vitaminCreativity

The "Doppelganger" effect

Recently I was browsing artists' web sites that were posted to a Linked In group. I like to see the art as well as how the site is designed. I stumbled on an artist whose work is very similar to some of my recent abstracted landscapes that I bragged about not long ago. The artist's web site had a way of slightly enlarging the thumbnail images as you slid the curser over them. While I've seen this used effectively on some sites, on this particular one, the images did not enlarge by much and they all sort of flowed together in a way that made all the images look very similar. And they were very similar in color palette, style, and subject. 

I might have liked one or two of the paintings had I seen them separated by a little time (a couple of seconds) and distance, but run together as they were, the result was boring. And then I wondered if this was perhaps a handy test we might use as we look at our own art. Art instructors are always advising us to turn the painting upside down, or look at it in a mirror, to better see the bones of the composition. 

At the same time I was making this sort of academic assessment of web site design and presentation effects, my inner critic was screaming, "This artist's work is so similar it's boring. My work is a lot like this artist's work. Therefore, my work is boring, too!" Have you ever been told by a friend, "I saw this woman who looks so much like you she could be your double, your doppelganger!" Then, you see the other woman and you're horrified.

That was the unfortunate effect of seeing this other artist's web site. After telling my inner critic to take a hike, I went back to my academic assessment. Yes, flipping through my images quickly might be a useful tool for spotting the too similar, predictable, boring aspects of my work; or, on the other hand, making sure there's an interesting sort of unity that runs through the body of work, without being boring.

And I also made a note to self: Don't use a web site effect that makes images run together so quickly that the viewer does not see the unique qualities of each piece.

Switching Media

It's good to switch your medium every once in a while and see what creativity feels like in an unfamiliar place. That's what I did last weekend in a workshop on concrete sculpture. I went from two dimensions to three; from colorful paint to gray concrete; from paintbrush to saw and files; from landscapes to figurative. The result was "Poo Cat," a concrete planter somewhat resembling a Mexican tribal artifact.

"Not bad for a first sculpture," pronounced my instructor, Jynja Calderon ( http://www.absolutearts.co

m/portfolios/j/jynja/).  She was a patient, yet demanding, instructor through the mixing, pouring, and 5+ hours of carving. As she worked on her own sculpture beside me, we were both in our zones throughout the afternoon, hardly noticing one of the most dramatic of the thunder storms we've been having here.

While working with concrete was certainly different for me, some things about the creative process were the same. I began with a sketch of my vision of the finished piece. I gave myself permission to change my vision as I discovered the challenges of working in concrete, essentially carving away everything that wasn't "cat." I gained confidence with each passing hour as I became more experienced with the tools, learning how much pressure to apply, how much concrete to take off at a time.

I know many artists who are timid about trying new techniques or media, and I can remember feeling that way, too. But the more I create, the more daring I am. As I stare a new project in the face, I feel invincible; I have a powerful sense of "Yes, I can," and I'm willing to take more risks.

Check out Poo Cat in my Daily Art album.

Connecting the Dots

Tomorrow I will complete the first assignment in my landscape painting class. It was one of those academic exercises that makes you want to scream in frustration but in the end teaches the precise lesson the instructor intended. And I really needed this exercise.

Though I've painted landscapes many times before, I have never felt my effort showed much passion. I've worked mostly from photographs and I've tried faithfully to paint what I see in the photo, editing or changing a few details for the sake of composition. But I readily admit to approaching landscapes with that "beginner mentality" - the sky is blue, the trees are green, and so on in a most predictable way. Unless I'm painting Utah's red rock country, my landscapes usually end up with too much boring green.

The class exercise challenged us to focus on value and temperature, starting with a warm toned canvas, then a violet underpainting, followed by a pointalist style of applying tinted dots of primary colors side by side and allowing the eye to blend them into the local color of the landscape we're painting. Though blue and yellow mixed make green, the eye does not get green from a blue dot beside a yellow dot. So, the last step is to apply some (as few as necessary) "cheater" dots of green to suggest green trees or grass.

