Blog Archives

Q: With so many soft pastels to choose from, do you have a way of organizing them so that you can find the color you need?

Barbara’s Studio


A: The arrangement of my pastels evolved organically. I keep them in their original trays. My oldest pastel sets are closer to the easel and the newest ones are the furthest away. After 37 years of experience working in pastel, I am well-acquainted with their individual properties. I know exactly where to find each color based on which manufacturer makes it.

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 582

Working
Working

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

Strange, but the artist has never made a fuss about being denied those estimable virtues other men would not do without: intellectuality, good judgment, a knowledge of the world, and rational conduct. It may be charged, that he has even fostered the myth. In his intimate journals Vollard tells us that Degas feigned deafness to escape disputations and harangues concerning things he considered false and distasteful. If the speaker or subject changed, his hearing immediately improved. We must marvel at his wisdom since he must have only surmised what we know definitely today: tThat the constant repetition of falsehood is more convincing than the demonstration of truth. It is understandable, then, how the artist might actually cultivate this moronic appearance, this deafness, this inarticulateness, in an effort to evade the million irrelevancies which daily accumulate concerning his work. For, while the authority of the doctor or plumber is never questioned, everyone deems himself a good judge and an adequate arbiter of what a work of art should be and how it should be done.

Mark Rothko in The Artist’s Reality: Philosophies of Art, edited by Christopher Rothko

Comments are welcome!

Q: What do you like most about being an artist?

Entrance to Barbara's studio

Entrance to Barbara’s studio

A: I love walking into my studio in the morning, knowing that I will spend the day doing what I love, using all my talents, skills, and experience to solve whatever problems lie ahead in the work. As artists we create our own tasks and then go about solving them. Yes, the day to day challenges are significant, but having the freedom to do meaningful work that we love is priceless.

When I was a Lieutenant in the Navy working at the Pentagon, I was very unhappy (and one doesn’t just give two weeks notice and leave the Navy behind)! I still remember what it was like having a soul-crushing job. I am grateful for this turn in my life journey.  How much better life is as a professional artist!

Comments are welcome!

Q: This portrait has an interesting story. Can you explain? (Question from Anna Rybat via Facebook)

“John,” Soft Pastel on Sandpaper, 22” x 26” (image), 1989.
“John,” Soft Pastel on Sandpaper, 22” x 26” (image), 1989.

A: “John” was one of several portraits I made of friends in 1988-90 to build up my portfolio for the portrait company I worked for when I left the active duty Navy. I had gifted it to John Breeskin, the psychologist/friend pictured.

When he died, someone sent it back to me. (I hadn’t known he died). I must have not been working that day so for some reason, it was delivered to a print studio on another floor in my building. When the printer moved out, he found it and got in touch with me. By that time he had had “John” for more than a year and never bothered to tell me! The packaging had been removed so I have no idea who sent it or where exactly it came from.


Comments are welcome!

Q: What’s on the easel today?

Work in progress

A: I continue working on “Apparition,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 58” x 38” (left) and “Narcissist,” 20” x 26,” soft pastel on sandpaper (right).

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 568

Working on “Raconteur”
Working on “Raconteur”

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

Some people say they work best under pressure, but working under pressure is a bit of a fallacy. It’s not waiting till the last minute that gives you the good work; it’s the focus that’s required when you wait till the last minute that brings about the good work. So think of it this way: your focus is the center of your brilliance; why not avail yourself of that brilliance on a regular basis? Everyone has her own rhythm, but if you don’t like the fact that you procrastinate, one way to get out of it is to think what the alternative is. The alternative is, instead of trying to do a month’s work in a few intense days in the studio, to give yourself the pleasure of yourself in flow, in focus, on a regular basis.

Anna Deavere Smith in Letters to a Young Artist: Straight-Up Advice on Making a Life in the Arts for Actors, Performers, Writers, and Artists of Every Kind

Comments are welcome!

Q: Why do you work in series?

