In Trouble Again

Every time I fall into an inspiration slump and start feeling like I have to produce, I get into trouble. I start forcing myself to paint just to up the number of finished canvases for the month. (Ahhh… well-trained by an industrial society, eh?) Then, just because "I've gotta have more to show," I start new paintings I never would've started otherwise. That's what I did yesterday… twice… tearing up the first because I'd become so frustrated with it.

From the past I've learned that whenever I get into that certain 'danger zone' - an inspiration slump - which can be felt sometimes both physically and mentally - it's best not to try to finish anything started when the muses were kinder, gentler. If I do, I make a complete mess of whatever it is I work on. So now, when I can recognize on some level what's happening. I'm in the habit of starting new paintings.

So that habit is in my favor, I 'spose.

But worse than starting paintings I'm not 'inspired' to paint, I start scheming to find ways of upping my "production," like painting from photos I find over the internet rather than finding models of my own - purposefully using someone else's composition - which, by the way, I consider stealing when my thinking is clearer. Or I start thinking of ways to streamline the "production" end of things like tracing, using a grid-matrix on top of the canvas to control proportions, or a projector to project a photograph onto the canvas, which I could then just simply paint over. But the all-time kicker of painting on top of an image preprinted with an inkjet - something I read once of a guy doing, and raking in some pretty substantial bucks over eBay with his work - is what? art?

I'm not gonna touch that whole 'art vs. not art' issue with a ten-foot pole. I have my standards and other people have theirs, which is basically another way of saying, "Not for me."

It's harder to translate what's seen in a 3D world into two dimensional shapes on canvas without using mechanical aids… but what do you learn by using them? other than learning to use them well? becoming dependent on them rather than improving eye-to-hand coordination? like I was taught I should do.

But I'm off topic now.

I get into trouble when I think I've got to produce no matter what. And that's when all those shortcuts start looking good.

I slept well last night, prolly for the first time in about a week or more, and woke up with the renewed understanding that art isn't a commodity like a bushel of corn, or something you can churn-out at the end of an assembly line, whether you're 'inspired' to do it or not. And with that understanding came one hellova lotta compassion for myself and the predicament I'm in.

No, I don't have to produce simply for the sake of production numbers. No, I don't have to resort to using mechanical aids just to increase efficiency. And no, I don't have to paint when I'm not inspired to.

I'm sure all of that just bugs the hell out of anyone geared to think exclusively in numbers, but then, those are the same people who'd think that the value of a painting is in how closely it matches their livingroom sofa, (rather than the extent to which it 'moves' them), or who look at art solely as a monetary investment. I know, as an artist, I can't be bothered with any of them, just as I can't be bothered with anyone looking for a bargain.

It all boils down to integrity, not only being true to the art and its rendering, but also to the value it potentially offers society. From that perspective, I can't afford to allow lesser values to influence me or to dictate when, how, or how much I paint. If I do, my art will no doubt slip into mediocrity, speak less and less to anyone, and, over time, won't be valued any more than the mass-produced "wall décor" bought at WalMart and hanging in most American homes.

Now, as far as that inspiration 'slump?'

Welp, having been through that before, I know these slumps always pass, just as inspiration passes, eventually. I'm also thinking they're all a necessary part of the creative process - kinda like a needed 'time-out' or something. (Authors have their writer's block, artists have their slumps or 'blank canvas syndromes.') Now, just how long they seem to last seems to be directly influenced by just how hard you fight against 'em.

The trick then, for me, now, remains a matter of a certain surrender.

Hmmm… how 'bout that?

Wish me luck.

Until next time…


Cheers!

Surprised

Just massaging the shapes now. (Yeah, I know. This is the fourth painting I have "in the works.")

You know, I'm always surprised when it actually starts to look like something.

Maybe I shouldn't be.

'Spose I'll grow out of that sooner or later… come to expect it.

In a way I hope I don't.

The reason the idea/inspiration - whatever it was that came to me, (to paint this), I spose, was the weather we've been having lately - kinda windy but warm and overcast at the same time. When it's like this, I always remember surprising a young buck out by the barn one day.

Deer aren't generally in the habit of wandering up so close to the house, but when they do, you're reminded of how big they are… and magnificent.

Anyway, it was just before dark and he was busy munching something on the ground beside the bunkhouse - prolly mulberries - and I was headed to the stalls at the rear of the barn. I came around the front of the barn, not paying much attention to much of anything, except where I was headed, wondering if I'd find what it was I was after. And you know when you get that feeling that something's out of place? or someone's watching you? or there's someone there that shouldn't be, or something? I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly looked over toward him. At the same time he raised his head and there we were, face-to-face, staring at each other, maybe twenty-five feet apart.

He didn't get spooked until I had the bright idea of getting my camera from the house to take a picture. I tried to retrace my steps backwards but as soon as I moved, he took a little jump forward, turned, and was halfway across the field.

Pretty cool.

Trying

Well, painting wrinkles isn't 'zactly fun. Especially if they're yours! :) But prettying myself up isn't the name of the game either.

Okay, so! with that in mind, I'll try not to slide back into playing those old games of trying to be something I'm not, and try to keep a sense of humor about me.

The crow's-feet on my right eye, (pictured on the left), need to be deeper, and the shape of that eyelid is wrong. Plus the wrinkles at the corner of my left eye need to be rounded a bit more.

