Andrew Wyeth

American painter Andrew Wyeth died recently, at the age of 91. I cannot say I know much or anything about him, but one of the neat things about obituaries of public figures, is it is fun to learn. The link is to his website and includes a collection of his works.

More on Painting

I am definitely confident about the lying low for a bit, as far as attempts at physical public showings (mostly UAG). It is funny: this past December, I picked up the list of shows and deadlines for 2009 and started to circle those which might have interested me, the first being the show starting Feb 6, and I realized that I started a few but had no time to complete them. And I also realized, that is no way to do art. Glad I don't paint on commission. I would likely hate that.

Oils kind of put me in a place where I am not in a rush to finish. I will sketch out the piece, recopy the sketch on canvas (mostly wood with acrylic gesso base), and then paint. And then I will get to a point where I am either tired, or have done enough and the paint needs to dry before I can work on it again, or I want to sit back and let the piece sink in , and then I will start something else. This is not to say I don't finish any. I do, especially if I have a self-imposed deadline (e.g., it's a birthday gift). But I have about five or six unfinished paintings lying around. One of them has been sitting around since September (the redhead in bed piece.

Today, I started a new piece...don't have a title of it, but it's a gender role reversal. The artist is a woman, and the guy is hanging around...nekkid, reading, smoking, relaxing. Got the background done and some flesh color for the subjects, but it will require some work. One thing I noticed, I am not very dexterous...not good painting small objects, figures.

Another piece is going to be called "Darkness Visible," and it will be a part of the redhead series. It too had been sitting around for a bit...a few weeks. The photo function on the computer is not working, so I can't share it, but it's a blue bed, a dark green nightstand, greenish yellow walls, and a figure sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, her back and red hair to us. Most of it done with brushes, except the hair, which I used a thin pallette knife. I want to capture the isolation of depression.

Painting and Showing

Some of the most fun I had this past year - in fact, one of the highlights of the year - was showing my art and having it hung, particularly at the Upstate Artists Guild gallery. But, I think perhaps I revealed myself too soon. I am not sure.

I sold one painting this year, and it was mostly a barter deal (painting for its value in beer, whiskey and cigars over time).

But it is not for reasons of commerce...or failure of commerce...that I think I should lay low, at least for 6 months. It is because I think I need to grow and expand more as a painter:

I need to experiment more.

I need to learn more (by reading, looking at art, making love, talking to people...not through formal schooing).

I need to go deeper within myself.

This is a talent that I originally found on the advent of turning 30, from which I turned away when I fell in love, got engaged, got married, and to which I did not return until fall of 2007. And I have thoroughly enjoyed it. The artistic process...whatever that is...the creative process. The organizing of materials, the notepads, the many bar napkins from which fully realized concepts emerged. But I want to nurture it. And savor it. And enjoy it. For myself.

I'm not a total recluse...I will keep my artist site. But I think for a bit, I will not submit anything for a physical showing...for a little while. And of course, I will post things here, both in progress and completed.

INT: Blue Movie Motel, SF, CA

The painter lay back
on the bed
and watched Sadie undress.

Usually he liked to help.
He would stand behind and
unfasten buttons,
pull sweaters and tops over heads,
gently pull down skirts and blue jeans,
all the while
kissing or biting necks,
wrapping arms around waists and shoulders...
all this in front of the mirror, so they could watch.

But this afternoon, in this motel,
with Sadie,
whom he had yet to see naked,
the painter felt like watching,
as she slowly undressed for him,
unfastening her own buttons,
pulling off her top over her head,
gently sliding her skirt down and stepping out of it.

And the painter lay back and stoically sipped his bourbon,
and when she was almost totally naked,
he firmly said:

"leave the pearls on."

(c) fprm, 2009.