Before Hindsight

I’m just emerging from a deep introspection initiated by my partner’s challenge: Given you’ve got no discernable talent, why do you spend so much time trying to put your creative work out there? Paint for the love of it, and stop anxting over getting it “out there”. Well, that was the gist.

This view relegates creative work to a hobby. Something one occasionally indulges in on an idle Saturday afternoon instead of going for a walk or visiting friends. It can’t possibly justify the expenses of: studio space, time off work, organisation of events; when we have to save up for new duvets for the kids’ warmth, or the luxury of a new toaster.

Creative work makes no money for me. It’s not “a career” that makes less money than the alternatives. Without my partner on board, I either have to create on a “hobby” basis, and earn sensible money with the liberated time, or leave the relationship.

The first problem is one of pride, the “discernable talent”. On reflection, there are plenty of artists who get their work “out there” whose only discernable talent is marketing. One has to be born with creative genius, but fortunately for the rest of us, marketing skills can be learned. On further reflection, I’m sure I’ve got talent somewhere, just forgot where I put it for safe keeping after my daughter was born!

The second problem is the “out there”. Many artists, including myself, have tried the line of “I create for the sake of it, without thought of Out There”. But they all (self included) dry up rapidly. Some are self-aware enough to notice this, some don’t care, the rest blunder off into something easier.

Art is a dialogue (for the BIG EGOS, it’s a monologue). To initiate a dialogue, you have to have something to say. As Abbi says in her comment (see #1), your art has to be “relevant” or “valid” today. There’s no point trying to be Picasso or Pollock … although those dialogues continue, they were initiated a long time ago.

I know what I’m trying to say. I couldn’t write it down in a blog, an essay, an MA dissertation, or even a PhD thesis – If I could, I would (and I tried), and that would be the end of the sorry affair. The reason I’m an artist – not an academic, non-fiction writer or logician – is that this thing can’t be written in a succinct, closed argument. Which feeds into my dislike of the artists’ statement (see After Rites #3).

I can get reasonably close to the thing with my closest friends, (which makes them closest friends) – I can dialogue with them without the intervals of months between events … And I got close enough with my partner this morning to restore her support.

But I wouldn’t write what I said here. That would destroy instantly any hope of future funding or exhibitions.

The motivation for “an artist” is a kind of madness. Most artists I’ve met comprehend it; meanwhile, commissioning bodies, administrators, many curators, academics, critics and art historians treat it as an intellectual game, entertainment for the educated bourgeoisie on a Saturday afternoon.

And that really pisses me off: Having to adjust one’s statements, attitudes, remarks, notes, explanations and commentary to suit the “game”; when we all know the whole thing is bonkers and we all belong in asylums. (See Susan Francis “Bare Bones” #18).

One thing I admire about strict fundamentalist Islam: 5 times daily prayers. I’m sure there are some who privately think: “Why do we have to stick our noses on the floor and our arses in the air 5 times a day, it’s so bad for business?”. But what a great thing – to subordinate oneself to the question of life’s meaning 5 times a day. Should be made compulsory here, especially during the Xmas holidays.

Self-portrait, pastel on Ingres paper.

I like pastels because they’re immediate. I can get an intuitive reaction onto paper, and then work it at leisure – no need to dry (like oils), or be worked quickly (like acrylics). Suited for family life with unpredictable workloads.

Almost all my visual work begins as pastel studies.

I work intuitively with colour and shape. These drawings are about relationships – with people, places, anything.

Everybody feels different depending on who they’re with … And that feeling fundamentally colours our relationship with that person.

For me, portraits are about (literally) depicting the colour of relationships. And a self-portrait is about depicting my relationship with myself. This requires a little time, honesty, soul-searching, some internal reflection while gazing at my reflection in the mirror.

I used to feel a likeness was important. Then I painted a portrait of an artist friend, which I was pleased with. I commented “I’ve caught a good likeness there”. “Ha ha!”, they replied “apart from the purple skin and green hair!”. I realised that “likeness” is a distraction from what’s actually happening in the painting. I’m now comfortable with abstraction, using the shapes, as well as the colours, in depicting relationship.

After a period of reflection, I start feeling drawn to certain colours: blue and yellow. I start with the cheek, running down between the lines stemming from the corner of my eye. Moving to another part of the paper, the shapes formed by my nose, upper lip, and lower cheek. I avoid classical features, but allow the line of my lower lip, alongside the line of my eyebrows.

My beard and hair are suddenly important, and dominate as upper and lower frames for the drawing. Now I’m pulled towards reds and oranges, mixing with the yellow.

Next I concentrate on the boundary of my face. My reflection is framed by several rectilinear features: bookcase, cassette tapes, door and doorframe; also softer features like the towel draped over the door. These fill the paper between my facial surfaces, appearing in orange.

