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Her Imagination Tends To Run Wild
"Her Imagination Tends to Run Wild" - oil on cradled wood panel, 16 x 16 x 1.5 inches (click on the image to purchase)
Continuing an exploration of Seaton's Fiddleheads:
Once when you hurt me I slept at a Red Roof Inn. I double-locked the door and tried to
watch talk shows to keep my mind off sounds like someone suffocating someone
in the next room. I thought I saw blood on the box spring and imagined needles and bulgy
veins, there’s something odd, I thought, about someone whose imagination runs this wild.
-FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON
Seaton's words are visceral and uncensored, off-putting.
Continuing an exploration of Seaton's Fiddleheads:
Once when you hurt me I slept at a Red Roof Inn. I double-locked the door and tried to
watch talk shows to keep my mind off sounds like someone suffocating someone
in the next room. I thought I saw blood on the box spring and imagined needles and bulgy
veins, there’s something odd, I thought, about someone whose imagination runs this wild.
-FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON
Seaton's words are visceral and uncensored, off-putting.
She invites us to look at things we might not otherwise care to - especially those things that run through our own minds during challenging times.
Visual art can be like poetry in that way, making us feel squirmy and uncomfortable because we feel stuff when we look at it. I suppose that is part of our jobs as creatives - to invent a way to look at a thing that allows us to approach and sit with it for a moment. Long enough for an aha, perhaps. Or even just an oh.
Visual art can be like poetry in that way, making us feel squirmy and uncomfortable because we feel stuff when we look at it. I suppose that is part of our jobs as creatives - to invent a way to look at a thing that allows us to approach and sit with it for a moment. Long enough for an aha, perhaps. Or even just an oh.
About the art - another piece created on top of an old one, using the underpainting colors to enhance the background and to cut through some of the foreground. In using the poem as fodder for the art, I used harsh, edgy brush strokes and wedge edges for some of this piece, keeping the colors fairly stark and full of contrast. Some soft blending, but mostly allowing the piece to fill with unrefined texture. Especially important to resist perfecting this one, which feels Seaton's poem so deeply.
It's the last week to enter the April Reader Giveaway! This month we're talking about poems (or lyrics or quotes) that hit you in a visceral way. What's your favorite? Leave a comment to enter - one lucky reader will receive a piece of original art FREE, just for participating. Hooray!
- Published on
"In the Shimmering Black Soup" oil on paper, 20 x 20 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
Continuing an exploration of the poem Fiddleheads:
I think I’ll come back to life now. It’s odd to think of something so big we could miss
the elephant we’re living on, like this planet Earth, is she alive and we’re her brain cells,
each one of us flickering, going out, coming back to life? Even Chicago looks poignant
from the top of the Hancock, organized and sincere. Think if we were photographing
Earth, how dear she would be, how we’d watch her shimmer in the shimmering black soup
of the firmament, how alone she’d look and how we’d long to protect her, the way it feels
Continuing an exploration of the poem Fiddleheads:
I think I’ll come back to life now. It’s odd to think of something so big we could miss
the elephant we’re living on, like this planet Earth, is she alive and we’re her brain cells,
each one of us flickering, going out, coming back to life? Even Chicago looks poignant
from the top of the Hancock, organized and sincere. Think if we were photographing
Earth, how dear she would be, how we’d watch her shimmer in the shimmering black soup
of the firmament, how alone she’d look and how we’d long to protect her, the way it feels
In The Shimmering Black Soup
to protect a woman at the height of orgasm, the liquid giving, the seawater slide of coming
back to life. When you hurt me, I evolved like a backboned sea creature, translucent
nervous system sparking along in the meanest deep where I was small enough to not care
and my passions ran to swimming, gulping, spitting bubbles back into new oceans.
- FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON
Seaton's poem takes us on a ride, sliding into the worst of things, the deepest ocean, the blackest soup and yet leaves us shimmering and sparking, resilient and curious and compassionate.
back to life. When you hurt me, I evolved like a backboned sea creature, translucent
nervous system sparking along in the meanest deep where I was small enough to not care
and my passions ran to swimming, gulping, spitting bubbles back into new oceans.
- FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON
Seaton's poem takes us on a ride, sliding into the worst of things, the deepest ocean, the blackest soup and yet leaves us shimmering and sparking, resilient and curious and compassionate.
And that's the trick, isn't it? Shielding our spark, evolving our shimmer so we can see all the beauty and feel compassion for our small selves and our large world and each other in the soup. It isn't easy, and it's not for the faint hearted. But Seaton says of course the Earth would be dear to us if we saw her there in the blackness - and maybe, just maybe, seeing ourselves from afar, sea creature, translucent we evolve compassion for our bubble-spitting selves.
About the art: another piece on artist printer paper, an absorbent and fairly smooth substrate. I learned from prior pieces on this medium to go heavy with the paint, build layers and allow tons of drying time. This figure began as an idea for another queen (I so enjoy painting them) whose crown became heavy, jester-ish, weighted. Sometimes when you follow the paint, these things reveal themselves. Rubber wedge, brushes, fingers, paper towels and chopsticks used in creating this piece. She's been given a coat of Gamvar to deepen the darks, making her even more mysterious.
It's time for the April Reader Giveaway! What poem (or lyric or quote) gives you a deeply visceral response? Leave a comment and you'll have a chance to win an original piece of art - FREE - just for sharing your thoughts. Huzzah! The winner will be selected at random by Wonder Mike and announced at the end of the month.
- Published on
Esme, Self-Liberated
"Esme, Self-Liberated" - oil on gallery wrapped canvas, 16 x 20 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
I release you, my beautiful and terrible fear. I release you.
You were my beloved and hated twin, but now, I don’t see you as myself.
- FROM FEAR...I GIVE YOU BACK BY JOY HARJO
Fear. It can be a motivator, an instigator, an investigator. It keeps us safe - warns of danger. But it is also sneaky and takes us hostage, holds us back from growing, learning, leaping, bravely conquering. It can become the tentacles that bind us; hold us imprisoned. It can cloud our perception and obscure the truth of things.
I release you, my beautiful and terrible fear. I release you.
You were my beloved and hated twin, but now, I don’t see you as myself.
- FROM FEAR...I GIVE YOU BACK BY JOY HARJO
Fear. It can be a motivator, an instigator, an investigator. It keeps us safe - warns of danger. But it is also sneaky and takes us hostage, holds us back from growing, learning, leaping, bravely conquering. It can become the tentacles that bind us; hold us imprisoned. It can cloud our perception and obscure the truth of things.
And once in a great while, fear can create an infinite loop, making it very difficult to step out of it. Fear of fear, which results in anxiety, panic and panic attacks. It would be funny if it weren't so awful, being afraid of something and then being afraid of the very act of, well, being afraid of that something. Maddening! Frustrating! Illogical! The human brain is both a wonder and a ponder.
So the thing about fear is that you can't dodge it. You have to look it squarely in the eye, like a bully, or a honey badger (more on that in a future post). And when you look at it, you're really looking at yourself, or rather a part of yourself.
So the thing about fear is that you can't dodge it. You have to look it squarely in the eye, like a bully, or a honey badger (more on that in a future post). And when you look at it, you're really looking at yourself, or rather a part of yourself.
As Harjo says so beautifully in She Had Some Horses: She had some horses she loved. / She had some horses she hated. / These were the same horse.
Esme has looked herself in the eye and stared down the bully. I think liberation looks good on her. :)
Esme has looked herself in the eye and stared down the bully. I think liberation looks good on her. :)
There is one more week to enter the March Reader Giveaway! Leave a comment - what's YOUR superpower? (see last week's blog post). One lucky commenter will win a piece of original art - free! Huzzah!
