Redtree Times

The Internal Landscape (2012)

There is a place called ‘heaven’ where the good here unfinished is completed; and where the stories unwritten, and the hopes unfulfilled, are continued. We may laugh together yet.

–J. R. R. Tolkien, letter to his son, Michael, June 1941

The other day I wrote an entry here, The Paintings We Don’t Paint, that was primarily about artists receiving unsolicited advice from others. I guess it applies to everyone, actually. It is not the sole province of artists. There is always someone out there ready with a You should do this or a Why don’t you do that.

But after hitting the publish button, I felt there was so much more that could be said about the paintings we don’t paint.

I think most artists leave this world with undone paintings still rolling around their mind somewhere. After all, every painting is almost always the prelude to the next. Teh finished piece sparks rhythms and flows and concepts that the artist visualizes being carried to the next or at least some painting in the future. I can’t tell you how many times I have finished (well, finished it to that point) a painting and am itching to immediately start the next with the momentum and tingling senses still fresh in my mind.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out. Time, obligations, and the general details of life sometimes get in the way. There is often a lapse– much more so now than I was younger and working off of a fresh, supercharged battery– before I get to the next piece. I still carry the momentum and thoughts from the last painting but they are not sharply poking at me to, demanding that I move ahead. No, they are more like gentle nudges now.

More like a suggestion than a command. And in that short space between suggestion and command, the painting that might have been is often unrealized.

An unsown seed.

Oh, it is replaced eventually by another painting, maybe even one that creates an even greater rhythm and flow to carry to the next after it. But that other seed is still there waiting to be nurtured so that it might become what it is meant to be.

Every artist has these seeds resting in the nooks and crannies of their mind, most that will go with them to their grave.

Then there are those paintings that remain unpainted not because of a lack of desire or the details of life getting in the way. These are the paintings that an artist holds in their most secret of dreams but do not have the courage or willpower to take on.

I have a few of those rolling around in there somewhere. I keep promising myself that one day I will muster up the courage to take a crack at one of two of them. But promises to yourself ate the easiest to break, the easiest to rationalize away. But as of now, I still hold that promise for those undone paintings.

I’ll give you an example. I’ve always wanted to paint on a grand scale, to make very large pieces. I have done a couple bigger pieces, such as the painting shown at the top. Titled The Internal Landscape, it was the titular centerpiece of my 2012 solo exhibit at the Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown. It is 54″ by 84″ on canvas.  I am looking at it right now as it fills a small wall in my painting space. I look at it quite a bit, actually. I often feel like I am seeing the folds and creases of my brain in the rolls and rhythms of its field and hills.

It is definitely a place where I live. Home.

I take a degree of pride in that piece. It became what I hoped it would when I first stood in front of its black surface, not knowing exactly where it would go or even what it would eventually come to be. It presented a large challenge. But I am proud to have stood in front of that large canvas without a preconceived idea and to have created a world unto itself using only my limited skills and mind. When I am filled with uncertainty and lacking in confidence, I often turn to this painting for reinforcement.

There are other equally large or larger such pieces in my mind. Undone paintings that remain so because I don’t have the courage or committed willpower to follow through on my promise to myself.

Part of my rationale for not doing these grand pieces is one of practicality. They are hard to move around and difficult to store.  They are not easy to find homes for as they take up a lot more space and have a higher price tag. Their large size would limit their visibility in the galleries that show my work. I have no idea where I would show them or if any venue would even be interested. Not to mention the investment of time, materials, energy, both physical and mental, required to create these works.

Another part of my rationale is just plain old doubt and fear of failure. They are a powerful dual for artists, or anyone else for that matter, to overcome.  It often takes sheer ego to do so. I obviously have an ego. I am writing this thinking that it will be read or that it will somehow make a difference. That in itself takes more ego than I would like to admit having. And even with a larger than desired ego, it is often not enough against one’s own fears and doubts.

So, those epic paintings reside only in my mind.

For now. I still believe I can and will create them.

My promise to myself, for what it’s worth. So far it remains unbroken.

Here’s song about just that. It is Promises, Promises from the dynamic duo of singer Dionne Warwick and the songwriting team of Burt Bacharach and Hal David. No fear or doubt here.

I don’t have the energy to say Git so just do it on your own, okay?