of mankind. Believing that what you are creating will bring advancement to man’s life will also follow as will hopefulness for the future. Those who benefit from your service, directly or indirectly, will reward you for that which your rare talent has produced and for improving their lives while contributing to the advancement of mankind.
Samuel Adoquei in Origin of Inspiration: Seven Short Essays for Creative People
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Q: Your work has been described as “beautiful but unsettling.” How do you respond to that? (Question from “Pastel, Passion, and Perseverance: An Interview with Barbara Rachko” in .ART Odyssey: Healing)
Barbara’s Studio
A: For me, every painting I make is beautiful. Beauty is vital. I see the figures in my pastel paintings as misunderstood, colorful misfits—archetypes—certainly not terrifying or unsettling. In the studio, what I’m often doing is solving technical challenges: figuring out how to depict feathers in pastel, how to lead the viewer’s eye around the painting in complex ways using detail, contrast, and color. Meanings emerge later, when others look and bring their own perspectives. I never want to dictate interpretation. People should be free to see what speaks to them.
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Q: What’s a moment that really shaped how you see the world? (Question from Bold Journey)
A: On September 11, 2001, my husband, Bryan Jack, was a passenger on the plane that was hijacked and crashed into the Pentagon. Losing Bryan was devastating beyond words. We were newly married, and he was my soulmate.
That day reshaped my life. I learned not to waste precious time because everything can change in an instant. In the studio, I push myself and the pastel medium to new technical heights. When I complete one task, my first thought is always: “What’s next?”
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Q: What makes you lose track of time — and find yourself again? (Question from Bold Journey)
A: When I’m having a productive day in the studio, I’m fully present and absorbed. Working in soft pastel on sandpaper, I become immersed in solving technical problems and improving the painting on my easel. Hours pass unnoticed, and I often need to remind myself to stop for lunch. Nothing exists except the work and my relationship with it. Most artists know this feeling of flow—a state of being that’s both natural and essential to creative work.
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Q: Over your 40-year career as an artist, you have managed to keep presentation, technical, subject matter, conceptual consistencies in your art practice and work. How do you manage to filter out inspirations that might be luring at that moment but do not support your art practice? For example, you master pastel works. There must have been moments when you might have been inspired to make oil works. How do you keep such inspirations aside. (Question from Vedica Art Studios and Gallery)
A: About thirty-five years ago, when my pastel paintings were becoming larger—around 60” x 40”—I had to choose between transitioning to oil on canvas or continuing with pastel. Framing was the main concern. I wasn’t certain large pastels could be framed, and even if they could, the cost might be prohibitive. However, I had already fallen in love with pastel and knew no other medium could offer such vibrant colors or velvety textures. Determined, I resolved the framing issue (art-making is fundamentally problem-solving), committed myself fully to soft pastel, and have continued inventing and refining techniques ever since.
My goal from the beginning has always been improvement as an artist. If an activity doesn’t contribute to my growth—as a person or as an artist—I typically don’t pursue it. Time and energy are finite resources, so I try to use them wisely.
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Q: What makes you just want to run back to the studio and start something new?
Beginnings
A: For nearly four decades, I have always worked in series, which means that one pastel painting leads quite naturally into the next. Considerable thought and planning go into each one before I ever begin, so it would be uncharacteristic for me to just start something new out of nowhere.
That said, my favorite part of the months-long creative process is when I am starting a brand new pastel painting. I get excited each time I begin a new piece because beginnings are full of so much possibility! Soon I will be looking at something I have never created before. I’ll watch it gradually take shape over months and will be challenged to solve unforeseeable problems, to continually refine and improve it along the way. The goal is always, of course, to resolve it into some sort of successful existence. Whatever happens, I know I am about to go on a very intriguing journey that will undoubtedly expand my technical knowledge and make me a much better artist.
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Q: Did you formally study art? (Question from “Cultured Focus Magazine”)
A: My bachelor’s degree in Psychology is from the University of Vermont. I did not formally study art, unless you want to count the several years-worth of drawing and painting classes I took at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. I never went to art school so do not have a bachelor’s or master’s degree in art.
