A Morning Rambling

Have you watched the latest reality show yet? It's called " Work of Art: The Next Great Artist" and it aired on Bravo two weeks ago.I was a little put off by the whole notion of artists vying ala Project Runway and Celebrity Chef, but I've been a fan of Project Runway since its inception. Love that fast paced feverish pitch of young designers snipping and sewing away, deadlines imminent and collections to be presented. After watching the first episode of Next Artist I was captured mostly by the way the 14 chosen artists articulated their intentions. Most artists are not overly verbal about their own work, yet reading an artist's statement is often daunting. Words are wonderful, but I am a strong believer in mostly letting the work speak for itself, yet with conceptual art especially, I'm not sure it would suffice were it not for great text placed adjacent to the work. So, do we stand there reading,rather than studying the work and feeling its essential message, if any. But then, where would art history be? As I said last time, when I first "met" Rothko, I knew nothing about him or his raison d'etre, yet I fell in love. Ok, maybe it wasn't love at first sight, but when I was ready to fall I did. And I just stared and stared, consumed by the depth and intensity of his color. I'm not sure I cared about his philosophy, yet eventually, I sought it out. Unlike dating services, where we get the profile first, then move on to the real thing and assess whether we will move ahead with the relationship, my connection with art is all about love at first sight and not about the talk. Yet I am fascinated by artists who can intelligently speak about their work, especially since it all seems so deeply spiritual and emotional. That's just not the case for many. It's like a video game or a rubic's cube, vastly intellectual and strategically planned out. The artists on "Work of Art" are given projects that must be completed within a few hours. The bell rings and they're off. How does speed figure into the intrinsic value of a great work of art, or just a "good" work of art, or art? How long did it take Michelangelo to complete the Sistine Chapel? All right, I won't go there.

So, I'm off to my studio to work on some projects that I've committed to, one of them a 2 1/2 ' wooden peace sign that needs to be completed by the first week in August and the other a bra for a breast cancer fundraiser, also due in August. I've hated deadlines since I was a kid, but that's all about homework. Before I step into my studio, I think I'll meditate. That will take the edge off. I'll breathe in and out and shield myself in a protective bubble. And before that, I'll finish my coffee. Please don't ask me to explain myself.

Rothko, Red, and Me

Mark Rothko won a Tony award last night. Did I say that right? Well, the play about Rothko won the award, but for me it was the artist. His canvases were portrayed as characters in the riveting drama. They were on stage in all their glorious reds, larger than life. They, however, were not on last night's slate of nominees, yet Eddie Redmayne and Alfred Molina were,for their portrayals of the artist and his young apprentice. If you haven't seen the play yet, please go. It has a limited run, as did Rothko in his life, but oh what a monumental legacy he left. It all brings me to a question I have been asking since my teens, the one about whether or not an artist has be a tortured soul in order to produce great work. In my teens I wrote dark poetry. I felt alone and set apart from the world. My poems were written on napkins and the backs of text books or wherever I could find a small space to express the thoughts that streamed across my subconscious. I don't believe I was a tortured soul, nor do I believe my work was great, but when I wasn't feeling pain or some type of self-inflicted suffering, I don't think I felt the need to write. Many of my favorite artists lived short lives of torment and suffering. We know about Van Gogh. He tells us as much in his writings to Theo. But in his work there is light and soul. Unlike the Art Brut artists, his paintings do not reflect angst and pain. In Van Gogh we find the search for the spiritual. I didn't know much about Rothko until I finally stopped long enough to inhale the intensity of his paintings, while at MOMA one day. And inhale I did. I breathed in the depth of his colors and the brushstrokes that seemed to go on and on. I knew nothing about his life at that time, but I felt a connection. I am often told that my work makes people happy. One woman recently wrote that after coming from a bereavement group, she came to a recent show I had and looking at my paintings made her smile. My paintings were bright and cheerful. How much more could I want? The world is sometimes so dark. Maybe it is no different than it ever was. As artists, what could be better than bringing some light into the world? I suppose I answered my own question.

My First Blog

Just as there is a first for everything, today is my first blog entry. At 63 and going on 64 I sometimes wonder if I have lived out all of my "firsts", but clearly that is just the little monkey chattering in my brain and I have so many firsts to live it is not worth even counting. Today, while walking my 80 lb labradoodle, Barney, we came across a snake carcass in the road. I had seen it the other day for the first time and thought it had been snatched up by eager crows or foxes, but still it was there on this morning's walk. I'm not sure how that figures into my ramblings about firsts, but maybe it was the first time I can remember seeing the remains of a fairly sizeable snake in my suburban Long Island neighborhood. Now I am writing my first blog entry, and I have to say it's a bit disconcerting. I usually write in my private journal, albeit not always green. But also having a penchant for acting, and now, being an artist, I must have some inner need to continue to expose myself and share my journey with others. There have been moments when I've shared deeply personal things and was surprised by the response. "Thank you for sharing that", "I've felt that way", "I thought I was the only one", and lastly, "that showed courage". People were encouraged and felt safe. Perhaps that's just my way of drawing people into a safe harbor, making myself vulnerable and giving others an opportunity to expose their own fears, doubts, musings, etc. I'm on my way to teach a writer's workshop at a local senior center. I have to get myself prepared by typing up some work that my students wrote. I haven't done it yet and I'm writing my first blog entry instead, so once again I've waited till the last minute. That's procrastination. I'll be darting out of the house soon, orange briefcase filled with books, looking like I know what I'm doing. I have to shower first and type up those writing pieces. After all, I did offer to do it. Ok, I think I'll close now , but first I have to prepare for my workshop. Time is passing quickly. Today I will stop to buy some flowers and place them in vases. Oh, the sun is coming out. Hope your day is truly what you want it to be.