Transformation of an idea...

Old Idea, New Painting

A year or so ago, I did a painting that was sent to the gallery in Charleston that represents me (Mitchell-Hill Gallery). It's title was "Through Gates of Splendor". The painting was inspired by a photo I had of a road through coastal pines (originally taken on a road on the central California coast). Living now in the south, I tweaked the pines and transformed them into gnarled old oak trees. Now it's reminiscent of a road to any number antebellum plantations (pretty tricky, eh?)

Well, I recently had some clients from California and they loved the original painting, but asked if I would be offended if the color scheme was changed to a more "autumnal" feel. I explained that I am NEVER offended when I client gets involved. That's really the fun of a commission -- people can have a hand in their artwork and then it's not just "my" painting -- they have ownership of it as well.

There is this prevailing idea that artists are super-sensitive about their creations (because by and large, people are very reluctant to ask me to change this or that in their painting). The opinion seems to be that since I am an artist, I am probably temperamental (hence the term 'temperamental artist'). "You are the professional, and you painted coastal evergreens and maybe it would insult you to ask for autumn colors (since pines do not turn orange and red, hence the term 'evergreen')." But as an artist, I can look at a beautiful road through Monterey coastal pines and see southern oak trees. Why couldn't we bring autumn's mantle to the trees? That's really the joy of being an artist...you can create.

So NO, I'm not temperamental about taking an idea and tweaking it. I do that myself all the time, and at least in this case...I am extremely please with the result.

"Through Gates of Splendor"

"Autumnal Arms Enfolding"

Hyatt Ridge (26" x 16")

Hyatt Ridge

Last October, my kids were visiting Asheville and one of the days, we ran over to the Bryson City area to go hiking. As we entered Smoky Mountains National Park (on the "Road to Nowhere"), we got to the end of the road (in the middle of...nowhere) and parked the car. After walking through an old abandoned auto tunnel (they ran out of money in the Depression and simply stopped the road project) we started on the trail. The place was silent except for the sound of the wind in the trees and the "crunch" of leaves underfoot. Talk about a source of inspiration. How could I not paint this? This was a perfect day. This painting is my attempt to capture that day last autumn. 

Beginnings II

Makoto Fujimura

 "In the Beginning"

“It’s not where you take things from - it’s where you take them to."  Jean-Luc Godard  

In thinking about my development as a painter, it's a bit like looking at a large pot of stew simmering on the stove: I see chunks of potato, and (oh!) there's a carrot...but what's that red lump? Oh yes, I remember..." There are so many elements that have come together and are still coming together (I'm not dead yet!) to inform and shape what I do. That's what is challenging and really fun about creativity, and I hope I never, ever loose it...that childlike sense of curiosity and awe I feel at seeing something new.  And of those sources of inspiration, some of them really stand out and have radically shaped what you do. 

One of those sources for me is Makoto Fujimura. Fujimura’s work is represented by Artrue International and has been exhibited at galleries around the world, including Dillon Gallery in New York, Sato Museum in Tokyo, The Contemporary Museum of Tokyo, Tokyo National University of Fine Arts Museum, Bentley Gallery in Arizona, Gallery Exit and Oxford House at Taikoo Place in Hong Kong, and Vienna’s Belvedere Museum.  (He's a busy guy.)

His work is really mesmerizing to me. And like the Orthodox icons that got me started painting on metal, he paints on gold leaf using hand-ground pigments and centuries-old Japanese techniques. He paints with amazing color -- sometimes subtle, sometimes intense, but what's cool is that he's taken something ancient and made it new and this encouraged me to do the same (but I obviously went in a very different direction). What I love about his pieces is that though they are abstract and are beautiful in their execution, they mean something. He is so adept at combining deep, spiritual meaning into a piece, and it's fascinating to study his art and try to figure out the meaning (before I cheat and look at the title). His art doesn't just "take you somewhere else" but makes you think and feel. I really like that. 

When I began my own technique several years ago, I tried to take on that symbolism in my work, and believe me, it's not at all easy. My first series was a group of seven large art pieces based on the first week of Creation (each painting symbolizing what happened on that day per the account in the Book of Genesis). Encouraged by the results, I tackled Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, carefully listening over and over again to each of the four movements and trying to figure out how to illustrate a four part piece of music with a set of four paintings. Very challenging. All that was a wonderful experiment, but I eventually ended up returning to abstract and landscape art...but now with new "tools in my tool belt" so to speak.  

So the work I do now, though also painted on metallic leaf, is nothing like Mako's work and you'd probably never guess he has influenced me so greatly, but the idea that art can emotionally draw you in and make you deeply think -- that came from Mako Fujimura. So...thank you Mako!

Beginnings

A New Art Genre is Born

"What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun."   -- King Solomon, Book of Ecclesiastes.

When I see artwork that is unique or hear music that is really different, or taste a really innovative flavor combination at one of our local restaurants, I can't help but wonder, "how did they come up with this?" What was the creative process? What were the steps that led from the conception to completion?

I'm just a painter and I'm still in "learning mode" every day, so I have not "arrived" yet. I am no "art sage". But I have come up with a form of art that is (happily) my own. I call it "dialuminism". I love saying that. It makes me feel smart. You should try it. Seriously, it's a word that basically just means "light passing through" and it's what I call my art genre because that's how it works. I paint on metallic leaf, and so light reflects off that metal and shoots back through the paint, basically creating a back-lit painting.

And as much as I would love to take all the credit for what I do, I think it's time I "fess up": I am not the first to think of painting on metal leaf. The ancient Egyptians started it and the Greeks perfected it. 

I was listening to a TED Radio Hour a couple weeks ago and the subject was Creativity. The point was that there is nothing really, truly unique: All creative ideas build upon previous creative ideas. There is truly nothing new under the sun. What I gleaned from the hour program was that what we "creatives" do is basically take pre-existing "ingredients" (or ideas) and re-mix them into a combination that is itself unique. I can live with that.

So as I consider the steps I've taken, I think I need to confess that I owe my genre to the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus. Now before you dismiss me as a right-wing nut job, let me explain. Around 2002, I was strolling though the Mt. Dora Arts Festival in Mt. Dora. One of the booths was staffed by a gentleman that created Greek Orthodox Icons.  When I approached the booth, the sun was shining down through the ancient oak trees and Spanish moss and striking the surface of countless icons, each painted on gold leaf, and I could not leave the booth. I had never seen color do what it was doing. Turns out, that when you back-light color (with light reflecting off the gold leaf), you amplify that color tremendously. I had seen icons in my art history book in college, but I had never actually seen any in person. What I saw stunned me. When I got home, I began playing with metal leaf and oil paint and I couldn't stop. Today, I paint no angels, or Virgins or baby Jesus's, but every painting I create now began with a spark of creativity launched off the face of an icon.

That was the beginning. But I have two other muses that have spoken into my art. I'll get into them in a future entry.  

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