Fall in love with the process

Recently, a friend was trying to explain to me his philosophy about making art. The term he used to differentiate a true piece of art from the noise out there was "flow". Does the work reflect the artist's flow? But how does one define this concept?

It's something I've been trying to describe to myself for years, ever since I watched George toss a gorgeous piece of in-progress bronze in the back of his car, unlocked with the window left down! If I had to take a gander at it, I'd frame it in terms of loving the process over loving the product. What do I mean by this? I mean allowing yourself (as the artist) to let go of the outcome, and focus on the mechanics that get the work done. This could include embracing brushstrokes you don't like; choosing not to work and rework a section of the piece in an attempt to get things "just right"; focusing on the qualities of the paint you are using instead of worrying about whether you rendered proportions perfectly; or letting the paint dictate the outcome of the session as one color grabs another while you drag your brush through space. And it certainly means believing in yourself along the way.

Such thinking allows the artist to be less invested in each individual piece, which should lead to better production and, in turn, a better body of work. It also allows for more freedom to be creative, because when you are less invested in a given outcome, you'll probably take more risks or perhaps be more playful in your execution. These actions should lead to more success overall. The more work you make, the better you'll get and, hopefully, the more work you'll sell.

But why is this so? I suspect that if an artist can decouple a certain subset of their emotions (mainly fear, pride, shame, hope, and love) from their actual work, and instead focus on executing the process with confidence, then they can achieve this so-called "flow", which will become apparent in their body of work as it becomes stronger. It's almost like you have to step back from yourself in order to bring out the best qualities of your art.

For the record, loving the process over the product and achieving flow are things I struggle with. I've historically been a lover of the product, and very rarely the process, which means that making art has at times been painful. So it has been in my best interests to change my way of thinking and learn to love the process, and to let go of much of the outcome in favor of, well, creating better art.

Pictured here is a new piece, Catwalk. 16 x 12 inches, acrylic on cradled panel. Painted with brushstrokes I didn't like, lines I wanted to clean up but didn't, and an energy that can best be described as... "flow". And I think it came out divine...

I'm on Instagram!

I finally got set up with an Instagram account. You can find me at LadydeanArt. I'm hoping to be able to reach a broader audience with this platform. Please follow me!

Lean into the challenge

In art, it often helps to have a problem that needs solving. A challenge to tackle can make your work more interesting, and should be embraced. If you can lean into the challenge and see the problem as an opportunity (to borrow the language of business-speak), take the time to analyze what is and isn't working, and finally roll up your sleeves and fix what's wrong, you will often end up with a much better end product then had the issue never arose to begin with. The complexity of having solved a problem will often translate to the viewer (with no words needed), who can be drawn in by the subtle tensions that appear in the work of art as you stop, stare, consider, and re-approach whatever it is that is bothering you.

Although as artists we should strive to master our craft and execute our skills quickly, we risk falling into a trap of monotony if we are never challenged by the colors, composition, meaning, or technical execution of our work. As someone important once said, the moment your works stops challenging you is the moment you should quit and find something else to do with your life. So although having a problem can feel overwhelming, bring us to tears or anger, or cause us to freeze up if the solution isn't immediately apparent, if we can power through the anxiety and keep working, the outcome will be worth the struggle. And the less of a fight you put up with yourself or your art, the better off you will be. Say to yourself, "This problem is actually an opportunity. I should be excited by this challenge, because it will ultimately make this a stronger piece. Don't panic, Self, just calm down and look at things objectively. What do I need to do to fix this?". It may take a while to come to a conclusion, so give yourself the time you need to do so. Once you have it, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

I had several challenges arise while working on this painting. The biggest challenge is the actual support: rag paper. There are different absorbencies on this painting due to the way I prepped the paper, which made it challenging to layer paint on later. I almost panicked while working on the right butt cheek of the female figure (the paint wouldn't move the way I wanted it to!), but caught myself and said, "Lean into the challenge", took a deep breath, and was honest with myself about what was wrong. I knew the paper and the layers of supports were working against me, but that I had to be strong and apply the acrylic paint boldly and with confidence, in order to make the figures pop. I had to work quickly, so as to not tear a hole in the surface. I also knew I was committed to the colors [the quinacridone crimson and the phthalo blue (green shade) are high staining and once you've applied them to the support, you can't really turn back], so the only way to go was forward. This approach allowed me to get through the stressful pause, and I'm now quite happy with how the painting is turning out. It's not quite done, but it's almost there.

Working title: "The Dance of Love". 26 x 20 1/4 inches, mixed media (India ink and acrylic) on rag paper.

Lots of art being made lately... here's one sketch!

