Where Am I Going?
"Part of painting is physical. Another part is intellectual. The most highly prized aspect is intuitive, when it is operative. The percentage changes with each painting. There should be a balance."
—Richard Diebenkorn
The short answer to this question is that I don’t know. Of course, not knowing is part of the process.
In contrast to my previous work, I am allowing myself to be led by the process of making and by the painting itself, by the textures and shapes that appear and are created within the work.
Being open doesn’t necessarily lead to ease or productivity. It can leave me confronted by my own frailties and the ever-present potential to fail.
But failure can itself lead to new directions.
In my psychotherapy practice I have learnt to accept and even embrace failure and most importantly, the value of not knowing. I have come to terms with the fact that I don’t have all the answers. The more I accept this, the more I can stay present to possibility and the potential for change that sits beside each of us in the therapy room. The moment I try to take control is the moment I lose the client.
In Painting it is often impossible to know exactly where it will lead or whether it will end up satisfying me. There is no formula and my aim is to stay true to the impetus that brought me to the canvas.
I get inspired by lots of different things. other artists, landscapes, movies, even clothes and decor. Sometimes a particular colour will jump out at me, repeating itself or finding echoes in my environment.
I sometimes start with a coat of red which I allow to dry. Then everything on top of that layer is influenced by the pure warm colour underneath.
It’s something that oil painters have been doing for centuries and it can create harmony or help the colours to meld together.
Deeper than this, I always felt that the warmth of the initial coat (imprimatura) stood in for blood, for the primacy of the body.
Not having a plan can be scary. Standing in front of a blank canvas is challenging, but it’s also incredibly freeing. I often feel the pull of landscape and am continuously inspired by the beauty of the world.
But this inspiration rarely leads directly to specific depictions or literal landscape paintings. It’s more likely to create a mood and bring me to certain colours or shapes.
Whenever I am confronted by the potential for a horizon line in my painting, I back away. It feels limiting and dread. I admire those who can walk the difficult balance between abstraction & realism in landscape, but it’s not for me. At least not at this stage in my practice.
