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A PAINTER'S PROGRESS
by Susan Adams on 7/19/2011 7:53:19 PM
Children at the Louvre
I say yes, enter. It's important for an emerging painter to begin to enter competitions when he or she reaches a certain level of competency. Participating in this process is an important component in a painter's ability to establish a healthy sense of self as an artist. Having a painting accepted into a prestigious exhibition or selected for inclusion in a book does wonders for the emerging painter's career trajectory.
The painting life is often a solitary one. Without frequent exposure to what's out there, not solely to assess the competition, but also to attain a certain depth of field gained by observation, comparison and appreciation, our perspective begins to narrow. It is only natural; the law of entropy. We are a gregarious species, and even the most reticent among us needs a certain amount of jostling among others in order to be pushed and pulled to our own highest potential. It's kind of like cross pollination. Just as the flower begins to wither and die off in time without the infusion of pollen, so we too, without the enriched experience of new and different energy, begin to grow inward. Even the most creative among us will begin to repeat ourselves without some outside exposure.
One way to get this stimulation is to show up to the competitions. Put your stuff on the line, to either be accepted or rejected. As creative folk, we need to learn to withstand criticism as well as to accept praise with grace and equanimity. The important thing is to keep showing up, work in hand. One way to do this is by entering a juried exhibition appropriate for your level and type of work. It will be a thrill the first time one your paintings is accepted. It will not feel too good if you receive a rejection, but that rejection will propel you to grow deeper and stronger as an artist. Either way, the bar will be raised. You will take your rightful place among your fellows, you will stand up and be counted!
by Susan Adams on 3/7/2011 6:59:06 PM
The creative process was alive and well here at Bodega Barn last weekend during my Gouache and Watercolor Workshop. The process I was teaching, a unique way of using watercolor, matte medium and gouache, was born of panic last year when a painting I was working on began to head south...fast. I've written about this in an earlier blog, but will recap it here. The painting was due to be delivered to the gallery in a day and a half. There was no time to begin another, besides, it was an odd size for which I had the perfect frame. Watercolor is not a forgiving medium. As I began to scrub out my mistakes and try to bring the piece back to life, it only got worse. Since necessity is the mother of invention, I decided to turn to invention to save it, resulting in a unique look and a new process that I could then teach to my students.
During the process I was terrified it would not work, that I would be humiliated beyond belief at not being able to deliver. Plagued by self-doubt, self-pity and a nagging voice telling me I'd never be able to pull it off, I lumbered on. At first my brush strokes were all wrong. I tried something else. It was a little better, but not great. I tried yet another idea. Little by little, the way one crosses a rushing creek one rock at a time, I began to see progress. The painting began telling me what it needed next. Slowly at first, like an engine gathering speed, I fell in with the rhythm of the piece. One stroke, then another. What emerged on the paper was light years from my initial vision. I began to feel that little glimmer in my belly—it might work after all! Gone was the terror, the doubt, the voices. It was a painting, a good painting!
Creating a painting, like writing or composing music, is an evolutionary process that often—almost always—runs the full gamut of stages and emotions. The beginning stage is exciting, filled with hope and a new vision. The middle portion is often where doubt and discouragement begin to set in. I observe this time and again, not only with my students, but also with myself as well. It's as if a painting goes through the same growing process as we humans do: delightful babyhood, difficult adolescence, and finally rebirth and self-actualization. During the workshop I observed the students themselves and their paintings travel through a number of incarnations. They kept at it, mostly because of a desire to make their paintings work, and partly because they were in a workshop, and there was no choice! That's one of the benefits of the workshop environment. One is encouraged to keep at it, to pull it off, instead of giving up and going off to do the laundry. Below are some photos from the workshop. One participant is missing from the photo:
 
by Susan Adams on 1/9/2011 6:10:06 PM
"Far and Away" - Bronze Medal Winner by Susan Montague
On Friday a painter friend and I drove to Sacramento to see the American Watercolor Society's 2010 traveling exhibition at the Sacramento Fine Arts Center. What an inspiration it was to see these excellent pieces, each so unique and imaginative! We spent quite a bit of time looking, looking again...and again. We recognized some of the techniques, puzzled about others. We picked our favorites and compared lists. It was fun to go with another painter because both of us were familiar with many of the exhibiting artists. Our shared understanding of the medium, and appreciation for the dedication required to produce these works, enhanced the experience for both of us. I would encourage all of you to find a painter buddy and take the drive to Sacramento to see this exhibit.
