why i paint what i paint #22

This 24" x 24" oil on canvas is a painting of my painting partner and me...painting.  I am very happy with the fragmented, unfinished nature of the image.  I am stunned over and over, how much more 'realistically' this way of mark-making conveys the truth of a thing, story,  person than the very crisp, realistic, finished work.  I think it has something to do with the 'river-ish' nature of our lives.  The minute we step in to the water...THAT water has moved on.

Works In Progress #6

Okay, here is the next stage of the same 'Doing Dishes/Washing Holy Vessels' painting. And here is another thought I have about staying open for as long as possible: When we remain open, we can continue to gather information freely, and not get too committed to the position of things. Once we commit to a position, we tend to hang on to it, EVEN WHEN WE REALIZE IT IS WRONG! What's up with that? It sounds so ridiculous, but we do it in our lives and in our work.

Works In Progress #5

This is the beginning of a large painting where I am combining three different people who are doing the dishes after one of the two daily meals provided at the Kino Border Initiative shelter for refugees. I realize, more and more all the time, how important it is to stay VERY open for as long as possible. Painting and drawing teachers try to teach this, but we all want to "go in for the kill", make some kind of recognizable image, and show we have some competence. Let's face it...it is just so uncomfortable to dwell for any length of time in uncertainty, but that place, sometimes that dark place, is where possibility and beginnings exist.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #16

This is another of my "ladder paintings". I have noticed that ladders are a recurrent image in many of my paintings, due to the fact that many jobs such as gardenwork, painting houses, cleaning houses require the use of a ladder. The ladder is a metaphor for the journey. I will walk step by step up, from down in Central America to El Norte to find opportunity and work for my family. I will leave the comfort and safety of terra firma (my culture, my family, my language). If I am short in stature (as are many indigenous people) I will take more steps. I will start at the bottom of the ladder: walking, weeding and waiting. I will prop my ladder against a wall of opportunity, possibility and hope. (Note that I painted this in squares, merely focusing on the beautiful colors in each quadrant of the image, because many pieces have to come together for these people to gain a chance at a new life. Also I purposely decided not to let the ladder come all the way to the ground to indicate the precarious position that the immigrant is always in.)

Doubting Artist #5

Okay I had those doubts again about what I am doing dedicating my life to painting. Granted I was very tired from moving my 6th and last child into her dorm to begin her college career...(and all the attendant emotion surrounding the end of my 35 years of active parenting). My dear husband had to remind me yet again that what I have is no less than a 'vocare'...a calling that long ago laid claim on my life. And then I remembered that the young college freshman were exhorted to "fall deeply in love with a passion, to never fall out of love, because what they loved would determine their whole lives". I am still in love.

Doubting Artist #3

Yesterday when I finished painting in my studio, I had those old niggling doubts. You know, "Why am I doing this?" "Is it important'' Then I walked out and got the mail. A Cuban friend wrote to me to express interest in my project with immigrants and to tell me of two new sources for subjects and information. I have noticed a pattern in my life...just when I begin to feel discouraged, a tangible encouragement comes along. I hope that next time I feel discouragement coming on, I can stop and say, "Hey their must be something good just around the corner!"

Monk Librarian #3

I am continuing to wonder about the place of ritual in my work.   I always want to have it be so pre-ordained that I just show up each day and go through my paces...with no doubt, thought or the corollary mental exhaustion. Is it possible to lay out work for a year and just ritualistically perform it...or do I need to continually respond to the work and idea at hand and constantly recalibrate. I fear the latter is true for me. Alas.

Monk Librarian #2

I am wondering about the act of ritual. How important is it to show up every day and 'do' the work before me. My method of working is fairly ritualized. I go to my studio each afternoon and turn on NPR and tie on an apron with a plastic bag against my clothing (to make sure no solvents get to my skin) then I tuck a towel into my apron tie, lay out my paints and begin. But how do I choose my subject each day...even within the genre I am currently addressing. Sometimes I think I should just lay out a one or three year cycle of work and sty with it until that time period is over. Other times I believe, that within my daily work ritual, I am following a divinely laid out rabbit trail and I need to just keep following.