Blog Archives

Q: You have been a working artist for nearly thirty years. Considering your entire body of work, is there any particular painting that you love or hate?

Barbara's studio

Barbara’s studio

A:  With very few exceptions, I generally love all of my paintings equally.  I do not hate any of them.  Each was the best I could make at that particular stage in my development as an artist and as a person.  I am a perfectionist with high standards – this is my life’s work.  I am devoted to becoming the best artist I can be.   I have never pronounced a work “finished” until it is the absolute best that I can make.  

Comments are welcome!

Q: What is the reality of the art world today? Do people experience it enough?

West 29th Street studio

West 29th Street studio

A:  I cannot comment on the art world today or the experience of other people.  I can only speak for myself.  I am completely devoted to my work; my entire life revolves around art.  When I’m not in my studio creating, I am reading about art, thinking about it, gaining inspiration from other artists and from artistic travel, working out new ideas, going to museum and gallery exhibitions, trying to understand the business side of things, etc.   Art is a calling and I personally experience it enough as my work continues to evolve! 

Comments are welcome! 

 

Q: What’s on the easel today?

Pastel painting in progress

Pastel painting in progress

A:  I am working on an untitled small, 20″ x 26″,  pastel-on-sandpaper painting.

Pearls from artists* # 94

Working on "False Friends"  Photo: Diana Feit

Working on “False Friends” Photo: Diana Feit

* 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 work of art which inspires us comes from no quibbling or uncertain man.  It is the manifest of a very positive nature in great enjoyment, and at the very moment the work was done.

It is not enough to have thought great things before doing the work.  The brush stroke at the moment of contact carries inevitably the exact state of being of the artist at that exact moment into the work, and there it is, to be seen and read by those who can read such signs, and to be read later by the artist himself, with perhaps some surprise, as a revelation of himself.

For an artist to be interesting to us he must be interesting to himself.  He must have been capable of intense feeling, and capable of profound contemplation.

He who has contemplated has met with himself, is in a state to see into the realities beyond the surfaces of his subject.  Nature reveals to him, and, seeing and feeling intensely, he paints, and whether he wills it or not each brush stroke is an exact record of such as he was at the exact moment the stroke was made.

The Art Spirit by Robert Henri

Comments are welcome!

Q: How long have you been working in your current studio?

Barbara in her studio; Photo:  Elliott Jones

Barbara in her studio; Photo: Elliott Jones

A:  I have been in my West 29th Street space for seventeen years, but from the beginning, in the mid-1980’s, I had a studio.  My first one was in the spare bedroom of the Alexandria, Virginia, house that I shared with Bryan and that I still own.  For about three years in the 1990s I had a studio on the third floor of the Torpedo Factory Art Center, a building in Alexandria that is open to the public.  People come in, watch artists work, and occasionally buy a piece of art. 

In April 997 an opportunity to move to New York arose and I didn’t look back. By then I was showing in a good 57th Street gallery, Brewster Arts Ltd. (the gallery focused exclusively on Latin American artists; I was thrilled with the company I was in; the only fellow non-Latina represented by owner, Mia Kim, was Leonora Carrington), and I had managed to find a New York agent, Leah Poller, with whom to collaborate.  I looked at only one other space before finding my West 29th Street studio.  An old friend of Bryan’s from Cal Tech rented the space next door and he had told us it was available.  Initially the studio was a sublet.  The lease-holder was a painter headed to northern California to work temporarily for George Lucas at the Lucas Ranch.   After several years she decided to stay so I was able to take over the lease.  

My studio continues to be an oasis in a chaotic city, a place to make art, to read, and to think.  I love to walk in the door every morning and always feel more calm the moment I arrive.  It’s my absolute favorite place in New York!    

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 86

"Broken," 38" x 58," soft pastel on sandpaper

“Broken,” 38″ x 58,” soft pastel on sandpaper

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

When I’m working from a photograph, a transparency, or direct observation, I am always amazed at how much more I see as the painting progresses.  After I think I have completely perceived a particular area, something else reveals itself.  As the work continues, the level of awareness deepens.  The process takes it’s own time.  I have come to accept that time and not fight it.  I know that when I begin my work, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never observe as much on the first day as I will on the last.  Like life, the development will not be rushed, nor will there be full realization before completion.

Dr. Leopold Caligor, a prominent New York psychiatrist, says that he listens to tapes of recorded sessions with patients, he hears new things and gains deeper insights.  Each time he listens, more information is uncovered.  This process is repeated until understanding is complete.

Audrey Flack in Art & Soul:  Notes on Creating

Comments are welcome!

Q: What’s on the easel today?

