About the Painting, Art and words, Body of Work

The pairing of painting and poem

Where did this thought originate? Possibly from my recent acceptance into the Art & Words Collaborative Show in which the visual artists create a new work responding to a chosen written work, while the wordsmiths write a new piece responding to a selected visual work. So the idea may have come from that.

Or the thought could have bubbled up out of a webinar about the power of words, especially titles and artist’s statements, to connect viewer with art. Likely though, it was a mental mashup of the two experiences with whatever else was churning in my mind’s recesses–the need to examine more deeply the meaning of my own work. What resulted was a few sparse lines of free verse to usher passage into the heart of the piece.

After completing several small paintings, I took the time to really absorb them into my being, a wholly different act than painting. And although the purpose was to reach inside myself more profoundly, I hope the written lines may also help you, the viewer, to connect with the work as well. If each poem stands on its own, I’ll accept it as a bonus and a gift. Whether I make this a permanent part of my studio practice remains to be seen, but at this moment, the call to reflection resounds in my ears.

Here’s the first pairing of poem and painting. I hope you enjoy it.

Quiet Value

tender orbs dangle
above shaded earth
a flash of worth
stored in a fecund pod

Copyright 2018 Laura Hunt

 

Standard
Body of Work, Pattern in art

Pattern and surprise

Lately I’ve been thinking quite a lot about pattern. I’ve noticed that even from my earliest art-making days, pattern has often appeared to one degree or another. Why? Is it me? Is there some sort of OCD compulsion within that drives me to make rows of dots or spirals or zigzags? Or is there a universal human need for pattern?

I needed to find a clear definition of pattern. Turns out there are many, but out of the eleven I found in Mirriam-Webster, this is the one I found most relevant:

a reliable sample of traits, acts, tendencies, or other observable characteristics of a person, group, or institution: a behavior pattern, spending patterns, the prevailing pattern of speech

Searching a little further, I found this one on Wikipedia:

A pattern is a discernible regularity in the world or in a manmade design. As such, the elements of a pattern repeat in a predictable manner.

Pattern is all around us, in both tangible and intangible forms. Calendars and clocks help us organize our lives. Music and speech depend on the repetition of elements to make sense of sound and language. Research data looks for behavior patterns in humans, plants and animals to make predictions or to analyze the world around us.

Order and predictability are positive aspects of both our personal daily lives and of society at large–to a certain degree. When every day is the same, don’t we long for an interruption, a break, a surprise? Aren’t unbroken patterns with no variety excruciatingly boring? As a lover of order and pattern, how–and why– does that manifest itself in my art?

17393 Parallax-OriginalConfig-thumb-wp  17413 Child Bearer-Front-thumb-wp  16343 WarmingUp-thumb-wp  17384 BirdsOnAWetLawn-thumb

Click on images to see larger versions.
Above left: Seeming random lines for a pattern that streaks across a quad of canvases.
Second from left. Dots, stripes and zigzags lend a primitive character to this assemblage.
Third from left. A rectangle filled with rows and columns of dots interrupts a pattern of horizontal stripes.
Right. Variations of mostly green horizontal lines support the row of birds while splatters of color invade on the regularity of the composition.

I’ve reached a fairly simple self-analysis. I have a need for the pleasure that rendering a pattern affords. There’s a meditative quality to it. I like a degree of reliability. Pattern is a useful tool in bringing about order in a chaotic world. Making patterns and viewing them makes me feel safe and secure, but energized as well. (Polka dots may be predictable, but oh boy, do they enliven a surface!) I resist the idea of highly mechanical, robotic patterns though, and always see a human, handmade essence with mistakes and irregularities within the repetition of visual elements. And I need more than just the variation that my human hand naturally produces; I need a surprise of some kind, whether subtle or dramatic. Placing an organic shape like a human face over a background of squares and spirals is one type of surprise. Flinging paint splatters across the canvas over a pattern of criss-crossed lines is another.

18434 Ariose-thumb-wp    18429 String Theory K-thumb-wp

Click on images to see larger versions.

I’ve gained some clarity of my work and my practice as a space where discipline and spontaneity clash to produce unique objects that enrich and interpret the human experience. While the need for pattern may be especially strong in me, I believe that the visual expression of it strikes an unspoken universal chord in many who view it as well.

