Pace And Shed [on DR Thursday]

underpainting copy

underpainting

Like all artists I pass through periods of discontent with my paintings. They become like ill-fitting clothes. I want to shed them. I’m embarrassed to claim them. I start poking around for something new. Something that fits.

It took me more than a few cycles of discomfort to realize that discontent was actually a gift. It is the leading edge of curiosity, the fire storm that makes way for rejuvenation. Artists are not immune to holding on tightly to the safety and comfort of what they know and need a good dose of discontent to loosen their grip. At least I do.

Discontent makes me range around. Try stuff. Tear things up. Scribble furiously. Wonder if my muse has abandoned me (feel sorry for myself). Make really bad art (not on purpose). Make really bad art (on purpose). Take walks.

Discontent allows my empty well to refill. It pops any illusion I might carry of perfection. It turns my ship and hoists full-sail toward the edge of the world. And, it is always when I sail into uncharted waters that I find my muse waiting. She drums her fingers and says, “I thought you’d never get here.”

Ten years ago, when becalmed in the middle of my artistic ocean, I saw a pile of tissue paper in the corner of my studio. In a fit of why-not-nothing-else-is-working, I tore pieces of tissue and slapped them onto the painting-of-my-discontent. There sat my long missing muse, fingers drumming. “Texture,” she yawned. “You might want to see where this takes you.”

It’s taken me a long way. And, to my surprise, just a few weeks ago, I woke up and my paintings, like ill-fitting clothes, no longer fit me. I look at them as if someone else painted them. “Yikes,” I thought, “I hope no one saw these…” My muse packed her bags. She is nowhere in sight. I paced a little. Discontent like fog descended.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about UNDERPAINTING

 

buffalo adirondack chair website box copy

mother&childprocessshot copy

sometimes the underpainting becomes the painting…this is a slice of Newborn

 

newborn ©️ 2019 david robinson

 

 

Hope [on KS Friday]

hope song box copy

Somewhere in my reading I came across this notion: discontent is the source of all creativity. Hope must be like that, too. Yearning. Expectation. Desire. To want something or someone who is not there. It is sweet and bitter.

Anyone who tells you that life cannot be simple and complex at the same time has not loved or aspired to dream. Don’t believe them. The simple desire to know never leads to a single answer but it does open greater and greater vistas. Ask a physicist. Or a mystic. Or someone in love.

Particle or wave?

Hope maybe despair re-imagined. It may be a left hand path calling. A dream that seems too big to consider. For a moment today, listen to Hope. Pull up the anchor and follow the wind. Listen. Close your eyes and see where Hope might take you.

 

HOPE on the album THIS SEASON available on iTunes, CDBaby. CD’s available at Kerri’s store.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about HOPE

 

hands website box copy

 

hope/this season ©️ 2005 kerri sherwood