Pastel painting in progress

Pastel painting in progress

A:  I’m working on a pastel painting started a few weeks ago.  It has a long way to go.

Comments are welcome! 

Pearls from artists* # 81

"Poker Face," soft pastel on sandpaper, 38" x 58"

“Poker Face,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 38″ x 58″

* 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 creative process remains as baffling and unpredictable to me today as it did when I began my journey over forty years ago.  On the one hand, it seems entirely logical – insight building on insight; figures from my past, the culture, and everyday life sparking scenes and images on canvas; and all of it – subject, narrative, theme – working together with gesture, form, light to capture deeply felt experience.  But in real time the process is a blur, a state that precludes consciousness or any kind of rational thinking.  When I’m working well, I’m lost in the moment, painting quickly and intuitively, reacting to forms on the canvas, allowing their meaning to reveal itself to me.  In every painting I make I’m looking for some kind of revelation, something I didn’t see before.  If it surprises me, hopefully it will surprise the viewer, too.

Eric Fischl and Michael Stone in Bad Boy:  My Life On and Off the Canvas

Comments are welcome! 

Pearls from artists* # 78

Barbara's studio

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.

To me, openings are never what you want them to be.  The excitement, relief, anxiety, and anticipation are too much to process.  There’s no apotheosis, no pinnacle, no turning point.  It’s not like theater, where at the end of a performance people get up and applaud.

Nothing gets created at an opening.  Nothing of artistic merit takes place.  All of that important stuff happens in the studio, long before the exhibition, when you’re alone.  For me, anyway, openings are something to get through, an ordeal to be endured.  The bigger the event, the less I remember it.  I pretty much walk in, and wherever I stop is where I stay.  I paint a grin on my face so fixed that by the end of the evening my jaw is sore.  I remember none of the conversations.  I stand there shaking hands, blindly mouthing, “Thank you.  Thank you very much.”  Then eventually April [Gornick, Fischl’s wife] collects me and we leave.

If, on the other hand, you were to ask me what I remember about making the paintings in a show, that’s a different story.  Imagine touching something, stroking it, jostling it, caressing it, and as you’re doing this, you are creating it.  How you touched it is how it came into existence.  Unlike other pleasures, where the feelings fade quickly as details become blurred, with paintings you remember everything.  Within the details are all the bumps and the friction, the memory of when the creative instinct flowed, when you were distracted or lazy or working too hard.  It’s all there on the canvas.  When I look at my paintings again, years later, even, I remember it all – the victory laps and the scars.

Eric Fischl and Michael Stone in Bad Boy:  My Life On and Off the Canvas  

Comments  are welcome! 

Q: Can you speak about what draws you to the Mexican and Guatemalan figures that you collect?

Shop in Panajachel, Guatemala, Photo:  Donna Tang

Shop in Panajachel, Guatemala, Photo: Donna Tang

A:  I search the markets and bazaars of Mexico, Guatemala, and elsewhere for folk art objects – masks, carved wooden animals, papier mache figures, children’s toys – to bring back to New York to paint and photograph. Color is very important – the brighter and the more eye-catching the patterns are on these objects the better – plus they must be unique and have lots of personality. I try not to buy anything mass-produced or obviously made for the tourist trade. The objects must have been used or otherwise look like they’ve had a life (i.e., been part of religious festivities) to draw my attention. How and where each one comes into my possession is an important part of my creative process.

Finding, buying, and getting them back to the U.S. is always circuitous, but that, too, is part of the process, an adventure, and often a good story. Here’s an example. In 2009 I was in a small town on the shores of Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, called Panajachel. After returning from a boat ride across the lake, my friends and I were walking back to our hotel when we discovered a wonderful mask store. I spent some time looking around, made my selections, and was ready to buy five exquisitely-made standing wooden figures, when I learned that Tomas, the store owner, did not accept credit cards. I was heart-broken and thought, “Oh, no, I’ll have to leave them behind.” However, thanks to my good friend, Donna, whose Spanish is much more fluent than mine, the three of us brain-stormed until finally, Tomas had an idea. I could pay for the figures at the hotel up the block and in a few days when the hotel was paid by the credit card company, the hotel would pay Tomas. Fabulous! Tomas, Donna, and I walked to the hotel, where the transaction was made and the first hurdle was overcome. Working out the packing and shipping arrangements took another hour or two, but during that time Tomas and I became friends and exchanged telephone numbers (the store didn’t even have a telephone so he gave me the phone number of the post office next door, saying that when I called, he could easily run next door!). Most surprisingly, the package was waiting for me in New York when I returned home from Guatemala.

Comments are welcome!