Thursday, July 21, 2011

A New Orleans Painter's Lament and Hope.

President Martin Van Buren.
Why Martin Van Buren?  Because I am fond of the Little Magician from Kinderhook, NY.

I have all sorts of photos to upload onto the blog, but I can't find the little device to connect the card to the computer.  It used to be much easier when I just had a shoebox full of snapshots.  Of course, I couldn't share them all with an uncaring world with a short attention span then.

I started painting again in February, after a five-year hiatus.  When I turned 40, I decided I did not enjoy attending gallery openings, I didn't enjoy discussing my work, I didn't enjoy hobnobbing.  I love to paint.  Since February, I have 23 good paintings in my portfolio.  I counted last night and decided to go for 24.  I now have 24 good paintings in my portfolio.  Some are better than others, but all of the good ones meet my semi-exacting standards.  I am not counting the duds that I have produced during the same time period.

It is nice to be painting again.  I gave it up because I don't like to talk about the work, but I live to make it.  Time drops by the wayside when I am painting, and the clock cannot measure the moments spent dabbing colors.  I am surprised by how easily I slip into that other, creative dimension where just the doing is all that matters.  The results matter afterward.  Luckily they are mostly good, but when engaged in the act, all that matters is the complex internal equations that I formulate as I go along to make a picture work and express what I want it to say.  Will the viewer take the same thing away?  Probably not, but that is not my concern.  My job is to paint like my life depends on it.

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