"Ideas come spontaneously and the discipline required to evaluate and put them to use tends to be the real work.” - Stanley Kubrick
To a visitor, my studio probably looks like a chaotic, cluttered mess. There is work all over the place - taped to every wall, stacked on tables, chairs, and windowsills, stuffed into storage compartments, in piles leaning up against the wall, and scattered about on the floor. There are also art materials - pencils, charcoal, pastels, paints, and various papers - close at hand from anywhere in the room, and at least half a dozen empty coffe mugs. Although it may seem unorganized, especially if you are of the personality type that likes order, for me it is a fertile ground for creativity and for generating ideas. Occasionally, I will host a group of students for a studio visit, and will have to clean up the space (usually an exorbitant amount of work!). Afterwards, I find it difficult to get back into my normal creative frame of mind.
The ideas for my images are never the product of thinking. They arise from working. In between the times when I am actively engaged in a large painting, my work generally consists of me just picking up some art materials and starting to draw. Sometimes I take my materials outside to draw. Other times I simply work in the studio. I find the process of exploration and searching through the fog for an image to be an essential part of my practice. It requires a great deal of focus because I have to always be aware of how the image is developing and listen to my instincts for clues as to which direction to take the image in.
The process isn't entirely instinctual, though. There is a lot of problem solving going on, albeit mostly at a subconscious level. These are visual problems that usually have to do with getting all of the components of the image to work together in a unified way, to create a sense of space that is cohesive within the context of the image, and creating an overall color harmony that conveys whatever emotional content I am trying to communicate through the image. Because every part of the painting affects every other one, and every time I add (or take away) anything, even the smallest bit of paint, the entire image changes. This can easily become a complex act of visual juggling and it requires fluency in the language of visual form and mastery of one's tools, materials, and techniques to be able to pull it off. It's a bit easier these days than it was years ago but it's still a challenge and can sometimes feel like I'm engaged in a battle to the death. My studio is lettered with the carnage of many of the battles that I have lost.
To a visitor, my studio probably looks like a chaotic, cluttered mess. There is work all over the place - taped to every wall, stacked on tables, chairs, and windowsills, stuffed into storage compartments, in piles leaning up against the wall, and scattered about on the floor. There are also art materials - pencils, charcoal, pastels, paints, and various papers - close at hand from anywhere in the room, and at least half a dozen empty coffe mugs. Although it may seem unorganized, especially if you are of the personality type that likes order, for me it is a fertile ground for creativity and for generating ideas. Occasionally, I will host a group of students for a studio visit, and will have to clean up the space (usually an exorbitant amount of work!). Afterwards, I find it difficult to get back into my normal creative frame of mind.
The ideas for my images are never the product of thinking. They arise from working. In between the times when I am actively engaged in a large painting, my work generally consists of me just picking up some art materials and starting to draw. Sometimes I take my materials outside to draw. Other times I simply work in the studio. I find the process of exploration and searching through the fog for an image to be an essential part of my practice. It requires a great deal of focus because I have to always be aware of how the image is developing and listen to my instincts for clues as to which direction to take the image in.
The process isn't entirely instinctual, though. There is a lot of problem solving going on, albeit mostly at a subconscious level. These are visual problems that usually have to do with getting all of the components of the image to work together in a unified way, to create a sense of space that is cohesive within the context of the image, and creating an overall color harmony that conveys whatever emotional content I am trying to communicate through the image. Because every part of the painting affects every other one, and every time I add (or take away) anything, even the smallest bit of paint, the entire image changes. This can easily become a complex act of visual juggling and it requires fluency in the language of visual form and mastery of one's tools, materials, and techniques to be able to pull it off. It's a bit easier these days than it was years ago but it's still a challenge and can sometimes feel like I'm engaged in a battle to the death. My studio is lettered with the carnage of many of the battles that I have lost.
