Today I got back to how I began painting more than fifteen years ago. Packing up all my stuff, and tailgating Henri style. The six paintings that I have been working on are ten days away from being stripped from their stretchers and rolled into a tube, so every minute of drying time is necessary. For this reason I am forced to take a break from the figural works I have been happily struggling with. Since painting is how I cope, and breathe, some good old fashioned on-site work was well deserved. Although this was made with oil and canvas, I wouldn't compare it to what guys like the brothers Meyer are doing, this is more of a sketch or drawing to me. There is no labor-intensive component, very little subtractive methods or nervous anticipation. No big financial risk with regards to materials, and little expectations. No underpainting, drawings in preparation or real contemplative spirit...just painting. Mostly I spent this time working on calligraphic brushwork and playing with emphasis, focus, and color...too much color. Ironically this painting will sell first if my own history repeats itself.
I watched a documentary film about a bunch of art experts trying to determine the credibility of a dumpster diver who found an alleged Pollack and was searching for its provenance. The movie is great if you have not seen it, but the sticking line was from an art historian whom when looking at the piece simply denied it's viability by saying, "It doesn't feel like a Pollack, it doesn't fly like a Pollack, it doesn't fail like a Pollack." And rather than discredit the great tradition of outdoor painting, I would say that in the context of my own work, this just doesn't fail like a Fontinha. That being said, tomorrow I will get out there and try to see what I can do about it in a second session. I will try to post updates as to the state of my figural work while it lives in this purgatory stage of drying. I look forward to re-stretching them and giving them some final moments of struggle in my studio back home.
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