An Artist Walks Into A Museum and Other Studies

Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza So, where were we?! Oh, yes, I was going to tell you more stories! Before I do, let me write about the two studies I did today. After the first study of The Notch, I decided that I wanted to explore the image a bit more. I liked the painting, didn't want to scrape it, but felt that I needed another approach. Here is The Notch #2, on a small 8" x 8" artists' board: Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza But, I hated this! Went back and wrestled the darn thing for another long while, and painted differently: The Notch #3, on the same artists' board: Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza Ah, that's better. I'm still going to deconstruct this image (it's so much fun), and I'll post more as I push it further. It's still not where I want it to be. Our trip last month was one of those incredible journeys that has left me with a bazillion ideas, memories and photographs for further inspiration. A cloud had something to say and a young man was bursting with ideas-- Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza Spending time with such brilliance kept me on my toes and wanting to go everywhere and see everything I could. Of course, an artist, wherever she travels, will be drawn to the local museums. The day we visited Mass MoCa was very cold and rainy. Inside, the place was teeming with irony, surrealism, postmodern and post-post modern intrigue, retrospectives and introspectives everywhere! If you haven't gone to Mr. Artyfice's blog lately and read his (Untitled) Art Blog Post, well, please do. He tells our story better than I could have. Really. Last night, I had to watch (Untitled) Movie again....I just don't have the words for all that I'm thinking. Mass MoCa was more than I expected, let's say. There was the Petah Coyne exhibit, which left my brain frazzled. I thought it beautiful, important, unimportant, tragic, funny, disturbing, and so labor intensive that I marveled at the artist's work ethic. The Sol LeWitt Retrospective and Wall Drawings came next. Oh, I mean after the Leonard Nimoy gallery of digital portraits (stunning, high resolution of nearly life sized portraits of people who posed as their inner selves). Back to LeWitt...Oh, how about just some photos: They came with instructions. College students recreated his work from those instructions. Their process was mesmerizing. Then there was the installation work of Tobias Putrih: Are you getting the idea that Mass MoCa was stimulating, while it painfully excluded painting? Yes, me, too. I didn't want to go, at first, because I knew if they had any painting, it would be somewhere obscure. I was right. On the other hand...this was so much better than viewing the same old, same old, work by the same old guys of the last century and beyond. Eeks. I'm in trouble now. Even looking out of the window at Mass MoCa was aesthetically pleasing. Hey! They have the Airstream I've always wanted! This is a wonderful installation by Michael Oatman: "All Utopias Fell."

Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza And, while I felt really silly doing this, I had to take a photo (or two) of the women's restroom.Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza As I exited the room, there was an exhibit by a woman artist who had photographed the same thing, along with the rest of the basement area of Mass MoCa. There was only one glitch in our day trip to the museum...I could not play the guitar. The place was closed.Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza It's probably just as well. We were players in a play, actors/artists with an 'eye' for things, and not a bucket in sight.

Artist Melinda: Off into the Weeds, Back with Saddle Burrs

Update: I finally fixed this painting and might even like it!

  Yes, it's true. The open studio tour left me dazed and confused. I spent several days staring at mud, a few days asking what kind of weed is a actually a weed, and where are the hidden treasures in all of the brush. I came back with some stickery but healing aloe, something shiny I still can't figure out, and two paintings. Wished I'd had a saddle. Here's the thing, the stickery thing. If women artists are the most prevalent artists in any generation since 1850 (okay, kinda guessing on the year, but I'm close), why aren't we studying them more, quoting them more, experimenting more with their processes? Even male artists are quoting and emulating male artists of the 1800s instead of artists more recent than that. And, the ones who are mentioned most often shouldn't necessarily hog all of the notoriety. Even if one wanted to stick with the 1800s, there are: Julia Margaret Cameron, Elizabeth Adela Armstrong Forbes, Lilla Cabot Perry, Suzanne Valadon and Berthe Morisot. These artists are worthy of more looking! Then, there is the 20th century, and, oh yes, the last decade of the 21st century. You'd think we didn't have access to more sources. That's the bur. Well, at least one of them. Grace Hartigan's, The Persian Jacket, 1952.

