Do Paintings Talk to Each Other When No One Is Around?

 



Paintings are inanimate objects I know. But sometimes lying in bed at  night I think I almost hear some whispering downstairs in my studio.

Making paintings is like nurturing your houseplants as it can't be rushed. You have to take as long as needed to complete a painting. 

Above is my studio this morning with the two easels I always have 
side by side. On the right is Turret House, Nyack, oil on panel, 9 x 12 inches. It was begun in 2015. I worked on it on and off until summer of 2020 when I was finally satisfied it was saying what it needed to say. The painting's sort of a proud veteran who went through lots of changes before it was done. 

On the left is a new oil that's just getting started. It has an even longer history- it's based on a tiny oil I painted on the coast of Maine in 2009. Still in its infancy this new oil faces growing pains and uncertainties before it comes into its own. I know I'm projecting but I imagine a painting at this stage would be feeling uncertain and tentative. 

I originally placed the Turret House up on the easel just so I could enjoy looking at it. But then I felt like leaving it there for awhile.

Having that finished oil up there  puts some extra wind in my sails. It reminds me I had patiently navigated its path to becoming a very successful painting. You have to work your way forward with each new piece, earning the confidence that your vision is true and insightful. 

I have this fantasy that late at night the finished painting is like a kindly aunt or uncle who quietly reassures and encourages the painting that's in progress. If that's what the whispering is about I'm all for it.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Edward Hopper- Looking Out

Edward Hopper, French Impressionist?

The Painting that Almost Killed Me