Do you need to like your art to sell it?

I’m finding it tricky to muster the commitment to prepare some paintings for sale on Bluethumb. I want to do this, but so far, I’ve not done it.

There is the pointer “Just do it” and see what happens. I like this idea (yet I’m still not doing it).

When I was working full time, being paid to do that job, I was dedicated and diligent, always doing my best regarding quality, accuracy, and efficiency. However, faced with applying these attributes to my own work (re: selling online), it’s rather flopsy-bunny.

Truth is, I’m ambivalent* about my own art output. Yes – in the heat of the painting process, there is passion, excitement, and experiment (mixed in with “boredom, doubt and discomfort” (to quote Adi Da). But – and ... why would anyone actually want to buy a painting from “me”?

*And I acknowledge that such ambivalence towards my paintings directly reflects my relationship with my “self”. So I’m here, blundering along, not knowing what my “true purpose is”, and not particularly liking the overall experience of this human experiment. I’m even wondering about the usefulness of “my art” in the context of millions (even billions) of my fellow human beings struggling to survive daily.

I even feel vastly more inspired by the artwork of others – yet there’s still the impulse to paint ... something.

I realised recently that I may NEVER be keen on my work, which freed me up a bit. So perhaps the “point” is not about liking my work but about doing it and continuing it with as much authenticity as possible till I can’t do it any longer.

And get the heck out the way, let the paintings have a life of their own, and see what happens.

Show up. Do something. Repeat.

Some holiday time now, and I’m ‘applying’ myself to the painting process. Usually, I feel something like, “What the heck am I going to do today?” 

The current small works on MDF board (510mm square) enable me to work on multiple pieces simultaneously (there’s room enough to spread them around the front room so I can watch them without falling over them).

I’m resonating with something Chuck Close is quoted on:

“All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself. Things occur to you. If you’re sitting around trying to dream up a great art idea, you can sit there a long time before anything happens.”

It’s taking me a long time to get this. 

I’ve tried out a couple of new doings (‘techniques’) today and yesterday. To my surprise, they both have grit (usually, an addition to the repertoire may need persisting with before it becomes useful or is rejected).

One of the doings was to use a very cheap synthetic brush (which I’ve previously only used for mixing paint). This time I used it to ‘dab’ paint (Pointillism style) over and around areas that irked me (for instance, constipated zones in need of brightening, obliterating, etc.). What happened this time was refreshing, new, and exciting.*

*Yes – I’ve mentioned ‘excitement’ before. I do feel excitement is necessary (now and then). Otherwise, the process gets too dull (and I don’t wish to share paintings that I experience this way).

Concept / Tussle / Purge

I remember one morning (back in my late teens) facing a painting I’d done the night before. It felt like meeting a brick wall of my darkness and wasn’t something I wanted to share.

It was yuck stark and prompted me (at that time) to not paint for a while.

I was drawn to the visual arts as a vehicle for creative expression. A by-product was I got to see what I was feeling (for at that time, to speak my feelings was near impossible). This was good. What wasn’t so good was requiring it to also make me happy.

Emerging around this time was also a hankering for meaning (meaning of life stuff). So my pursuits steered me towards non-painting topics, like philosophy. After some lacklustre engagements with this, I stumbled upon consciousness studies.

Over the years, the lingering notion that to paint something significant needs a great concept has preoccupied me. To this day, I acknowledge a ‘tussle’ around this that sounds something like, “My work is not significant because there’s no great concept.”

I’d like to purge this idea because – really – ‘concepts’ in art (and life) have never been wonderfully compelling for me. 

So, what remains? 

An impulse to paint something (sans-concept).

Sometimes an impulse to create a painting (or series of images) arrives in the form of a new style. This usually happens when I get the shits with my current pictures. For example, there’s only so much swishing a big brush around the canvas I can do before it stops being engaging.

(For the record, I don’t find ‘style’ sustaining in itself. If it’s not tethered to something more enchanting (whatever that might be), it has only limited traction.)

