The White of Paper

I have drawing on Stonehenge paper, which I find so responsive, and the white of the paper came again to the fore. It is fascinating how the white of the surface on which one is painting or drawing suddenly takes on its own life and begins to dictate.

Initially there can be the white paper fright - rare, I have to admit, but it happens. This is when one is totally intimidated by that pristine white surface facing one on the drawing board. It is so pure, so virgin, so unsullied. Where on earth does one start? And CAN one even start sensibly? But then that stage passes, usually pretty quickly because one is already all involved with the project already and anxious to move ahead.

The Three Feathers, metalpoint/watercolour, Jeannine Cook artist

Once into the work, the decisions as to where to leave the white of the surface, or even if to do so, become more interesting. And the paper itself begins to talk and dictate. White is a powerful colour; it is not just the negative part where one has not put colour. It can hold its own against all comers, and can even dominate too much unless care is taken. And, of course, it does not have to be pure white - I draw on cream papers where the same situation pertains. Since, ideally, I try to adhere to the concept of "less is more", that plays hugely into the role that white can play, particularly in a drawing. It is all a balancing act, where a sense of composition becomes important. And of course, it becomes fun and interesting, because you never know if you or the white of the paper is going to "win".

I think every artist should cultivate their own personal relationship with that powerful player, Lady White, because it can lead to endlessly rewarding dialogues and good art.

Art - a Golden Thread through Life

Art seems to exert an extraordinary power over so many different people. Artists, understandably, have a passion for what they are doing. But then there is the other side of the equation - the collectors, the public that views art of all description, the sponsors and all those who form a constituency for art. It is no wonder that more and more people view art not only as an investment per se but also as an economic driving force for communities who actively embrace the arts.

Historically, for instance, the great museum collections of the world have been largely formed, at least initially, by wealthy private art collectors who then donated their collections. Names such as Frick, Morgan, Getty, Guggenheim, Whitney, Rockefeller, Mellon or Annenberg all evoke remarkable monies and energies poured into collecting art. In the same way, kings and nobility in Europe and beyond had done the same thing down the centuries. Early in the 20th century, Sergei Shchukin and Ivan Morozov carried on that tradition in Russia. Today, a plethora of collectors worldwide follow suite - from Baron Thyssen to Charles Saatchi, Ronald Lauder or Francois Pinault. But beyond the wealth and connoisseurship, there is a driving force involved with art - people just get hooked.

We have all experienced it at some point. You round a corner in a museum, or walk past a gallery window, and you spot a piece of art - painting, sculpture, drawing, whatever... It stops you in your tracks. You are drawn back to it, to look more closely at it, to ponder, to enjoy, to understand, to remember... often eventually to buy for yourself, if possible.

That is when the golden thread of art re-twists itself around you, enriching and expanding your world. The artist may not even be aware that the created work will have such a reaction in a viewer, but the passion in the art clicks with a passion evoked in the viewer. Of course, there are innumerable sensible and hopefully educated criteria by which to judge and appraise a work of art. In the end, however, a true collector and lover of art will boil down all the considerations to one : do I love this piece of art enough to want to live with it?

Art's golden, silken thread weaves though life in so many unexpected ways. You never know when you are going to fall in love with a piece of art, nor what form that art will take. From the artist's point of view, you never know what form inspiration will take next nor where your art will take you in the creative process. Nor, for that matter, what experiences will present themselves or which kindred spirits one will meet through art.

The more I travel though life as an artist and art-lover, the more I understand how necessary it was already to our ancestors of 30,000 years ago that Lasceaux, Altamira, Chauvet and other caves were being filled with wonderful art. People knew even then how important it was to the human psyche that art should grace our lives.

Artistic independence

Every time I open a magazine or paper addressing the art world at present, there seems to be another indication of the closing of galleries, shrinking of museum activities or general hard times for artists. As in every other field, there is an on-going shake-out and re-evaluation of the recent assumptions and priorities.

But it is also a time to be opportunistic as an artist, to do some personal re-evaluation and to try and grow professionally. I found a wonderful quote from Georgia O'Keeffe which I felt is a really fitting sentiment for now : "I have but one desire as a painter - that is to paint what I see, as I see it, in my own way, without regard for the desires or tastes of the professional dealer or the professional collector....". That is a clarion call if there ever was one! And one, I believe, that each of us can learn from, because artistic independence is an oft-shaded affair, especially when a certain type of art that one is producing is selling well. It is so tempting to go on doing the same thing, the same formula, but in the end, that does not often lead to artistic growth. The same tendency can come from dealers who find that a certain type of art sells better than another type, so they "suggest" that one stays in the winning lane.

