“You know what the first four letters of painting are, don’t you?”These were the infamous words of Professor Reed, delivered to a classroom of college art students with his characteristically knowing smirk. They both haunt and motivate me every time I approach the canvas. ° ° ° When I was about eight years old my dad attended a weekly watercolor class at a local art center in Pittsburgh and always returned home with new techniques to share. My favorite — due in large part to its relative simplicity and ease — was the art of the wet-on-wet wash to create a seamless gradient. Once it entered my repertoire I repeatedly painted the same image over and over: a post-sunset glow balanced over an eerily still blue ocean. After five years of watching me consistently produce the same scene time and time again, my older brother Christopher asked, “Why don’t you ever paint anything else?” Deep down, I think we both knew the answer. He wanted me to admit it, while I resisted making the concession. But it was undeniable: I didn’t want to try something more complicated and therefore more challenging, for fear of failing. Now, almost thirty-five years later, I feel the pull of painting and a complicated desire to embrace this medium with which I’ve had a love/hate relationship for decaes. In truth, I’ve been talking about it more than actually DOING it, but bit by painful bit, the pieces are coming back together and images are taking shape— awkwardly, reluctantly, and in their own time. I’m excited to eventually share the new work when the time is right. In the meantime, I’ll be illuminating more about the highs and lows of my creative process and the random, idiosyncratic reflections that get stirred up along the way.
|