I’ve been pondering how Mark Rothko arrived at the ‘concept’ of painting his colour-field paintings (the work later in life, before choosing to take his own life). I sense they emerged through a progression of experiments, including his earlier ‘multiform’ work. Rothko actually rejected the label of being an “abstract expressionist” and instead identified more with trying to express human emotions:

“I’m not an abstractionist. I’m not interested in the relationship of colour or form or anything else. I’m interested only in expressing basic human emotions: tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on.” — Mark Rothko

Though Rothko didn’t mention ‘mystery’ in the above quote, his later paintings influenced me by interrupting my mind to feel more beauty and mystery.

Pointer to self: Endure the burden of concept, AND continue ‘leaning into’ painting the ... what? Feeling (of what?) That which is mysterious (“how all of this is, but nobody knows what it really is” – Adi Da).

The ‘inspired’ moments that may happen during the painting process are welcomed, enjoyed and (like everything) to be released. A bit of inspiration can change an okay (or even awkward) piece into something more (which I couldn’t have ‘concepted’ my way into).

The best I can do is create what I find engaging. Often what does happen is not. If I had more time, I might get to ‘more interesting’, but surviving occupies my energies now (like for most of humankind).

Final purge for this art-blah entry: I confess to the ‘concept’ that a challenging life may yield great art (and what is ‘great art’ anyway?). Haven’t done the research, so I don’t know. But, my everyday discombobulation experience naturally prompts me towards hope that challenges might yield more depth. This (expressed through painting) might rouse other peeps to feel brightened. 

Board Time

Some MDF (Medium Density Fibreboard) boards were offered for use (which would otherwise head to the recycling bin as they were part of the packing material for imported furniture).

I like the idea of recycling so prepped some panels with gesso and began experimenting.

As is often the case I don’t know what I’m going to paint so I do something, then something else, etc.

There are always factors influencing what might happen. With the MDF board, a very smooth surface offered potentials different to canvas. For instance, the brush moves on the surface differently than on canvas (unless the canvas is primed and sanded to a smooth finish). Also, being a robust surface, the usage of masks works easier.

Different types of brushes became interesting to use on this surface too – like a very floppy “Pure Squirrel” brush. (I’m generally not inclined towards “mark-making” in itself – there’s gotta be some other grist to drive the work. What’s been happening with the Squirrel is a prance with other, broader elements that have already arrived).

As for the circle thing – I like circles, and with the purchase of a circle cutter, it makes these easier to propagate. I also like the tension between these very defined shapes (in this case, the circle) with other, more amorphous perturbations. 

There are other techniques experimented with over the years that are also arriving for play: Transparency and the use of fluorescent pigments.

These boards are also small (51 x 51 cm) – providing scope to work on several paintings at once (which opens up other possibilities).

Where to Next? Chameleon Syndrome; Meaning Meanderings; So, Also, And

Continuing with the experiment. I think patience is useful. I look at these in-progress paintings and am mostly bored. I don’t know what direction to go in and this isn’t surprising since the zest for engagement in the general ‘style’ of the experiment over the last six years has (for now) run dry.

I’m amused (sometimes) and annoyed (often) at my presumptuousness in thinking I could show up at the next painting session and suddenly expect a fantastic new expression to emerge. That might happen, but more likely it will be a slow process.

It’s therefore not surprising that when I currently see work by other painters that I find interesting, I immediately want to paint like them (for there’s something in the work I lack and want to have). I must then confess further presumptuousness: The work from each painter emerged out of countless hours of practice, pondering, experimentation, failure and success, inspiration and hope. I will not be getting to that either, without said work. So note to self: Remember this!

Which reminds me of one of the common irks I have about my own paintings: “I’ve got nothing to say so why bother?” Yet the urge to paint persists.

