Realism, Expressionism, all those “isms” – I just want to make good art. What it all comes down to is that I’m looking for the right mark. The one mark that will finally say what I want to say. Style makes its own way into the work. Labels are for the seer, not the maker – I mean, I never set out to make an “Expressionist” painting. I believe doing so would destroy the freedom to paint. I’m just trying to make the image work.
I use whatever materials I have about. Charcoal, oil, pencil, watercolor, ink,pastel – sometimes mixed – sometimes not – Often my paintings come from a sketch. The finished product may end up, however, in no way related to the sketch – I allow the image to lead me as I work. Not to say I give up control of the process. I am always aware of my choices though I may feel more directed to make some marks more than others.
Someone asked once what my goal was as an artist. I just want to make something that someone will want to look at more than once.
Portraits
People have always interested me. Their stories mostly, sometimes though I’m drawn by the way they sound, a movement, or a certain unnamable something.
It’s never a visual thing with me – looks are deceiving – they reveal very little.
I was lucky enough to spend my graduate school years in New York City. There you can sit with a sketchbook and go unnoticed. Here, where I live, if you pull out a sketchbook someone always wants to tell you about their cousin who draws.
I would sit in a park, a restaurant, or a bar and draw, undisturbed, as long as I wanted. Some of, what I think, is my best work came from these sessions. The Cedar Tavern-where in its original location was the place my heroes talked art – gave me images I still carry and often surface in my work. I was born at the wrong time.
I prefer portraits from life, but seldom will most have the time. Working from photographs is arduous at best but seems to turn out satisfying results.
Berry College’s commissioned presidential portraits were an inspiring challenge. Photographs are all I had to go on. I think of those more as interpretations of a likeness than a true portrait.
I enjoy portrait work. It keeps me working through the times when my inspiration wanes and it lets me see images and forms in an endless variety of ways.
Jazz Portraits
I love Jazz. It has an intensity and immediacy I can identify with. Coltrane, Charlie Parker, and Miles Davis – they played as if each note was the key to a new realm. Though, obviously, they also played for the beauty and joy of the song. My Jazz Portraits are done for the same reasons. The charcoal I use lends itself well to this series. It can be soft and lyrical or sharp and hard–edged. Black and white seem to work best for these pieces. I can achieve a near-photographic likeness from a medium that can be very unforgiving. It has taken many years and a lot of sweat and anguish to get the charcoal to do what I want it to do. Someday I may get it right, I hope not.
Printmaking
Of all the media I have worked with – I was never really interested in Printmaking; until one summer in New York. Suddenly I found a way to capture the immediacy of a drawing in a way that could be duplicated again and again. The series, inspired by the music of John Coltrane, began with a drawing on newsprint. I found a sheet of Plexiglas at a hardware store down the block from where I was living. I laid the plexi on top of the drawing and traced it with a wax pencil – the drawing changed a little in the process. Tracing has always been difficult for me – it’s just trying to follow the lines – I can’t do it.
Anyway, after the tracing I flipped the Plexiglas over and in the next nine hours scratched the drawing, by hand, onto the surface. The next day I pulled the first print from the plate. The pressure from the printing press destroyed the toothy surface of my etched lines. I had to re-etch the plexi. It took longer the second time – then I had an idea to “set” the surface with heat. I borrowed a hairdryer and the process worked. I pulled a series of prints from the plate, each looking as fresh and immediate as the original drawing. It was a near-magical experience (Thank you, Michael Kirk, for urging me on through the disasters).
|
|