About the art: this piece sits atop a gesso-murdered acrylic painting. Often, I work from the outside of a piece (a base background) to the inside of a piece (the figure) and back to the outside (background details and blending lines between figure and background). For this piece, which is more illustrative, I worked from the outside in and the top down. Crisp lines for the basic composition and softer lines for the figure. Lots of layers of glazing (walnut oil-thinned paint) and drying time between layers. Esme's head is held high! Perhaps she is pleased with the final result.
- Published on
The Conversation We Never Had
"The Conversation We Never Had" - oil on cradled wood panel, 18 x 18 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
If you've ever replayed a conversation over and over in your head and thought about all of the possible ways it could have gone, then you've experienced jouska. "It's this idea of rehearsing or playing out this hypothetical conversation. And in a sense, getting a feeling of control, or ownership over something that of course, is beyond our control," - CHRISTOPHER LELE
Oh-ho! Yes indeed. I am the queen of conversational re-play. And Lele's words hit me right in the gut - it is all about trying to control what I cannot.
If you've ever replayed a conversation over and over in your head and thought about all of the possible ways it could have gone, then you've experienced jouska. "It's this idea of rehearsing or playing out this hypothetical conversation. And in a sense, getting a feeling of control, or ownership over something that of course, is beyond our control," - CHRISTOPHER LELE
Oh-ho! Yes indeed. I am the queen of conversational re-play. And Lele's words hit me right in the gut - it is all about trying to control what I cannot.
Conversations are the ultimate improvisation - they are in the moment, ad-lib, free-wheeling spontaneity with all the risks of embarrassment, regret, rejection and self-judgment that goes along with improvising. But they are also, then, the opportunity to create genius moments on the spot, build your confidence muscles and create a seamless groove between the brain, the mouth and the other human, along with building authentic connection. Some part of me believes if I experience enough jouska, I will be better at conversations in real life. That is not how it works.
The only way to get better at conversing is to - you guessed it - converse. And the only way to have control over things is to - you guessed it again - give up the idea you have any control in the first place.
Which leads to art, the creation of which is a conversation of sorts. And no matter how I see and rehearse the conversation with the canvas in my head, what happens at the end of my fingertips is something else. Often so so SO much better than anything I could have imagined. Well. Who knew?
Which leads to art, the creation of which is a conversation of sorts. And no matter how I see and rehearse the conversation with the canvas in my head, what happens at the end of my fingertips is something else. Often so so SO much better than anything I could have imagined. Well. Who knew?
About the art: This piece began with a gesso murder of an old acrylic painting and a vague idea of what I wanted to create. Something that hints at a dystopian setting, but could also be a landscape, or maybe a contraption or a view into another land. How's that for wishy-washy? But I knew the colors I wanted, so I began with a loose sketch with a long brush laden with thinned oil paint. From there, the piece developed solely with two sizes of rubber wedge and a chopstick. Moving around the piece, sharpening lines here, softening and blurring there. Adding paint with the wedge and then subtracting by dragging another wedge through the wet paint. The ghosts of city buildings (or are those the masts of ships?) appeared on the "horizons" so I let them be. In the end, it is nothing like I imagined, and yet it is something more than that. It packs a lot of punch and drama in a relatively small painting. Huzzah!
- Published on
"Pearl Was Even More Nervous" - oil on Yupo, 11.5 x 16.5 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
“So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous.” - MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, All Systems Red
“So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous.” - MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, All Systems Red
It's great to know exactly who you are, warts and all.
But it is a whole other thing to let someone else see you in all your unfiltered glory. And there are some folks who do that so very well that it looks, well, elegant. I aspire to such effortless grace. For now, I am an awkward, wart-laden bumbler.
But it is a whole other thing to let someone else see you in all your unfiltered glory. And there are some folks who do that so very well that it looks, well, elegant. I aspire to such effortless grace. For now, I am an awkward, wart-laden bumbler.
Pearl Was Even More Nervous
Just look at this sentence in the quote - I know I'm a horrifying murderbot. What if I created some I know sentences?
