A Matter of Perspective

Memories, 48×48

“A good abstract should work from at least 3 sides”.  I heard this from a very accomplished abstract artist set up next to me at a show recently.  I know that; I paint that way; but I had never spoken it quite so definitively.  As my life has been on full tilt, as my career feels like it is a study of shifting sands, “Art imitates life” has smacked me full in the face.

As in, I can look at all of the changes I am dealing with and working through in a negative way, or I can take a new perspective and ensure a positive result with a positive  attitude.

-Because I didn’t sell well this year on my Florida circuit I have enough inventory to relax the painting schedule and take the time to write, build a marketing plan, and explore new distribution channels.

-Because there aren’t customers clamoring to get to the studio at 10 or 11 every day I can redefine my space from retail shop to artist studio and set new (more relaxed) hours which allow me to train for the half marathon without getting up at the crack of dawn.  Or sit here at the coffee shop to write my blog.  Or close early to enjoy time with my son from out of town who is in town for a visit.

-Because my studio is full, I have two complete bodies of work that I can present.  Relaxed from deadlines, I push the envelop of my own creative style and explore the next level of “What if?” with the painting currently on the easel.

Rotated, Memories takes on a landscape look

We all have the freedom to choose the perspective by which we look at things.  I am amazed at how we see the positive in others’ lives, but take the negative road in our own.  I see wisdom and strength in a friend’s face; she sees wrinkles.  I see a friend looking younger; she sees weight gain.  I see a woman’s hair as “silver fox” she sees it as old and gray.

As an abstract artist I am accomplished at looking at the world differently.  Emotion, color, line, texture, and composition jump out at me more than image, scene, location, or place.  I am enamored by the beauty behind and under the obvious.  “Life imitates art.”  We would all benefit if we started looking for the beauty that underlies the shifts in life. “Life imitates art.”  It is the highlights and lowlights that add dimension to a painting and to life.  Looking at life as an abstract painting.  Sounds like a great perspective to embrace.

Rotated again, Memories becomes an angel

All that Glitters…

In the ever constant quest for the “remarkable” (see Seth Godin’s book “Purple Cow”)  the need for wisdom and discernment increases.  Presented with new ideas, new products, and new applications the axiom “All that glitters is not gold”  has become an” ever present companion.  Instructors present artistic uses for household products (steel wool, joint tape and compound, sandpaper).  Product specialists present the latest and greatest in the line of art supplies (transfer paper, spun polyester paper, paints ready for sun printing).  It’s exciting and inspiring.

And confusing.  It is necessary to explore, but always with the question, “Does this fit in my wheelhouse?  My sweet spot?  My artistic voice?”   The purpose of exploration is to refine the search and be selective.

It’s not easy being selective.   It’s time consuming and sometimes frustrating.  It’s not popular to be selective.  The crowd will often run after the next shiny thing that comes along.  If I am to find my unique voice.  If I am to march to the beat of my own drum.  It is necessary however.  I must check and recheck that the glitter IS or IS NOT gold.

 

Catching the Beat

“She/he walks to the beat of a different drum.”  Throughout my years that phrase has meant a variety of things.  It stood for “She’s a little weird” in my youth.  As in doesn’t fit in, fit the mold, isn’t like us.  Later it became “He isn’t a team player.  Doesn’t do community well. Won’t join in.”  Years later I find that the phrase has morphed from a negative to a positive as I am more deeply ensconced in the art world.

I am working to catch the beat of my own drum.  Seeking that which sets me apart.  The thing about this quest is how difficult it can be to hear the sound and catch the beat of the drum that says “ME”.  The competition for my ear and heart is overwhelming.  Mundane tasks at hand derail my commitment to create.   The business of art distracts from the creating of art.

Even in the creative arena voices compete.  Do I follow the voice that reminds me of what is selling around me?  Do I listen when I hear myself speak of what images I paint that have sold well?  Do I incorporate some or all of the ideas explored at the workshop on Sunday?  Do I pursue ideas presented by colleagues, customers, friends and family?

I feel a little like the chick in P.D. Eastman’s book “Are you my Mother?”  asking every creative idea that passes through my brain, “Are you my drum?  Is this the beat I walk to?”  In the story, if the chick had simply stayed in the nest, he would have met his mother as she returned with his breakfast.   The moral of the story for me is to stay the creative course I am on ( currently in the middle of a large painting).

This is not a quest of the mind, but of the heart.  I cannot reason my beat into existence.  The only beat I need to listen to is the beat of my spirit and heart, confident that it will whisper “This is the way, walk in it” as I sit at my easel,  work at my table, or stare into space.  That requires quieting my mind and allowing my heart to speak.

It is a challenge worthy of my effort.

 

 

Collecting Art: listen to your heart

Are you an art snob?  Several years ago a gallery owner told me that they only represented “collectible” artists that “would be in the books someday”.  Since that day I have observed, pondered, and questioned others in the industry on this idea.  My conclusion?  Art professionals that make such claims are in fact art snobs. The dictionary defines snob as “one who affects an offensive air of superiority, as in matters of taste or intellect”.   This attitude and definition of “collectible art” does more harm than good to artists and collectors alike because it pretends to define for others what is in fact “collectible”.

The point that I want to make is that “collectible” is in the eye of the collector.  What is valuable to me as a collector may not be valuable to the general public or the art industry.  I know of a couple that has an art collection valued in the tens of thousands of dollars.  They own some of the “big names” in the art world.  Yet as you walk in their home, the first “art” you see is a mass produced print of Rembrandt’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son” framed and hung with honor.  Why?  Because that painting, and  Henri Nouwen’s book of the same name hold significant meaning for them.  They value the message behind the painting; we honor what we value.  I would suggest that we should all apply that same heartfelt approach to all art purchases.

What we value we also gather around ourselves in our home and work environments.  Simply put, what you value is “collectible” for you.  The freedom is yours to purchase and treasure what speaks to your life.  I encourage you to listen to your heart whenever you are considering an art purchase.  It is the only “voice” that matters.

Listening to your inner voice will bring peace of mind and will displace any anxiety about needing to “understand art” or “make an investment”.  Whenever you invest in your peace of mind, spend money on something that brings you enjoyment, or purchase art that shares your vision and voice,  you are making a sound investment with years of great returns.