Archives for June 2020

Some years ago I went through a period where a recurring element not only kept re-appearing in my paintings but would re-appear in pretty much the same location. It was utterly unconscious – and a bit disturbing – a glitch in the Matrix. It felt like waking up in the movie ‘Ground Hog Day’.

I was not only disturbed by it I was deeply curious about it. The answer as to why it was happening turned out to not be rocket science. I had found something that worked and the brain loves a well-paved highway. It was a safe solution. I could get myself a guaranteed pat on the back – even if it was only me standing back thinking, ‘Hey, that’s not too bad!’

Paralyzed by Applause…

As beings, we are deeply risk-averse. Our default is to seek safety – to repeat the thing that worked. It’s a deep and understandable instinct that we want to avoid failure and criticism and seek the warm nod of approval. I call it being paralyzed by applause. 

Repetition in any form can be either a conscious, powerful choice in service of a concept, or it can become the proverbial ‘highway to the danger zone’. The brilliant explorations of Monet reprising his water lilies or the kind of repetition devoid of risk and exploration that squelches the amazing creative beast prowling inside all of us.

What Scares You?

So, what can you do if you’ve become stuck on ‘rinse and repeat’? If I start defaulting to the safe zone I pose questions. I then work the problem to find an answer. For example…

What scares me? What am I avoiding?
What would happen if I used old furry brushes?
What would happen if I shoveled up the pigment instead of thinning it? What could I try that might communicate the noise and activity in a scene?
What would happen if I painted the painting upside down?
What would happen if only half the figure was in the picture plane?
What would happen if I put the center of interest in…shudder…the CENTER?
Could I make it work?
What would happen if…
And on…

The creative excitement will start seeping back and becomes its own reward.

The Good Fail…

There’s such a thing as a ‘good fail’. I walked into a gallery and saw a truly epic fail on the wall by someone who I know is normally an excellent painter. I’m pretty sure I did the “Huh???” family-dog-head-tip. My curiosity made me pause because I knew this person was normally not only a good painter but a very consistent one. I pretty quickly identified what wasn’t working in the painting and what I suspected was the cause of the fail. The painter had ventured outside of their safe zone and tried something new. They stretched. Granted, they had incorporated concepts they had not yet mastered so the painting was problematic. Though the solution had not worked, what I loved about the painting is that the painter had taken a risk. They had tried! That being said I might encourage painters to hold back from presenting those paintings publicly until the kinks are worked out. However, I suspected interesting new things would be coming down the pike from that painter once they hammered out the problems.

The Monster Mash…

If it has become a habit to circle back to an artistic solution that worked in the past we run the risk of applying it at an inappropriate time. I completely fell into my version of that low budget horror movie. I’d come up with a little formula for painting a specific type of scene that was a sure-fire way to make, not a masterpiece, but a nice little painting. It was confessedly a bit of an ‘arse’ saving move on my part at a plein air event I was nervous about.

Since I was new to the event and the location, I was feeling the pressure to produce. The tricks I’d devised were working famously and I was having that good, “I got this!” feeling going on until I slammed head-on into what was ACTUALLY in front of me the next day. The conditions had changed and literally nothing was the same. I reached into my little ‘Emergency Arse Saving Tricks’ bag and started painting like a banshee. It became clear in short order that my painting was a bit of a Frankenstein sewn together out of random parts. A few of my magic tricks, a couple of sprinkles from my formula, mixed with a few strokes of direct observation, topped off with a dash of panic. What had gone wrong? I’d mixed the past with the present. We must be present when we paint.

Go the Distance…

Many years ago I shared a subway ride with a truly great American painter that I deeply admired. We were quiet and then he turned to me and said. “Lyn, don’t ever stop looking. If you do, your paintings will eventually become cartoons.” He was not referring to ‘looking’ in the sense of slavish copying but looking in the sense of a deep and direct observation that leads to an understanding of the structure, essence, gesture, radiance of the forms around us.

I never forgot that moment and the truth of what he said has become more evident over the years. It has pulled me back from the edge when I have been tempted by the ease of drifting into painting formulas rather than asking myself to go the distance and look to see if there might be a different way to state something. Sometimes the different thing doesn’t turn out to be the better thing. Sometimes it does. Whichever way it goes I have the confidence the final solution was a decision, not a default.

Resistance is not Futile!

