Crop Rotations . . .
Three paintings from my Mapping series don’t look like my other works, but they all answer the question,
“What makes us see that something is a map?”
At an artists’ meeting recently, a woman leaned across the table saying, “Your painting style has changed so much. What’s that about?”
It’s true. My paintings have changed—a lot!
What is that about?
I had no ready answer.
Later in that same meeting, another woman asked me, “Where do all your different ideas come from?”
And that’s when I began to think about it more deeply.
I realized my work doesn’t begin with an idea. It always starts with the question, “What would happen if…”
It might start with a line. Or a splash of paint. Or the way the light shines on the wet porch railing. It’s about curiosity more than anything else.
Throughout the work, I keep asking questions. What if I made sharp bold marks here? How does that change things? What if I used a fat brush and smudged this spot? Whoa! The balance is different now. Is it wrecked? Should I use a softer color somewhere else? Is this painting lacking some little surprise to notice when you get close to it? Is it too loud? Is it too restrained? How can I add spontaneity? And so on. And on.
Each work presents new questions. And the answers lead to related questions for new paintings. The works form a series for a while, often producing 20-30 paintings. It’s exciting. The paintings talk to each other! And then, there is a moment. A moment when I notice the questions have been answered, and it’s time to change again.
For me, working on a new series is a bit like a gardener rotating crops. If you keep planting your tomatoes in the same place, the nutrients get drained from the soil. But if you switch it up and plant pole beans in that spot, the energy comes back to the soil. Changing my work keeps my artistic energy vigorous.
And like a gardener who is happy with certain crops, and unhappy with others, the process helps me refine what I want to continue working with, and what I will discard.
I’ve returned to paintings about water six or seven times now. That’s a “crop” I will continue to grow. These newer water paintings are consistently refreshed by questions that were answered by a completely different series. My version of a crop rotation.
It may not be a route everyone chooses, but it works for me. Somehow, there’s always a question. A “what if” moment. And I’m off and running, compelled to find the answers.
So yes. My paintings have changed. But it’s not random or scattershot. It’s an exploration.