10.3.18

Beginning the “Phil Series” — new model — new series. Phil was meek. At times I wasn’t clear why he had volunteered to do this. It was clear that I — the observer — was going to have to bring more to the interaction than I had with Michael (the last series). Seven sketches produced — this is my work on the third sketch.

Day One

Step 1: The original figure sketch. (This sketch was very sketchy — the model was uncomfortable and almost shy.)

Step 2: Activating the space around the figure. Filling the space around the figure. (Tentative and unfocused.)

Step 3: Color and darks. (The figure felt trapped in limited space the model was taking up.)

Step 4: Washes and defining larger shapes. (Feeling constrained and contained.)

Step 5: White wash. (The emergence of other “figures” on the canvas — other presence holding the figure in place.)

Step 6: Push through lines. (Integrating the figure in the surrounding environment — breaking through the lines or being overwhelmed.)

Day Two

Step 7: Foreground and background (more color, more dark). (The figure appears restricted by the darkness.)

Step 8: White wash (again) — redefining figure and looking for any “emerging” figures. (One dark figure in the upper right (background) and one lighter figure in the foreground (lower left).

Step 9: Positive and negative — contrast. (Defining the “figures” with contrast not lines.)

Step 10: Shaping the negative space. (Color and line in the negative space — seeing what’s there.)

Step 11: White wash (again) — adding structure by paying attention to composition. (Barriers and separation in the space between.)

Step 12: Pushing the elements to really see what’s there — foreground, background, shapes, figures — defining the space between the object and the viewer. (Creating relationships and paths for the eye to follow.)

Day Three

Step 13: Editing — what’s important (and letting go of what isn’t). In this case it was the original figure that needed to go. (Leaving a hint of the original figure — which wasn’t much to begin with and emphasizing the forces surrounding it.)

Step 14: Final white wash — limiting the contrast, telling the experience, bringing the object and the viewer into the same plane. (Making sure there is a reason to linger — places for the eye to linger and move — hints of figures without being explicit — allow the viewer to see what they will while staying true to my experience — an unsettled search to find what/who is really there.)

7.9.18

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New faces.

I've been honored in the past two weeks to have some new people showing up at the studio: Michael, Jason, Phil. Isaiah has been by as well and it is always a pleasure to have him around. Spending time with people at the studio is so different from seeing people in other settings. At the studio there is an excuse to stare, to look beyond the surface and try to find what this individual has to say -- verbally and visually. It always awakens my sense of how different everyone is. 

In my attempt to represent the "space between" the object and the viewer I keep falling back on information that Wendy Palmer shared in her book The Intuitive Self. She talks about the self being expressed along two axes: the vertical which encompasses gravity, gut, heart, head, and spirit; and the horizontal which encompasses time, history and future, position, and relationship. If you can find the place where those two axes intersect you are in the present moment. 

She also expresses the idea that we all operate within a bubble, the shape, size and texture of which we can determine. The bubble is the personal space we embody. To have an expansive bubble you have to have a secure center in order to maintain balance. My four studio visitors made me see a range of "bubbles" and increased my ability to view the "space between" in new and different way. 

I'm curious to see how that translates to the canvas.

6.28.18

Under-paintings. 

A new model brings new shapes and a bright beginning to the next series. This will be the story of Michael a built guy with expressive hands and an easy way, but not without some strong opinions.

Solids and fluids.

The sketches are done.

The under-paintings started.

We'll see how things go as the canvases become more about what I see rather than what was there.

Filling in the space between using my vocabulary.

Merging. Submerging. Emerging.

Beginnings are both exciting and frightening. Lots of potential. The trick will be to stay in the moment and have the conversation with the canvas in front of me and not with someone who isn't in the studio anymore. 

5.30.18

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Communication. If I'm trying to invent my own visual alphabet so I can invent my own visual vocabulary so I can tell my own visual story then I'm going to have to accept that no one is going to understand me -- not at first anyway.

I've been sharing my latest pieces with friends and getting feedback -- "Where's the figure?" "Why so much white?" "Are they done?" -- the list goes on. These are people who know me. These are people who know my work. These are people I thought would have a head start understanding my visual language. And on one level they do. Their questions are them trying to learn the alphabet. -- "Am I supposed to see two figures?" "Is that an arm or a leg?" "Why is that line there?" -- But it is interesting how much their satisfaction with the work depends on understanding the intent. What was I thinking rather then what do they see/feel/sense.

One friend talked about "stained glass" and I thought that was a good, but was it a rational response to the lines thinking they looked like leading or was it an emotional response sensing something more spiritual about the abstrated space?

One friend talked about "veils" and I thought that was good, but was she responding to the obscuring of the figure or the sense of space being filled in with something hard to see?

One friend talked about "a bright light" and I thought that was good, but was it a response to the "whiteout" technique or were they seeing the illumination of the unknown darkness of separation?

As an artist I want to say something with my work. If someone thinks it's pretty while someone else is busy trying to find all the different figures -- isn't that enough? How much meaning has to be intended and how much does it have to be perceived? 