I know I am a snotty soggy bog creature filled with tears.
I know I am a hand-wringing worry monster with an overactive amygdala.
I know I am myopic and often only see the blurred shapes of things both literal and figurative - blind and bumbling without tools.
It makes me nervous writing these sentences. But also they are kind of funny, because just as Murderbot isn't really a bad seed, neither am I quite as warty as my inner critic says. Just when I thought a murderbot had nothing more to teach me. Hmmmmm.
I know I am a snotty soggy bog creature filled with tears.
I know I am a hand-wringing worry monster with an overactive amygdala.
I know I am myopic and often only see the blurred shapes of things both literal and figurative - blind and bumbling without tools.
It makes me nervous writing these sentences. But also they are kind of funny, because just as Murderbot isn't really a bad seed, neither am I quite as warty as my inner critic says. Just when I thought a murderbot had nothing more to teach me. Hmmmmm.
About the art: If you ask the AI bot for "orb-headed ballgown-bots" and give it a few other parameters, I swear it jumps up and down and says "ME! ME!" and spits out a host of glorious images. It loves fabric, light and round shapes. This piece is inspired by one of those images. To begin, I murdered an old painting with gesso (creating glorious textures) and roughed in the main figure with thinned paint. Working from the outside in to further refine the figure by building layers of thinned paint. Pearl is the result of 80 million layers (nearly) of paint to provide the many variations of color/texture in her outfit. For the boots, RESISTING anything but those few highlights. Hello, Pearl! My, don't you look lovely?
Thanks to all who participated in this month's reader challenge - Where Do You Hang Your Art? Seeing the unusual places where art finds its home was quite delightful and eye opening! Congratulations to reader Thea, whose video made me laugh out loud and garnered her the win! Thea, send your mailing address to thewanderingoflola@gmail.com to collect your original art prize. I wonder where you will hang it? :)
Want to win original art for your unusual space? Stay tuned to your email for next month's challenge! in the weekly blog announcement!
Want to win original art for your unusual space? Stay tuned to your email for next month's challenge! in the weekly blog announcement!
- Published on
"Henrietta Contemplated Countermeasures" - oil on gallery wrapped canvas, 20 x 20 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
“Now that I knew something was hacking the security cameras to watch me, I could use countermeasures. I probably should have been doing that from the beginning, but as you may have noticed that for a terrifying murderbot I fuck up a lot.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Artificial Condition
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Artificial Condition
A good portion of painting is correcting where we messed up. Contemplating such countermeasures keeps me awake at night.
Henriette Contemplated Countermeasures
My partner and I have this conversation often - his medium is often digital, while mine is paint, paint, paint. He will lift layers of his art and go back to a previous version in the event of a mess up. Which may provide a whole lot more incentive to experiment, as well as the temptation to become lost in a never-ending list of options. But this also requires a huge amount of experience and willingness to excavate your own creation. And patience. And the ability to "see" the layers (which are many).
For me, a mistake can mean starting again, changing directions or muttering fervent pleas to the universe to steady my hand long enough to fix something challenging. Sometimes one countermeasure leads to the need for another. The mistakes are legion. And the fix is not always obvious.
What I've learned is this: if I walk away from the piece for a day or two, when I return again the next steps become clear. Even if the next step is a bucket of gesso. Often, though, it is ten minutes of confident execution and VOILA!
What I've learned is this: if I walk away from the piece for a day or two, when I return again the next steps become clear. Even if the next step is a bucket of gesso. Often, though, it is ten minutes of confident execution and VOILA!
About the art: beginning with an older abstract painting in similar colors, I sketched directly on top of the painting with a long handled brush and thinned paint. Working from the outside in, creating layers of color with walnut oil-thinned paint. For the dress, I consulted three books with excellent reference images of fabric rendering. Many more layers with full drying time in between. Pulling final wet layers into the dark background with a wet brush. A final drying and then a layer of varnish to bring out the darks even more. Henrietta, you look maahhhhhhhvelous!
reference books
- Published on
Muriel Was Good at Pretending
"Muriel Was Good At Pretending" - oil on unstretched canvas, 18 x 18 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
“Pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Rogue Protocol
“Pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Rogue Protocol
The lengths humans may go to in order to avoid looking directly at bad (or uncomfortable) things are extraordinary.