Also, there’s this: My relationship to painting has been on-and-off over the years. It’s been more like a ‘hobby’* which I dabble with from time to time. Reviewing the definition of ‘hobby’: “persued for pleasure but not main occupation” – that’s partially true, but recently I thought a better description would be ‘therapy’ (since it involves work and is not always pleasurable). 

As for the “But what does it mean?” aspect, my experiment in abstraction over the last two decades has certainly loosened the “grip of meaning” regarding my work. I must admit, though, that the ‘meaning’ factor still persists (in relation to my proclaimed lofty intent to “paint the mystery”). A noble persuit, so by that definition the criteria for evaluating my own paintings would be: How much ‘mystery’ has been communicated?

In the absence of content, the ‘glue’ that holds a painting together (for me) seems to be a combo of clear-enough feeling-intent and a strong-enough style (visual language) to conduct-express the feeling.

So the connundrum is: I’m sort of back to grappling with ‘style’ (which I don’t want to focus on), in the absense of content.

And before I forget (another note to self), one aspect that can be useful in looking at other’s paintings is that it can INSPIRE something different in one’s own work. This is different than merely copying the work of other artists (though that’s good too).

I may get to commenting on the above images (Fig. 1–5), but then again it may be too boring.

Blued?

Sometimes I’ll allow infatuations to run their course. In the painting above, ultramarine blue was it.

I don’t remember the first version but it needed the kaput treatment pronto. Obliteration is usually via white gesso but due to my recent experiments with the Matisse brand of coloured gesso, I chose ‘Capitol Blue’* to provide the blanking function this time.

*It’s surprisingly vibrant and close to ultramarine blue in colour.

Version two comprised the same experiment: White over blue. This time the brushwork was more “curly”. I watched it for a week and knew it needed releasing. What this time? There were playful aspects but it looked like tangled globular pustules and lacked “tension”.

Version three included black and orange. Felt constipated. Kaput.

So to this (v4). It’s at least (for me) fresh and unconstipated. It is certainly inspired by Tony Tuckson’s later work (though I wasn’t trying to “do” a Tuckson). It also might be a riff on my ponderings of Adi Da’s statement: “Consciousness itself is the space of things”.

Or, it might just be me feeling bored and wanting to see something different.

I would likely need to paint one thousand of these before feeling like I’m getting close to ‘something’ REALLY authentic.

Curvations One Dev Blah

Sometimes I can’t keep going with what I’m currently doing (as much as I’d like to because it would simplify the process). 

It gets to a “ground-hog-day” type thang: “This isn’t working and I can’t tolerate doing the next thing cause I’ll wake up to the same thing tomorrow.”

Hence, “Curvations One”. 

There was a recent painting going nowhere. In this instance, I can persist or do “whiteout”. 

I chose the “persist” option and tried an approach I’ve not done before: Linear curve embrace.

I honestly don’t know where this came from (and why does it matter and who cares, eh?). 

I like curves so got into delineating a few. Figs 1–4 shows the progression. 

Fig 1 was: let’s try this.

Fig 2 was: Filling in those shapes.

Fig 3 was: I’m suffocating ... give me something else!

(Fortunately, I’d photographed the development of this experiment so was able to reflect on the perturbations).

Fig 4 was: Hankering for the looseness/freshness of Fig. 1 (though allowing for the dev since then).

Brown Because?

Sometimes I use brown because I think I should because I don’t use it much and think I should use it more because I don’t want any colours to feel unwelcomed.

There was a recent in-progress painting where I used brown because of the because-thing. Over time the brown area irked me so I “un-browned” it. 

Now it’s like a dark cloud wanting to join the light but not knowing how.

The best time for brown (or any colour) is when there’s an urge towards it. In this context, there’s a welcoming and the potential for something interesting to happen that may be greater than anything thinking could muster.

For now, I’m experimenting with going towards the colours that attract (even if they’re the same colours I use over and over). 

Having said that I still think there’s usefulness in playing with colours I don’t usually use (and even dislike). Hey – something surprising might even happen.