Georgia O'Keeffe Grey Lines with Black, Blue and Yellow c1923 Museum of Fine Arts, Houston

When all bets are off in terms of what art will meet with financial success, it rather liberates an artist. Each of us is free to produce art that is personally important in terms of convictions, passions, experiments, etc. Only time will tell whether these new ventures will meet with financial success, but in the interim, you probably will grow as an artist. And surely, as Georgia O'Keeffe proved so wonderfully, that is what it is all about, at the end of the day.

Art and Meditation

I recently read a fascinating review in Art in America (April 2009) by Edward M. Gomez, entitled Altered States. It was a review of the just-closed exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum on "The Third Mind", which examined the influence of Asia on earlier generations of artists. Apparently, many of those artists meditated, a result of their interest in Buddhism. Their ability to pay attention to matters deemed "ordinary" and to be able to "suspend time" derived, it was thought, from their practice of meditation. Artists as diverse as Arthur Dove or John Cage were cited in the article.

Thinking about the role of meditation in my own experience made me realise that although I do indeed meditate, I find that the act of making art is in itself a form of meditation. Most artists I know find that time becomes a very variable affair, since we all lose track of time very easily when creating art. However, I also find that I become much more efficient at using the rest of my time, away from art, to do all the other daily chores when I am working on a painting or drawing. I wonder if that is a common occurrence? It is also easy to pay close attention to whatever art and subject of art I am involved with, although I don't know that I would attribute that aspect of art-making to the practice of meditation.

When I am not able to work as an artist, I find I get really dislocated, and so it is a relief to revert to mediation to make life more serene. Brain circuitry in artists must be predicated on a daily "fix" of art, apparently!

The rhythm of observation and creation, drawing and looking, is indeed addictive. Even when I find myself inside because of bad weather, as happened when I was Artist in Residence once at Wild Acres in the Blue Ridge Mountains, there is a meditative peace and serenity from trying to create harmony and yet accuracy in a silverpoint drawing. Even with the most humble of materials!

This was the result of two days of solid rain and yet I had little realisation of how much time elapsed during the execution of the drawing.

Blue Ridge Mountain Meditation, silverpoint 11 x 15" image, Collection of Evansville Museum of Arts, Science and History, Evansville, IN

Perfumes, sound and light

I have just spent time in my other home in Palma de Mallorca, Spain. There, it is a green and beautiful spring after bountiful rains this year, and the island is celebrating with exuberant growth on mountain slopes and down stony valleys.

I had some time to paint and draw, and once again, my sense of place was expanded and extended. I know that wherever one is working outdoors as an artist, you become conscious of all your surroundings. It seemed to be especially the case this spring in Spain: the perfume of orange blossom, lemon blossom, jasmine and roses floated everywhere on the air.

Citrus sinensis Osbeck painting by Mary E. Eaton from a 1917 issue of National Geographic

As the sun warmed, each morning, and the sky became brilliant, the perfumes intensified and became intoxicating. The light grew more brilliant - oh, that Mediterranean light! And as I sat quietly, totally enraptured with all this light and drunk on these exquisite perfumes, I was serenaded by blackbirds singing their wondrous melodies, or tiny serins buzzing excitedly high in the trees above.

I was soothed and inspired. As the light changed and the flowers I was depicting opened, moved and faded, I was enveloped in this world in which I was sitting. I felt a bond and a sense of kinship with all the wonderful artists who have worked in the Mediterranean region down the ages - Italian masters like Botticelli or Guercino, Corot, Monet, Renoir, Matisse, Cezanne or Raoul Dufy in France, even Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida, just to name one Spanish artist who celebrated so superbly the brilliant light of Spain (go to this site if you speak Spanish or this one for English). They all responded to the same light, perfumes and sounds. From the flowers painted on the walls of ancient Egyptian tombs to the frescoes on walls of opulent homes in Pompeii, artists have always gloried in the beauties of flowers growing in the Mediterranean world. I felt it was a great privilege to be immersed in this world of brilliant light, intoxicating perfume and liquid bird song, as I celebrated Mallorca's spring flowers in silverpoint and watercolour.

Landscapes and a Sense of Place

I have been preparing for a solo exhibition I shall be having at the Southeast Georgia Health System in coastal Georgia in June, and chose the title of the show to be A Sense of Place. As I selected art to exhibit, it made me think again about how landscapes feed into an artist's sense of belonging somewhere.