Grace Hartigan (included in the New York School of Abstract Expressionists): "Well, what we get down to finally is the ultimate point. What in the world is the reason for painting? Life is complete in itself. What can the painter add to it aside from presenting formal problems of my trade--space, projection, surface, contour and all those things. Rather, I think art comes out of an inability to understand the life that you are living and the hopeful desire that out of the chaos that is given to you, you try for a brief period of time to make some sense and order." Couldn't have said it better. One of the paintings I've sold recently is quite abstracted. This got me to thinking how right it felt to paint that way--and that someone responded positively to it. Here are two more experiments. The first is a landscape in which paint is for paint and image is a close second (oil on panel 5" x 7").

  The second one might be a bit of channeling Grace as I think about our better angels of art or more graces (oil on artist's board, 12" x 12"). I'm gonna keep asking you, kindly and with gentle prodding (sans burrs), to seek out women artists, support them, talk about them, examine their process and dig a bit into the weeds once in awhile. And, those guys? Gotta love 'em. Gotta make 'em share the canvas...

Paint, Painter, Painted--Art, Artist, Alive

When you are sad, paint.

When you are happy, paint.

When you need a calm and quiet place, paint.

When you are sick, draw.

Do these things even when you are somewhere in between. If you're not an artist, buy art and meditate on why it is so utterly healing for the moment of your gaze.

And, when the storm passes, smile that there is another day.

I'm sensing that we are all storm watchers, sky watchers, observers of the times and environment. It's just primal, isn't it? Things are still very, very tough here in Arizona (but, do you really have any idea?), and I imagine they are tough all over. Reminds me of an old poem, Dover Beach, by Matthew Arnold. But, being a bit quirky, my mind always goes next to Anthony Hecht's version and I laugh every time I read it.

Only one storm has passed, but there are others on the line. I'll try to paint them and you do the same because things are bad all over for someone.

This oil painting is: After the Storm (8" x 8," on artists' board).

Painting Mirrors the Hopeful Heart While the World Climbs into a Basket--Melinda 2010

Tucson Open Studio Tour, Perfect Weather, Perfect Days

The Tucson Open Studio Tour was a resounding success! The weather was cool to warm--flawless really. In so many ways, on so many levels, this event added good mortar to the bricks already lain, building this art sanctuary. It has solidified my commitment to the process.



Many thanks to everyone who visited! I'm remembering you today: The nice couple who bought the first painting. The artists who are on the path back to art making--seeing that they can start again. The woman dynamo and her thoughtful husband, who offered good advice about art marketing and who bought the largest painting. The kind strangers who came here after seeing my work in the 801 Gallery and the TPAC calendar and, finally, the ONLY art supply store in town (!), and one of the sponsors of the event, Sarnoff Art Supplies.

Then there are those art patrons who have stood by me, never wavering in their straight-forward, level headed support. Kirk--who can draw and paint circles around me. Linda--who is currently working on her second masterpiece as she raises another brilliant and good hearted boy. Nathanael--who is art walking, with quiet confidence and a gentle heart. Didn't we have fun?!!

A special thanks to you, my fellow art bloggers, whose presence I felt all weekend: Kathryn (whose Caran D'Ache made an appearance to inspire yet another artist), Barbara Muir (whose friendship and presentation advice have been priceless), Karen (whose discipline, encouragement and work keep me grounded), Silvina (whose wit and wisdom are matchless) and Linny D. Vine(whose work and kindness inspire me to dream).

And, well, that Mr. Artyfice out-did himself--My fellow artist and companion who kindly called me "Melindiva," and who raced around making sure I had cards, postcards, signs, food...and, on...and on...and--while I shouted "Brush!" All this he did with two broken fingers on the mend and very little sleep.

Now for a little chat with that falcon...

Dia de Los Muertos y Aquellos Viviendo

Little Yellow Zinnias, oil on linen panel, 3"x5"
I read the most beautiful obituary this weekend in the New York Times. Does this mean I'm an elderly person? Yeah, maybe. Yet, the NYT's Obits are so well written! They are like great short stories that leave you asking questions, curious to know more.

In the past few weeks, there have been several artists who have past away. I didn't know any of their names.

There were these: Nancy Spero, Ruth Duckworth, Amos Ferguson and, an actor from way back--Lou Jacobi

And then there was Albert York. As the author of the obit, Roberta Smith, wrote, he was "...a painter of small mysterious landscapes who shunned the art world yet had a fervent following within it." He was so uninterested in fame and glory that his one and only gallery representative quietly, and mostly without his knowledge, exhibited and handled his work. What I found so endearing and profound were the following:

He worked at his own pace.
He was emotionally engaged with his subject.
He kept on painting even though he had to work a 'real' job.
He didn't quit painting despite being "perpetually dissatisfied with his work, prone to scraping down his wood panels..."

