I am starting a new big painting. I have been painting almost daily. There has been a shift in my dedication to my studio practice. I feel that I have never taken it this seriously. I feel extremely dedicated and motivated, as though it weren’t any longer a question about whether I want to work or not, or whether I’m in the “mood” as before. It just is. I do it.
And I love it. I feel so fulfilled. This, and exercise, is really my life right now. Work is there too. I work three half days a week and it is manageable. I make enough money to support myself.
Last night I met with the gallery director of the gallery I’ve been in conversation with for some months. We agreed he’d come and do a studio visit in September. I am extremely excited. I feel like I am going to put my head down even more, not go to the beach, not f around with doing nothing, and just work. Social life has been really good lately. Summer is nice because I see all the people I care abut that don’t live where I live. I am stimulated by the people I see. We talk about things and have conversations. That is sorely, sorely lacking in my life when things quiet down and it’s during the year. I survive from island to island of little glaciers of time spent with people once a month or so, in which I fill my cup and have nice, stimulating, easy, enlightening conversations. Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to tolerate more so much all the time? I’m not sure if that’s true.
I am honoring what I’m curious about. Attending little lectures online, in person. Last night I saw the gallery director at a lecture organized by the gallery with an art historian who is one of the world’s leading academics on Leonardo da Vinci. It was very, very interesting and I loved being there – there was a fabulous turnout, it was in a library, in a beautiful old restored cloister. There were beautiful, conserved, incredibly restored pieces of fresco on the white walls behind the projector. It was just an exquisite evening, all of the technology new, discreet, juxtaposed in this old beautiful room with white walls and beautifully colored fresco fragments, beautiful, neutral lights, everyone was dressed in white and their summer linen clothes. I felt incredibly grateful to live where I do, and for Thomas.
On to painting. I will post images of new works and interweave with my reflections of the moment.
There are things I care about. Things I care deeply about, concepts, ideas. Then there are “beautiful paintings”. I am not sure if they overlap. or mostly, I don’t always care about the beautiful paintings, but the paintings I care about are usually beautiful, to me, even if I feel like maybe no one else can see that they are beautiful. I feel and see that they are beautiful, I see their beauty. But I am afraid that other people won’t see their beauty. I remember certain things I care deeply about, sometimes it hits me like a ton of bricks. I know. Like merely when I see the picture of the dead goat in the desert.
I want to keep bringing in those pale blues and pinks and purples and yellows. That is important. The theme, the concept is important, meaningful, worthwhile. And I can express that with beautiful, pale, vibrant and beautifully mixed colors.
I Believe in the power of believing in certain things even when everyone else says no.
Sometimes you have to insist, push onwards, inwards, take advice, but also listen to your inkling. To not be afraid of doing things differently.
There isn’t a one single way, both are good, it’s up to me what I like better. I am feeling like maturity is being able to hold two opposing ideas in the mind at the same time, with peace, and without the need to decide one or the other.
I feel as though I am Finding my identity in a big way.
Some of those decisions are indicative of my identity, those decisions that happen against all other odds, against the opinions of others. Even if others can’t understand it, or a small, select few can. Do I really want to make art that is hyper accessible? Accessible to all?
I Have been painting faceless figures for so long, now I am painting faces, portraits again. I feel like I am good as it, and it feels like coming home a little bit.
Intuition. It’s always been there and still is, even as I refine my technique and thought process. Perhaps especially as I refine my technique and thought process, the two start working better synergistically.
I am loving the process of Letting myself be led to the meaning of a painting, letting it unfold as I go, being shown by the painting the meaning and the way.
“È come un pianto, mi garba per quello”. I love this that Thomas said. The way the turpentine makes the paint look like it is dripping and watery, he said it looks like tears, like a cry, like that is connected to the meaning of the painting. Like the painting is crying for the dead bull.
It’s the paintings that haunt me the most that come out exactly like I want them to. The ones that have stuck with me for ages that I’ve known I have to paint for months, years even, they are often extremely powerful, deep for me and this comes through in the painting itself. Like the toreadora with the dead bull and the red jacket.
No, but the paintings that haunt me come out well
There was animal pee on my canvas, my big ones that I left outside overnight. I like that. It feels symbolic. Like it was a blessing from the black cat that comes to visit me.
I am building my own canvases. The big ones. And spending time to stretch them perfectly and re stretch them, prime them with glue, mix the glue. with the water. I am loving how in touch I feel with my works from the beginning in this way.
It’s important to let the subconscious reveal whatever is bouncing around – Martin Finnin said this, our artist friend. That’s the way I’m painting right now. Letting the subconscious show itself, guide me.
I am being more in touch with my work, with it, together. We’re in this together from the very beginning, from the conception. Together in my studio. Like friends or animals. Helping it, loving it, guiding it. Like I have it in my side from the beginning. More present with it. More physically in contact with it, owning it more entirely and fully.
I like that bright colors can be macabre, surreal, melancholy
Some paintings: Soldato morto- Velazquez
Torero morto- Manet
Lecture w professor pietrasanta biblioteca
All of the goats have been eaten by the wolves. They’ve come back, taking every last one. To think that they lived, survived for weeks, months, in futility, in vain. Afraid they were going to die, watching their friends and family die, then dying themselves. Being afraid of dying and then actuallly dying. The torpor of the wolves in their feeding frenzy. The terror and fear of the goats and sheep. The death mixed with terror. Not leaving a single one. All dead, a memory, a story for my blog.