The scaffolding of denial (or avoidance) can be intricate and challenging to surmount. Deeply ingrained, sometimes it's hard to see what is scaffolding and what is just a habit of self-protection.
The scaffolding of denial (or avoidance) can be intricate and challenging to surmount. Deeply ingrained, sometimes it's hard to see what is scaffolding and what is just a habit of self-protection.
If you're like me, even the preceding sentences can make you squirm a little. Um, ew. No thanks, not going there. But, since artists are here to disturb the peace, as the meme says, let's keep going.
This piece, inspired by several AI bot images interpreting an emotive cyborg, immediately grabbed my big red button and said DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Because I am quite sure there are some things my brain wants to build intricate structures around. And also, how does an AI bot know what "emotive" looks like?
This piece, inspired by several AI bot images interpreting an emotive cyborg, immediately grabbed my big red button and said DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Because I am quite sure there are some things my brain wants to build intricate structures around. And also, how does an AI bot know what "emotive" looks like?
About the art: experimenting with unstretched canvas, which I gesso'd and taped to a piece of wood. Following the usual steps (sketching with a long brush of thinned paint, slowly adding layers) but stymied a bit because this substrate mutes the pigment quite a lot. Patience, more layers, thicker paint and the color pops began to show. Lots of nice subtleties with the many layers. And the resulting softness of the piece has me quite pleased. Hello, Muriel. Let's untangle that scaffolding.
- Published on
The Witness
"The Witness" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 24 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. Available here, at Artfinder and at Bluethumb.
Through our eyes,
the universe is perceiving itself.
Through our ears,
the universe is listening to its harmonies.
We are the witnesses through which
the universe becomes conscious of its glory,
of its magnificence. - ALAN WATTS
Through our eyes,
the universe is perceiving itself.
Through our ears,
the universe is listening to its harmonies.
We are the witnesses through which
the universe becomes conscious of its glory,
of its magnificence. - ALAN WATTS
This piece is the final culmination of a roundabout kind of journey.
It began with a collector's suggestion - "paint the Lola version of Leda and the Swan" (a daunting task, but I am always up for a challenge). The suggestion prompted a visual exploration of the many ways this myth has been represented. And another exploration of the myth itself, the controversy surrounding it and the ways its original meaning has often been softened and blurred from an act of assault to one of seduction. And then a lot of mulling over how to Lola-fy this tangled subject (both visual subject and story subject).
It began with a collector's suggestion - "paint the Lola version of Leda and the Swan" (a daunting task, but I am always up for a challenge). The suggestion prompted a visual exploration of the many ways this myth has been represented. And another exploration of the myth itself, the controversy surrounding it and the ways its original meaning has often been softened and blurred from an act of assault to one of seduction. And then a lot of mulling over how to Lola-fy this tangled subject (both visual subject and story subject).
Ultimately, as I attempt to do in my own life, I incorporated the event into the subject's own person and looked for the strength and resiliency (and, in the case of wings, freedom) that may come from having faced something and lived a life beyond it.
The Watts quote landed after the painting was completed, and gave me a fresh view of the piece independent of Leda's mythology. She is transformed.
And once again the process of creating leaves me with goosebumps and gladness. :)
The Watts quote landed after the painting was completed, and gave me a fresh view of the piece independent of Leda's mythology. She is transformed.
And once again the process of creating leaves me with goosebumps and gladness. :)
Congratulations to Michaela and Natalee! Wonder Mike chose your names at random as winners of the November Reader Giveaway! Email your mailing address to thewanderingsoflola@gmail.com and your prizes will be on the way! Woot!