Sound familiar?

In Tucson, Dia de Los Muertos is a pretty big deal. I like that we honor those who have died with a parade and celebration of their lives. I also like honoring the living by encouraging perseverance.

Now, I couldn't resist including Lou Jacobi. He was one of those character actors everyone recognized, but rarely could name. As one critic wrote, "Mr. Barnes... added: “He has a face of sublime weariness and the manner of a man who has seen everything, done nothing and is now only worried about his heartburn."" Wow. Can you imagine being so good as to convey such nuance? He was a funny, and serious man who, in real life, did everything he could to live well.

May we all endeavor to do the same, even if we scrape off a few paintings now and again.

This small, 4" x 6," oil on panel, is from an image of yellow zinnias from this summer. The flowers are now dying, but I still remember.

Critical Sub-Angstrom Measurements

Sometimes we don't realize what is going on in the right side of our brains because it's just not telling. You all know what I mean. We train our left brains, as much as we can, to change negative and self-criticizing words into more hopeful pronouncements. And, we become more successful as we make routine the practice thereof...Ah. Word for the day--the title of this post. Now, an angstrom is pretty small, but when it comes to being self-critical, our thoughts can be smaller. And meaner. It was bonnieluria who tipped me into thinking that this is why I haven't finished some recently started paintings. Frozen. Too excited. Concerned about future work. This got me to thinking and moving toward the studio and, to finishing the portrait of my son, Ell, who is returning at the end of this month from his second year of college. As I wrote the equations on the canvas (and the photography terms on the right side), I could sense how very creative math and science truly are. Even though I could not understand any equation I copied, it felt right, felt good, felt creative. I wish I weren't so afraid of math. I'm still hoping to be less afraid of failure...or of canvasses that seem to defy me. I've titled this painting, His Mind is Full of Good Things, and it is 22" x 28," oil on canvas, with chalk. We are not our thoughts--for which we can be grateful! Let's be generous to ourselves today...Say, maybe for the rest of the week? Then we can consider extending this freedom to the following weeks.

Static, Non-Static, A Beautiful White Noise

Waking up in this new year brought a wonderful sound: Rain. Made me think of Ladysmith Black Mambazo's song "Rain, rain, rain, rain, beautiful rain." Love rain. Love that this is a new year. I'm missing all of you art bloggers this week. I'm glad to see you're all getting back to work! The white noise of rain is a comforting sound to accompany the static of the banal requirements of life and the anti-static beginnings of an artistic ambulation.

Karen has been very brave in listing her goals and I am inspired to follow her lead. I see that many of you are considering this new year and its possibilities. It reminds me of the book Karen recommended, A Field Guide to Getting Lost (Rebecca Solnit)--with the essay The Blue of Distance. I think about this daily now. And, consider:

Sitting in the middle of desire, peacefully observing two points: the whereas of past and present events, and the wherefore of a future planned with optimism. I like this place and see great value in visiting it often. Sometimes it can appear to be the most comfortable spot to rest, wanting never to leave. But, rest is foundational not the destination. This is what I tell myself. Keep moving, step forward and carry the "Blue of distance" in a daily approach toward paint, friendship and conversation. It's okay if the horizon is always far away.

A big leap, not from the edge, but into the distance. I'm going to finish this painting, this year...oh, yes I am. This is the el gigante painting of the Grand Canyon (4' x 6') that I started more than a year ago. For your consideration, I've got a link that might cause you to dream large. Click Grand Canyon and dream with me. Tell me your dream for this year and let's see how it does come true.

"...The real problems of our culture
Can be deduced from the fact
that we name mountains after men."
--Richard Shelton (from his The last Person to Hear Your Voice, 2007)

May this year bring visions of grandness and nameless wonders to all of you!

Unusual but True: On Being Art 'Tagged'

From the truth window: This really made my day. Barbara of Barbara Paints tagged me yesterday. What a delight. I had been a bit discouraged this week...with the usual questions, you know, "Shouldn't I get a real job?" "Who am I kidding?" and "There are so many skilled, expressive, and talented artists, who needs to hear from me anyway?" Then, I had a deadline--make mailart for Ell and send it off with a food package before the post office closed, and, after I created a piece in two hours that I liked. 

