The Brushstroke Part I

I'm pretty happy with some of the brushwork in this area. The form is established pretty efficiently so that the subject retains a certain lightness of form. Too much brushwork gives the subject a heavy look. A.P. Laurie, the british paint chemist wrote of the need to ensure that one's colors can breathe.  I'm reminded of something that happened when I was in college. I had just done some painting and was feeling pretty good about it (my professor disabused me of this notion a few days later... but that's another story).

Anyway, I was talking about it with the college chaplain. I told him how exciting was one passage of painting. "It was like God bumped my elbow!" I said. An exciting sentiment surely, but not one unique to my experience. The idea occurs in writing about art pretty regularly. Salvador Dali says it in the last sentence of his instructional text, 50 Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship. The practice of all that is written herein, he says, amounts to little if the angels do not guide your brush. This sort of thinking, while it certainly captures the romance of art, and preserves the mystery that occurs in the artists studio, can be very discouraging. More tragically, it can lead to the idea that, art making should be easy to those that have "the gift" or "talent." Then, when difficulties occur--as they inevitably must--the artist despairs. Painting is hard work. I'm more exhausted after 8 hours of painting than 8 hours of manual labor.

Back to the conversation with the college Chaplain. "No," he said, "God did not bump your elbow." He told me that I was painting then as I was meant to paint. What I understand from his statement is that was that Eye, Brain, Hand, and Heart were all working in unison. I like to think that I experienced something of a reality that will become more tangible as I continue to paint. A reality that artists like Rembrandt or Sorolla lived in daily, in which paint and the brush are the natural tools for expression.