There’s a blessing in waking up to the perception, that for the most part, people are neither listening to what you are saying nor paying much attention to what you are doing.
I repeatedly catch myself writing variations of this sentiment, and quite frankly, it’s gotten to the point that I’m beginning to wonder if it’s just a mask of false humility worn to persuade myself that it’s better to study and work freely in relative obscurity rather than opening myself up to expectation and being disappointed and/or simply feeling judged a baffoon.
I believe that in obscurity, it’s easier to explore in a manner that allows me to be honest with myself, and that by doing the work that I enjoy. I am free to be flexible in my approach to my work and am able to develop authentically, being pushed and rewarded by my own expectations rather than those of others.
….but still, I suspect it’s bullshit…
I don’t think I really prefer working in obscurity. If given the option, I most definitely prefer the charms of good company, pleasant tempered people that have made a habit of seeking out and exploring unfamiliar ideas. I enjoy games of show and tell and happily stand up to participate. This is exactly why I’m attracted to life drawing sessions, it mixes a social event with the shared experience of making art.
So far, none of us are so serious as to do anything other than noncommittally point out what’s working in each other’s drawings. So there’s that… Even in a group setting, I’m still safely tucked away in obscurity.
There’s an irony in play here that makes me smile just a bit. A year ago, this drawing would have left me feeing selfsatisfied, now… Nope.
I’ve noticed that by simply doing a quick drawing a day, I can easily see what’s working and what needs work (it all needs lots of work, but that’s pretty much just an excuse to do more work). Along with mapping the figure into the frame, the hands and feet are starting to come together and are actually beginning to read as hands and feet. What let me down was the mouth and the bags under her eyes.
Mocha frapp, no drizzle, no whipChia with almond milk… Large
…and a medium Italian dark roast… on second thought, make that a large too.
There was a synchronicity found in an overheard discussion this weekend. The gris of which was an observation that locally, most artists aren’t being seen pulling inspiration from their personal experiences as material for their art work. What is being seen in are artists appropriating images from other artists, artists pulling exclusively from their own imaginations, or artists decorating their worlds with abstraction, but what not being seen are people interacting with their muses. (I’m going to raise my own hand on this too). The irony is, online I’m attracted to those that I see doing exactly this, those that who’s work is based on their lived experience and collaborate with their muse.
I’m going to use this overheard discussion as a sign that it’s time to more actively move away from using other artists photographs to work and study from. It’s time to break away from appropriation by taking full responsibility for creating my own studies and photos to generate my work. Picking up charcoal and pastels was originally motivated by a desire to be able to confidently draw a portrait from life, specifically from the characters around me. Now, it only makes sense to focus more on the people that are right here in front of me rather than keep returning to experiences and people that aren’t mine to claim. In that direction, I need to not just focus on the experience and the people, but an effort needs to be made to formalize a personal sense of compositional aesthetics by being clear with myself with what I want my drawings to do. I feel that a compositional style has to serve the image as well as the ideas being pushed forward, and then from there develop outward. (Defining and outlining these I’m going to save for another day).
On that note, the game is now to make it a priority to turn towards the familiar for inspiration and run with it.
There’s a saying that’s repeated over and over, “Art reflects the mind that creates it.” If you believe this is true (and I do believe it’s true), then what are you seeing reflected in your current body of work?
Are you attempting to meet an unmet need from childhood or resolve a forgotten buried adult trama? Is it about Connection… acceptance… stability… growth… transcendence..?
is it about desire and if so, desire for what? The obvious? Something different? Something not so obvious?
How is any of this showing up?
I know myself better as a function of creating my Art, but I still need to learn to listen to the finished work with my own eyes to understand both it and better understand what is pushing it forward.
So much to learn with so little guidance. The game plan is keep asking myself questions while venturing out and finding possible answers. Everyday, set up a new round of challenges for action and decisions and see where it goes. Lean in and reach.
While it’s usually easy to enjoy the drawing process while I’m sunk deeply into it, it’s usually not nearly as easy to enjoy the finished result immediately after stepping out of the glow of the flow. It is all too easy to zero in, seeing all the marks that were missed and feeling the full fresh weight of unmet expectations.
I believe we are all pretty much on the same page on this. It’s something we can all relate too.
After taking a moment (preferably a great many moments), to step away, and look back at a drawing, it’s usually not difficult to remember the delight that was experienced while working the colors into a drawing. Now looking at it, if it was there in its making, it’s often found in the finished drawing. For me, I’m recognizing that drawing doesn’t need to come across as if it’s a specimen pinned down on a sheet of paper, or a mimemic representation of life. Other artists fill that role much, much better than I do and with vastly more conviction. At this point, I’m comfortable with simply exploring the character of my own personal skill while exploring my agendas, and delighting myself with the pleasure of pushing a pastel across a piece of paper.
So far, it’s as straight forward as this. It’s still a joy based process.