I'm back. Processing this whole process thing again. As much as I talk about the power of intuition, there is also a part of my method that begs for analytical observation. I sit on the couch for this part. So, here I am reviewing my decision to work on a smaller scale. It helps me to do this in the middle of things to stay grounded. The balance I'm forever seeking in art and life. This whole desire to go small strikes me as very ironic. Twenty-five years ago, artist friends were beseeching me to work large. I couldn't get my nose away from my tiny little pieces to save my life. Something in me needed that intimacy with the work. A similar thing is going on now. So far, no paint on my nose. Thumbs up.
The work I've started lately are not sketches this time. The idea is to make them as full of weight as my larger work. There is a door trying to open up within a new room in my art house and like a good listener, I'm picking up different methods to help me do that. More specifically, the order of things I do is changing, and a tactile application of paint is becoming important. I'm diving right into thicker paint (not super thick, but more than usual) I'm using my fingers a lot (yes I wash my hands a lot too). I'm using palette knives, the oldest of my old brushes, a plastic roundish tool thing I don't know the name of to push paint with, rags to push paint with. A spray bottle filled with some solvent, oil, and a touch of water to spontaneously spritz with. (just a little bit) Cold wax medium, which equals drier paint. Who knows what else I'll find to try. So far, I'm not complaining too much. Another thumbs up.
This all relates to one of my popular Rants in The Art World to let go of our well laid plans sometimes. I believe, the vision we create in our heads about what we want our work to look like can often trip us up, and limit us. Leaving it open ended allows a new vision to come to light, something perhaps even better than our minds can conjure. It's a subject that is close to my heart. Someone whose work I greatly respect actually stopped painting because they couldn't make a piece like the one they created in their mind. I find that really tragic. Our minds can play tricks on us, including making us feel inferior.
This body of work will still continue on the trajectory of my observations of the strong female within the natural environment, and what the language of paint can offer to the experience of being with a painting. It all relates to the evolution, and perhaps revolution, of my learning as a painter. I'm amazed at how much there is to know.
Here's a detail of one underway. 11x14 on panel.