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Archive for the ‘Technique/History’ Category

Wassily Kandinsky- Composition VIII  1923In the final analysis, every serious work is tranquil….Every serious work resembles in poise the quiet phrase, ” I am here.” Like or dislike for the work evaporates; but the sound of that phrase is eternal.

Wassily Kandinsky

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The above quote is from Wassily Kandinsky and concisely captures what might be the primary motive for my work. I think, for me, it was a matter of finding that thing, that outlet that gave me voice, that allowed me to honestly feel as though I had a place in this world. That I had worth. That I had thoughts deserving to be heard. That I was, indeed, here. 

That need to validate existence is still the primary driver behind my work. It is that search for adequacy that gives my work its expression and differentiates it from others. I’ve never said this before but I think that is what many people who respond to my work see in the paintings- their own need to be heard. They see themselves as part of the work and they are saying, “I am here.” 

Hmmm….

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I wrote the above a little over five years ago in one of the early posts on this blog.  I came across it and was going to re run it alone because I still feels it sums up a lot of what I feel about  my work but I also wanted to expand just a bit more on Wassily Kandinsky, who ended up not really getting much notice in this outside of his quote.

Kandinsky, who was born in Moscow in  1866  and died in Paris in 1944, was one of the most influential artists of the 20th century,  leading the  way into abstraction in painting.  I have sometimes been ambivalent about his work- some I have found entrancing but others have done nothing for me.  But seeing it chronologically, from his earliest efforts until the years just before his death, has made me see him in a different light.  Seeing his evolution from a painter strongly influenced by his mentors  and contemporaries to an artist with a distinct voice of his own is remarkable to witness.  This was a man who was always seeking more than he was seeing, an artist who didn’t rest at a plateau.  Seeing this evolution gave me a new respect for the work of Kandinsky

To see this clearly and for yourself, I suggest you go to WassilyKandinsky.net.  His career is divided into four sections and  each has a chronological gallery of work that you can scroll down.  It’s worth a look.

Wassily Kandinsky- Couple Riding   1906 Wassily Kandinsky-  Murnau. A Village Street  1908 Wassily Kandinsky  -Softened Construction 1927     1925Wassily Kandinsky- In Blue  1925  1923Wassily Kandinsky  - Decisive Pink  1932

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Flow Chart--mihaly csikszentmihalyiI wrote the other day about my search for that intangible thing in my work, that quality that will set me off on a new path.  I’ve been thinking about it and what I think I am really looking for comes down to one word:  Flow.   There’s a famous book, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, from psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi ( please don’t ask me how to pronounce his name) that describes flow as a sense of being in the zone or in the groove, of being so totally immersed in the task before you that the external world is blocked out.  He describes it as being like playing jazz, where each action, thought and movement rises from the previous one.

He points out that this flow occurs when there is a balance between the level of the challenge and the skill of the person facing it.  Basically, this person is working at the far end of their skill level, pushing themselves to their boundaries in order to conquer the task before them.  There can be no thought other than that thing before them.  Total concentration and dedication.  I think of it in terms of a mountain climber facing a climb that seems at the far end of their limits, who must muster up all their knowledge and concentrate on each movement in order to scale the daunting peak before them.

I have known this feeling, this flow that he describes, in painting.  I have often described this feeling of immersion, of a level of concentration where each action leads to the next and time seems to fade into nothingness.  I don’t hear the music playing, don’t feel thirst or hunger, don’t think about other things that I need to do or things that might be worrying me.  When I have been in this state it seems so real and so concrete that it feels as though it is always right there and attainable.  It is intoxicating.

But it is not sustainable forever without creating new challenges.  One you have conquered one peak, you need a new one to face down.  Without this challenge, you are at a  comfortable plateau, something I have attempted to describe in the recent past.  Your skill exceeds the challenge and total immersion is not necessary.  While there is a level of needed concentration to simply maintain this elevation, there is also room for outside thoughts and concerns.  The once difficult task has become the normal course.  Comfortable.

