The Tell Tale Fridge

Gesture (Photo by Artist)

If your painting area is in or near your kitchen, imagine this:

 You have been wrestling for a while about what to paint.  No subject seems quite right.  Finally a germ of an idea begins to materialize.  The idea grows in your mind.  It still isn’t just what you were wishing for, but it’s better than nothing.  You collect your materials: paints, brushes, mediums.  Now before your easel with tools in hand you ponder where to lay the first stroke. 

 And still you ponder the first stroke.  You stare blankly wondering why you can’t begin.  Then you notice that you are not alone.  Off to the side it’s the refrigerator, and he is sending you messages.  “Come over here”, he taunts, “I have a treat for you”.  As you casually glance over in his direction, he looks away.  He is so sly.  You know he’s fishing.  He’ll set the hook and just reel you in.  But you don’t take the bait.  You renew your focus on the work at hand.  Minutes go by.

Unwillingly, your thoughts return to the refrigerator.  Anxiety becomes frustration and frustration produces weariness.  “Maybe just a peek,” you murmur.  Slowly you saunter over to the fridge.  As you pull the handle, he gloats at winning.  You pretend not to notice.   Even worse, after rummaging through the shelves you find nothing good inside.  Heck, you didn’t really even want anything in the first place.  You’ve been had! 

This might not be too bad if it was a one-time occurrence, but it kept happening to me over and over again.  It was like I was in an Edgar Allen Poe novel:  “The Tell Tale Fridge”. 

But honestly, was it really the fridge?  No.  Was it really the munchies?  No.  Was it me just trying to avoid rolling up my sleeves and getting to work?  Yes.  Am I really good at letting distractions get in my way?  Yes.  But, little by little the distractions have been slowly subsiding.  It takes focus and finding something that I really want (not just like) to work on. 

I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not alone in this.  I wonder how many others allow distractions to reel them in and away from their work.

The scene of the crime

Open Studio Dangers: Slider

Pout

Another dangerous type that haunts the studio I call the Slider.  He usually appears at an inopportune moment to spoil someone’s fun.

At a certain open figure drawing session one day, all the participants were busy setting up, eager to get started.  Chatter filled the room.  It was a packed house.  We stood shoulder to shoulder circling the model-stand like Indians facing Custer.  To my left was a polite and quiet woman who had been coming now for a few weeks.

My eye caught a movement by the door:  a latecomer.  My gaze followed him as he circled the perimeter of the studio.  He was sizing up the situation, deciding where to go.  Finally his meanderings stopped at my left side.  I was ready to move so that he could get in line but he did not ask.  He quietly took his easel and slid between me and that gal to my left.  He paused and then slid further forward.  He paused again, adjusted himself and moved to the left.  Now he was completely blocking her view.  Slider was picking on a woman:  what a coward.  By moving to this position he was in essence telling her, “I am more important than you”.

I looked around the room.  Was I the only one to see this drama unfolding?  I waited for her to say something but she remained silent.  She moved back further to where she could peer between heads.  It seems that most artists are just gracious people who don’t want to make waves. 

What is wrong with some people?  Where is the simple respect?  If someone asked to squeeze in for a better position, the other artists would gladly have made room. 

Between characters like this, insensitive art critics and entry rejections it’s hard to persevere and maintain good humor.  This is why artists need to acquire such tough skins.  But keep at it.  Keep pumping out your art and defining your voice.

P.S.

I still have a nagging guilt that I should have said something in the woman’s behalf.  But was it my place to do so?  Should she have spoken up first?  If anyone has any advice or words of wisdom please share them.  I would be very grateful.

Open Studio: Ego Man

Correll Bois

The open studio for drawing and painting can be a wonderful way to develop those needed skills or to maintain sharpness in those already acquired.  Most of the artists I have met in the studio have been kind and generous, both in sharing knowledge and even supplying tools or paper (just for beginners though; a veteran forgetting his own supplies is like forgetting his pants and showing up in his underwear). 

Occasionally, there are dangers lurking in the open studio.  One of these dangers is Ego Man.  I encountered him upon entering an open studio setting a while back.   Ego Man had gotten there early (this is one of his tactics).  Before anyone else could set up, he placed his easel two feet before and slightly to the left of the seated portrait model.  Placing a large canvas upon the easel and oblivious to the others behind him, he happily waited for the session to begin. Had there been a breeze in the room this canvas would have undoubtedly sailed away.

Immediately to his right was Ego Gal seated at along table.  The table took up the same room that three artists could have occupied.  The entire table surface was covered with an array of watercolor equipment.  Ego Gal seemed content.

All the remaining artists were compelled to find places behind these two Ego People.  The monitor seemed oblivious to what was going on.  I gazed at the huge white billboard obscuring the model and my blood boiled.  What should I do?  Do I walk out or place my own easel in front of Ego Man and begin a confrontation?

In my headstrong youth, I probably would have created a scene. But now, wiser and calmer, I gathered my bag and left quietly.  The stress is just not worth it.  Life is too short.

Fast forward about one year to the present.  Out of curiosity, I called the studio and found that the open draw was still in effect there.  I also discovered that others had complained about the same issue.  I was assured that Ego People were no longer tolerated and all participants would now be treated respectfully.  I intend to go back soon and check it out.  Maybe I’ll have another place to paint now. 

I’ll Never Grow Up

Near the Field

I never wanted to grow up.  There didn’t seem to be any benefits to being an adult.  It was great to hang out at the creek not too far from my house.  Entire days would be spent there walking the trails and exploring.  I can’t count the times I crossed to the opposite bank balancing on a dead tree that spanned the water.  One winter I spied a sled stuck just below the thin frozen surface of ice.  I wanted that sled so I jumped up and down to break through the surface; cracks began to form.  I was so close to success, when finally, gravity again instructed me in her mysterious ways.  The ice opened and down I went up to my waist.  A disgusted, soggy kid walked about a half mile back home with no sled.

The passing of time gave me bigger muscles, more hair and a deeper voice.  But the kid remained.  Then a remarkable thing happened just when I needed it.  Effortlessly events fell into place, which allowed me to be fireman.  It was great!  I played with fire and hoses.  I climbed aerial ladders and chopped holes through walls and roofs.  I raced fire engines down streets.  At night the alert would sound and the guys would slide down the engine-house poles to mount the apparatus and race to an emergency scene.  And best of all, the kid in me remained alive and well!

Well I finally reached the age of mandatory retirement.  Being a fireman is now behind me.  Now will I finally become an adult?  Heck no!!

A few years ago I became reacquainted with art.  I found that I could play with paints and charcoal.  I could splash gesso onto canvases and plein air paint.  My wife is also an artist so we enjoy this journey together. 

My wish for you is that your inner kid is alive and well.  And if he hasn’t been visible for a while, wake him up!!  For the kid inside never completely leaves; he just reluctantly sleeps from the boredom of adulthood. Let’s all go on this journey together, splashing paint on our canvases and painting in the open air.  Let’s all be kids.