5.22.18

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Abstraction is the process of taking away or removing characteristics of something in order to reduce it to its essential elements. My current experiments with the "white out" process would seem to speak to that idea. I am removing characteristics of the initial figure to reveal something essential...but I am seeking to illuminate the figure not obscure it. There is motion and gesture. There is feeling and emotion. There is relationship between the model and the artist, and an invitation to the viewer to spend some time visiting and seeking some form of understanding that requires the senses, the mind, and the spirit.

I am showing you what I see, but what you see is just as important. Abstract art is an invitation to self-discovery. An opportunity to change your point of view. Find the figure if you like or find anything else you choose to see.

4.4.18

Vocabulary. I have been searching for my mark forever. A characteristic style or method of painting that might help people identify a painting as uniquely RW Freeman. In today's terms it would be equivalent to developing my brand. My challenge is that I see everything differently -- no two experiences are the same. It isn't a helpful brand even if it's true.

I look at my work and feel that I'm speaking a variety of languages at the same time. My new thought, for what it's worth, is I try to determine an alphabet first, then construct a vocabulary, then tell a story. That would mean limits. I'm not sure I do well with limits. But a lot of stories have been told with just twenty-six letters in our alphabet. 

3.22.18

I'm starting to understand why many great philosophers and theologians speak in riddles. I don't think there are precise answers because each person's experience is so completely individual. No one else has your upbringing, your chromosomes, your thought process, or your body. If they did then there would be answers, a correct way to do something. Critics or teachers may tell us there are, but times and tastes change and so do art movements. And the accumulation and interpretation of knowledge is individual, so good luck trying to get it right. 

My Buddhist self is pushing into the forefront. He's asking questions that demand I reconcile my inner and outer expression. What I feel is what I do. What I see, the mark I make are like breathing. Sensory information coming in. Sensory expression going out. 

It is going to be an interesting year in the studio.

12.31.17

The year ends. Lots learned. Lots to think about. Next year -- intention or at least having faith after 26 years of painting.

10.26.17

Joy revisited.

I spent a day this week cleaning -- sweeping, dusting, mopping, washing -- and organizing. The studio didn't look that much different after, but it felt different. Art is a messy business. Paint tubes migrate. Pastels find new homes on a range of surfaces. Wire falls off its hook on the wall and needs to be untangled and picked up. The studio reflects the artist. I'm not sure what mine says about me --- controlled clutter or messy intentions? 

I have a friend who paints on his dining room table. His paintings are smooth surfaces of geometric patterns thoughtfully constructed. 

I have another friend who paints in a corner of his kitchen -- in a converted pantry.  His studio looks like paint exploded in it. So do his canvases -- rich colors and lots and lots of texture.

My studio looks like a well managed but over-crowded living room. There is a place for everything and a thing in every space. It is filled to overflowing with a logic all its own. The white walls are awash with splatters and spills and drips. 

I am traveling this week, so I wanted to clean up before I left. Finish what needed to get done. Take note of what was left to do. Make lists of what I need. Feel complete.

So it was odd that the day after cleaning but the day before I left I had to go back to the studio and paint something new. I chose a figure drawing of a headless torso and painted it into a portrait of no one I know. Two good friends saw it and said, "oh, a self-portrait." 

I just wanted to make a little mess before I left.

And maybe I wanted to leave someone to watch over things while I was gone. 

10.20.17

"I believe that we are living at a time that overemphasizes the need of newness, of furthering concepts". - David Park

David Park was a painter in the Bay Area Figurative School. He was a teacher and mentor to many American artists, most notably Richard Diebenkorn. In the 1940s he was painting in the objective style (abstraction) but returned to painting figures in the 1950s because he was concerned that art was becoming more about the artist rather than the painting. His canvases spoke in bold colors and thick brush strokes. He created compositions that were about figures (bathers, musicians, people on the street) living in an environment that could only exist in the world of paint. He wasn't trying to capture a likeness. He wasn't trying to promote a methodology. He was trying to express himself and the way he sensed the world. 

I struggle with trying to justify how I paint. I am caught up in the notion that my paintings have to be about something. They need to be purposeful. I have to know (academically) what I'm doing.

My mother often asked me about my portraits, "she doesn't really look like that, does she?" The colors were bright. The brushstrokes apparent. The proportions not quite right. "No, Mom, her skin isn't blue" was my usual response.

Calix 2017 mixed media on masonite

It continues to be difficult to not want to paint a painting that pleases, that sells, that makes a statement, that promotes a way of seeing, that I can rationalize, that tells a story, that captures a moment. I wish, at times, that I was that kind of painter. 

I'm not.

There is a journey that I'm on in my studio. It is very personal, but it is expressed in a concrete and very public way. Most of my inspiration comes from looking at another person. I am compelled to make a tangible object that captures my experience of that other person. I don't know if that has meaning to my mother or the world. I can't control other people's experience of my work. People want to know what my intention is. "Is that a figure?" they might ask.  

I'm not sure that if an art historian ever tries to make sense of what I do that they will find an answer. I simply think, and feel, that the act of creative expression is powerful. Maybe I'm mirroring behavior I wish the rest of the world would embrace. If everyone would give life to something they feel, see, and think in a way that does no harm and adds something of beauty (though not everyone has to agree) to the world.

Why is that not enough?