Tuesday, February 9, 2010

i forgot to forget

Eight days ago we moved the last of our belongings out of our house, which now sits with no plaster on the walls and only dust and rubble on the floors. Missing windows allow the cool morning breeze to blow through and the sound of traffic to interfere with our conversation. Everything has moved to my former studio, which is a disconnected basement of the remodel project above, a storage unit, or the dark windowless crawl space below the studio. It’s the crawl space where all of my art supplies lay. Only a couple of sketchpads and Ticonderoga Number Two’s made it to the new dwelling. When spring brings fairer weather the great outdoors will become my painting studio.

It’s strange not painting. I guess the change of medium is good for me, but drawing just doesn’t give the satisfaction I get from splashing paint around. I’m such a messy painter. Making lines just isn’t the same. What if I forget how to paint? I remember after graduating from art school thinking that. If I didn’t keep painting constantly, maybe I would forget. I felt like the ability to paint was tenuous, and just barely remembered between sessions, as though the time between painting was like a battery slowing losing its charge. If that time went too long the battery would drain completely and I’d be left without the ability to start up again. I remember telling this to another artist and he said he thought it would be good to forget how to paint. His comment befuddled me, and I assumed that he was just so much more experienced than me that what he really meant was that he knew he wouldn’t completely forget, that by “forgetting” he really just meant that he thought it would be good to shed his skin a bit and try something new. He knew that his ability was on a strong foundation and not in danger of disappearing completely.

It has been a month since I last painted. My fears of forgetting how from several years ago are no longer there, but I do miss it. When I do begin to paint again, when the materials are brought out of their dark storage and dusted off, I will face another change. I have no space to store any new paintings. The storage units are stuffed full. The walls are covered. I will have to paint small and maybe on paper to minimize the impact on space. Maybe I’ll paint disposable paintings. I don’t know. I need the magic disappearing ink so that each day the paper will be white again. Whatever I do it will be different and challenging. No more huge canvases with broad gestures. I will have to miniaturize the experience. Gulliver with a paint brush. What will that be like? What will I remember and what will be new?

3 comments:

  1. You might consider knitting or taking up the guitar! It could be very interesting to not do any visual art for a while.

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  2. turmoil.
    i was riveted by the torrent of words and emotion that you shared with us.
    i am reading "the ghost map" and came across a quote today that seemed relevant to my own situation right now and i hope will have resonance for you too.
    "every limit is a beginning as well as an ending."
    george eliot

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  3. oh no, two distinct traumas to be faced, and no obvious solution in the immediate future. I have to 'fess up that after the residencies, I am drained and then when I take up painting again, it's as if I have literally forgotten how. I always have an excuse, but I think that I just plain forget.

    As for storage -- Clint Brown says, "Art is that which is sold; all the rest is obsession and a storage problem." I am part of the SE Art Walk this week and am giving away paintings left and right -- a kid going to Buckman school fell in love with the (sorta bad) painting of her school -- she got it. A friend was torn between two fiber pieces -- she got them both for $5 extra. Another friend came by with her guitar and we sat under the blooming forsythia and sang old folk songs in the sun and when she said it was time to go, I made her chose a painting to take with her. It felt very good -- all over it. I decided to opt out of art as commodity -- but then, I'm not with a gallery, so it's easy for me to do. And these were people who truly lusted after the work. Satisfying a little lust is delicious.

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