Tucson Artist Melinda: Out of the Darkness

Abiquiu Ancestor (30" x 30," oil on canvas © Melinda Esparza)

There are some things we cannot rush. We must wait, and, sometimes, walk several paths until we find the best road. I felt that last year when I stood on Forest Road 151, north of Abiquiu, NM. And, I felt that a couple of weekends ago when we drove up to Phoenix to adopt our new dog, Zorro.

El Zorro and Diego November 2012

Going deeper: I just read James Shepard's recent article in the Williams College Magazine, and think you might find it as eloquent and deeply reassuring as I did.

"Imagine you come across a little girl in a sandbox, and you ask her what she's building. If she says she doesn't know, you don't answer, "Well, then, get out of the sandbox." If she says she's building a castle, you don't answer, "Oh, there's an original idea. Nobody ever built a castle before. Think your castle's going to be any different than anybody else's?

If that little girl has poise, she might respond, "I don't know. I haven't built it yet."

Isn't this what many artists hear (especially women artists)? Isn't this something we say to ourselves in many different ways, including in secret? May you add poise to the conversation!

I encourage you to go read the rest of his article, and check out the link to his name.

This painting and I have wrestled for a few months (no deep cuts, just a small scratch or two for me), and I might have finished it today, and won.

Where are you on your path? A good dog or two can help you walk it...

Not an Illustrator, Not a traditionalist, All about Listening to the Paint

Now, don't get me wrong, I admire the traditionalists, and after working on an illustration for a family friend for two weeks, I have enormous admiration for the work of illustrators. It's just not for me. I learned that illustration is remarkably demanding. And, while the recipient of the work was quite pleased with the outcome, I kept looking for C O L O R!! Once again I realized how very invested I am with color and paint. Duh, eh? Bet you could have helped me out with this. There was also a local call for artists on the subject of red at a respected gallery here. I am not one to submit work to galleries very often, but this one intrigued me. The gallery wants to exhibit work that will augment an upcoming performance of the play, Red, by John Logan, about the life and work of Mark Rothko. Of course, I had to start painting with a lot of green....More about that next week. I've also submitted another painting to the call, and another work for a show in New Mexico. Whew! Abiquiu Ancestors: Opening Sanctuary 30" x 30," oil on canvas Image © 2012 Melinda S. Esparza This painting is getting some attention today as it waits patiently to be finished soon. Abiquiu Ancestors: Opening Sanctuary (detail) 30" x 30," oil on canvas Image © 2012 Melinda S. Esparza Not quite done, but getting closer: Abiquiu Ancestors: Opening Sanctuary 30" x 30," oil on canvas Image © 2012 Melinda S. Esparza Do you have some thoughts on Rothko to share? I watched a documentary last night about Henry Geldzahler. Have you ever wondered why certain artists were heralded more than others, and women artists were virtually left out of the heralding in the 1960s. Well, wonder no more. Henry Geldzahler wrote about his artist friends, and the work he enjoyed most. Simple. There you have it. And because of his position as Curator for American Art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, he was able to push the careers of his artist friends. Who Gets to Call It Art?, by Peter Rosen, is the name of the documentary. See for yourself. I'm not specifically against this sort of thing. It seems to be a natural enough behavior. The problem I have is its exclusivity and exclusion of a wider range of artists--in any era. Just got the link to the National Park Service's page on Artists-in-Residence at the Grand Canyon last week. Yep, I'm there and feeling pretty excited about the whole thing. My hiking boots are broken in and my packing skills are honed... It's been a busy time offline. I've missed you all. Are you doing what you want to do in your studios? Oh, I really hope so! I'll be back--soon.

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.