Here's a sketch I did tonight titled Getting to Know Each Other. It's 7 x 10 inches on sketch paper, drawn with a 9B Koh-I-Noor Progresso woodless graphite pencil.

As an artist, there's only one person who knows your entire oeurve...

As an artist, there's only one person who completely knows where you've come from.

As an artist, there's only one person who is aware of every single piece of art you've ever made.

As an artist, there's only one person who knows about everything you've thrown out, re-worked, or re-primed and re-painted.

As an artist, there's only one person who knows your entire ouerve.

As an artist, there's only one person who fully understands where you are going with your work.

As an artist, there's only one person who can defend the development of your style.

This piece is part of my Put a Bird on It series that I'm developing in my mind and in my sketchbooks (never mind the fact that this particular painting excludes the actual bird). It aims to merge a few of my foci: abstracts, nudes, and tulips. By including the tulip, I can thus make a tangential reference to the final focus: landscapes. I call this merged style of abstracts, nudes, and landscapes (regardless of whether or not there is a tulip) abstracted nudescapes. It's the direction in which I'm trying to take my work in order to have one body of work that functions together. I think it's fun.

Untitled. 13 1/2 x 7 1/2 inches, acrylic on primed cardboard. If you are interested in purchasing this piece, I will investigate how it can be appropriately framed.

No, your hand goes over here

I had some fun doing some sketches this weekend. This one is called "No, your hand goes over here."

It's the fourth of four sketches I did of the same composition, with different styles of execution. It's my favorite of the four. I may turn the third one into a painting, so stay tuned!

The client's reaction when I deliver art... priceless!

For as much as I love getting paid, I think what I love even more is seeing the reaction from my clients when I deliver the art. The first reaction to seeing the work in person... to hanging the work in its new home... to hearing the details behind the execution... this is really fun and motivating - it's what makes it all worth it.

It's honestly not enough for me to like most of my paintings (I'll make exceptions for really personal pieces that I know no one is going to connect with... this is why I have my own collection of my art!). If you don't love it, then I've missed the mark somehow; but, you're probably not buying it if that's not the case, so it's likely that I won't have to suffer through a lackluster reception.

Here are the composition and color-planning sketches for the Tulip Series. The patrons love the paintings...

And the pen sketch, as promised...

Pen sketch on cardboard! All the colors are lined out. Painting in progress here.

I've signed this, but couldn't get the right photo...

Just working on some finishing touches at this point... 20 x 16 inches.

Previous iteration.

The mini sold like a hot cake!

I love how this turned out! Reference tiny painting.

Just need to sign it...

This painting has come a long way in the past few weeks. Color scheme is: 25% dioxazine purple + 75% titanium white for the underpainting. The sky is 50% dioxazine purple mixed with 50% titanium white (why I did not go with N6 neutral gray, I do not know...) and the ground is a mixture of chromium green oxide and titanium white, with slightly more white mixed in than I did in the previous painting. The flowers are 100% dioxazine purple with a light layer of primary magenta brushed on later, with titanium white to line the edges. The line through the middle consists of a few shades of carbon black that I will have to examine closely, lined with pure primary magenta below. The green is phthalo green (yellow shade), just like all the rest!

Updates!

Yes, this is the same painting. Underpainting is 60% primary magenta mixed with 40% carbon black. Sky is 50% phthalo blue mixed with 50% N6 neutral gray. Ground is 50% primary magenta mixed with 50% N6 neutral gray. Horizon lines are 50% dioxazine purple mixed with 50% carbon black, lined with 100% primary magenta underneath. The penetrating tulip is 100% primary magenta, lined with the phthalo blue/ neutral gray mixture. The broken tulip will be painted that same blue tone. The middle tulip? I'm still on the fence. It was supposed to be 100% dioxazine purple (like in the color sketch), but I don't think it will translate well on stretched canvas, so I may go with a 50% dioxazine and carbon black mixture. The leaves and stems are phthalo green (yellow shade).

As you can tell, I still need to finish painting the ground and finish up the leaves/ stems. Other than that, I'm almost done with Painting #3 in this series! 20 x 16 inches on pre-stretched canvas.

Fun with under painting!

60% primary magenta + 40% carbon black.

Paint the entire picture using just one color. Mission = accomplished!

Now, to apply the actual color scheme.

Mini painting!

I painted an itty bitty painting! This is a color sketch for my third painting in the tulip series. I've already had a couple of people express an interest in buying, which I find amusing. It is well executed, but it's painted on a blank CD sleeve! The actual size of the painted area is 3 1/8 x 2 1/4 inches.

Color detail for the sky is 50% phthalo blue mixed with 50% N6 neutral gray; the ground is 50% magenta + 50% N6 neutral gray. More color detail to come. I need to go paint...