I stand back and view the collection of part-sketches as a whole. I envision the outcome, the shapes and boundaries that are suggested by the parts, and I divide the drawing with swift lines, snaking around nose, bookcase, cheek-line, towel, lower lip. Nothing remains, the parts have become a new whole; a hidden world has revealed itself.

I continue adding colour, texture and shading, immersed in a trance whose decisions and actions are unaccountable, inexplicable.

Suddenly I awake: it’s almost done. A few colouration issues, and for these I stand back again, assess the balance, and finish up with confidence.

The final task is fixation. Fixative disperses the white, so I go over all the highlights with extra white, then apply the fixative. As it dries, the final image emerges. It’s OK, the painting suggests some interesting things … but there’s room for improvement, things to do differently next time, bits I’ll never be happy with …

Oxford Improvisers – what a great find! 10 years ago when I was last doing this kind of thing, I’d have donated several limbs to medical science to have a resource such as this. Now, when I’m just thinking of returning to improvisation as a vague possibility, it falls – plonk – right in my lap.

Meetings every Monday evening, which in theory is one of my evenings “off” from the kids; and only 500 yards from home. Just perfect. Except that so far the school play, a bout of gastric flu, and a customer’s network emergency have prevented my attendance at 3 of the last 4 meetings. Never mind, it will happen!

On a whim, I attended a “Sacred Clowning” workshop on Saturday run by Madeleine Forey … a clown. Fantastic fun. Not recommended for conceptualists and cynics. Reminded me of why I’m doing this art thing in the first place. Refreshing and inspiring.

Have finally got my last exhibition (Rites – see “after Rites”) on the web, or at least enough bits of it to make it worth advertising. Thanks to Paul Freestone for beautiful closeup photos of the paintings. Can be viewed at http://www.dreamcraft.org.uk/ritesexhibition/Rites.php

Still no joy combusting canvas, and now have a bag of highly toxic chemicals to dispose of. It looks disconcertingly like orange sherbert … I warned my own kids off it, just hope nobody else’s break into the shed and dip their fingers in …!

Tomorrow, I have an appointment to fix a laptop for Age Concern, Thursday it’s Milton Keynes to help set up a new office for Connection Floating Support, and Friday have to sort out the email contacts on a Judge’s laptop. At some point I have to find time to let my customers know that I’m not working for the next 2 weeks, as I’ve had enough of it all … not to mention the X word.

Once I’ve done my accounts, invoicing, mileage, shopping and statutory seasonal parties, and scheduled holiday childcare arrangements with my partner, I should get 3 days in my studio. I usually spend one of those days trying to remember why I’m there in the first place …

Over the last 6 months I’ve spent most of my “ringfenced” creative time (about 1 day a week) marketing my teaching business: various aspects of dreams and ritual aimed at psychotherapists and art therapists. My greatest success was to persuade Roehampton to let me run a 1 day workshop. Great! I can put Roehampton on my CV. BUT – the course was cancelled due to lack of interest … can I still put it on my CV?

Other than that, I have a total of 8 hours of confirmed teaching work coming up for the next 12 months. There are also a dozen organisations on the “interested – call back” list … so not an entirely lost cause, and teaching work does grow via recommendation. So, I’ve given it my best shot, time to return to something creative.

Time is now more precious than it was 6 months ago. My daughter has been diagnosed with a hip condition that requires weekly visits to the swimming pool, fortnightly visits to the physiotherapist, and monthly visits to the consultant. Due to a collision between the appointment times, pool opening times and my partner’s working hours, the bulk of this extra caring has fallen on my shoulders, and the time has to be stolen from my studio time.

On the brighter side, my son is now old enough, and willing enough, to babysit his little sister, so the possibility of creative work during the evenings is returning, and could become a regular addition to my studio time.

At the moment I am exploring in two main directions:

1) Continuing the ritual-style events, I have been rather taken with a Tibetan Buddhist ritual which involves months of painstaking manufacture of ritual items, all of which are chucked on the fire at the end of the ritual – a practical demonstration of impermanence and emptiness – Thinks: Storing large scale works is becoming a pain, and since, realistically, I’m never going to sell any of these things, I may as well ritually burn them at the end of an event … and it would be a great spectacle, as well as being theoretically justifiable.

Problem: Canvas covered in acrylic paint is not as flammable as one might imagine, how to make it go off with more of a roar than a whimper? Have tried various experiments with various petroleum products, gunpowder extracted from fireworks, potassium nitrate extracted from gunpowder extracted from fireworks, various ammonium compounds, and some dabbling with chromate oxidising agents … As yet, the primed and painted canvas remains exceedingly reluctant to combust. My next stop will be the UK Pyrotechnic Society, but in the meantime any ideas are very welcome.

2) This is a more traditional Live Art direction – Outdoor collaborative improvisation (music, movement, video, clowning, text etc.). Inspired by my experience taking my son up Snowdon in September, and encountering massive queues at every stage from the bus stop to the summit. Captive audiences, plenty of publicity potential. Anyone interested?