I felt that it is worthwhile to make the art I do, that I'm like the bird who builds a nest, gets it blown over, and builds again. It's what I do. To have a talented artist tag me...well, it was more than swell. I am extremely grateful to everyone who visits and offers comments and camaraderie. You have no idea how meaningful it is to me. But, I will hazard a guess that you, too, find the art community to be as essential as water. I drink from this well feeling refreshed and renewed. I will continue to offer a cool drink in the summertime, and a warm cup of tea in winter to any who wander through, seeking art medicine from a fellow traveler. These are the rules for being tagged. You need to:

 

1. Put a link in your posting to the person who tagged you. 

2. List 7 unusual things about yourself. 

3. Tag 7 other bloggers at the end of your post and comment on their blogs to let them know. 

Here are some truths about me that some may find unusual:

 

1. I knew a "Russian prince": 

When I was a kid, my folks were friends with a man (Alexis Badmaieff) who had been smuggled into France during the Russian Revolution. He wanted to become a doctor, but, instead, became an engineer. He operated on my foot after a run-in with a sharp shell on Santa Catalina Island in southern California. He drank a glass of vodka every day with a raw egg in it. He died in his mid 50s... I later found out that, in fact, his father (Dr. Alexei Badmaieff) was friends with Rasputin and not a Russian prince. (I continue to research him)

 

2. Almost became a professional actress: 

I started performing at a young age. In high school, I was nominated best actress in AZ during a theatre competition. I was subsequently offered a full scholarship to NAU as well as a small role in a movie being filmed in Texas. I turned these offers down, believing I wasn't good enough. 

3. Thought I'd become a classical pianist: 

While I started out playing folk guitar in my teens, I really wanted to play classical piano (or play lead guitar in a rock band). I studied with a woman whose instructor studied with Rachmaninoff. I used to play an impressive Prelude in C# Minor, but my teacher said my wrists were too weak for a professional career. After a traumatic brain injury in 1997, I could no longer play anything on the piano, but my guitar playing is coming back and my artwork is much improved! 

4. Art found me when I was in my mid-twenties: There was a lot of tragedy connected to my early adulthood. I wandered around lost until a week of intense grieving produced two words that seemed to come to me from God--like lightning--STAINED GLASS! They were powerful words. With only $60 dollars to my name, I set out to teach myself to work in glass. I returned to Tucson with six crooked pieces and lots of confidence. I landed a job and began designing windows. As a 'commission only' artist, I made $15 my first two weeks, but four years later, I had completed two large restaurant commissions totalling over 200 square feet between the two. It was then that I felt the need to get some proper schooling in art. I later earned an associate's degree at our local community college. 

5. I cleaned the pools of the wealthy: After graduating from college, I got a job cleaning pools. I felt very lucky to spend my days cleaning and swimming in pools at million dollar properties while the owners slaved away in order to pay the bills. I made enough to work part time to buy an MGB Roadster (which I loved working on and pretending to race), and to work on art the rest of the day. 

6. I held a tarantula in my hand: When my boy was in the fourth grade, the teacher had a contest in which the student who brought in the most crickets would win the class tarantula. Most people are afraid of spiders. However, I had a serious phobia. I couldn't even look at photos of them in magazines. But, you know, it was my opportunity to overcome this fear and teach my son about changing one's mind. I made lots of artwork from our Molly Francesca Gomezina. We had the very special gift of observing her molt. She'd come to us with one leg missing (a common thing), but after her molt, she had eight new legs. 

7. I married a man ten years younger than me: After community college, I organized drawing sessions in my home. One of our models became my roommate and asked to invite her friend from school. We married two years later. I always feel ten years younger. I think he mostly feels ten years older...I am grateful that he provided the safest, most nurturing environment in which to raise our son, and for me to finish my BFA in 2004. I couldn't have done it without him and my son tutoring me in math and other subjects. It's been an amazing journey so far! 

Please visit the following artists who inspire me and give gifts of beauty, insight and wisdom to so many: Karen Silvina Loriann David Jeffrey Martha What a challenge to limit tagging to only six or seven. I hope to do this again sometime. Thank you, all, for being so generous and supportive of me and your other fans!