It's taken me several days to get up the courage, but I've taken that first step back into oil painting. I love this first stage of a painting - the smell of it, the freedom of it before anything is decided or reigned in, the wide-open possibilities, the feeling of the brush on the canvas and the knowledge that I've overcome the first big hurdle: beginning. What lies ahead is the struggle and journey that each painting represents, and frankly I have no idea where we're going on this one.
One exciting discovery is that there's a terrific art supply store only a couple of blocks from my studio. It just relocated there from its former home. I promise not to go there very often, but having had to rely on mail-order or a very limited local selection of fine art supplies in Vermont, it seems like an impossible luxury to be able to walk to a good store!
Thank you all for your responses to the previous post. Your positive comments and encouragement make me happy and grateful. As for deciding what to do -- I'm pretty sure that I need to move strongly ahead, building on the past but exploring and taking risks in order to grow. If I really need to make money from the sales of paintings at some point, I can do realistic works like these, but it's not where my heart is and I know that doing them would drain my energy and time and be, in some significant way, a betrayal of self and potential. I'm learning a lot about myself from looking at older work, though, and will be posting more of it in the weeks. These are paintings I love and am proud of, or I wouldn't have kept them, and now they also feel like letters to myself from my past - letters I couldn't fully understand when they were written.
To me, that painting below really looks abstract.
Posted by: Hattie | August 18, 2010 at 05:34 PM
"now they also feel like letters to myself from my past - letters I couldn't fully understand when they were written"
That's a good way to look at it. I should look at my old poem drafts that way, too.
Isn't the fact that you're renting a studio part of what's pushing you back into art?
Posted by: Dave | August 18, 2010 at 09:27 PM
Yay, Beth! Risks---bring them ON! You are equal to the challenge.
Posted by: Hannah Stephenson | August 19, 2010 at 01:54 AM
I love that feeling of not knowing where I'm going; that's something I really enjoy about writing long fiction. The adventure of it and the freedom as you so perfectly put it.
Posted by: James | August 19, 2010 at 09:18 AM
Hattie, that's totally valid, and goes to show that everyone sees art differently. I'm glad that's true!
Dave, I've always had a place to paint, and liked my last studio (a small room in the back of our workshop/garage, looking out at the garden) a lot. I just wrote back to Lucy Kempton's comment on the previous post and told her that I think the main reason I'm feeling pulled back into art is that I'm doing less professional design work so there feels like space in my brain for more visual creativity. When I was most busy with our business, all I wanted to do in the off hours was play the piano, or read, or write.
Thanks, Hannah! You should know! (Hannah writes a polished poem in response to an image every single day and posts them at The Storialist, http://thestorialist.blogspot.com/.)
James, yes, I'm glad you know what I mean. "Searching it out" is different from stumbling in the dark - we need to have some idea - but I love the feeling of staying open to what I meet along the way and being willing to engage with it.
Posted by: Beth | August 19, 2010 at 09:25 AM
Oh Beth, this is so exciting. I can't wait to see what comes of it.
Posted by: Pica | August 19, 2010 at 12:31 PM
Pica, I feel like I've been circling my easel for months, like a dog unable to lie down. It's a big relief to finally give in and begin. And there's lots of paint on that canvas now!
Posted by: Beth | August 19, 2010 at 12:56 PM
Beth, I enjoy following your creative explorations and processes, and finding the wonderful results posted here.
I belive J. is an artist as well--is he also painting these days?
So many artists in my husband's family, I've become familiar with the demands of oil painting but also the joys. All best with the (ad)venture!
Posted by: margaret | August 19, 2010 at 02:26 PM
As Joseph Campbell said, "Follow your bliss." We've all worked jobs that bring in money but dull the spirit. When you finish this lifetime, will you look back and say, "This is the person I wanted to be, this is what I wanted to give the world?" It is always a balance between making a living and "living."
Posted by: Jan | August 20, 2010 at 08:18 AM