Sunday, November 24, 2013

Changing Direction

The comment I hear the most often about my art is" I love the color and the texture!". I really appreciate these positive responses from my collectors so I hope I'm not going to alarm any of you with this post.

I love color too. I like it a lot. That's why there's so much of it in my paintings. I like texture too. I like the way it mimics the aliveness pulsing through all of nature. I've used these tools for years to give my paintings a look and style distinctly my own. But lately I've become restless. I have a nagging feeling that I'm depending too much on one means to achieve the effects I'm after. It's become too easy. It's become a habit. 

I'm trying out a different working method and a different palette. More about that in a later post. If it all works out in the way I'm envisioning, the color will stand out even more than it does now. I'm not sure yet what I will do with the texture. I have faith that it will serve me as I need. 

Today I went out not intending to do a painting, but rather to gather information and keep my eye in practice. It's kind of like what a musician does with their daily practice when they're not playing the polished piece on stage. It was a very overcast day here in the Florida panhandle. I set up by a shallow twisting little waterway. It's such a quiet meditative little spot that I can't understand why the town fathers saw fit to run a piece of the Frisbee course right through it. But hey, I've had worse distractions.

I had been there a little more than an hour, moving aside every now and then so the Frisbee players could play through. I was in the zone, paying attention to warm and cool tones and about to tackle the reflection of the fallen tree when a young boy came by. He paused for a moment and looked then went on his way. I could see the curious intelligence in his eyes. He struck me as the kind of kid who takes the time to really be a part of his world rather than rushing through it. Five minutes later he was back poling a little boat through the water. From there on the pond was his since it was now too rippled to have any reflections. It was turning cold anyway and I headed home satisfied with the impressions of the day .

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