Exhaling

People often ask me if I paint every day. My answer is, "Sometimes." For whatever reason, I've never been a person who handles routine well, but it's more than just that. I'll cruise along and then suddenly stumble on an empty well right where I'd been finding inspiration for weeks. Then - I do something else.

Sometimes kids' schedules or a family vacation need to take precedence. Other times, I intentionally concentrate on writing, so painting gets pushed aside. (It happens the other way around, too.) Plenty of times, I just feel used up, and need to wait for the well to fill up again.

Dry spells - that's what I thought they were - used to worry me deeply. In my first few years as a painter, every time I lost my creative momentum I wondered if I'd ever find it again. At last I noticed that, like a wandering cat, it always comes home eventually. So at that point I began to relax into a rhythm of producing, and - noticing.

I've come to appreciate my times of soaking up impressions. I realize that I do a lot of work during these times, consciously or unconsciously exploring compositions suggested in everything I see around me. In fact, I do a lot of painting while I drive - but I don't think I'll get pulled over for it, since it all takes place in my head. It's like breathing - taking in images, producing work.

Recently I lost a very dear old friend to cancer. I made a twelve-hour road trip to say good-bye to her, and then a month later drove the same road again to her memorial service. Twelve hours on the road is a long time to gather images and impressions. I knew the initial trip and its purpose changed me, but I had no idea how richly the road itself had blessed me until I returned home to a new purpose, a new format, new colors and textures. I took a really deep breath there on the road to my friend - and now I'm singing.

I wonder why I do this?

Gold Marsh (working) 30x40 acrylic on canvas

So, I get all ready to do something really abstract. I have a sketch I'm working from, something small I did a couple of years ago that I like, and now I'm going to go BIG (well, fairly big for me). And as I'm painting along, in the art zone, I'm putting in more and more stuff, and the image becomes more and more representational, less abstract. I'm mystified as to why I felt I needed to add detail. Now the painting is sort of half-and-half. I like balancing, normally, but I had planned to do something different. At this point I feel like I'm dealing with a split personality. The painting wants one thing, and I want another! I don't dislike this painting. (It's not signed, because it isn't done.) It's just that I was sure there was another painting in me wanting to get out and this one jumped the line somehow. Or else I'm simply afraid to permit myself to do abstract work, and that fear worked its way right into my art zone - yowie, I hope not!

Here's the sketch. I love the sketch. 9x12 acrylic on paper.

New Winter Work

Winter Sunrise, 16x20" acrylic on canvas

Ghost Structure/Upper Champlain, 28x10" mixed media on panel

I love winter. Although I must admit it's been a few years since my cross-country skis have seen any appreciable action, I simply love the season for its stark beauty and its introspective atmosphere. And the colors! Subtle they may be compared to a summer garden, but so nuanced. So, lately I've been quite inspired to paint, and here's what's going on.

Ghost Structure/High Street West Paris Maine, mixed media on plywood

I Like This

I've been doing more writing lately (not on my blog!), and paintings seem to be coming faster and easier concurrently, which is something I never foresaw. This is Lemonade Sky, 40 x 30". I resisted the notion that it was done for over a month, during which I turned my attention to lots of other projects. Today I signed it.

I wonder why creative work seems to benefit from the cross-pollination of disciplines? Can't answer the question, but the results make me happy!

Out In The Yard

This is my student, John's, painting of the view from my front yard on a recent almost- rainy afternoon.

"I've decided to make the road into a river," he informed me as we painted.

Given the weather, it was a natural decision!

Here's my more prosaic interpretation of the same scene.

Learning From Students

This past Monday my homeschooled student, John, came over for his art lesson. I use the word "lesson" loosely in this context; what John and I generally do in Studio Time is work on projects while yakking about art. If, at the same time, a few technical pointers are absorbed, so much the better.

Monday was a chilly, misty day. I was getting ready to teach basic facial proportions to my evening class, and thought John and I might experiment with self-portraits, but when I told him I'd recently bought some new slow-drying acrylics for plein-aire painting, he surprised me with his response.

"It isn't exactly raining right now," he said.

And he was right. A mad dash to the side yard ensued, and we spent the following hour painting views near the house.

I feel so blessed to benefit from the wisdom of children. And so glad I know John.

A Manifesto

There's a pervasive mindset in our culture, that if you're an artist, and you make enough money to live on, you're selling out, prostituting your muse. As though it weren't a legitimate calling to produce art and feed oneself at the same time - or that the artist must choose a single option: to value their art either materially or spiritually; never both.

This is a rationale I've come to reject only by staring it very hard in the face. I can now see the holes in the fright mask. Behind them is a false humility that's actually rooted in hubris: the belief that art and artists are somehow special; not of this world; above other trades. Oh really?? Want to argue that when you need a plumber? A firefighter? People provide valuable services and create good things every day. And they make a living at it, as they deserve to do. If your toilet backed up, you probably wouldn't want to call an artist to fix it. But when you need an uplifting vision, the discount store won't do. The person you should get in touch with then is an artist.

To that end, I'm sending my Holiday Card promotion to my email list, and creating fun, affordable art to fit within real people's shopping budgets. I'm advocating for people to think about giving art for the Holidays this year. Remember that even if an original painting is not within your means, a signed print of that painting may well be. It's simple, it's real, it's local, it's unique, and it will keep you out of the craziness at the mall. It's even affordable, whatever your budget. But the best reason to give art to your loved ones - or yourself - is because it is uplifting and intrinsically valuable.

So, please visit my website, www.mainebrook.com/art , and think about how you would feel about giving someone you care about a gift that is beautiful and may be a cherished part of their life forever.

That's it. Commercial over. Wishing you and your loved ones a blessed and happy Holiday season.

Crow #3. 5x5" on canvas. 2010