I’ll close with a painting that was one of my personal favorites of the year – ‘Coffee…black.’ It was the act of resisting nearly every formula I’d ever concocted or relied on in the past that fueled the intent of the painting. That intent being – paint not the objects but the sounds, smells, movement, atmosphere – the passage of the scene through time. The players themselves were only the supporting actors. I had to step away from the painting and out of the studio repeatedly to resist the urge to refine, to finish, to paint the life out of it.

So, never stop looking. Trust the painting. Trust yourself. And trust that tomorrow you can walk into your studio and it won’t be Groundhog Day!

Early in the fall when life was humming along normally, I had some well-educated and well-connected women tour my studio. One of the women raised her hand to ask a question. She said, “I don’t know much about art, but I would like to know what comes first, inspiration or intention?” I am not one to think quickly on her feet, so I fumbled and mumbled some sort of response. I have been tossing this question around in my head for the last nine months. The reason I find it so important is that each one of us has our own unique way of creating our paintings. Taking a few steps back and analyzing our process might help us in the future when we seem to get stuck or have a block.

This period of time in isolation is nothing new for us. As painters, we beg the universe for uninterrupted time at the easel. Some of us may be getting just that, but finding it difficult to even begin to mix colors because of the graveness of our world situation. Others of us may have spouses and children at home, and time at the easel is impossible. We certainly have more time to pause and think. We may wish we could feel that “ah-ha” moment when a great idea comes to us and we begin to run with it. Our paths to inspiration are as different as we are.

For me, inspiration for new paintings is everywhere. It can be the petals of a flower, peeling open a grapefruit or the chubby cheeks of my granddaughter. One time as I walked through the grocery store, I held in my hand an unusual plum. I was fascinated and “inspired by” the amazing yellow-green color. Then I was “inspired to” use analogous colors and a variety of sizes to create a composition. “Oh Honey” was painted starting with this encounter in the grocery store. It may be an interesting exercise to trace the source of inspiration for our favorite pieces. Then I concluded that very often we are inspired, but not all of the time do we take action. It seems then that inspiration comes first. If we want to take this inspiration further and give it energy, then we direct our intention to this inspiration. Problem solved. 

Not so fast. My friend Malachi Lawrence, who is an aerospace engineer, says intention comes first for him. An engineer may face a baffling problem that he or she intends to solve but all of their best analytical efforts may fail. But sometimes in the middle of the night, the inspiration for the solution comes! For some of us as painters, commissions motivate us. The intention to fulfill the clients needs comes first and then finding inspiration to create a painting comes second. Okay then, so it could go either way.

Then why ask this question after all? Because we all need to learn to tap into our own resources for inspiration. It made me want to dive deeper into how inspiration comes about. Is inspiration a voluntary or involuntary occurrence? I wrote an email to Scott Barry Kaufman, PhD, who is a humanist psychologist, author, researcher and speaker, known for his research on intelligence, creativity, and human potential. He sent me his article called “Why inspiration Matters” from the Harvard Business Review. 

He writes, “Inspiration awakens us to new possibilities by allowing us to transcend our ordinary experiences and limitations.” Kaufman found that “Openness to Experience” often came before inspiration, suggesting that those who are more open to inspiration are more likely to experience it.We have all experienced a higher level of creative thinking for some of our paintings. However, we may find this inspiration is few and far between. We may have a total creative block due to many different circumstances in our lives. This pandemic could be causing major difficulty for some of us. Can we call inspiration in? Dr. Kaufman writes, “Mastery of work, absorption, creativity, perceived competence, self-esteem, and optimism were all consequences of inspiration, suggesting that inspiration facilitates these important psychological resources. Interestingly, work mastery also came before inspiration, suggesting that inspiration is not purely passive, but does favor the prepared mind.” The idea of being more absorbed in our tasks or mastery of work is something we can all strive for as we wait for inspiration. Two quotes from artists I saw recently suggest this.

