January 29, 2012

A New Painting: How Do We Evaluate Our Work?

Black Dot, egg tempera on calfskin parchment, 4 5/8 x 6 inches.


I wasn't going to blog about this just completed painting because for me it is not a success: it has an awkwardness to it that makes me uncomfortable; the space is too complex; it's funny but not funny enough. But then I thought this would be an opportunity to discuss that most difficult of issues: how do we judge our own work? What are our criteria for success or failure, and how clear are they? For me it's often difficult to pinpoint why I don't like something; the negative feeling just hovers, unarticulated but still insistent. A sense of happiness with a work can also be similarly vague: I like it; it works; it fills me with satisfaction. 




I do know that when I look at the four most recent paintings I've completed–––here seen on my office bookshelf and wall––I sense that I have achieved something solid, something I've been aiming for. I began to make a list of the positive attributes of these paintings, to clarify for myself and for you, my readers, why I think they're successful. 
  • There is harmony between the various elements––color, shape, value––leading to a feeling of complete balance, a just-right-ness.
  • The paint is applied with grace and self assurance (or loss of self), so that the form is clearly described.
  • The sense of form, the light, and color being just right bring a strong sense of presence, of holding a place on the wall, of "speaking" to the viewer.
  • There's a stripped down simplicity paired with a conceptual reality, one that is tactile.
  • All these parts combine for a sense of sizzling life, a frisson of energy. And beauty.
  • And oh, I realize this is all so subjective!
It's possible that this list will still seem vague. I'm sure I can add to it and I'm sure it will change over time, just as my paintings have, just as I'm sure that your lists will be different from mine, as your judgment will be different. Please share any of your own criteria.


 


When I add Black Dot to the group of recent paintings, it doesn't hold up for me. It does not have the inevitability of the other works, their serious, quiet presence (though from time to time humor also appears in my work). In years past, my landscape paintings were full of implied narrative and socio-political subtext (see this link for a taste of those ideas, and this link to a page on my website to see an overview of past work). Now, although I still picture agricultural equipment, the painting's meaning must come from its formal elements, which I hope transcends the specificity of its origins.

The four paintings:
at top: White Behind Red, Gray Cross
below: Blue Circle, Blades.

14 comments:

  1. I agree with all the criteria you observed. True for me too.

    But then there are paintings that are successful for no apparent reason. They just happen to us. They resist analysis, attempts to recapture the state of mind then lead to their creation. An artist can't even honestly say: I did it. More precise description would be: I was doing something else, was momentarily destructed with an interesting digression, and then this happened.

    I think we paint for these paintings. They don't happen often, but they make the whole thing worth it. If it were not for them, it would actually be possible to teach art.

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    1. Alex, I too sometimes make a painting that seems to be better than I am, as though they've made a forward leap. They are a mystery.

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    2. Alex may have mistyped destructed for distracted. This is interesting because destruction is an important part of creativity, at least for me.I have to dig deep to acknowledge a failure in my work because it is hard to let a painting go. But often I have a gnawing feeling in my body that
      the painting has failed and I eventually destroy it. The surprises are the ones I value most.

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    3. andrea, I agree completely about destruction. For me there's something liberating in wiping off a painting that doesn't work; it gets rid of that gnawing feeling you mention.

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  2. I hate to tell you but I like black dot. I am trying to see your failure here but I still want to press that black button to see if anything moves.

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  3. hmmm, Lisa, it may be that your comment has "put the finger" (excuse my bad pun) on the problem for me: the image is too specific; it doesn't transcend its particularities.

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  4. Everything seems to change. One moment you like it and the next you don't . I think it's just got a lot to do with where we are in the moment. Did you like it when you were painting it? Why did you? When did the mind come in to make the judgement? If you told everyone that you liked it very much and it was by far one of your best paintings...would people agree with you? It's so wierd how we judge and how other people judge. Maybe it's just best to give it all up and just continue on. Love to paint.

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    1. oh, I do agree that everything changes, suze. What happens most often to me is that I like something when I do it, but later, when my work has shifted its focus, I no longer like it. And I'm often surprised at people's reactions to certain paintings; it's good to get differing perspectives.

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  5. I find no rational explanation for why a painting works for me or does not. Sometimes on canvas it just doesn't live up to my inner vision of what I am attempting ... The hand is unable to execute what the mind and heart "see." Sometimes as I am painting I am happy, but I step back, and gloom descends, it is not, after all, working. And I agree... The happy accidents are always my favorite paintings!
    Deborah Frankel Reese

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    1. Debbie, it hardly ever lives up to my inner vision, but that's okay; it's good to have a goal. I also recognize that gloom coming after thinking all was well with a painting.

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  6. I like Black Dot a lot, but for me it has a different feeling than the other recent paintings (which I also like a lot), and isn't shown at it's best next to them.

    When a painting isn't working for me, I usually put it away and look at it weeks or months later, when that sense of failure and depression has faded. I often find some way to salvage it, but if not, I put it away again --

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    1. Putting it away is what I'll do. I will usually wipe a painting away if after a while I still don't like it, so I can re-use the panel. I just destroyed a bad painting today, and it made me feel so good.

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  7. I think I know what you mean about the 'Black Spot', Altoon - when the 'isness' of a painted part challenges the 'isness' of the painting then a sense of 'noness' can come creeping up. Still like the 'BS' though - if there's one thing I do find a little disconcerting it's the 'soft', slow swirliness of the button against the hard & fast diagonal. PS Sorry to express myself in child's speak

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  8. tony, I love your "is-ness" of the part and the whole. That was definitely a problem here. Your "childspeak" is just clarity; thanks.

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