I've been having a hard time keeping a post idea in my head. I've had numerous ideas, numerous gripes, numerous thoughts, but they flew right through my brain and are now floating around the house with no hope of being caught until they want to be. Still, I felt I should put something up... prime the pump so to speak. A friend suggested a painting. If I put up a painting I would find something to say, something to talk about, so here it is... a painting I did of my mother... a painting of her in the early 60's. I have the actual photograph, but had felt the urge to paint it for some time. I don't generally paint people, at least realistically. Skin, for me, is hard to paint. Skin has so much going on that it is hard to capture. But, for some reason, with this piece, I figured I'd give it a try. I am happy with how it turned out. I am especially happy with the arm in the foreground. It's probably my favorite part of the painting.
Paintings are funny... they can have so much meaning to the one who paints them and it can be totally lost on the people who end up buying them. I suppose that is how it is meant to be. This piece, which I won't ever sell, means so many things to me. I see my grandparents' home and curtains that I loved. I see my mother in her first trimester of pregnancy and yet dressed to the hilt. She made the dress as well. When I think back to my first trimesters of pregnancy, I think of sweatpants, nausea and knowing my bod was no longer my own. How she got the moxy to not only get dressed, but make the dress is beyond me, but I know her so it's not surprising. No one ever got in between my mother and an idea. I see all of my technical flaws in this painting and yet they are muted by the good I see. I see what I was able to accomplish even though I am not quite sure what it was. I just know I feel satisfaction even with the mistakes.
One thing I set out to do when starting this painting was to have it look like a photograph. I know there are schools of thought that think painting from a photo is cheating since the photo is already in 2-D format. I suppose that's right. What you gain in something being forshortened by the camera, you do lose in depth. On this piece though, I did not care about the lack of depth and I wanted the shadows created by the flash. I wanted it to look like a photograph because that is what my memory of this time is. I was not alive so the colors in my memory are fully created by Kodak. I imagine everthing having a slight purple edge to it. I imagine reds and greens as being more vivid than they probably were. I imagine people walking around being followed by the intense shadows that were created by the flash. The fact that this painting looks somewhat like a photo is a success to me. I have recreated my created memory of the time.
A year or so ago, I had this painting in an art fair. I don't do art fairs, but had a photographer friend who wanted company and asked if I would join her so I did. It was an interesting experience, not one I think I will do again soon... I had this painting of my mother up and it by far got the most attention. Many people said they couldn't take their eyes off of it and that the eyes would follow you. Many people said they remember curtains like that in their parents' or grandparents' houses and many women said they had a similar dress. I talked to many people that day about that piece including a few people who wanted to buy it, but Mom was not for sale. Towards the end, when the judging was taking place, a number of the judges were going to single that painting out for honorary mention. I thought that would have been nice. Mom would have gotten a kick out of that after she gave me grief. (She would see the flaws in her dress-making, would remember the feeling of the first trimester... ) But one judge just could not get behind it. I sat there quietly, listening to her dismantle all I felt I had succeeded at with this piece. It looked too much like a photograph... it was "retro", not classic. She might consider a mention if they had a "novelty" award. (Ouch!) I believe in the end, the oil painter who got recognition for her work was the woman who did endless paintings of Victorian women with 1960's make-up. I try not to be harsh because I am sure her paintings meant something to her that I could not see. Art means something different to everyone. No one will ever truly know what the artist was trying to portray. Heck, most of the time the artist doesn't even know what they are trying to portray, they just know they have to do it and in a rare instance, even with all of the glaring mistakes, they know they succeeded and they are satisfied no matter what anyone else says.
(Please excuse the bad flash reflection on my photo... I could not get a good angle and could not get enough light to not use the flash. My daughter, who walked in while I was photographing it said, "Okay Mom... you're taking a picture of a painting of a picture??)