Much later, in the early 2000s, I was compelled to study photography at the International Center of Photography in New York. This is a rather long story.
On September 11, 2001, my husband Bryan Jack, a high-ranking federal government employee, a brilliant economist and a budget analyst at the Pentagon, was on his way to present his monthly guest lecture in economics at the Naval Postgraduate College in Monterey, CA. He was a passenger on the plane that departed from Dulles Airport and was high-jacked and crashed into the Pentagon.
Losing Bryan on 9/11 was the biggest shock of my life, devastating in every way imaginable. We were soulmates and newly married. I have lived with his loss every single day for more than twenty years now. Life has never been the same.
In the summer of 2002 I was beginning to feel ready to get back to work. Learning about photography and cameras became essential avenues to my well-being.
My first challenge was learning how to use Bryan’s 4 x 5 view camera. Bryan had always taken the 4 x 5 negatives from which I derived the reference photos that were essential tools for making pastel paintings. I enrolled in a one-week view camera workshop at the International Center of Photography in New York. Surprisingly, it was very easy. I had derived substantial technical knowledge just from watching Bryan for many years.
After the view camera workshop, I decided to throw myself into learning this new medium, beginning with Photography I. I spent the next few years taking many classes at ICP and learning as much as I could. Eventually, I learned how to use Bryan’s extensive collection of film cameras, to properly light the setups that served as subject material for my “Domestic Threats” pastel paintings, and to make my own large chromogenic prints in a darkroom.
Then in October 2009 I was invited to present a solo photography exhibition at a gallery in New York. Continuing to make art after Bryan’s death had seemed like such an impossibility. I remember thinking how proud he would have been to know I became a good photographer.
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Pearls from artists* # 611
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.
This common participation in the Trinity of Line, Form, and Color has founded a promiscuous fellowship which, while promoting the respect for skill, promotes to a far greater degree the misunderstanding of art. For skill in itself is but a sleight of hand. In a work of art one does not measure its extent but counts himself happiest when he is unaware of its existence in the contemplation of the result. Among those who decorate our banks and hotels you will find many who can imitate the manner of any master, living or dead, far better than the master could imitate himself, but they have no more knowledge of his soul than they have knowledge of their own. We will know how little skill avails, how ineffective are its artifices in filling the lack of true artistic motivation. His “less is more,” is Robert Browning’s famous evaluation of this problem in comparing the imperfections of Raphael’s art to the impecability of Del Sarto’s, “I should rather say that it will be more difficult to improve the mind of the master who makes such mistakes than to repair the work he has spoilt,” Leonardo wrote. Neither Giotto nor Goya exhibited half the skill of Coreggio or Sargent, either in the complexity of their undertaking or the apparent virtuosity of execution. The artist must have the particular skill to achieve his particular ends. If he has more, we are fortunate not to know it, for the exhibition of excess would only mar his art. You may be sure that the artist whose method is muddled betrays less his technical inadequacy than the incoherence of his own intentions.
Mark Rothko in The Artist’s Reality: Philosophies of Art
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Pearls from artists* # 606
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.
The most ephemeral thoughts and feelings are gradually shaped into hard copy that is worked over, painted over, edited, and refined before the public sees it. This is where the sculptor cuts away and polishes the stone, where the painter covers the beginnings of the image with layer upon layer of enriching re-vision.
The muse presents raw bursts of inspiration, flashes, and improvisatory moments in which the art just flows out. But she also presents the technical, organizational job of taking what we have generated, then filing and fitting and playing with the pieces until they line up. We arrange them, cook them, render them down, digest them. We add, subtract, reframe, shift, break apart, melt together. The play of revision and editing transforms the raw into the cooked. This is a whole art unto itself, of vision and revision, playing with the half-baked products of our prior play.
It is essential to perform that secretarial labor in a way that is not mechanical. Editing must come from the same inspired joy and abandon as free improvisation. Stravinsky tells us, “The idea of work to be done is for me so closely bound up with the idea of the arranging of materials and of the pleasures of the actual doing of the work affords us that, should the impossible happen and my work suddenly be given to me in a perfectly completed form, I should be embarrassed and nonplussed by it, as a hoax.”
Stephen Nachmanovitch in Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art
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