Self Discoveries via Others

Today was a bit hectic. Running around the city trying to do a bunch of errands while fitting in some much needed art talks and shows.

I don't currently consider myself an artist, primarily because I'm not making work regularly. *Contrary to popular culture - most artists are not drug addicts who don't bathe and laze around in their underwear before throwing paint at a canvas. Most artists are hardworking goal oriented professionals juggling several part-time jobs while making art with most of their spare time. Therefore, it was especially refreshing (albeit a painful reminder to stop having excuses not to paint) to listen to an artist talk and see new pieces by my good friend.

There were several important realizations that formed today as I listened to the artist talk and conversed with the artists and their partners:

As my friend spoke about her work, I realized that I am more drawn to ideas than technique. As someone who studied in the atelier/classical method, it's almost always been about technique for me - how does this figure look? What is the proportion? So on and so forth. But as my friend spoke about the ideas of death, the body, and symbolism (you can see her amazing work here), I realize that most of what I care to paint about can be represented very simply. As she mentioned how she tried to reduce most of the idea of the human body down into its simplest forms (scars, skin), I thought about how often I cripple my own artistic progress by trying to think of some large ways to represent my ideas.

A lot of my formal art training was in the manner of European narrative traditions. Historical scenes such as the Raft of the Medusa are deemed as the highest form of expression. Artists in the 17-19th century competed for the coveted Prix de Rome, which signified the zenith of professional debut for young painters.

Raft of the Medusa by Gericault

This means that my artistic training and its school of thought exhorts me to produce work that resembles the above example. As you can imagine, this is a bit daunting for a young artist just starting out in his/her career. I lack the resources to hire and stage models. I also lack the time and technical proficiency to produce this type of work. This type of painting is probably what keeps me from painting. The more I think about creating this type of work, the less I actually get to work, since I'm already petrified with anxiety.

What interested me during my friend's art talk was how she so articulately wove together all of the themes she had been exploring since one of her first shows. The ideas of mortality, the body, and its decay. We had a great time as an audience participating in a brief discussion, during which we touched upon strange Victorian death rituals such as hair wreaths and death portraits.

Following my friends' talk, another Chicago artist talked about his work, which was primarily abstract and more graphically oriented. A long discussion ensued about his technique, and the gallery owner expounded on how the artist's work was similar/different from other Op Art painters. Although I liked looking at this artist's work, I found the long talk on the technical aspects of his painting (how he created the effects by layering washes etc.) to be incredibly boring. I wanted to know more about the ideas behind his work, and to understand where he is headed in terms of his artistic development outside of technical style. This was when I realized that I primarily use painting as a vehicle through which I can explore the world. And to me, the world is full of mysteries that are interconnected via strange phenomena and by basic elements such as the body.

Op Art by Victor Vasarely

This also brought me to the realization that I had been trying to create my first work in the wrong way. Here I am trying to develop very narratives that are terrifyingly complex (multiple figures in complex background), when really most of how I see the world is through small details. You only have to take a look at my Instagram feed to see this tendency.

With this series of revelations, I now know a bit more about where my work is headed. I think I will start concentrating on smaller details and to focus on what I find interesting rather than trying to construct a huge masterpiece that I do not yet possess the stamina or proficiency to tackle. It's like working out in some way. You start with an isolated exercise or movement that eventually allows you to work up to a more complex series of movements. A dancer starts with a plié or squat. An artist starts with a small study or series of sketches for small paintings. Eventually the artist has developed enough momentum and technical skill to take on larger pieces.

Right now, I need to follow my instincts and paint what I find the most interesting, and somehow weave together all my love of the bizarre and absurd into small pieces that are more vignettes than long narratives. Eventually these vignettes will come together naturally to form the grand narrative (*This is why looking at an artist's work through time is so important and telling). In the mean time, I'll be painting and actually engaged in the process of thinking through ideas and weaving them together, instead of struggling to create a large piece that somehow defines me as a painter (which makes no sense, since when does one piece ever define an artist?).