 

Standard
About the Painting, Body of Work, Inspiration for Making Art

The place of ideas

The concept for a new painting often arises out of the piece I am currently working on. Completing a painting that features the very stable, quiet and calming forces of horizontal marks generates thoughts about a more motion-filled and cacophonous design, with criss-crossing and arcing lines. (Click on images to see larger versions.)

17384 BirdsOnAWetLawn-thumb 17417 Slightly Ebullient-thumb-wp

Or it may give birth to ideas on how to push the same concept even further. A painting that in its final stages partially overcomes the background may set me toward thinking of a more open, airy design—or other ways of using the background to influence what happens at the end. A black background creates a completely different experience than a white one, and I like to test them both.

17385 DoveInMourning-lo-thumb-wp 17387 APenny'sWorthOfSparrows-lo-thumb-wp

Color does a lot of heavy lifting in communicating the emotional tone of a work, so I’m sometimes drawn to pulling from a different part of the color spectrum for a subsequent piece. Maybe the last piece I completed incorporated reds and oranges for a hot and fiery mood that generates excitement. The follow-up might be a larger painting with a similar color palette, with the larger canvas encouraging an even bolder approach. But it could also mean that cool, quiet blues and greens form the basis for the next work. I followed Fire Dance, for example, with Tsunami.

17390 FireDance-OriginalConfig-thumb 17391 Tsunami-thumb-wp

I’m not saying that external stimulation doesn’t generate ideas for paintings—it certainly does. Trips to museums, shows, galleries and even a YouTube video session often create a whirlwind of concepts that might eventually make their way into my work. But even so, they must go through an internal blender—no, not a blender—more of a butter churn–before they feel authentic to me.

Truly, ideas come from a deep and infinite universe, both the observable one of nature, objects and humanity, and the invisible one of the heart, the emotions and the intellect—and ultimately from the Creator who has embedded deep within us the power to create.

Join me on Facebook and Instagram for behind-the-scenes peeks and first postings of new work.

All art is copyrighted and may not be reproduced without express written permission. Copyright 2017 Laura Hunt

 

 

 

Standard
Body of Work, Inspiration for Making Art, sketchbook

30 days, 30 faces

In my last blog post, “Going small: a wee little personal project,” I described a self-imposed challenge of populating a small blank book with faces. I committed to drawing 30 faces in 30 days. By then I had a week’s worth of sketches.

I had 23 faces to go. Twenty-three days in which I had to find just a few minutes to play. (Okay, I’ll admit, there were a couple days when I just plain forgot, so I doubled up the next. Commitment is commitment, you know.) And while drawing a face a day isn’t required to be functional in the world, I did come to see it as a form of self-care–care of my artist’s spirit, care and nurturing of my own imagination.

How will today’s face be different from yesterday’s? Will it be the set of the eyes, the texture of the hair, the turn of the lips, the skin color pale or dark, the tilt of the nose? Nature, nurture and life bestow their imprints on our faces in myriad ways. That uniqueness is the most obvious way we recognize one another, but we make little conscious note of it.

Since I used no reference for the sketches, I don’t consider them to be portraits at all. I’m an abstract and assemblage artist, not a portrait or figurative artist. Any resemblance to real persons is totally accidental and unintended. Except for one, which I’m sure you will notice as you flip through the images. Using colored pencils, a medium I hadn’t worked with in many years, was as enjoyable as I remembered. My colored pencils are ancient! Some colors are down to nubs, so I’ve rewarded myself with a new set. Here is the completed 30-day project.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

A few random conclusions:

  • Humanity abounds with infinite variety.
  • Filling up this little book with cohesive yet playful drawings proved quite satisfying.
  • Imagination is a valuable asset. To keep it alive, it’s essential to give it a workout.
  • I hope to be more intentional in my observation of the faces that touch my life.

After a break, I’ll give myself another 30-day assignment, something different from this one, but one that stimulates my imagination–and helps fill up that book in meaningful ways. I’ll let you know about it when the time comes.

Join me on Facebook and Instagram for behind-the-scenes peeks and first postings of new work.