Clearly, the better you know a place, the more you can enter into its inner workings. So you are better able to capture what that landscape means to you. The viewer can thus participate in and share more deeply in your experience. By grappling with the landscape as you get to know it, you allow yourself, and ultimately the viewer, to move beyond the merely representational. Your experience and knowledge become a passport for the viewer to understand and more deeply appreciate that place. Distilling one's own sense of place is an ever-ongoing activity because each landscape, natural or man made is continuously changing, developing, evolving. In many ways, this is good, because it means that an artist can return again and again to the same subject matter and learn more, thus portraying it differently each time in the art created.

Soaring over Creighton, watervolour, Jeannine Cook artist

Cezanne is a wonderful example of an artist who returned again and again to the same places to paint landscapes (think of his beloved Mont Sainte Victoire or the Jas deBouffan estate). He analysed a landscape, learned about the way the light moved and shaped things, organised his perceptions of form and colour. The resultant painting, in watercolour or oils, thus presents the viewer with, of course, the fundamental forms of the landscape, but beneath that veil of appearances, Cezanne captures the inner essence of that place, its soul. That is why his landscapes become so memorable, so powerful, so passionate and, at the same time, often, so intellectual and radical in their break with his contemporaries' approaches to art.

Mont Sainte Victoire, oil on canvas, 1904, Paul Cezanne (Image courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum)

The longer I live in coastal Georgia, the more subtle and beautiful the landscapes seem to me. It thus becomes an endless challenge to understand and simplify their essence, so that I might share their unique beauty and importance with others.

The Music-Art Connection - again!

Last year, I attended a concert in Savannah, GA, where the Emerson String Quartet, with violinist Daniel Hope and friends, played a piece, Terra Memoria, by Finnish composer, Kaija Saariaho. As I sat listening, a series of silverpoint drawings began to dance through my mind’s eye. The results of this concert are slowly becoming reality on paper as I work to draw what I envisaged as the music was played.

Terra Memoria, commissioned by the Carnegie Hall Corporation, was first performed in June 2007 in Carnegie Hall, New York, by the Emerson String Quartet. The music evokes “those departed” and remembered in evolving fashion by the people remaining. My silverpoint drawings, so far three in number, address evolutions in the world between reality and abstraction. There are more still to be done, but it is a series in which I am trying to tell my subconscious to be utterly in charge, and thus I am trying not to think consciously at all as I do these drawings.

Terra Memoria I, silverpoint, goldpoint, graphite, Jeannine Cook artist

Terra Memoria II, silverpoint, goldpoint, acrylic, Jeannine Cook artist

Interpreting passions

Passions, in my optic, are all those interests and loves and energies that make life sing for each of us. For an artist, sooner or later, passions show up in what one is trying to create. In my case, my love of flowers, trees, birds and nature in general, dictate to a great degree what I will be drawing or painting. My sense of place, be it for coastal Georgia, Africa or Spain, also comes into play in my art-making.

An artist about whose work I have been thinking a lot recently in this context is Miquel Barcelo, the hugely successful Spanish artist who was born in Mallorca in Felanitx in 1957 (www.miquelbarcelo.info). Ironically, he has just been written about in ArtDaily.org of yesterday, 9th April, where his latest opus magnum at the United Nations Palace in Geneva was inaugurated last November. The sea is a bedrock passion for Miquel Barcelo, and it informs a great deal of his art, it seems. I keep thinking back to his huge work in the Capilla del Santisimo in Palma de Mallorca's Gothic Cathedral. It was finished in 2007, and along with thousands of Mallorcans, I saw it on the day the King and Queen of Spain inaugurated it.

Capilla del Santissimo, Palma Cathedral, Miguel Barcelo artist

What stays in my mind, over and above the wonderful three-dimensional ceramic friezes down the walls of fishes, sponges and other denizens of the sea, is the highly evocative effect Barcelo achieved with subtle grey-blue simple stained glass windows.

Capilla del Santissimo, Palma Cathedral, windows, Miguel Barcelo artist

I recall reading that he was influenced for this whole ensemble by the memories of how the Mediterranean seabed looked, with the light filtering down, as he dived off the coast of Mallorca. His use of the grey plain windows caught exactly the undersea light so typical of Mallorca. Barcelo's passion for the sea made him wonderfully creative in this vast chapel , where Biblical passages married with his own knowledge and love of the sea, its inhabitants and historical treasures deposited there over time.

