And my heart silently shifted back. Back to one who wants to believe again—even if that belief is somewhat fragile—in the making of marks on paper or canvas, just to be making marks.
So in celebration of art and we artists who make it, I have painted and offer up this modest body of work intended to pay homage to the generations of modernists who broke through the barriers of understanding that make it possible for me to do what I do.
There are so many demands in our daily lives, from people, paperwork, chores, errands… in fact the “responsible” reasons NOT to create our art can be overwhelming, seductive even, and they can overtake.
Follow your impulses as much as you are able because they are indicating some truth for you, some path, some next step. Be still sometimes within your busy lives so you can hear them.
So I make my paintings, influenced by the rich tradition of those who went before me, works made possible by the sacrifices required of revolution, by great artists breaking new ground. I think those artists live on, not only in their own works they left behind, but in the works of those of us who call ourselves abstractionists… the ground they broke is still bearing fruit.
I haven’t been painting. Forever. In fact I’d wondered if I’d forgotten how or if I’d somehow just stopped being a painter. When I did last paint, I fell back on a formula that had worked for me before and, while I do like those paintings, they were “safe.”
But here is the thing about clearing, about paring down to what is essential in a life: you will need to make difficult choices. And these choices can put into motion things you couldn’t possibly have foreseen.