I've read Cynthia Voigt's A Solitary Blue more than once—in fact, four times since 1989. I was reading it yet again, this time as an audiobook, when the following passage—a passage I've quoted more than once in this blog—filled my ears last week while I vacationed in downeast Maine.
This had been the pattern
of his days
on the back creek:
he would move the boat out
until he felt more frightened
than he had the courage to match;
then he would anchor
and wait.
—Cynthia Voigt, A Solitary Blue
The words offer such a fitting metaphor for my typical way of painting. The moving-anchoring-waiting-gathering-courage-moving-again pattern is exactly what was playing out when Voigt's words came my way as I was painting last week.
The piece I was working on already had a considerable history of moving-anchoring-waiting when I'd set it aside as a finished (or so I thought) painting in 2016.
After a six-year(!) wait period, I'd pulled anchor and included this piece in what I packed for vacation, thinking I might use it as the backdrop for a new neurographic exploration.
Use it I did. I added neurographic linework and, for good measure, also threw in a semi-blind contour drawing of trees seen out my cottage window.
I totally lost myself in the joy of process—created messes, anchored, waited, let my courage and investigative energy recover, ventured forth again, resolved one mess and inevitably created a new one, anchored again, waited again, gathered courage again, moved forward to resolution again, created yet another puzzle, and so on.
Loved every moment.
 |
A Greatness of Air 8 x 8"; collage, acrylic, gouache, watercolor, ink, and oil pastel on watercolor paper abstract landscape 2022 |
History:
 |
'completed' piece from 2016 that became a start last week for the new work above |
6 comments:
Thanks for the quote! Love your description of the creativity process!
Rolling waves,neurographic rocks, pebbled sky.and realistic pine!
Carol, thanks for your feedback. The creativity process was a fascinating ride from start to finish—a journey that unfolded with alternating challenge and resolution, one after the other. I let myself keep exploring to see what might work, using the guiding question of what-if-I-did-this. I'd 'do this,' see what presented itself, then I'd do the next thing in response, rather than try to think it all through or 'control' it from the get-go. Ironically, the trees began as a combination of partial blind-contour and a bunch of neurographic smoothing—not aiming for realistic even though they became increasingly so.
This Friday my youngest grandson is having his Bar Mitzva. I am adding the quote to my Bracha.
Sweet! Thanks for letting me know. Mazel tov, Bar Mitzvah!
I got so lost in this I forgot to post. LOL. Wonderful post Dotty. I love your landscapes, and this is so delightful. :)
Oh!, I am delighted in return at your delight in this landscape! This current engagement with it was so engaging and such fun, one of those sweet times when process was a tremendous gift.
I've thought of you often recently, Sheila, as I've begun incorporating a bit of watercolor and gouache exploration into my studio time. Much to learn but I love having you as a mentor.
Post a Comment