"Pipe"

OK, this one is a little unusual. I had put down a layer of crinkled paper, then painted it green and red, then went over that in black, then sanded it down so the colors appears as spider lines. I've reproduced it pretty big so you can see that.

But then I popped a hole in the canvas. Not a large one, but an interesting one. And it was pretty close to the center. I talked to my teacher and we looked through the random materials I brought, and chose the pipe and the chain. I put the pipe through the canvas and adhered it on the back with some very strong glue, so it's stuck pretty tight. The chain is screwed to the wooden frame in back, so it's pretty secure, too.

So, this is what it looks like up close. You can see that I framed it.

Here it is from a distance, hanging on a wall in my house. I like it that the chain is long enough to puddle on the floor. The dimensions are 17.75" x 21.5" including the frame, but not including the chain. It leans out from the wall a bit, which lets the chain hang free.

"Ambiguous"

26x17" (diptych of 12x16 panels, with frames), oil and marble dust on canvas panels

For this piece, I decided to use canvases that weren't working and see what I could do with them. It's a fun exercise. You have to separate yourself from the actual content, but still use what you can. So, the earlier painting shows through here in the browns and purples on the left and bottom. But the ghost piece that I like the best is the orange circle on the right. It adds mystery and subtlety.

The other thing that I like -- since I love organic shapes and gestures -- is an area on the far left. I deposited some marble paint and marble dust, with the intention of moving it where I wanted to. Then I went "Eep!", caught myself, and stopped, leaving the paint as I deposited it.

I think this one is going on a wall at home. It's a strange thing, but mostly I don't do that. Do you put up art that you do?

"Penance"

 30x40x1.5", oil and burlap on gallery-wrapped canvas

My prior post showed the first version of this painting, which I did with cardboard used for texture. I explained why I swapped in burlap (synopsis: oil and paper don't mix). This is the outcome. What do I think? There's been both loss and gain: It lost was something gestural, something in the moment, something primitive. But it gained a simpler, more compelling, composition. If you want to see the texture up close, you can click it.

And it feels right to have fixed it. In that prior post I debated whether we owe our buyers a painting that could last for generations. Not sure. So, I can't say my decision is right, but it sure feels right. And that's what painting is about for me: Doing what feels right, not what I think is right.

I'm interested in why people make art. Sometimes it's because you have to. Or it's about interpreting what we see. Or creating interesting textures. Or making a political statement. Or because it keeps you sane. Or... For me, I want to put something on canvas that's real, that's from the gut. And it seems to take a mix of head and heart to do that.

I'd love to hear why you paint.

Oil and cardboard

24X30x1.5", oil and cardboard on gallery-wrapped canvas

One of the classes I'm taking is about textured abstracts. I love the class, and am having a great time. This week the teacher suggested that, before I start the painting, I make a textured foundation using cardboard. I was hesitant, since I'm painting in oils (well, with marble powder), and I've heard that you shouldn't mix them. But I figured I could learn something.

What came out? This! And I really like it!

Later, at home, I researched the combo. I found web sites that said you should always gesso paper first, but they didn't give resources. I found a few artists who do use paper in their base layer under oil. And finally I checked my Artists' Handbook by Ralph Mayer. Ralph says that no oil paintings on unprimed paper have survived the centuries. Since Ralph's book is a standard, I'll buy the data. So, no, it's not a good process for the long haul.

Here's my quandary. Now what do I do? Ralph says it has thirty or thirty-five years. I'll probably never be all that famous so it probably won't get saved by a conservator. But I gotta do one of the following: sell it as is, keep it as is, or remove the cardboard. I can't sell it in good conscience, and I'm not convinced I want it around forever, so...

Sigh. Do we owe our buyers a work that will last thirty years or a hundred years?

Anyway, if I'm going to peel off the cardboard, I should do it while the paint is still workable. I'm thinking I'll replace it with burlap (not identical, but also textured and earthy) and then play with that. If I'm lucky, the added experimenting will add richness.

What to do about the class? I should either take texture material that works with oil, or switch back to acrylics. Hey, I've been using marble powder, and I'm told it works with acrylics, so maybe they'll be workable more like oil. We'll see.

