The Story Artist
March 23, 2009 by Janice · 10 Comments
Who knew writing was so social? I did not. I am an artist after all, what would I know about writing? Being an avid reader does not make me an accomplished writer, no matter how much I adore a beautiful flow of words. A character chiseled just right. Or a narrative puzzle to unravel. So how was I to know that writing was so social? And so rewarding.
Being adept at all things visual, knowing how to see, how could I not see this?
A friend has put it out there, this question that is: What have you learned about writing from your community? Joanna Young hosts Confident Writing and if you do not know her, you should. She’ll brighten your day. Make you think. Push you to be better. I have watched and read some of the other group writing projects, but felt “oh, those are for writers, they are not meant for me.” I am a painter after all.
That is until this one.
How are they going to know if I don’t tell them, how much I learn from them? I’ve mentioned to Joanna more than once about how art is a call and a response. All the visual tools are there to elicit resonance. To go after that heartbeat as I ‘ve said. And even though art is created mostly in solitude, it’s not meant to stay there. It’s meant to journey out, be seen, and responded to or so we hope. Art builds community. A community of resonance.
So does writing.
Think of words that linger, words that stay with you for a while, a thought, an idea, or someone’s response to a phrase that you have put out there. That place where it passes between us. There, that spot. That spot is packed with energy of heart and mind. That spot, that exchange, is where you know that good writing is taking place.
Because that’s what good art and good writing does, it engages. It sometimes makes us pause. And sometimes it changes everything, or tweaks what came before. Not for a moment is it just those words or those images. It is the choice behind them. The intent and desire behind them. The desire to take something to community and exchange it for something meaningful offered by community.
Think of it. When I write now, I think how is this of value to say Joanna, or to Karen, or anyone else who might need to know what is at the heart of the very thing that I am trying to convey. And why am I conveying it?
And here is a theory. It’s simple really. We all have this unquenchable desire to touch the face of the universe and say, hey, is it like that for you too? Or here, here’s some really good stuff I found, want some? Or, oh, this is what I have found is good for that. It is exchange. A quality of life exchange.
So what have I learned about writing from my community? That it is well worth every effort and every risk I take cobbling words together for the exchange they bring to me. This large page we are on, this entourage of our own, makes the world a better place because we share it.
So yes, here we are on another Organizing Monday thinking how you all have made me a better painter who writes. So thank you. Ahhh, this was at the top of my list for this week. Now on to the next. The artist smiles…and waves.
Building Bridges
March 13, 2009 by Janice · 6 Comments
All paintings have access points. Places where we are invited in. It may be the thing you notice first. Or the part you like the best, or even the subject chosen. But all paintings have access points. Some are even hidden, but they are there. There has to be a bridge that builds engagement. That’s even true for the artist. Where do I enter the piece? How do I engage? Where do I start? We start by remembering that a painting is just as much about you as it is about me.
Good art happens in that space between you and me.
So we are about building bridges. Bridges from one heart and mind to another. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It has to resonate truly with me to even get done, but you, you are always in the picture. See the yellow in the photo? Those are the beginnings of some cactus blooms.
But they are the beginnings of that bridge between us.
Yes, in watercolor for example, we have to work light to dark because it is transparent. The medium dictates a certain order of things. Traditionalists build that way strictly. But I did not study with traditionalists. Oh, I studied Homer and Sargent and all the rest, their work is lovely in this medium, iconic even. But I worked with Forrester and Scott. They were about building rhythms.
Using color to build the bridges.
Like Kandinsky and Miro and Welliver, and Brady, setting up color and movement is more important. So when that blank piece of paper is staring me right in the face, I am looking for the major color actors, and the interactions I will set up. The foundations onto which I can build. And the flow that occurs between them.
That flow, that’s where that bridge leads.
The better I set that up, the more I think of how it works, the more the piece will extend itself, reach out, like an invitation. An invitation to come along. See something else. Look at something another way, to feel a little of what I feel, say, ah, yes, I get what you mean. I know that part, I feel that too. Yes. An invitation to engage.
Next time you look at a piece of art, look for the bridges, the parts that reach out to you. The ones that catch your eye. There was a person behind that trying to touch your heart.
I hope there is some Naughty in your plans for later on. Me? More puddling rain here in Texas today, more puddles to make with the paint. But Naughty is on my radar, says the artist with a smile.