Starting three years ago, I began a personal mantra of “I am a painter.” At first I whispered it to myself in quiet corners. Later, when asked “What do you do?”, I answered in a quavering way “I’m a painter.” It had been a long time since I had painted seriously. And, when I say that, I mean that gleeful, childlike seriousness of immersion in the task in front of one. The joy of smeared mud on canvas, the hard learning of which tool when. The sense of accomplishment when the lesson becomes rote.
Initially, it was quite difficult. I couldn’t tell which color to mix with the other. I relied on photographs I had transferred into my computer. Deciphering each pixel from the other so as to experience the chromatic alchemy at the most minute level. I even painted a series of pictures where I expanded each pixel to square inch size. I mixed each pixel color independent of its neighbors. It was a lesson in patience and intent which actually leaked into my personal life. Knowing the value of each color (individual) and how the unity of creation depended on differences.
I then visited a show at the Portland Art Museum of the California Impressionists of the early 20th century. I asked myself if I could even try to paint like them. The colors vibrating against each other. I would try.
Up to then, I had been painting objects as I knew them and believed them to be. I took a leap, the same one the impressionists did in the late 1800’s. I would paint the light that reflected off or filtered through the object. It was a hard practice that I have yet mastered.
What you see here is this new pathway toward seeing the world as just an eye attached to a brain, without judging, just experiencing. I hope you enjoy the paintings here. They are all for sale. Just message me here or at firstname.lastname@example.org.
I can say now proudly and loudly “I am a painter.”