"Finish Line"

20 x 24 x 1.5", oil on gallery-wrapped canvas

Another in the series of oil abstracts that I did during one week. Besides paint, I used oil crayons and whatever tool I could find: palette knives, ceramics molding tools. I do find it interesting that there's a trend in recent decades toward abstracts with a band of dark and a band of light. My suspicion is that the composition is so simple that it then lets other elements emerge, like texture or gesture.

"Moon in the Fog"

18x36x1.5, acrylic and mixed media on gallery-wrapped canvas

There's a method I use for doing this kind of painting. It gives me a surface that is textured across the total area. I used it, earlier, to create Dragon Skin.

So, the method is that I take my tub of stucco patch, and I blop some on the canvas and spread it around with a big palette knife and a water spritzer until I have a good distribution, some areas thinner than others, and maybe some scratchy areas. I might add some colors while I'm doing this, or some pebbles, or other textural elements.

Once that's dry, I have a good rough surface for adding paint. I do a lot of dripping out of brushes or eyedroppers or little cups, which is why you get the spots. Some brushwork to fill in areas, although I don't really like brush marks on these. And, more recently, I learned about using pigments; when you apply them (add water and white glue), they settle into the crevices of the painting. And I use the spritzer a lot.

With this painting, I decided to try green, although it went dark, like olive green. Also, in my mind it was oriented horizontally; i.e., rotated CCW once. But since it needs to hang in a narrow area, I tried reorienting it, and it looked equally good, but in a different way.

So here's what I've been pondering recently. I returned to painting because I love it. Pure and simple. But I would like to sell. So recently I've been wondering, if creating is the main thing, then just what it is about selling that's so important? Here are some reasons I can think of:

• To make a living. (And good on ya if you can!)
• To see if others think your work is good. To get public approval.
• To become famous.
• To pay for art supplies.
• To reduce the number of paintings you have stashed around the house.
• Because someone wants to buy something.

Me, I'd probably subscribe to most of this list, although I certainly don't need to be famous or make a living. But I would like to know that the world likes my work, and I would like to reduce the number of paintings around the place.

Are there other reasons I missed?

"River"

20x20x1.5", oil, gauze, and sand on gallery-wrapped canvas

I pulled together a handful of ingredients for this painting. A friend gave me some gauze, which I used earlier in Reticulate. I also mixed some paint with cold wax and marble powder for some thickness and used it to embed the gauze and the some sand. Sand is tough. It comes off and sticks to your brushes and oil crayons, and falls on the floor. If I try it again, I'll use it later in the process.

This one was a bit of a battle. It sat on my easel for days and days and I played with it off and on. I finally had the time to dive in and I worked it. But, yeah, some paintings paint themselves, and some paintings are fighters.

Switching gears here, I'm playing with the idea of how one develops as an artist. Do you direct your own learning or just do what appeals to you? I'm guess I try to do both. First, I must do what I want in order for it to have passion. But I can also tell when I lack a certain skill and need to direct my learning that way. Classes help.

And I've found that taking classes is opening me up in ways I hadn't anticipated. I guess if I'd anticipated them, I wouldn't have needed to take the classes.

Come see "And So..." in Palo Alto

My painting And So... was accepted into the Pacific Art League's May show, called Red. The show runs from May 6 to May 26. The Pacific Art League is in downtown Palo Alto, at 668 Ramona Street, on the corner of Ramona and Forrest. (For non-local folk, this is Northern California, about forty-five minutes south of San Francisco.)

And So... is my biggest painting, at three by five feet, that was not a piece of a theatrical set design. (Those topped out at six by fifteen feet, or more if you assembled them.)

"Fire in the Mist"

20x20x1.5", oil on gallery-wrapped canvas

In my paintings, I like to use things I find. This is why I do the assemblages. While working this painting, I used oil crayons. Now, when they sit for awhile, they form a skin of dried paint, and you have to peel it off. So, of course, I took a few pieces of red and embedded them in the paint. It adds an interesting bit of texture. But I have a little tub in my studio with bits of peeled oil crayon. It's funny being an artist.

"Flutter"

20 x 20 x 1.5" gallery-wrapped canvas

A couple of weeks ago, I suddenly generated a handful of oil abstracts. I think I've done this before -- suddenly burst forth with a slew of paintings -- although not necessarily oil abstracts. On this one, I spent most of the time working with the left border at the bottom (rotated CCW one notch), and it wasn't resolving. So I rotated it, and in this orientation it looked like a bird, and I was able to make the final changes. So, nope, prior planning, not so much.