The once-a-year save-the-art-from-the-gesso sale is ON! Save up to 75% and get free shipping! Now through November 30th.
- Published on
"Approximating the Landscape of Truth" - oil on linen canvas, 26 x 32 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. Available here, at Artfinder and at Bluethumb.
Question your maps and models of the universe, both inner and outer, and continually test them against the raw input of reality. Our maps are still maps, approximating the landscape of truth from the territories of the knowable — incomplete representational models that always leave more to map, more to fathom, because the selfsame forces that made the universe also made the figuring instrument with which we try to comprehend it.
- from THE MARGINALIAN
Question your maps and models of the universe, both inner and outer, and continually test them against the raw input of reality. Our maps are still maps, approximating the landscape of truth from the territories of the knowable — incomplete representational models that always leave more to map, more to fathom, because the selfsame forces that made the universe also made the figuring instrument with which we try to comprehend it.
- from THE MARGINALIAN
We're going diving into AI today. How can we use it as a constructive tool?
It turns out the AI bot can be a pretty good art critique group. It is willing to point you in a direction without apology or beating around the bush. And then it will point you in a new direction without apologizing for the first one. Ha ha!
It turns out the AI bot can be a pretty good art critique group. It is willing to point you in a direction without apology or beating around the bush. And then it will point you in a new direction without apologizing for the first one. Ha ha!
Approximating the Landscape of Truth
Let's dive!
For the initial painting, I began with a photo from one of our forest wanders, and asked the AI bot to give me an abstracted landscape interpretation of it. After wading through a few dozen images, I found one I liked pretty well and painted a version of it.
For the initial painting, I began with a photo from one of our forest wanders, and asked the AI bot to give me an abstracted landscape interpretation of it. After wading through a few dozen images, I found one I liked pretty well and painted a version of it.
my original painting from an AI interpretation of my photo
It hung in the studio for a month - I looked at it in every light and just shrugged. Ho hum, I thought. I wanted something more abstracted, more textured and gritty. Normally I would just attack it with paint, but I decided to ask the AI bot - what now? And told it "textured, gritty, abstracted". After a few dozen suggestions, it came up with this: (grid lines added with PicSplit)
Thoughts: seeing the various versions suggested by the AI bot helped me really see what was working, what was not, and what could work much better - along with what would not work better, because the bot's suggestions can be kitschy and overly commercial looking sometimes.
AI's suggestion
I then attacked my original piece with paint.
Adding some grid lines to keep things organized, then blocking in the darks based on the revised composition.
Thoughts: the bot kept the composition fairly similar in the suggestions, which made transforming this piece pretty simple. This helped me see how some minor adjustments could really make a good painting, without starting again from scratch.
Adding some grid lines to keep things organized, then blocking in the darks based on the revised composition.
Thoughts: the bot kept the composition fairly similar in the suggestions, which made transforming this piece pretty simple. This helped me see how some minor adjustments could really make a good painting, without starting again from scratch.
blocking in the new darks
The revised inspiration image was much softer, so most of my time was spent softening everything with layers of thinned paint, rubber wedges, brushes, paper towels and fingers. Ghost images left behind from the original painting add depth and interest to the background. Adding paint, then removing some to reveal hints of the past.
Thoughts: the shapes suggested in the revised image were much simpler. It was easier to see where things in the original painting had become fussy as I worked at whittling away many of the small shapes.
Thoughts: the shapes suggested in the revised image were much simpler. It was easier to see where things in the original painting had become fussy as I worked at whittling away many of the small shapes.
softening all the hard lines
The suggested color pop was tricky - it appeared to lay upon the painting in parts, and was a part of the scene in others. This took a few layers, with the final one added with brisk passes of a laden rubber wedge - resisting the urge to blend that final layer in.
After that, refining some of the shapes, adding warmth to the sky and texture with chopsticks and paint, dripping paint and flicks of a paper towel.
