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Once in a figure drawing class my teacher asked me how I was feeling. "Very
frustrated, extremely frustrated, kind of bummed out and anxious," I answered.
"Funny, Your work doesn't look that way," he said, "Maybe you should let some of
that emotion show in your work. . ." - a comment for which I will always be
grateful because it unlocked an important door. I have learned that my best
paintings happen only when I am completely present, letting all of my self, all
of my feelings both beautiful and ugly exist on the canvas. When I consciously
strive to put all of my self into a painting, however, I often end up "loosing"
myself in the process of painting. When I finish a piece sometimes I look at it
and wonder, "where did this come from?" "Did each intricate complicated mark on
the paper really come from my brain controlling my hand?" The answer is both yes
and no. The feeling is both liberating and scary. My actor and actress friends
speak of how, when they are really "in character", really performing a part well,
it is not as if their "self" is present at all. Instead the character speaks
through them. Often when I paint I feel that something other than myself is
flowing through me. Painting for me is thus a complex dance on the infinitely
sharp line between complete control and utter abandon. Dancing on that edge I
find terror, elation, suprise and occaisionally a painting I want to frame and
share with the world.
I also believe that,
"Creativity requires risk. Risk often results in failure. The courage to try
and fail demands self confidence which relies on family, friends and a community
of support." Thank you all.
(quote from a plaque on the studio art building at my alma matter, Williams
College)
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