What does the unknown feel like?

Painting should be thrilling.

“Every artwork is an experiment.” – Olafur Eliasson

Do you remember the first time that you made a drawing that you liked? There were quite a few crayon monsters for me. Maybe it was the first time that you were finally able to get a likeness (that was at age 5 when I traced Donald Duck on a light bright) or evoke an emotion with color (waking from an afternoon nap in my room, staring up at the skylight through my eyelids and seeing all of the colors in reverse. The blue square above me was brilliant, tangerine, and the white ceiling had turned a light creamy yellow). The thrill of that kind of creation is otherworldly. It gets us at the very heart of our beings.

And then, there was the first time that we got some recognition for what we had done. Praise from a parent (my mom used to heap it on), a friend, or maybe even a teacher. It helped to reinforce and solidify the value of what we were doing. It gave us and our art credibility.

8paint Inspiration Fridays - What does the unknow feel like?

Finding what I love in the landscape.

We all want to be a part of something, but those external accolades can feel like a subconscious sugar rush. It’s a slippery sloap for many artists. The need to be perceived as good and to be taken seriously by our peers can become a trap.

We trade creativity in for approval. What started us off creating in the first place, the thrill of discovery, takes a backseat to what we imagine people might like to see the most from us. We shrink back into our accomplishments and play it safe. We begin repeating what we think we are best at. The opportunity for new and innovative falls away. This is one way that an artist can discover their “style”.

But there is another way! In fact, there are 1000 different ways. An artist’s style can also emerge from what they are attracted to, what they are curious about, and what they love, or want to love. This is the style of adventure, bravery, and risk. It’s a style related to the unknown, and it’s never resolved and rarely recognizable. This style trades recognition in for innovation. Instead of losing ourselves to what others might think, why not choose to lose ourselves in our work and to what is possible?

What was your last discovery?

Would you rather be good at something you’ve done before, or try something new?

What does the unknown feel like?

Is nature invited to your studio?

A few deep breaths, and I’m on my way.

“I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.” – Henry David Thoreau

This morning I got up early just after 5 AM to take a walk with my dog Pablo on the trails near my house.  I haven’t been hiking much lately, and the sounds, smells and incredible variety of colors and shapes made me wonder why. Spending a little time in nature is a complete reset, and when I do it first thing in the morning, it sets the tone for my entire day.

8paint Inspirations Fridays Is nature invited to your studio?

This is the last weekend for you to sign up for my Landscape Workshop!

The hike itself is just the beginning of the adventure. The seeds of inspiration have been planted. Whether I end up bringing some new color harmonies into my studio work or head out again to paint a newly discovered landscape, nature’s effect on me is patient and lingering. My entire day is better for it.

What time of day is most inspiring for you?

Does being in nature change the way you paint?

Is nature invited to your studio?

What beauty is in your world?

What sound does the morning make?

“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” – Mary Oliver

Can you reproduce the colors of your favorite landscape against the brilliance of the horizon? What shapes are created in the folds of a paper bag? How do we express the feeling of velvet in paint so that someone can understand?

Sometimes our art is just about getting something out. Exploring, playing, letting go. But there are other times when our expression can go deeper. This kind of creation requires nuance and demands that we be present.

Pilon's Lunch

Gabriel Mark Lipper – Pilon’s Lunch – oil on panel

One exercise that I love to revisit, is to place an old squared out wooden chair in the middle of the room. I give my students three minutes to observe it.

Look at every detail, the way the shapes collide. Where do the different pieces of the puzzle meet and what shapes live in the in-between? How does the chair sit on the floor? What angles are there?

Now, remove the chair from the room or head out toward another room altogether. Draw what you remember. How is your looking? What did you see? There is so much discovery in this kind of seeing. We can learn as much about ourselves as we do about the subject of our observations.

Skip the visual diabetes. Instead of the homogenized saccharine beauty served up through the lens of AI or social media, try falling in love with something new by seeing it anew. Fall in love with what is in front of you. And then, share that love. We still need artists.

What is your favorite thing to look at?

Can you see it again in a different way?

What beauty is in your world?