I sketched out a painting...

And then painted a test version on paper (400 Series Strathmore Drawing Medium paper; 13 3/16 x 11 inches, to be specific) using various small brushes (including #6 Utrecht 239-FIL mixed synthetic, #8 Utrecht 239-B mixed synthetic, #16 Utrecht 239-A mixed synthetic, and #1 Connoisseur 267 white taklon round brushes)...

The sky is roughly 50% N6 neutral gray + 50% phthalo blue, the grass is roughly 50% chromium oxide green + 50% titanium white, the leaves are phthalo green (yellow shade), the horizon line is naphthol red medium, and the flowers are primary magenta, cadmium yellow medium hue, and c.p. cadmium orange with phthalo blue as the highlight. I got a little too much phthalo mixed in with the flower heads because I didn't have the patience to wait a few seconds for the paint to dry!

The intent of the painting was to play with flower and sexual imagery. Unfortunately, I only captured the play in the pen sketches, not in the test painting! They pretty much just look like flowers...

My last chance to take a photograph!

As I took down my Manhattan Arts Center show today, I snapped a picture of "Red Square" in her frame. It was my last chance, because she sold during the show! I think this was one of the few pieces to sell after opening night. It's also my first sale through a third party!

SOLD!! Jewels

It's too bad I never took a proper photo of this! I had her framed with a black cherry matte (?? I'll have to check my records on that, actually) so that I could hang her in my 2012 Radina's show, despite the fact that I hadn't actually finished the painting. Many discussions later, I decided that I could call it "done" and stop worrying about whether to work it more or not. I had various interested parties, and she went to the buyer who put a tight deadline on purchasing it... "Oh, by the way, I'm moving next week and would love to own one of your paintings." SOLD!

For the curious, "Jewels" refers to the name of the dancer, not any kind of "family jewels"; although I suppose if you look into it hard enough, you might see a pair...

SOLD!!! Red Square

My first sale through a third party.

I'm glad I went with the title of "Red Square" on this one, so as to not influence my audience too much. The buyer saw some interesting things, including golf and music.

I love hearing about what other people see in a piece of my artwork.

Circles and squares...

Lately, I've been wondering why I keep painting circles and squares. Circles and squares are not what I aspire to paint. Circles and squares are not what I dream of when I dream about painting. Circles and squares often do not make sense as I compose a piece. And yet... that's what comes out when I don't restrict myself. I've been able to massage them into some interesting images (I think), but I often find myself baffled by the fact that I paint them in the first place. Sometimes, I'm even upset. I want to paint a nude, but out comes a circle instead! I grasp at straws to explain to myself what is going on...

Despite my occasional displeasure, I'm trying to run with it. I'm trying not to fight that which I apparently need to explore artistically. It may not make sense to me all of the time, but I feel that resisting the topic could cause more problems than just going with it. And besides, circles and squares are a fundamental part of composition, generally speaking, so why not paint them? Of course, this begs the question, why not paint triangles, too? I have no answer for that. It just is what it is and triangles are not currently part of the equation, unless we're talking about a triangular relationship between a circle, a square, and a line.

What is interesting about my tendency to paint a lot of circles and squares these days is the fact that they can really turn into anything. They can be part of a pure abstract, a landscape, an abstracted landscape, or even a nude! I'm finding more flexibility at my fingertips than I originally assumed to be available, although I have to push myself to see it sometimes. The best part of this phenomenon can be the tension created between the elements when a circle, a square, and a line are involved (whether in a triangular arrangement or not!); I find myself paying ever increasing attention to this relationship. The placement of these elements becomes no random thing, if I sketch out the design first. There is no mistake in where I am placing the circle with respect to the intersection of two lines. And that, my friends, is where the magic is.

The painting you see in this photo was not intended to be a painting at first. I was just wiping off excess paint when I over-mixed my red-orange (c.p. cadmium orange mixed loosely with primary magenta). I found the square I had painted to be interesting, so I framed it with some graphite from a click pencil. Later, I found myself with some excess 75% phthalo blue + 25% cadmium yellow medium hue, so I purposely painted in the blues (with water) in a manner that was compositionally intriguing. I now want to add some naphthol red (or maybe primary magenta again, although I am gravitating towards the idea of the tension inherent in using naphthol red more than the complementary nature of the primary magenta) in the top right corner, among other things... This piece of Strathmore 400 series mixed media paper (vellum surface) does not have any gesso on it. 11 x 14 inches. And you outta see what's painted on the backside...

"Red Square"

Details to come! Original sketch included. 12 x 12 inches on canvas board.