This is a gouache study of my children at a young age. Color sketching has been a foundation of my practice since the very beginning.
And painting people is something I want to get back to. If a quiet moment amidst your busy schedule appeals to you, let me know, I am looking for models.
During our pilgrimage in India last May, we visited several ashrams, and had the chance to meet a some very interesting swamis.
In Uttarkashi, we visited Swami Janardananda, who has been doing, among other projects, educational activities with the young people in his surroundings.
After school, children and teenagers can walk up the hill to his small ashram, and are invited to do yoga postures, meditation, or chanting on a voluntary basis. With this comes spiritual teachings from the ancient yogic tradition, that foster strength and peace of mind, along with a strong sense of community.
When Swami Janardananda started this initiative some 30 years ago, ignorance, violence and alcoholism were rampant among the population. After children started coming to the ashram, they brought home new insights and practices, inspiring their siblings and parents. Now the children of these children come, and will in turn influence another generation.
Children walk up the hill to the ashram after school
At a time when India is developing at an incredibly fast pace, this is vital work, and quite an inspiring story. During a few minutes of casual conversation, I asked Swami Janardananda a question that often is on my mind:
What is the role of the artist in society?
He thought for a moment, then answered: “Express, not exhibit. Everything is divine. If it comes from the heart, it will be divine.”
(I understood “not exhibit” to be meaning not to show off rather than not exhibit art in venues).
A simple yet deep and wide-meaning answer. I appreciate the openness it leaves, because it is impossible to define the artist’s role: to create is an impulse, not a duty. It has to remain free. And connected to the heart.
What a way to go about our daily work, not only an artist’s work, but everyone’s work.
There was also some good advice given freely by the roadside.
I often dream of colors, those colors I have worked with during the day and that keep going in my mind while I sleep.
Such dreams are nice but usually vague and disappear quickly from my memory. This time, it was different: the image was vivid and so was the context. I wasn’t bathing in the yellow and green colors I am using these days, and I could clearly see myself in the act of painting.
I thought I should immediately do this painting, as close as I could, to see what it looks like in reality. The result was surprising; first, because it is very close to my dream, and second because, while I was painting it, other images associated with it came along, which connected some dots.
The first are the “”Night Paintings by American painter Lynette Lombard I had seen while visiting New York last year:
The second, and more obvious to me, is that of Claude Monet’s Water Lilies, that I went to see again in Paris, a year ago. I don’t mean to compare myself to the father of Impressionism, but I do acknowledge the influence he has had on me since my college days when I discovered his art and that if his contemporaries while studying Art History.
There is much in Monet’s art that can touch and stimulate me: his absorption in the landscape, his study of colors and light, and towards the end of his life, his magnificent Water Lilies. A culmination of his life’s work, compounding everything he had learned and experienced, these powerful compositions invite us into a field of color and emotions. At a time where I am aiming to broaden the scope of my work, his example is not only impressive but certainly inspiring.
While completing the watercolors, I mentioned my intention to start a new body of work with a change of scale.
A change of scale is one way to step into new territory, allowing new possibilities. A change of technique or subject can help too. The direction I am giving myself is to expand my work on color and space. Since I work rather intuitively, I cannot foresee exactly how things will unfold but the intention is clear.
Above is a 22 x 30 in. gouache on paper. That’s the maximum size I used in watercolor. I am aiming for 30 x 36 or 36 x 48 in. canvases, a larger format, big enough to broaden my horizons. Gouache is great for color sketching and close in rendering to the acrylics I will use on canvas.
With this comes a change of pace. I am slower because I am developing new ideas. The field of possibilities, the unknown, the challenges make me reflect deeper on what and how I want to paint in this desire for expansion.
This is a fundamental question, one that is always latent, but in a transition period, it gets a new impetus every time.
I am still working outside
as much as possible, to sharpen and deepen my color and space perception.
“Green is the color of youthfulness; it is full of spring energy. It is the color of the earth aflourish. Green is not static but full of the energy and direction of growth, urgent on its journey towards the light. Gravity cannot keep it down; the call of light is always stronger. Green is the color of relentless desire. Even from under earth smothered over with concrete or tarmacadam, the green blade will rise. Nothing can keep grass down.”
John O’Donohue,
Beauty, The Invisible Embrace, Harper Perennial, 2004, p.105
It’s been a good week. The collector came back and chose 3 watercolors to bring as gifts when she visits family in Slovakia next week. I delivered a small drawing that was sold in July; the owner proudly showed me how it will be hung in good company.
Selling my art to people is an exchange that fosters relationships and I enjoy the interaction. The work I have done in the studio on a very personal level gains a new dimension by becoming part of somebody else’s environment. In the collector’s home, it starts another story. In the course of the last three weeks, I have completed several watercolors, and painted some new ones.
They are now photographed and ready for another exhibition. This is a good place to stretch out into another body of work.
I am thinking of a change of scale. Start with that, see what happens, and of course, keep you posted.
“”By working in the garden you will serve the trees and plants and living with them try to become like them. Let the trees be your Guru. A tree gives fruit and shade. When the fuit is ripe it falls down, it is sweet to the taste. The wood of the tree you use for cooking your food. So the tree gives itself entirely, it holds nothing back.”
“Watch how the trees grow and learn from them. Also from the grass. Grass is lowly and puts up with everything. People tread on it, cut it and it does not defend itself. So also the earth; everyone walks on it; you hammer it, powder it-do anything you like with it, it remains quiet and friendly.”
Excerpt from “As the Flower Sheds its Fragrance”, Dairy Leaves of a Devotee”, compiled by
Atmananda, an Austrian born lifelong devotee of Anandamayi Ma
Painting outside is a good exercise in flexibility; it allows me to warm up my skills, as we do with our body before exercise.That’s partly because it requires physical action, as I often have to move, following the change of light, of weather, or setting. Not to mention the frequent going inside and coming outside dictated by rain or shine. So while dexterity is being practiced, now is a good time to get back to some unfinished watercolors that were put aside in the fall.
Meanwhile a collector came to visit, looking for new work to buy, fueling my resolve.
Within a week or two, these watercolors will be completed. Then I will have them photographed and add the new images on my website.
And in a few more weeks, I will take the studio back inside, to gather what I have collected outside.
But not yet. Now summer is still on, and there is always plenty to do outside.