All art is copyrighted (except for that one I alluded to in the fourth paragraph) and may not be reproduced without express written permission. Copyright 2018 Laura Hunt

 

Standard
Body of Work, New Art

Going small: a wee little personal project

My sketchbooks are a mess. I don’t pick up the same one every time I need one. The scrawlings inside range from thoughtful drawings of vacation scenes to spare scratches that vaguely map out my next abstract painting, with doodles and pattern exercises in the mix. Utilitarian, yes. Cohesive, no.

Last week I came across this lovely little blank book that had been stashed on a studio shelf. It’s a 3.5-inch square book of 100% post-consumer waste paper, an artifact of my graphic design days, most likely a sample left by a paper company rep. For some reason, it called to me, launching a personal project totally unrelated to my paintings or assemblages. Just something to satisfy the soul at day’s end, and push different buttons than those triggered on a daily basis in the studio. The project? Fill this little book with something akin to a body of work, diminutive though it may be.

The first assignment I gave myself was to draw a different face every day for a month. So far, I have a week’s worth of faces. Some are caricature-ish, some more realistic, but so far, they are all products of my imagination. Maybe I’ll use reference photos later on. My aim is that, after 30 days, I’ll have a tiny sampling of the infinite variety seen in the faces of the human family. Wide lips, thin lips; round eyes, snake-like slits; hair curly, wavy and straight; double chins and graceful ones; soulful looks and piercing ones. Thirty diverse and divinely human faces.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I’m using simple tools—colored pencils, an F drawing pencil, and a micro-point Uniball pen—all scattered on the end table next to me as I sit on the sofa with a lap desk for support. Oh, and a sharpener too. But nothing to interfere with this simple process. Ten, maybe 15 minutes and done.

I have no plan after the 30 days. Maybe continue doing faces. Maybe fill the whole book with faces. Possibly start a new theme. I don’t have a page count, but it is a thick little tome, and I do want every page to ring true to me, and to have a compelling, cohesive quality. For now, there are 23 faces waiting to come to life in this wee book. More to come.

Join me on Facebook and Instagram for behind-the-scenes peeks and first postings of new work.

All art is copyrighted and may not be reproduced without express written permission. Copyright 2018 Laura Hunt

Standard
Body of Work, New Art

Memory-Jogs and the Year-End Review

Even though I’m not so much a looking backwards individual as I am a looking forward one, I do find a review of the previous year fundamental to goal-setting for the year to come. So for a start, I’ve assembled this slide show of some of my 2017 work.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Some of these works are still in my studio, but many of them have found themselves in new homes where I hope they provide lasting pleasure. The memory jog was fun for me. The images of work created months ago remind me of how rewarding it is to create something that never existed before, and to pass it along to someone who will find meaning in it for years to come. I appreciate immensely the connections that art makes possible.

Besides a visual review of 2017, I also did a written one. I won’t bore you with details, but I’ll share a few of the highlights, some of which didn’t seem significant until seen from the vantage point of 2018.

  1. Cleared out, renovated and set up the workshop
  2. Began creating assemblages (made possible by #1)
  3. Created 36 works (22 paintings and 14 assemblages).
  4. Accepted into four juried shows

Now, looking forward to the broad expanse of 2018 (doesn’t the year ahead seem big and forever?), yes, I have goals, like creating 40 works, adding the 3D work to my website and increasing my email list of art lovers. But one of my most daunting goals is to focus on consistency of expression, to better establish my style and unique voice–challenges many artists encounter! I’m envious of those who make it look so easy.

My heartfelt thanks goes out to all of you for your encouragement and moral support this past year. It means the world to me, no matter what form it took, whether you gave a social media thumbs up, volunteered your help, joined my patronage program, attended an exhibit, subscribed to my newsletter, read a blog post, shared an event or purchased a piece of art, be assured that I notice and feel your kindness and friendship.

A happy, healthy, and blessed 2018 to all of you.

Join me on Facebook and Instagram for behind-the-scenes peeks and first postings of new work.

All art is copyrighted and may not be reproduced without express written permission. Copyright 2017 Laura Hunt

 

 

 

 

 

 

Standard