Practice

Painting is always fresh. I have painted since I was a kid and yet here I am almost 50 years later still learning about paint, and still engaged. I strive to master technique, but do not believe I will ever master paint. Paint is the master in this relationship, and I follow where it leads. I go into the studio every day with conviction – today I will do better than I did yesterday. And then paint surprises me no matter how much I think I’ve got it ‘figured out.’ Then it is a process of moving through the aggravation of not getting the expected result and, instead, surrender again to where paint wants to go.

One of the essential questions, and I think especially so with monochromes, is how the paint is applied to the surface. I am now actively studying other ways and other vehicles for applying paint which will allow me to work looser and acknowledge the essential messy-ness of paint in preparation for my next series of work. It’s good to be in the studio playing with ideas. A welcome change from the pressure of creating a final work…and constructing a painting is hard work! I have found an artist who makes beautiful Baltic birch panels for me and I am developing a love affair with calcium carbonate.

The end result of this play will be a new series of paintings whose working title is “Seconds and Thirds” based on color theory. More later as the series unfolds.

Knife Study

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Learning German

Right now the two biggest hurdles to my plans to relocate to Berlin are money and bureaucracy. Maybe someone with a better understanding of the whys and wherefores could help me out with this, but I really don’t understand why others get to decide where we are and how long we get to stay there. Got to do with economics and fear most probably. So…research project one: finding out how to stay in Germany beyond my 90-day visa. You can apply for a resident permit allowing you to stay one year, and that is renewable, but it’s still a puzzle to me how to put all the pieces together. One part of me wants to hop the next plane and take it as it comes; the other, more cautious side of my personality, would like to have it all figured out before I hit the ground.

More about this later as I plan to write about the process of getting from here to there in the hope it might help someone on a similar journey. But this post is called Learning German. I’ve been relying heavily on Google Translate built into Chrome. I’ve tried different plugins for Firefox and Safari, my browsers of choice, but haven’t found anything as good. Anyone out there have a tip, let me know. I can learn words, the tricky part is how to put them together. Apparently the Germans have a much different idea about this than us English-speakers. Besides translating government and real estate websites, I recently tried to find some background information on the musician Uwe Zahn under the pseudonym Arovane and discovered a very curious site, arovane.de, which cannot possibly be his website. The second page is all about the joys of having a ‘Balcony facility.’ Here is an excerpt from the translation results:

“The private balcony has become more and more becoming an important location of the apartment. On it you can enjoy the first rays of spring sunshine to take under the protection of umbrellas in the sun, in Hollywood swings wonderfully relax or spend warm summer nights with friends. Many people have discovered the balcony of their apartment for herself and enjoy the free time of the year like being there – mostly on sun loungers, swing chairs remain on balconies while lack of space, mostly a dream. With a beautiful view of the countryside it is not always necessary to spend their holidays away from home. Because even on the balcony you can drink cocktails and dreaming in the sun. Without much effort, it is possible to make the balcony with a beautiful patio furniture such as teak, plastic or aluminum, for personal oasis. Those who want it, the small accessories or give special emphasis to his balcony.”

Yes…even on the balcony you can drink cocktails and who wouldn’t want to give special emphasis to his (or her) balcony?

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The Gift

I place these quotes from Lewis Hyde’s book, The Gift: Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World, here so that I do not lose them. I feel as though the author is speaking directly to me of my practice, informing it and giving it meaning. They reflect, in better words that I could ever write, the quiet experience of time spent alone in the studio when I feel most myself and yet outside my self as something else I do not have a name for moves through me and guides me.

“…when we refuse what has been offered to the empty heart, when possible futures are given and not acted upon, then the imagination recedes. And without the imagination we can do no more than spin the future out of the logic of the present; we will never be led into new life because we can work only from the known.” (p. 252, second Vintage Books edition, 2007)

“Every artist secretly hopes his art will make him attractive. Sometimes he or she imagines it is a lover, a child, a mentor, who will be drawn to the work. But alone in the workshop it is the soul itself the artist labors to delight. The labor of gratitude is the initial food we offer the soul in return for its gifts, and if it accepts our sacrifice we may be…drawn into a gifted state – out of time, coherent, ‘in place.’” (p. 249, second Vintage Books edition, 2007)

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Home

I once was a dancer and a pianist and a painter and a writer, trying them on to see if they would fit. I eventually chose one – painting – and devoted myself to it. I now find I have returned to wanting to do it all again. Music and video and painting, painting, painting. Rid myself of models and heros, scream out loud and greet the rushing force that spins this world, no longer with my head under a pillow, wishing it all away. Willingly enter darkness and come back with stories to tell.

Finding one’s place and putting down roots has much to recommend it. I have tried – in San Francisco, in Santa Fe, in Marfa – yet I am restless and sooner or later my restlessness uproots me like a tumbleweed. Then I look to the next horizon. I have set my sights on something other than this small, dusty burb, yearning for engagement with a larger vision. (Slowly I begin to understand that I carry home with me.)

Like Santa Fe and, before it, San Francisco, there is Marfa and there is the myth of Marfa created in part by the seemingly endless articles in the New York Times. Yes, Chinati is incredible. But incredible also are the greetings and genuine smiles of the three women tellers at Marfa National Bank, impromptu gatherings at the post office, listening to the stories of those for whom Marfa has been home for generations. Marfa was for me a retreat, ironically from the art world as it turned out. A place where I remembered that creating is process, not result and with that remembrance happily tucked into my pocket was able to enter the studio again after an almost three-year hiatus. I am glad Marfa was that place of retreat and reflection. I am now ready to move on.

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Scatter Pieces

From nowhere four cardboard polyhedrons, spray-painted black, appeared on my street, blown here by the strong West Texas wind. I like that I have no idea where they came from or who created them. Every time the wind blows, they move, creating a new installation. Sometimes they are at the east end of the street, sometimes the west. Sometimes they settle into sets of two. A couple have blown across the fence into the large field in front of my house, black against the tawny, dry grass. They seem quite at home, settled against a curb or tree trunk.

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