On the way home we stopped at the John Natsoulos Gallery in Davis to see the American Folk Art exhibit, featuring Roy De Forest. Here is a table that caught my eye: 
If you've never been to this gallery, it's a rare treat. The gallery hosts many widely acclaimed, world renowned artists. Make a point to put this gallery on your list for an artist date. Below is a still life painting that I loved. I am embarrassed to say I can't remember the name of the woman artist who painted it.
I hope you will make a commitment to visit as many museums and galleries as you can this year. Whenever I do, I come away with so much inspiration, so many ideas that inform my work and my teaching. I'm off to Paris on Tuesday. I will try to blog a few times while I'm there. Au revoir for now.
by Susan Adams on 9/5/2010 6:31:13 PM
"The Duet"
This painting, The Duet, hung on a living room wall in my grandmother's home for many years. She was a talented artist, and my mentor. The story goes that she and my grandfather came back from a visit to Philadelphia where she had seen the painting. She couldn't get it out of her mind, so the next day the two of them traveled back to Philadelphia by train to purchase it. They paid $150. After my grandmother died, the painting hung in my mother's home, where I saw it every day and examined it lovingly.
The plaque on the bottom reads: "M. Campbell McPherson". I'd always assumed the artist was a man until I read the information on the back and learned the "M" stands for Margaret, a 19th century Canadian Impressionist painter who studied and lived in Paris for most of her life. Further research reveals that her work has commanded high prices at Sotheby's. If only my grandmother knew!
The painting belongs to me now. It arrived here in California yesterday. What an ominous feeling it is to see it hanging in my studio, this family treasure that for so long watched over the generations of my lively family! Now it hangs in my quiet studio, like a living thing. I know that in time I will become accustomed to seeing it, as I did growing up, but right now I find myself looking over at it every few minutes, each time with wonder and surprise.
I am reminded that the passage of time is steady, slow and inevitable. How many long years this painting hung in my grandmother's home, throughout the birth and adulthood of my mother and her siblings. How many years it hung in my parent's home, from my childhood long past my adulthood. Today is the first day it hangs in my studio. A new beginning.
I am inspired! Inspired to grow, to challenge myself, to get better. I owe it to my grandmother, for the devotion she gave to her art. I owe it to Margaret McPherson for her skill and her beautiful painting. I owe it to myself for the countless blessings I have received and sheer luck I have experienced in my life. I owe it to life itself to become the best painter I can possibly be.
What is inspires you? Think about your life, your family, your experiences, your heroes. Find something or someone you want to honor by becoming the best you can possibly be.
by Susan Adams on 8/1/2010 1:00:20 PM
I spent the afternoon out painting yesterday and came back to the studio with nothing—a failed watercolor painting, a real dog. As I sat looking at it and the other "dog", an oil I'd painted the day before, I felt an old familiar feeling begin to creep over me: would I ever produce a winner again?. One might think that after more than 30 years of painting this question would no longer be part of my private soul-searching. Wrong. I'll admit, it is a less frequent occurrence, but when it happens, it is even MORE discouraging because of the years put in, the time, the past successes. When you are a beginner, you expect some unsuccessful efforts. But at this stage of the game?
