Sometimes, there’s a moment in a painting where everything appears so perfectly balanced and correct that time stops. It makes me skip a breath and stop cold. I am keenly aware that the painting isn’t finished but I am frozen with fear to continue. What if I disturb this balance? What if I can never achieve this supposed perfection again?

This has happened to me a few times in the last couple of weeks and I have wondered what if I just stop and don’t continue. Will I still believe in this mythical perfection after a few days of gazing at the canvas? The painting above I stopped and haven’t touched it for a while. The jury is still out. I don’t feel compelled to paint yet but at the same time it doesn’t seem complete. I wonder where this will lead.

I turned all my canvases to the wall (as per the advice of Joan Mitchell). I took out a fresh canvas and went at it. I was tempted to peak a few times but I resisted.  Magenta, Indian Yellow, Light Green, etc., all going on the canvas. Lots of breaks, lots of hours, just following pure instinct. I tried hard not to think about much. Just went into the “no brain zone.”

When I was done, at first, I was disappointed because I felt like I had created another one that was too similar to the last few. But then, I flipped over the one that I thought I had repeated. It was similar, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t trying to be a copy of a previous painting. The new one stood on it’s own. I had inched along the path of progress even if it was just a bit.

Joan was right. She might have been a quite difficult but she certainly knew what she was talking about when it came to painting. I somehow felt a little bit close to her despite her being gone for 20 years.

My art hero, Joan Mitchell always gave the advice to other artists to turn their completed canvases to the wall. I have a hard time doing this. I like to feed off of my last creative high. I’m wondering if that’s a good thing. It seems to inspire me for a few paintings and then I end up hating that style and then I can’t make a solid judgement about the current painting. I’m in love for the first new work, the second work is usually nice and the love continues… then half way through the third painting I’m ready to kick my new lover out of bed with disgust! It’s a vicious cycle that keeps spinning. I beginning to wonder if isolating myself from my last work would break the spell. I’m in hate mode right now so I have to start new.  When I fall in love again I’m hoping I can remember to take some distance and not let my new love burn out in a fireball!

Above is my last work that falls into the category of the third of three. I am turning them all to the wall and starting fresh! Here we go again!

The artist’s process is usually quite fascinating to most who have a genuine interest in art. I was watching an interview with an artist (ok, it was Joan Mitchell, again) and they asked her “What happens to you when you paint?” She half smiled and said “My hands get pretty dirty.” It made me think about what happens to me when I paint. Could I answer that question any better?

I open a new canvas, usually, unless I’m feeling very austere, then I gesso an old one. I prop up the canvas on the easel and then stare at my colors for a while. I eventually paint something but I don’t know what happens from the staring at the paint to the final painting. If I didn’t take the occasional video of the process I’d have no idea. And to be truthful it always seems as though I’m watching a stranger when I review the video after. I don’t know who that person is that is painting. For example, I’m in love with my last painting (above) and the more I stare at it, the more intimidated I become. I can’t compete with “her”, the one who painted it. Pretty nutty, huh?

I feel grateful for how this last painting turned out. Today, I will be trying to get up my nerve to sit in front of my paints and see if I can’t get that “girl’” to come out again

Very labor intensive to mold and hand paint thousands upon thousands of seeds.  Then of course, they show Ai Weiwei walking on the seeds at the show in London and I was just dying to feel the seeds and walk on them myself.  I wanted to touch these seeds, maybe even put a few in my pocket.

So, I read that the seeds were coming to NYC. The opening was this past Saturday. I dragged my poor husband to see the “Sunflower Seeds”. Of course Ai Weiwei wasn’t there since he can’t leave China anymore because the Chinese government is so mad at him.  I was going to have a few seeds for myself. I was going to at least be able to feel them, right? It was a giant gallery room typical of the Chelsea scene. There was a big rectangle on the floor with the seeds neatly placed about 2 or 3 inches high. 30 Or 40 people were all milling around looking at these seeds. A security guard was standing there to make sure you didn’t touch those precious seeds. Maybe I’m just not enlightened enough, not artsy enough, but I was so hyped up for the concept that the execution left me rather deflated. On some level, I guess it made sense. If those seeds represent the Chinese people, then it makes sense that we can’t touch them, but only look at them from a far. I wonder if that was Ai Weiwei’s original intention.  I still wanted to put some in my pocket…

What a week of seeing art! I saw the last paintings of Joan Mitchell at Cheim & Reed. I saw two shows of photographer Vivian Maier (Steven Kasher Gallery & Howard Greenburg Gallery). I saw the Willem De Kooning retrospective at the MOMA.

