It did not surprise me much. I'm getting used to it. A big change one day is followed by a quandary the next. Such it was with the painting "Unexpected." Yesterday I did not paint. Sorting it all out is like looking at a river basin full of river stones. I know the stone I like is there, but how do I find it, and how do I know it is the right one? I will have to look at a million stones to securely know the one I like the best. I do like the second drawing I made yesterday (immediately below). I do not like yesterday's first drawing (at end of today's post). This tells me that I like invented and robust forms more than those which more closely approach nature. Take a look at the difference between the noses in yesterday's two drawings to better understand this comment. In drawing #2 the guy's nose is a robust triangle, while in drawing #1 her nose more closely mimics natural reality: boring!
How many versions of the painting "Unexpected" have there been? I have lost count. Something is telling me to stick in there till its right. There is importance in the making of this painting. I am trying NOT to judge or critique it. This is a painting that is being made within the secret life of itself and my internal intellectual/emotional machinery. The mystery of its making is for us to sit back and watch.
Yesterday's one drawing is me exploring the subtle light variations on the surface of a form. It is good. As usual, yesterday was a Monday and I did the routine financial stuff and other mundane requirements of upkeep. I do, however, feel very good about the three drawings I made. There is motion here. I am going places that I have not gone before. This month's Art in America magazine contains an article about the Dutch artist Mark Manders. His ideas and images make great sense to me. Manders is a sculptor. When I first meet a person they often ask me to describe my art. I cannot do this well; they have to look, so I refer them to my website, MEHRBACH.com. Mark Manders' work is equally indescribable. After my drawings I post photos of two of his sculptures. In looking at them I was reminded that I make art to explore a part of me which is more complex and strange then supplied by everyday images. The struggle to express myself goes far beyond what I have visually experienced. My job is to use novel technical means in combining images imagined and experienced. Only through visual invention do I have a chance to express that which I question, know, feel, and wish to explore. Mark Manders does this well.
There is a story that goes with Pablo Picasso's portrait of Gertrude Stein. In her book The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas (1932), Stein described the making of this picture: "Picasso had never had anybody pose for him since he was sixteen years old. He was then twenty-four and Gertrude had never thought of having her portrait painted, and they do not know either of them how it came about. Anyway, it did, and she posed for this portrait ninety times. There was a large broken armchair where Gertrude Stein posed. There was a couch where everybody sat and slept. There was a little kitchen chair where Picasso sat to paint. There was a large easel and there were many canvases. She took her pose, Picasso sat very tight in his chair and very close to his canvas and on a very small palette, which was of a brown gray color, mixed some more brown gray and the painting began. All of a sudden one day Picasso painted out the whole head. I can't see you anymore when I look, he said irritably, and so the picture was left like that." Picasso actually completed the head after a trip to Spain in fall 1906. When someone commented that Stein did not look like her portrait, Picasso replied, "She will." I tell this story because of the repetitive re-making of my painting "Unexpected." It is often said Picasso's Portrait of Gertrude Stein was his first masterpiece. I see an invented head, which Picasso could not get right. Picasso's discomfort with Gertrude Steins' image led him to try over and over again to get it right, following his instincts toward satisfaction. Picasso's extreme effort, ninety repetitive destructions and resurrections, was him discovering his way of seeing and making form. This was his first acceptance of his peculiar abilities to see and invent form. Its success is not the greatness of this painting. The success of the Portrait of Gertrude Stein is Picasso finding his manner of making the likeness of the human head a depiction of his own idiosyncratic way of seeing. (Picasso's Portrait of Gertrude Stein is shown in two images after my painting, "Unexpected"). Picasso's effort on his Portrait of Gertude Stein is analogous to my efforts on the painting "Unexpected." Expect more changes. I will destroy her head again and resurrect it again. I will do this till I find it correct. Above, Picasso's painting of Gertrude Stein. Below, my two drawings from yesterday. I am finding a way of seeing, of making form in the way I must make it. Resurrection and redemption are occurring. Why do I use these words, so fraught with religious meaning? I have done a lot of art-making, and I have often gone astray. Now I am on an unrelenting path to discover my own idiosyncratic way of seeing. I shall be redeemed! As Picasso did with his Portrait of Gertrude Stein, I am in the midst of accepting my own way seeing, and the discipline it takes to find that way. I am doing this with my painting, "Unexpected."
Making art is throwing oneself into confusion. Just when you think you know something you find out you know little. This game repeats itself. I have told you before, art is research: two steps forward, one back, two steps forward, one back.... It does not end. Once again I have altered the painting "Unexpected." Yesterday also produced two drawings. A full day in the studio is a wonderful thing. Because of it I know more about knowing less.
It was not a good week for me. I did not do anything terrible, but doing well did not happen either. Today I have a generous amount of time for myself and my art. That said, I am on my way to the studio...
This week has been difficult for me. I can not seem to carve out a sustained time in the studio. This will happen again today, as my entire morning will be absorbed by a film class I attend. When I feel disturbed by otherwise pleasant activities I know I am addicted. I have to get my art-making fix or I feel unsettled, as I do now. There is something about my current discomposure in yesterday's lonely drawing.
This week is difficult in its timing. Somehow multiple appointments have congregated within it. Despite the reduced time in the studio the left eye of the man in the drawing posted yesterday was revisited and improved (see end of this post), AND another drawing was made (immediately below).
This is not about placing a left hand on a right arm. I've done that before. So has Pablo Picasso. In most cases the viewer will not notice this incorrect anatomy since it has little expressive consequence. In yesterday's drawing it is his left eye (on viewer's right) that is not correct. In this case the incorrectness does diminish the expression. First thing today I will fix it. Look in tomorrow for the corrected drawing.
The post previous to this one was two days ago (02/06/2012). I did get very busy on Monday February 6th, and did not get to the studio. Yesterday (Tuesday) I had nothing to report. Monday morning was devoted to financial matters, and Monday afternoon to appointments. This did not matter as much as my requiring a day off to recover from the recent intensity invested in my work, particularly in the painting "Unexpected." It always surprises me that I cannot control my energy output, or my energy reserves. A day of exuberant work is often followed by several days of me dragging around and feeling depressed about it. This week is a difficult week with many appointments, but this morning I did awake feeling renewed, with an energetic desire to get back into the studio and problem solve. I have often quoted Arnold Schwarzenegger's Terminator ("I'll be back.") because it feels relevant to my repetitive exhaustion and recovery. This work is a cycle of ups and downs, me always coming back from exhaustion to find the energy to create again. It is unpleasant, but its necessity must be accepted as part of this profession. I have been calling this latest painting "Unexpected" because I'm surprised by its alterations, over and over. I don't even know if this painting is any good, or worth my time. I do know I have a desire to keep pushing it in unexpected ways. I will follow my instinct, and push on. Yesterday's two drawings were very interesting in their willing forthcomingness. The drawing immediately below examines my questions about the rotation of the woman's head in "Unexpected." The drawing at the bottom of this post questions my oft too-close-to-nature manner of making human form. As many of my mentors have shown, from Philip Guston to Pablo Picasso to Alberto Giacometti to Francis Bacon to Willem de Kooning, distortion of the human figure is a better way to express being human.
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May 2024
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