Bolivianos” paintings in progress and on the walls and floor

A:  I don’t really have any choice in the matter.  It’s more or less the way I have always worked so it feels natural.  Art-making comes from a deep place.  In keeping with the aphorism ars longa, vita brevis, it’s a way of making one’s time on earth matter.  Working in series mimics the more or less gradual way that our lives unfold, the way we slowly evolve and change over the years.  Life-altering events happen, surely, but seldom do we wake up drastically different – in thinking, in behavior, etc. – from what we were the day before.  Working in series feels authentic.  It helps me eke out every lesson my paintings have to teach.  With each completed piece, my ideas progress a step or two further. 

I remember going to the Metropolitan Museum to see an exhibition called, “Matisse:  In Search of True Painting.”  It demonstrated how Matisse worked in series, examining a subject over time and producing multiple paintings of it.  Matisse is my favorite artist of any period in history.  I never tire of seeing his work and this particular exhibition was very enlightening. As I studied the masterpieces on the wall, I recognized a kindred spirit and thought, “Obviously, working in series was good enough for Matisse!”    

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* #561

“The Mentalist,” Soft Pastel on Sandpaper, 26” x 20” Image, 35” x 28.5” Framed
“The Mentalist,” Soft Pastel on Sandpaper, 26” x 20” Image, 35” x 28.5” 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 most powerful symbols draw profound reactions from us. The symbolic images in great art attract and fascinate us; they stir our souls and move us beyond what can be easily expressed; ‘their pregnant language cries out to us that they mean more than they say.’

The unconscious produces symbols as part of a natural process within us. These images emerge out of the context of our lived experience… Jung saw the meaning-making process as one that not only requires attendance to the real context of our lives and history, but also involves profound inner listening. It asks us to use our rational capacities, but also our feeling and imaginal ones.

Symbolic images redirect our psychic energy, bringing together conscious and unconscious material and producing the lessening of conflict. In this way, they activate a transcendent function within the psyche. We experience this as the discovery of personal meaning and healing. This transformation is not the result of formulaic operations, but rather is a dynamic process that requires our authentic and vulnerable participation. The process challenges the whole of who we are and requires deep moral effort. That the unconscious would produce moving, powerful compensatory symbols inside us at all points to a fact that our culture may not have fully grasped – that there is a force working within us which is always driving us towards healing growth and greater consciousness… Despite our suffering, the psyche is always ultimately seeking both a healthy homeostatic balance and our ever-unfolding growth and unique development.

Gary Bobroff in Carl Jung: Knowledge in a Nutshell

Comments are welcome!

Q: What is your best advice for new artists?

Recent pastel paintings in progress


A: I would say to remember that artists work from our hearts. Well-meaning people will give you unsolicited, contradictory, and confusing advice about what to paint, how to paint, etc. Artists must learn to ignore most of it and listen to our hearts. Continue working from a place deep inside you and you will always stay on the right track.

Comments are welcome!

Q: It must be tricky moving pastel paintings from your New York studio to your framer in Virginia. Can you explain what’s involved? (Question from Ni Zhu via Instagram)

“Impresario” partially boxed for transport to Virginia

A: Well, I have been working with the same framer for three decades so I am used to the process.

Once my photographer photographs a finished, unframed piece, I carefully remove it from the 60” x 40” piece of foam core to which it has been attached (with bulldog clips) during the months I worked on it. I carefully slide the painting into a large covered box for transport. Sometimes I photograph it in the box before I put the cover on (see above).

My studio is in a busy part of Manhattan where only commercial vehicles are allowed to park, except on Sundays. Early on a Sunday morning, I pick up my 1993 Ford F-150 truck from Pier 40 (a parking garage on the Hudson River at the end of Houston Street) and drive to my building’s freight elevator. I try to park relatively close by. On Sundays the gate to the freight elevator is closed and locked so I enter the building around the corner via the main entrance. I unlock my studio, retrieve the boxed painting, bring it to the freight elevator, and buzz for the operator. He answers and I bring the painting down to my truck. Then I load it into the back of my truck for transport to my apartment.

I drive downtown to the West Village, where I live, and double park my truck. (It’s generally impossible to park on my block). I hurry to unload the painting, bring it into my building, and up to my apartment, all the while hoping I do not get a parking ticket. The painting will be stored in my apartment, away from extreme cold or heat, until I’m ready to drive to Virginia. On the day I go to Virginia, I load it back into my truck. Then I make the roughly 5-hour drive south.

Who ever said being an artist is easy was lying!

Comments are welcome!