Sunday, September 3, 2017

Back to Painting Again

It's been a long time coming but I've finally gotten past some obstacles standing in the way of finishing some recent paintings.
When there is no inspiration or time there is little I can do to get the process started again.

When the inspiration becomes clear it is a matter of showing up. The brushes and the colors seem to find their place, I am more like a vessel for the energy to come through into the painting.

I just finished probably my last commission, only because it is really hard to paint on command. I've said that many times and the great thing about a commission is that it causes an artist to use discipline to stay on course.

Teaching painting was another way for me to practice discipline when I was forced to continue when the impetus was weak. You have to work through some of the moments when the image is a bit less clear.

This is another reason why I paint multiple paintings at the same time, I'm not always in the mood or place to do a particular painting.

I've also started doing quick sketches in pastel which is allowing me to be creative without the commitment of a full painting. I have been sketching after every drive in the country and it is starting to become a habit and a way of studying from nature. I love the immediacy of the medium.

I am always at my best when I am painting. It is not something I ever want to say I used to do. It is a part of my life and big part of my future. This is just a preview to the full series that is well on its way.

Child of Ten: Introduction to a series of poems old and new.

The deep depression
Beneath the oaks
Death as a metaphor
In the grip of steel boxes
A life time of words
Bursting forth like seeds
In a garden
Alone in the morning
Listening to the clouds
What will this day become
With the same sense of urgency
The same sense of hush
The Awe of Septembers’ closing ground
The gaping wound that never heals
It just grows deeper
And the soil sinks down
Thirty years now
That space of life
That sculpted mine
Every broad stroke
Every thin line
A reflection in words
He spoke
With a whispered voice
A child of ten
Speaks even now
Thousands of words
A tapestry of lines
And shapes
And I have a child
That carries my name
And he will share his words
And  a voice
An echoe in still pond
And he will be my words
My eyes

Long after I’m gone…..

copyright 2017 Artbygordon