However, even before the application of cheater dots, my painting was so much more interesting and alive than all the mostly-green landscapes I've ever painted. Furthermore, the exercise forced me to think really hard about the temperature relationships between objects close and objects far away. The sunlight reflecting on trees farther away isn't the same temperature as sunlight on the leaves in the foreground. 

If you're a painter, you may read this and think, "well, duh," as I did. On some level I already knew this. But I had never challenged myself to paint to the theory rather than taking that unthinking, knee-jerk approach to painting the green I think I see.

This exercise has not made me want to paint like Serat all the time, but it has given me the confidence to depart from the boring and predictable. I'm posting my landscape exercise in my daily art album even though it's not quite finished.

 

Cabin Fever

Living in the desert, I don't expect a monsoon season in June. But here we are. And wouldn't you know, this is the year I'm taking plein air painting! Fortunately, our first assignment, which I will complete today, is a landscape as seen through the third floor window of the art building. This I can work on while warm and dry. The challenge comes when the clouds obscure the mountains and I can't remember where the shadows fell on the last sunny day we painted.

I can't wait to get outside with my paints, and I promise not to complain about heat, sun poisoning, or bugs. I just want to get on with the experimentation and learning. I'm eager to practice big, luscious paint strokes that are spot-on in color and placement; that the viewer sees as a paint stroke up close but recognizes as a tree from a distance.

I want to paint my mostly green backyard in reds and blues and purples that the viewer will recognize as lush vegetation in a private backyard sanctuary. 

I want to paint my own interpretation of mountains, canyons, and red rock that speaks of my sense of awe at God's amazing artistry.

Hoping for drier weather next week.

The Thrill of Completion

Today I took five newly completed paintings to be photographed so that I'll have digital images for my records and for possible entry in competitions. This is the beginning of my new series I'm calling "Landscape Jazz." They are improvisational, drawn-from-imagination/memory, and semi-abstract. I think most viewers will clearly see land forms, but the colors, in most cases, are more intense than nature.

My internal critic has been strangely silent as I've worked on this set of paintings. Perhaps I'm happily oblivious to my artistic errors, or maybe the paintings are really good. Maybe six months from now I'll look at them and wonder, "What was I thinking?" But for now, it's quite exhillerating to feel like I've completed some pieces worth photographing, framing, hanging, or selling. 

And with this accomplishment, I can check off one of my goals for June. The problem is I don't want to lose momentum...I want to keep working on this series and "to hell" with the other goals on my list! "Calm down, Sue, moderation in everything," I tell myself. The challenge now is to keep up the momentum while still keeping those other goals on my calendar.

I'm posting in Daily Art the first of my series - "Boulder Jazz."

Working My Plan

The planning I did last week made me feel more in control of my creative life. But it does no good if I don't work my plan. That's what I'm doing this week. As in all of life, the plan - and working it - is a balancing act. I have certain life/work maintenance activities that I don't particularly love to do, but ultimately they support my ability to create and to live the life I want, so I've stopped looking at these activities as drudge work, and I see them instead as part of the creative process.

For example, my office had become so cluttered that it was one big tripping hazard, not to mention a major mental distraction from the things I want to create. Yesterday, I spent most of the afternoon clearing all the surfaces, including the floor, to remove those hazards and distractions. I feel so much better! This has freed up my mind and time to do the more creative things in my plan. This afternoon, I'll return to some paintings I started last weekend, and by next Monday, I'll be able to check off several action steps toward my monthly goals.

The real key to planning and working the plan is my calendar. I could daydream a zillion things I'd like to accomplish in a month. But I can only DO what fits on my calendar. So plugging activities into the calendar, realistically estimating the time they will take, prevents overly optimistic goals and eventual disappointment. The calendar forces me to prioritize and balance.

If you need help finding the balance in your creative life, send me a note.