The Joan Mitchell show touched me in it’s clarity of color and line. After reading her biography it was even more mystifying how someone with such “issues” could paint so beautifully. Maybe it’s true that you need pain in order to express in such a poetic way. http://www.cheimread.com/publications/joan-mitchell-the-last-paintings/

The Vivian Maier story is just so fascinating. http://vivianmaier.blogspot.com/
The nanny with the camera and no one ever saw her photos until now.

The De Kooning retrospective was fabulous with the exception of the gazillon people that were there with me viewing it at the same time. I need to remember to go on a weekday morning, not on the last weekend of the exhibit. His painting was so fabulous. I’m not a big fan of his 50s work with the woman series but his later abstracts are just breathtaking. His combination of color is unmatched. As I was reading about his life, I learned his first aspiration was to be a commercial artist. He was working as a house painter at the time, making $25 a day. He finally got his dream job in commercial art and at the end of the week he got a $25 paycheck for the week!! He quit on the spot and went back to house painting. That really made me feel like I wasn’t the only one who thought commercial art isn’t worth it!

I also read a review of Damien Hirst by Jerry Saltz http://bit.ly/woLyJT

If that guy can make money from their art anyone can.  What a load of …. anyway, I’m fired up for the new year and looking forward to creating my best work yet. I’m looking into getting a solo show somewhere. I’ve applied to a few places so fingers crossed and if you have any hot leads please pass them along.

Cheers and Happy New Year!

The last few weeks have been a struggle for me to get into my studio and paint. I have been trying to figure out why. I know it’s a different space since I’ve moved. It’s brighter with windows all around. I’m upstairs next to the living room. My time to paint has usually been at night but I just don’t find myself painting at night in the new space. I finally concluded that it was a lack of being isolated and being able to get into my own head space. The other night, I put my headphones on and just rocked out. I felt alive again just from blocking out the world. I painted and painted and it felt so good. The only way to explain the feeling is listening to your favorite song and driving a bit too fast. My heart pumps, my breath gets shallow and I feel alive. Glad I figured out what it was that was inhibiting me.

Now to get back to work!!

I’ve been slowly plugging along reading the life of the abstract impressionist painter, Joan Mitchell. It’s been a tough read since her life was filled with turmoil and alcoholism. She painted beautifully but lashed out at everyone around her. She was filled with a self destructive rage. She longed for love, marriage and children yet she sabotaged it at every turn. Her painting kept going despite all the drama she created. The turmoil and the painting where her two constant companions.

I often wonder about successful women and how marriages and families allude them. Georgia O’Keeffe, Joan Mitchell, Martha Stewart, Oprah Winfrey, off the top of my head, and I’m sure I could research more. I read this awful quote “There has never been a first-rank woman artist. Only men are capable of aesthetic greatness. Women make up 50 per cent or more of classes at art school. Yet they fade away in their late 20s or 30s. Maybe it’s something to do with bearing children.” by Brian Sewell in 2008, a highly respected art critic for London’s Evening Standard. Can you you even believe that crap?

So, as I feel full of energy and motivation to start the new year, I wonder what affect having children, a husband and a house are having on my creativity and my art career.   Would those “successful” women without a family give it all up to have a husband and a child? And would the women with the  children and the husband give it all up for fame and fortune?  Perhaps the definition of success is different for each person. But why should women have to choose? Are they even choosing? It seems like men still do whatever they like and marriage and family doesn’t seem to weigh on them in the same way. What do you think?

I had started this painting in Connecticut. I didn’t have time to finish it before I left to come back to NJ. It’s been in storage at my mom’s house for the last two months after our move. I started to putter around with it, having no idea which direction I was going in. My mind was lingering on Monet. My english teacher in high school had a poster up of Monet’s garden in Giverny. Bored out of my mind I used to stare at that poster. I would find myself living in that painting. Not sure why I was thinking about that but when I stepped back from what I thought was an abstract, I saw a beautiful landscape with trees, water, sky and maybe a few goldfish.

I’m thinking I need to explore this more.

Amnesia. 36 x 36. Acrylic on Canvas.

I’m currently obsessed with Phtalocyanine Blue. I used to think it was unnatural but now I just adore it. I can’t get enough of it next to yellow. It just makes me so happy to see it at it’s darkest and then lighten when mixed with water. It seems so mysterious and magical as it changes depth on the canvas. I can get lost in a color for a while. I’ll have to try a few different brands of paint in this color to see if they hold the same magic. Almost time for another trip to the art store!