Thoughts: the final revised piece tics all of the boxes I was hoping for in the first piece. Things I should have known from experience (simpler shapes, softer transitions, hints and suggestions instead of obvious forms) were much easier to recognize when viewing a dozen variations of the original painting.
After that, refining some of the shapes, adding warmth to the sky and texture with chopsticks and paint, dripping paint and flicks of a paper towel.
Thoughts: the final revised piece tics all of the boxes I was hoping for in the first piece. Things I should have known from experience (simpler shapes, softer transitions, hints and suggestions instead of obvious forms) were much easier to recognize when viewing a dozen variations of the original painting.
adding the color pop
Finished piece, in situ
AI causes many of us to wince, cringe, shrink, fear, feel disheartened (its product can be very, very good). For artists, writers, musicians, filmmakers, game designers and so many other professions, it can feel overwhelming. As with most new technology, I tend to try it and see if it fits anywhere in the toolbox.
What are your thoughts on AI as a creative tool? Leave a comment below. One (or more) lucky commenter will be selected at random to win an original piece of art!
COMING NEXT WEEKEND! The once-a-year-save-the-paintings-from-the-gesso sale! It only happens once per year - paintings will fly the coop or be fully vandalized by the artist. Muwahaha!
- Published on
The Past Claws Its Way Out
"The Past Claws Its Way Out" - oil on canvas, 15 x 30 x .75. Ready to hang. Available here, at Artfinder and at Bluethumb.
“I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years.”
― Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner
“I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years.”
― Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner
This painting has been sitting here for months, waiting for its story to be revealed. And it came to me on the first cold, rainy day in a good long while, sipping coffee in the studio and listening to the soft sound of water. Thanks to Hosseini, I have the scaffolding to deconstruct it.
I became what I am today at the age of ten, on a rainy day in Alabama in 1972. I remember the moment as if I were standing there now, my dad asking me out on the patio of our townhouse to have a talk, through the sliding door and onto the cement pad which had no furniture or adornment. It was the day I was tasked with finding and confiscating my mother's many hidden bottles, and, in a sense, I am still looking today.
I became what I am today at the age of ten, on a rainy day in Alabama in 1972. I remember the moment as if I were standing there now, my dad asking me out on the patio of our townhouse to have a talk, through the sliding door and onto the cement pad which had no furniture or adornment. It was the day I was tasked with finding and confiscating my mother's many hidden bottles, and, in a sense, I am still looking today.
There is a lot of information about how art helps the viewer, allowing access to emotions through a visual catalyst which may help reveal questions or truths which are otherwise hard to reach. But really, art heals the artist.
It heals by reaching in and pulling out the guts of things - letting the creator examine them from safe perches. It heals by being slow to reveal - teasing, tickling, suggesting, nudging before dropping the veil. And it heals by allowing the artist to speak about the art as if it isn't their own innards in the paint. A little distance from the subject allowing the act of vulnerability to feel less unclothed.
Thank you, dear reader, for listening. Have you had a revealing art experience? I'd love to hear your story.
It heals by reaching in and pulling out the guts of things - letting the creator examine them from safe perches. It heals by being slow to reveal - teasing, tickling, suggesting, nudging before dropping the veil. And it heals by allowing the artist to speak about the art as if it isn't their own innards in the paint. A little distance from the subject allowing the act of vulnerability to feel less unclothed.
Thank you, dear reader, for listening. Have you had a revealing art experience? I'd love to hear your story.
About the art: This piece was inspired by a very surreal and abstracted session with the AI bot, where I asked for wolves and women and Edgar Degas and Edvard Munch and Gustav Klimt. The resulting flurry of images was startling and impactful. I chose some elements of the images and decided on a vertical orientation with a couple of hot color edges to "frame" the action - there is distance between the malevolent character and the seemingly unaware human, yet they are forced into a confined space by the color. Thinned oil paint layers were used almost exclusively, with exception of the hair and hot edges. As always, resisting the urge to overly define, letting the paint whisper and nudge.