The Red Dot Conversation and Panned at 37, 000 Feet

Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza The Notch, 9" x 12," oil on artists' board (not finished) I have so many stories I'd like to tell. Maybe I can get to some of them. Mr Artyfice is working on something that I hope he'll be able to post soon. He'll tell you an interesting one, too. But first, let me backtrack for a moment. If you will, go to The Madness of Art and watch Jim's conversation with Dru about the use of the red dot--hilarious! Then, come on back.......................... Okay. Two days before our open studio tour, one of my paintings sold online. Smart move by the buyer, because it has happened in the past that people have jockeyed to get here first to buy a particular piece. Of course, I had just seen The Madness of Art's piece on this and later that evening, Edgar and I had the "red dot conversation." We had to mark the title card paid, but...we laughed ironically that we were now making some kind of art statement-----and we didn't know which one! Yeah, yeah, I know. The main one was: Sold. However, you know as an artist that money is secondary to the work and you just hope people enjoy it. Hey, this painting doesn't look like Tucson! You are correct, dear artist. We had the privilege of traveling back East a few weeks ago and found the most exotic lands. We saw no evil there. Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza Anyone know where this is? Confession: I've always admired the work of my fellow artist bloggers and famous artists such as Wolf Kahn and Russell Chatham, and often thought they were puffing/enhancing the landscape to express their emotional connections. What I did not quite understand, until October, was that they were telling the truth about a magical land, the Northeast! I thought it would be hard for me to find subject matter with strong graphical elements. Sheesh, was I wrong. My apologies for such naiveté and apologies to the famous women landscape artists of the Northeast, whom I could not find today as I researched. My eyes were full of color: Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza I sat on marble steps: Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza One more hint: Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza And, I was panned at 37,000 feet. Image © 2010 Melinda S. Esparza To while away the hours flying, I used my neocolours to paint the sky and clouds as we flew over the Midwest. I'm working diligently with my cup of water, Q-tips and small container of water soluble crayons on hand, when the flight attendant (one of the most solicitous I've ever had the pleasure of knowing) kept coming by and glancing at my work. When I was done, she stopped and took a longer look. I posited, sky? She replied, "No. I see an ocean with the waves hitting the shoreline. Sorry!" Aha. I see. Well, I replied, that's good that you interpret it personally. Edgar whispered that he thought she should not quit her day job. More soon! Should I offer a prize to the first one who guesses where we were? Now, Barbara....you already know, so I hope you'll sit this one out.

Famous Women Artists: They are Everywhere!

A few years ago I had the privilege of visiting the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Everyone knows Georgia O'Keeffe. The architecture of the building was particularly impressive. Some of Ms. O'Keeffe's works were quite good. Thing is, I realized that a lot of her work was so innovative in approach that the more naive works added to her oeuvre rather than detracted from it. So, today I painted one of my very own daturas from a photo I took last year while they were in bloom. Melinda Esparza: Datura in the Night of Yearning-Lost to the Darkness Swallowing up and Crunching Down Upon My Dream of You. Oil on panel. 8" x 8." I think I'll have to update this photo in the daylight to get a better photo of it. What if...you are as good as the women artists listed below? What if, from now on, you lived your life with such conviction of this that your level of discipline and your audience reflected the knowledge you hold within your own hands? Let's have a roll call, shall we? Grace Hartigan Deb Schmit Peggi Nicol Linny D. Vine Donna Schuster Yoko Ono Euphemia Charlton Fortune Jean De Muzio Marion Wachtel SamArtDog Jane Freilicher Bonnie Luria Joan Mitchell Jeane Myers Women artists of the 20th century in a bunch, Art Cyclopedia. Louise Bourgeois Karen Phipps Eva Hesse Marcia LaBelle Frida Kahlo Barbara Muir There. Let this be a codification of who is who and how the world really does work. We move in and out of each others' lives, woven into the history that we are writing with our colors and words. This gives me joy. I look at the list of famous artists and I see a group of dedicated, scary smart women, who, out of gracious mercy choose not to join together in any geographical location wishing to avoid a cataclysmic event that may cause disruption in the Force--the Artistic Force, which may cause weather events with colors and light never seen before. We wouldn't want to frighten the citizenry. See yourself recognized and appreciated. See yourself and your work loved and supported. That's a good life.

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...

What Kind of Artist are You Anyway?

A visit to the local independent video shop can be the art treat that sets the tone for the work week. Of course, Netflix can provide a similar result, but will lack the visceral enjoyment of the hunt for an art DVD accompanied by fresh popcorn from the in-store popcorn machine. I rented art:21 just because Susan Rothenberg was one of the featured artists. A few weeks ago I made a couple of monotypes of Thimble Peak from a photo I'd taken while on the Mt. Lemmon highway, thirty miles north of home. Today, I worked on the ghost image and played with print ink and oil paint. It occurred to me that I am about to find out what kind of artist I am. Actually. Really. Truly. Without Permission. This is the first monotype straight from the press with only the one pull. The second photo is the first layering and the third photo is the working of the ghost image that I may consider finished. When I took a photo of the second one, the lighting cast a kind of sepia tone on the image and I liked it so much that I went back and changed the sky color and scratched a little into the mountains with the end of a paint brush. (12 1/2" x 16 1/2") Usually, after such a venture, I would announce to myself (and anyone within bellowing distance) that I have no talent, that I have no idea what I'm doing, mostly because it doesn't look like the work of...insert favorite artists' names here. I didn't do that today. I decided that this is okay. Why do I love Grace Hartigan, Joan Brown, and Susan Rothenberg so much? I'm starting to see. Without angst, without fear, without apology.