You know I think that painting is just great, Jennifer. Still think so. I love it. I am very partial to paintings that look like photos. The more it looks exactly like a photo, the more I am drawn to it.
Whatever that is in me is probably the same reason why I am drawn (no pun intended) to non-fiction over fiction.
I like to keep it real, baby.
I'm probably missing a lot by thinking that way and need to expand my horizons -- that's a goal of mine, actually -- but, that's just the way I've always been.
Now. For the Ms. Sarcastic Critique Lady you ran into. All I have to say to her is:
Whatever.
With the hand gesture and everything.
And I'll leave you with my very favorite Kurt Vonnegut quote that relates to how I feel about people like that:
"Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae."
It didn't seem as though she was especially full of rage or loathing, but her little "novelty" award crack was over the line. Oh, she was just so smart, wasn't she?
I like your hot fudge sundae!
Take *that* Ms. Sarcastic Critique Lady!
Posted by: blue girl | October 23, 2006 at 02:22 PM
lol! Thanks BG. If I ever see Ms. SCL again, I will let her know how you feel!
I have been around long enough to know that not everything is for everybody and that it's not personal (or it is very personal, but not a personal attack), but the thing that did catch me by surprise that day was the amount of dislike she had. There were 5 judges, 4 of whom loved it, but she was the one calling the final shots. I have no idea who she was, but it was clear she didn't like my stuff. I do indeed remember wondering why she was so irked... it was a painting, end of story. I'd say the Vonnegut quote was right on the mark. Maybe I'll do a nice, big hot fudge sundae painting. :)
Posted by: Jennifer | October 23, 2006 at 02:48 PM
When you're an artist or do anything creative at all, you do have to have a thick skin. People don't think twice about being really honest, really loudly about their opinions. John gets it all the time. To realize it's not personal is good. Although it's still hard not weep a tad inside when someone does that.
Several years ago we were on vacation and when we got back we had a million messages on the answering machine from friends telling us The Skimmer was reviewed on the front page of the arts section.
He had his art down at a gallery in Cleveland. Anyway, overall it was a very good review.
BUT THEN.
They used a shot in the review of a huge painting he did of Blue Kid. A very up close painting of his cute, little adorable 3 year old face.
It was huge in the paper with a caption like this:
Overall, The Skimmer's work is good, blah, blah, blah, but this painting is odd. This shows nothing but a stiffed faced child.
!!!!!!!!
Really, really nice to have the painting YOU LOVE that your husband did of OUR SON ripped to shreds on the front of the arts section of the area's major paper!
Did I take it personally? Yes!
Did I ever forgive them?
No!
:)
Posted by: blue girl | October 23, 2006 at 04:06 PM
BG- OUCH!!! I feel for all of you! You would think that the paper would have had the kindness to focus on something they liked for the big photo/caption... Did you write lots of letters to the editor using aliases?
Where's the painting of BK? I'm assuming you still have it? Can you email me an image? I'd love to see it. I'm sure it's wonderful.
Posted by: Jennifer | October 23, 2006 at 04:12 PM
Jennifer
It was so nice of you to mention that you loved the Midwest Mom painting... Thanks... I just switched over to Beta on blogger today, and before that was unable to link to your site... I am wondering where you live and hoping It can stay away from me here in Minnesota for a little longer... I also LOVE the painting you did of your mother in the 60's photo... it is so accurate... You really captured an era... Was the poem one of your kids... it is hard to tell with all of the links on the sidelines if it is a group or just you posting the site...
I just have to wonder how someone so young can be so eloquently insightful...
xoxoxo MJ
Posted by: Mary Jane Mansfield | December 01, 2006 at 08:42 PM
Hi Mary Jane- No, it's just me, however, the poem was indeed the work of my oldest daughter. She is a very insightful person... always has been.
I live in the Chicago area. We are definitely blanketed with snow. It feels like December.
Thanks for all of the kind words.
Posted by: Jennifer | December 02, 2006 at 07:02 AM