Yes. At this stage of the game and at any stage of the game. Years of experience up the ante, but if we are serious about our work we will always demand more from ourselves. Our standards grow with us in the quest for excellence.What may have satisfied us earlier will not suffice now. But what do we do with this grinding, deflated feeling of failure, the discouragement that hangs over us like a dull curtain?
Let's get some perspective. We are searching for excellence, right? In order to improve our skills, we have to 1) be in the "learning zone"(see blog of 7/25/10), where comfort is not a consideration; and 2) we have to be willing to fail. So...knowing these two things let's reevaluate the "failed" painting experience. Is it a failed painting or a valuable step to the next good—maybe even great—painting? A seed sowed in roughed up but now fertile soil? Can we dare to be grateful for this mess we see before us? And even if we can theoretically reason ourselves into gratitude, what action can we take to move past this disheartened feeling and realize some tangible benefit right now?
What I did was this:
I took the watercolor outside to the hose and scrubbed it down to a mere ghost of its former self, then put it up on my easel to dry. I took my painting knife to the oil and scraped the canvas clean, down to, yes, a mere ghost of itself. Then I sat back, had a cup of tea, and contemplated each pale offering. I waited for the paintings to speak to me.
After a while, I was able to see places where my drawing was weak and tentative. I saw where my composition could be reorganized and strengthened. I could see that I got fussy, too detailed, neglecting to define the big shapes. I realized I had been focused on painting "things" instead of the big shapes, color, value and edges. It was if I were looking at the process of the paintings instead of the paintings themselves.
I picked up my brushes and began to paint over the ghost paintings with big bold brave shapes of color. I felt the sense of freedom that comes whenever there is no expectation. Almost immediately an old familiar feeling washed over me . . . PASSION!
by Susan Adams on 5/20/2010 9:43:58 PM
"The Pedicure" Edgar Degas
I went in to the de Young today to see the "Birth of Impressionism" exhibit. It opens to the public this Saturday, June 22. Birth of Impressionism. The Musée d'Orsay in Paris is being remodeled, and they have sent some of the most famous works here to San Francisco during the renovation. How lucky for us! This is the only venue where they will be exhibited in the US. The exhibit is in two parts. This first part extends through September 6, 2010.
The exhibition begins with some pieces that were representative of the conservative Salon pieces of the day that had allegorical, mythical and religious themes with the idealization of the female form. The brushwork was hardly noticeable and the surface of the canvas was silky smooth. Some of the works were monumental in size. If you've read any of the history of the Impressionist movement, you will know that the Impressionist group rebelled at this traditional Salon fare and that the Salon scoffed at the casual themes and loose gestural brushwork of this new radical group. It was a struggle of the "old" versus the "new" art. I have always been fascinated by this period in history and I think you will too. At any rate, it was a thrill to see in person some of the works I've been looking at and reading about for years.
Among many stunning and well known pieces, some highlights for me were "The Floor Scrapers" (Caillebot), "Study in Grey and Black" (Whistler-Whistler's Mother), "The Swing" (Renoir), "The Dancing Lesson" (Degas) and a snow scene by Monet and several wonderful pieces by Manet. Because Cezanne emerges in the latter part of the Impressionist movement, (he's really a Post-Impressionist), there were only three of his pieces. I love Cezanne and am looking forward to the second part of the exhibition from the d'Orsay in which I'm hoping there will be more Cezannes. I was disappointed there was only one piece of Berthe Morrisot's. She's one of my favorite Impressionists. One of the most surprising pieces was "The Pedicure" by Degas. An odd subject for a painting, I had never seen it before and I absolutely loved it! See it above.
I feel emotional when I am in the presence of great art and its history. Today was no exception. Standing in front of these masterpieces is a spiritual experience for me. No matter how many times I visit museums, it never changes. I am so grateful to be able to see these paintings, albeit sometimes through tears!
I leave for France on Saturday to teach a 10-day painting workshop. I am very excited about this. I will blog from Southwest France if there is an internet connection available. If not, then I'll be in touch after June 4th.
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