a painting manifesto

which is better than a resolution

in the next handful of days I am resuming my artistic practice. for a long stretch of time, I barely painted at all. and if I painted, it was more to assuage the guilt for having not created anything. when i’m not writing or drawing I am markedly more depressed and more like, thought-obsessive. but painting “for my mental health” is a foolish mission - that might be an extra perk for some, but for me, the creative act does not usually feel good*. i’m a materials person, and I do not create with a grand vision I hope to put to paper (perhaps part of the problem). but you do sometimes have this image or feeling in your head that you want to resolve, or have come true, and your own failing in technical proficiency, in honesty, in courage prevents that from coming through. it is better to be onto something and feel as if you are falling short of the mark, than it is to just lower your standards for a work. I don’t want to just paint to paint. I want to make something good.

i’m always thinking about painting which makes the fact that I have not painted, have not tested myself, have not experimented and failed and learned something, have not grown in recent years … pretty painful. but it’s a new day and a new year. and changing that is as simple as feeling all the doubts, and the fears, and trying anyways. i’m sorry if i’m being corny. i’m not immune to the most cheesy, motivational, self-helpy sentiments. they work.

but because i’m always thinking about painting, and I have loose fragmented ideas about what will help *me* specifically, it’s a good idea to gather them together, and have them in one place, so i’m not plagued by “the things I should do.” as a reference and as a practice of intention. it’s sort of a manifesto lacking a centrality or a mission. it’s more like a stack of post-its you put on your mirror to make yourself feel better about carrying on.

1. No more comparing to Liepke or John Singer Sargent or Sorolla. Their vision is not the stick I can use to beat myself with. My art is no longer about representing beautiful people or conforming to someone else’s sense of beauty. They are good to learn from - but know the difference between an education and imitation. The way that I am is fine and doesn’t need to be changed.

2. More doodling, more random objects, more play. Floating fruit. Absurd light sources. Less solidity. Less reality. Be an Aquarius.

3. Take a breather from the canvas. The best poets exercise impulse control.

4. Be more exacting with my color mixing and less exacting with my lines. The only thing is to commit to the lines, layer after layer, and to not be fickle with my own hand.

5. Use references liberally - like a fling, not a marriage. Be decisive about what I want from them. It is never everything. It is never about transferring an image perfectly. I am not a photocopier.

6. Don’t be afraid of waste. Paint like you are rich. Wash the brushes often. I end up with unwanted artifacts trying to preserve materials. The goal isn’t to optimize the efficient use of paint tubes. It’s to sacrifice everything in service of the image.

7. Every mark should be mindful and fully present. It’s when you get lazy or seek distraction the work falls apart. “Be in my arm.” “Be in my eye.”

8. Trust my intuitive sense of visuals. The thinking part of my mind rarely “gets” what’s going on.

9. Remember transparent shadows and thick lights. Remember the color gradient of yellow to pink to green on a face. Remember scrumbling. Remember to take measurements. Remember midtones first. Remember the shadow is darkest before the turn. Remember rounded objects blur when they meet the background. Remember to go from the shoulder, to not get too tight. Remember to hold the pen in the air and mimic the stroke first before committing to it. Remember to oil the panel first. Remember to light the station correctly. Remember the rules exist to set you up for success.

10. You draw better when it’s your 10th time. Try it again. The same thing. The first one isn’t your final. And practice the techniques. Trace. Really feel what’s happening visually.

11. Look at the blank canvas for a minute before you start. Quietly.