See in it What You Will

Musings on the process

Lately I’ve been thinking about how, as an artist, I see my work entirely differently than everyone else looking at one of my paintings.  Love it or hate it or have no reaction at all, the final resolved painting is all that is available for anyone else to see.  

A mostly yellow abstract painting.  A companion to Dappled Shadows.

Dappled Sunlight

A square yellow painting, a companion to Dappled Sunlight.

Dappled Shadows

I’m the only one to have seen a painting from beginning to end and all of the states in between: The good the bad and the messy middle versions.

I remember the genesis of a painting as a simple idea. Whatever the idea might be, it is a challenge that I create for myself in order to solve.

I see the work as a literal blank canvas and the preparations made to it before I begin to paint.

Several large blank canvases, still in their wrapping, leaning against the art studio wall.

I feel the pleasure of seeing the first layers of marks and paint disrupt the pristine white of the canvas.  I see how the work transforms as more layers of material go down and older marks by necessity get covered.  

I remember the mistakes, or rather the actions I took in the making that I didn’t like and that I was compelled to alter.  I see where a painting has given me pause as well as pleasure in the making.  I see where I've tried to control the process and also where I’ve yielded to the act of creating.  

I see where I’ve been decisive in my work and where I've been cautious.  I see where I could have made additions or deletions but didn’t. 

I feel in my work fleeting memories of a story from the audiobook that was playing in my studio while I was working. 

An info graphic:  Being an artist.  The artist experience.

I see the edges of the painting covered with green painter’s tape dripped with splotches of paint. I feel the satisfaction of the reveal as the tape is peeled off and the edges are once again clean and white.

I feel the tinge of uncertainty that accompanies the confidence that a painting requires no more of my time.  

I remember the trepidation when the first coat of varnish is applied, knowing that there is no going back to make any more adjustments.  

I see the time spent contemplating a name for a painting and the delight in landing on just the right one to make it complete.   

I feel the satisfaction in knowing when a painting is well and truly done and I’m excited to let it go.

And only then is it ready for others to see in it what they will.


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Canvas, Bounce and Limiting Beliefs