Easy fixes all.

(It's gotten to the point where differences between takes will be harder to spot, so the next image I'll post will be of the final painting.)

Cheers!

The Little Death

It's colder in the studio today - expected since the temps got below 40 last night. So before coming out, I'd pulled on some long-sleeve thermals.

Even before I flipped on the overhead lights, I could see from the light shining-in from the front that the skin I'd painted the day before was too pink, the whites of my eyes, too blue.

'I'll have to check myself in the mirror again.'

I suspect that as the paint dried overnight, it changed in its color intensity - something I've yet to get a good bead on… remembering that the acrylic suspension of pigments is whitish before it dries clear - something that gives wet paint a tinted, less intense appearance before it dries. It's still maddening to find out 'you've done it again.'

The blue will be a slam-dunk to correct, being such small areas. The pink, well, that's another matter.

Studying the painting today - after trying to take a break from everything the whole day yesterday - I still feel exhausted, and hardly up to working on it again.

'I put too much into it,' I think. 'Too much,' and wonder again if what I've been told is true. If it is, then whatever it is that's drained out of me ends-up on the canvas.

'A little death.'

It's not like that with everything I paint, only the ones I care about. And I suppose it shows in the paintings. It does to me. But then, I know what it took for each and every painting… which ones count and which ones don't… which ones I'd find hard to part with, and the ones I can't wait to get rid of.

This one is important, but I wonder if it should be any more important than any of the other paintings. It was meant, after all, to be just a study, to see if I could do something before I did the "final." But so was "Blue Hunger," and like that one, this one's already crossed that boundary. It holds more potential than merely an exercise in painting technique.

It should be at the end of the Exigency series, the end of the exhibition - the end of the story - the last one anyone sees. And so I wonder too if it should be my eyes or someone else's - the eyes of someone else with more wisdom, more peace with the truth, more understanding and compassion, more courage… and less fear.

Time to paint again.

Purple?

['The Locomotion," (Grand Funk), plays on the computer, LOUD, Set to 'repeat play.']

'I'm hungry.'

'That'll wait.'

'I'm sleepy.'

'That'll wait too, you old fool.'

'More depth around the eyes… below the brow especially… a bit more shape to the lower eyelids too.'

'Still look like a deer in the headlights. This is crap.'

'There's actually a bit of purple in my eyes. Huh, how 'bout that?'

'Just paint what you see, Jeff. Just paint what you see.'

'I'll be damned. The whites of my eyes aren't really white anymore. Eeeee. Kinda sick lookin'.'

'They say some people can tell why a person's sick just by looking at his eyes. Hmmm… feel good, so prolly nothing wrong. Prolly just the lighting.'

'Just paint what you see. Just paint what you see.'

[Stands back to look.]

'Kay… I like that. Huh, even starting to look like me.'

[Does a little dance to the music.]

'I'm happy. This is why I do this.'

'Time to wrap it up for a bit.'

Gonna maybe have a little snack and a little nap before returning.

Soon.

Cheers!

Windows

More Burnt Sienna goes onto the palette.

'Careful. Not too much. You'll need what's left for the big canvas.'

'Wish it covered better. Hate having to paint over and over it again.'

'Where are the corners of my eye? There. We'll say there… and there. 'Everything goes out from there.'

'God my eyes are bloodshot.'

'Shape of the eyes seems right. Is my nose that wide? Seems so.'

'Lessee… Put in some eyebrows, sink in the eyes with a bit a shadow… add some shape to the head. Put in some wrinkles for reference.' [Smiling.]

Sweater goes back on. Sleeves get pulled up. Another look in the mirror.

"Lookit all those wrinkles. 'Vanity?' Yeah, right. More like 'reality check.'"

'I'm getting old, aren't I?'

I stand back and look.

'I look scared or startled or something, but I'm not. Naw, just more shading and wrinkles around the eyes are needed is all.'

'This looks like crap. The colors are all wrong.'

'Keep going. It'll all work itself out.'

'The eyes… windows to the soul,' I've heard.'

'Spose they are.'

Sweater comes off again.

'Time to switch to a smaller brush.'

The Eyes Go On

Turn the lights on. Chilly. Turn the floor heater on. Point it to the easel.

'Be paying 300 buck-a-month gas bills again soon.'

Take off my sweater and toss it to the desk. Squeeze more white onto the palette. And red.

'Will be needing that again.'

Stand back.

'God, my skin is pink. I hate pink. Nevermind. It'll match someone else's couch… somewhere.'

'Where to start?'

'Spose if I did abstraction, impressionism - whatever it's called - I'd stop here. Make the paint thicker and call it a day. Twenty minutes tops. Could do three or four a day that way. Rake in the dough.'

"Proportions, Jeff. Proportions."

I measure the distance between my eyes in a mirror. Some quick math. The canvas is 20 inches wide. My head, what? about 6 inches wide?

"We'll put the pupils 9½ inches on center… right about there. And there."

'Too blue or somethin'. My eyes aren't that blue. Too thin too.'

'There, that's better.'

'I still think self-portraits are self-absorbed. Vain. What'd that article say? "…in the absence of other models… "'

' 'Spose. Get over it. I just wanna see if I can paint eyes like that other guy.'

'Then there's that reminder… I need… '