Oh, My Goodness, What's Happening Here?
What you are looking at is an art studio on the move. This fall, major changes will happen in that space in the country where I love to paint. The ceiling will be painted white, another skylight will be added to the four already on the roof, new shelves and other storage systems will be built, and the concrete floor will be cleaned and sealed to a bright sheen. We aim to improve the quality of the natural light (I have learned all I can from the struggle with very weak light) and provide more space in which I can store completed and new canvases.
To do all that, I need to empty the studio; yes, empty. Every item needs to be packed and put into storage, or tossed. I have handled, during the past few weeks, countless books from a variety of fields and interests; files from my old teaching days; photographs and letters from many, many years ago; an endless array of art supplies; and all those things that one couldn't decide about that just ended up in the garage (i.e., the former garage, now studio). Thankfully, good friends have helped. Nonetheless, this has been lots of hard personal identity work. With every box I pack, I ask myself: What does this object say about who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be? Yikes! Imagine weeks of that. And I thought this was just the place where I painted.
To do all that, I need to empty the studio; yes, empty. Every item needs to be packed and put into storage, or tossed. I have handled, during the past few weeks, countless books from a variety of fields and interests; files from my old teaching days; photographs and letters from many, many years ago; an endless array of art supplies; and all those things that one couldn't decide about that just ended up in the garage (i.e., the former garage, now studio). Thankfully, good friends have helped. Nonetheless, this has been lots of hard personal identity work. With every box I pack, I ask myself: What does this object say about who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be? Yikes! Imagine weeks of that. And I thought this was just the place where I painted.
Making the packing bearable is the small space I left for painting. I refuse to put away my essential brushes and paints until the last moment, when the painters and carpenters crowd me out. I have kept a little safe spot.
Some of the painting I am doing these days, in that very spot, is a series called "the Wishes of Early Fall." This is a great time for painting fruit. The shapes and colors are wonderful. And luckily, I am able to do these small paintings quickly enough to eat what I paint. The timing of the painting seems to coincide perfectly with the timing needed for ripening: The fruit always tastes better after it has been painted. Canvases that are for now stacked against the walls have inspired abstract backgrounds, and that favorite antique French kitchen cloth can't keep ourself out of my work.
Late Summer Peaches. Oil on carton, 6" x 8"