“Inspiration is for amateurs: the rest of us just show up and get to work.” Chuck Close

“Inspiration exists but it has to find you working.” Pablo Picasso

During the most difficult time in my life, I believe I painted two of my best pieces. During the first half of 2018, my son, Stefan, was facing a very risky open-heart surgery and insurance was not willing to cover it. I spent countless hours researching this surgery to make the decision for him to have it or not, and months haggling with the hospital and the insurance company over benefits. My oldest daughter, Shelby, was struggling through a very difficult pregnancy and was due six weeks after Stefan’s scheduled surgery. During this time I painted “Orange Romance” and entered it into the OPA National. On June 18, Stefan pulled through this miraculous thirteen-hour surgery. As Stefan recovered, I was very consumed with worry for my daughter. With Stefan getting better every day, I painted “Tango in Yellow.” My granddaughter Camilla was born healthy on July 31. As I look back on this time and wonder how I was able to create these paintings, I can only say that it had been preceded by years of work on studying painting and understanding composition. Inspiration might come when you least expect it. One thing I do know is that I love to paint, and this love provided an escape from the harsh realities of life and I do believe they had some divine inspiration. Some higher power was at work and I really can’t explain, but I believe these works lifted me high above and carried me through these difficult times. 

These last few weeks have been unprecedented in our lives. I was living in so much fear and was unable to sleep. Confined to my home and reading too much news, I found myself comforted by the arrival of spring. First to come from the earth were the daffodils. The timing was perfect and very inspirational for me. I did five paintings of varied species that grew right outside my door because there were to be no trips to the florists. Exploring their unique forms and trying to create them in space became my obsession for two weeks. Interestingly they go from light to dark in overall feeling. Creating them gave me escape and eventually hope for what is to come. The botanist Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer says, “The exchange of love between earth and people calls forth the creative gifts of both. The earth is not indifferent to us, but rather calling for our gifts in return for hers—the reciprocal nature of life and creativity.” I am surely more grateful for these Flowers blooming more than ever before. 

Maybe the situation is different in your studio. A friend of mine, Austin-based artist Will Klemm, tells me, “Occasionally, if I’ve been away from work too long, or have had too long to ruminate on a ‘big idea’ for a series or a show, a kind of painter’s block can set in. If my first two strategies (cleaning up and pouring over) don’t work, I pull out a handful of unresolved or unfinished paintings. Then I work back into them, sometimes just a slight glaze will change everything, sometimes I completely obliterate the original with a palette knife. The point is to get the studio muscles moving again, without striving for any particular outcome.”

I have found that another way to do this would be to delve back into old photos on your computer. Try new cropping or editing and old photos can become new masterpieces. Inspirational ideas can come to us when we are not in the studio. Have you ever had your most brilliant ideas come to you while taking a shower or doing dishes? A quote from Mozart: “When I am traveling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep: it is on such occasions that ideas flow best and most abundantly.”

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of “Eat, Pray, Love,” writes in her book, “Big Magic,” “I don’t demand a translation of the unknown. I don’t need to understand what it all means, or where ideas are originally conceived, or why creativity plays out as unpredictably as it does. I don’t need to know why we are sometimes to converse freely with inspiration, when at other times we labor hard in solitude and come up with nothing.” She later concludes, “All I know for certain is that this is how I want to spend my life-collaborating to the best of my ability with forces of inspiration that I can neither see nor prove, nor command, nor understand.” When one wonders where inspiration has gone in current work, I like Gilbert’s thought here: “You can believe that you are neither a slave to inspiration nor its master, but something far more interesting-its partner-and that the two of you are working together toward something intriguing and worthwhile.”

Here is my conclusion on the question that was asked of me last fall. If we keep working diligently at the craft of good painting and mastering our skills of composition, color mixing, and creating form on a canvas – if we do our part in the hard work, once in a while the painting transcends to a higher level. And often you may look back and say, “I don’t even remember painting that.” Maybe it was divine inspiration. 

References:

• “Big Magic-Creative Living Beyond Fear” by Elizabeth Gilbert, 2015 
• “Why Inspiration Matters” by Scott Barry Kaufman November 8, 2011 Harvard Business Review

The first couple of weeks were okay, right? In fact, you probably said, “Hey, I’m an artist! My life hasn’t changed that much, in fact, it’s better now that I don’t have to put on pants or go anywhere!” You painted every day in an immaculately organized studio. Then about a month in, you started feeling a bit…off, but you wanted to stay active and engaged, so maybe you signed up for a Zoom workshop or began watching some of the instructional videos being offered by your favorite artists. A couple weeks later, the Zoom calls may have started to feel burdensome and a far cry from the “real thing.” Another month went by, and by then, you probably had your fair share of Netflix binging, wine and chocolate, and sleeping in till noon. Perhaps, the fear started creeping into your mind that you might not be okay if you can’t display your work in exhibitions, and if collectors don’t start buying art again. How will you pay the rent, or buy more art supplies? And now you’re finally admitting, “I just don’t feel like painting.” If this describes you, at least in part, you are not alone!  So… during this time of uncertainty, how are we artists supposed to get out of this funk?