Again, apparently, in the United Nations Palace in Geneva, Barcelo has returned to his passion for the sea to find a highly innovative way to interpret the continuous motion of the sea. The vast dome of the Human Rights & Alliance of Civilisations Room now represents brightly coloured sea and surf, serene and yet full of movement depending on the light and space in which it is viewed, a metaphor for the union and dialogue needed to face the 21st century challenges. Only an artist deeply passionate about the sea and all its moods could conceive of such vast works of art as Miquel Barcelo has done. A dramatic example for every artist to emulate, using individual passions as sources of creativity.

Drawing as Thinking

In earlier posts on this blog, I alluded to the exploration and excitement of drawing. But as I try to work on a series of silverpoint drawings I am doing, I realise again how much the act of drawing is a form of thinking. I am working on a series based on a piece of music that I listened to during a Savannah Music Festival concert. The images began to flood into my mind's eye as I heard the music. Now I need actually to work out how I want to construct those images and what I am actually trying to say in the drawings.

Consequently, I am trying to think through the silverpoint stylus, in fact, as I work out the drawing.

Silverpoint marks and stylii, (Image courtesy of Anita Chowdry)

The exercise makes me think of a really fascinating document I found some while ago - Aesthetic Education, Inquiry and the Imagination, written in 2007 by Madeleine Fuchs Holzer, Director of Educational Development at the Lincoln Center Institute. In this document, well worth downloading, especially if you are a teacher, nine Capacities for Imaginative Learning are laid out. The first ones, Noticing Deeply, Embodying, Questioning, Making Connections and Identifying Patterns, seem not only very germane for teachers but for artists themselves.

Every one of those concepts helps as one is thinking and/or drawing. If you are drawing something from real life, the level of observation will dictate the level of detail you show in your knowledge and thus portrayal of the subject matter. Even if you later simplify the drawing, or painting, the knowledge you have gained from noticing deeply will enrich and inform the art. The same acquired essence of the subject will permeate the artwork though your embodying it and translating it into the art. A questing curiosity and willingness to venture into unknown realms will lead you to do better art - the questioning part is very much bound up with thinking with the pencil or silver stylus. What if I do this... or that? What will that convey and what effect will it achieve? The same elasticity and openness of mind allows one to remember back to other art seen or done, other experiences, other results; the new work you are thinking about creating will be enriched by the connections you can make as you are developing the art. Even identifying patterns, visually or otherwise, can be a valuable stepping stone to thinking of the best way to go in planning the art.

Ultimately, however, after all the effort put into the initial thinking/drawing stage, there comes the time to launch yourself into what you are being driven to create. And you know full well that along the way, there will be surprises and deviations... and more thought and more drawing – before the work is finished.

Art and Gender

When I first became an artist, (which was a fresh departure for me as I had started out in other directions), I was surprised to find how gender still mattered in the art world. I had expected that by the early eighties, the American art scene would have shed some of the bias that was disappearing in other spheres as the pioneering feminists shamed and/or educated the rest of society.

I soon discovered that the world of women's art organisations was well established and welcoming. The diversity and efficiency of opportunity offered to women artists from the Catherine Lorillard Wolfe Art Club (founded in 1876 and at http://www.clwac.org/), the National Association of Women Artists (founded in 1889 and at http://www.nawanet.org/), or the Women's Caucus for the Arts (http://www.nationalwca.org/) are really impressive. These are but three of the main groups that enable women artists to exhibit and interact as high calibre professionals. It is felicitous but somewhat ironic, I feel, that now various collections of women's art have been formed, with perhaps the most prominent being the National Museum of Women in the Arts in Washington, DC (http://www.nmwa.org/).

Catherine Lorillard Wolfe

The question about whether gender matters today for an artist still often remains unanswered, I suspect. The bias has perhaps become much more subtle in some instances, and is thus hard to quantify. I decided, personally, long ago never to consider the issue in what I have tried to do as an artist. However, I do recognise that certain subject matter and certain approaches are more likely to be considered a woman's purview (such as flower paintings....). And, in many ways, the diversity of approach should enrich the art world generally. Today, there are many very successful women artists in many disciplines, but they have certainly been helped along the way by the pioneering work of artists like Judy Chicago, Faith Reingold, Louise Nevelson and many others.

The other aspect of gender in art is whether an artist should be labelled... There is an exhibition, The Rise of Women Artists, opening at the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool, England, which apparently addresses this issue (www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/walker/). I would very much like to have a magic carpet to convey me there to see what they say about it. For my part, I always tend to mistrust labels of any sort. Predictability is almost akin to being boring and that is always unfortunate, particularly in the art world.