This incredibly strange season of quarantine and social distancing isn’t the first time in my life that I’ve felt unmotivated to paint. I’ve been through two pregnancies, where my body (and mind) was giving 110% to growing another human being. I had to fight for every shred of inspiration that I could muster. And while I’m normally a very motivated person, it’s impossible for anyone to be “on” for 24/7. However, if you’re like me and you hate the thought of wasting time, you can use those uninspired moments to engage in something besides painting. Specifically, you can use that time to start crafting YOUR STORY.

Hold on, before you roll your eyes and say “I thought this was an art blog”, give me a chance to explain.

Recently I listened to an audiobook called “Stories That Stick,” by Kindra Hall. The book is all about crafting stories that engage your audience and motivate them to buy your product, subscribe to your channel, etc. etc. (you fill in the blank). While the book was targeting entrepreneurs, business professionals, marketing managers, and team leaders, I found that all of it was applicable to us—small business owners (artists) who paint for a living and have to market our own work and ourselves. 

In “Stories That Stick,” Hall describes why storytelling is the most powerful and effective marketing tool we have, and why we should all be using it. First, it puts us on the fast track to trust. A good story can quickly “bridge the gap” between us and our audience and help us relate in some way. Second, stories are far more memorable than a mission statement, description of your product, or outline about your process. Stories have the power to leave a lasting impression on your clients and collectors. Third, a great story wins out over gimmicks every time. That’s great news for us artists, because guess what? You don’t have photograph yourself suggestively standing half naked in the studio with your paintings! Just tell your story, and that will resonate more with your audience than any of those Instagram posers ever could.

Hall says there are four necessary elements to crafting a great story: identifiable characters, authentic emotion, a significant moment, and specific details. Most often, we artists can use ourselves as the identifiable character. For example, I recently posted this story on my Instagram page, along with a recently completed painting of a scene from a Florentine courtyard.

Here’s what I wrote: When I spent the summer as a 21-year-old in Florence to study figure painting, I knew I would deal with culture shock, but I couldn’t have prepared myself for just how rough of a transition it would be.
My luggage was lost for a week. Yes… a whole week. I couldn’t really afford to buy new clothes, but my twin sister, who was working three jobs that summer, wired me money to keep me afloat. I had to walk everywhere, including to class, because if I rode the bus I would constantly get accosted by men. I finally figured out that it was my blue eyes that made them crazy, so I bought some sunglasses. I was all alone and didn’t speak Italian. Yet every day, I found solace in drawing, especially when I could sit in a safe haven like the Boboli gardens, or a palace courtyard like this one in the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, away from the busy streets. Not all of my memories of Florence are good, but the strongest and best memory is that feeling of purpose when I immersed myself in the art. I do love Italy and can’t wait to go back.  ❤️

Your stories certainly don’t have to be as dramatic as this one. And they don’t even have to be art-related, as long as they help make the point you are trying to make. In my story, I included the four important elements: identifiable character (me), authentic emotion (culture shock), significant moment (finding a safe haven), and specific details (lost luggage, sunglasses on the bus, etc.).

Hall also goes into great detail about the four different types of stories that each of us can tell: the value story, the founder story, the purpose story, and the customer story.  To find out more about what these are and how to start crafting your own, I highly recommend you check out this book for yourself. You’ll find yourself recalling all kinds of stories you may have forgotten, that could be valuable in marketing yourself and your work.

Something I did during my own quarantine funk was compile a slideshow video about my art journey for YouTube. You can check it out here. I thought this project was silly and that no one would really care to watch 34 minutes of embarrassing childhood and early career artwork, but I included a lot of entertaining stories in my narration. The response to this video has been incredible, and I’m so touched by how many people have found it inspiring. While you certainly don’t have to spend hours putting together a slideshow, you’ll be amazed at how much people will respond to your social media posts, newsletters, and marketing campaigns if you include a story!

I hope this has inspired you to start digging a little bit. Sift through old photos, remember your “firsts” (first date, first car, first painting you were truly happy with… etc.), and see how you can bridge the gap between yourself and your potential collectors, students, and patrons. And then—tell your story!