And this is fine  and, as I have said before, most artists reach a comfortable level and settle in for the long  term at this high level.  But deep inside, at least for me at the moment, there is a gnawing feeling to find myself hanging  tenuously on a new, scary ascent, pushing my abilities to new levels.  Riding the flow of the thrill of this tunnel-like focus.

That’s where I find myself at the moment– at a plateau, looking up for a new peak to attack.

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Explorer-  GC Myers

Explorer- GC Myers

It’s been a busy year.  Actually, it’s been a busy two or three years but the last few months have seemed even more hectic.  There was the preparations for the Kada Gallery show and work being done around the studio by carpenters and masons.  It seemed as though there was little time to really take stock of everything.  But with the Kada show opening this past weekend and my delivering a group of work to the Principle Gallery in Alexandria on Tuesday, yesterday was my first chance to take some time to reflect, to see where I was on my artistic path.

After a short period of examination, it seems to me that I am at a plateau.  Mind you, it’s a happy plateau but I’m not sure this is where I want to stop, not sure that this is my final destination as an artist.  For the past several years, I have been working at what I consider my highest level:  I am painting the paintings that I want to see.  The work is distinctly mine and is consistent in its communicative effect and in the way it satisfies me internally.  The work from my  recent shows have been as personally satisfying as any I have ever  showed.   If I were a miner, I would say that I have been working a rich vein.

But I am increasingly having that nagging feeling that there is an even richer vein for me if I move from this plateau and climb a bit higher.

It’s a scary thought.  This has been, as I said, a happy plateau.  It’s where many artists, upon arriving , settle in for the remainder of their careers.  And why not?  They have worked hard to reach this plateau and are producing the work they set out to produce at the beginning of their journeys.  It would be very easy to stay here and be content and safe, to not have to face the prospect of a new climb with all the perils that come with it:  The uncertainty of what is up there and the possibility of failure.

Maybe I am being over dramatic in my description here.  I don’t know.  I do know that I have that clawing and gnawing feeling in my gut that now is the time to start moving onward and upward, to leave this happy plateau and take on the risk of failure.  Whether I can actually muster enough bravery to make this move, whatever that may be, and where it might take me are only the beginning of the  questions that arise, questions for which only time holds the answers.

We shall see…

Here’s an old song, Unsatisfied,  from The Replacements that fits the bill for this subject.  Look me in the eye and tell me that I’m satisfied…

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GC Myers-- Ahead of the Curve smThis new painting, titled Ahead of the Curve, is a 20″ by 24″ canvas headed in the next few days out to Erie for inclusion in Alchemy, my solo exhibit opening a week from today at the Kada Gallery.  This was one of those paintings that comes quickly at first then is sat aside for quite a long time before I go back at it.  In some of these pieces, it’s because I just don’t see a way forward in it and don’t want to act before I have some inner direction, some small sense  of destination to follow so that the lifeforce I see in it isn’t squandered.

On others,  I reach a point where I see all sorts of possibilities in moving forward and can’t decide which way to move.  I become paralyzed.  Such was the case with this painting.  I built this from the bottom, as I often do, and had allowed the multi-colored mound of fields to grow.  I loved the color and curve of it and the way the smaller green mound jutted upward into the blank canvas.  I thought it was beautiful at that point, with no trees or sky or sun — just a mound with a forked road against a white surface.

So it sat for a few months and I would look at it every day, one day seeing it juxtaposed against a deep and receding field.  The next time I looked I saw I saw it looking down on mountain tops.  But it was the curve of the mound that spoke to me and directed me.  I wanted to create some depth, to move the viewer past the mound and into the scene itself but not so deep that the mound and the Red Tree that would adorn it would be just looked past.

I began to see a slightly lighter curved field with a road continuing through it, creating a closer  curved horizon. The greenish trees on the curved horizon appeared like the  hands on a clock to me, somehow representing the passage of time and I saw a sun or moon on that horizon so that the tree would be above it, as though it were ahead of the sun’s advance.  The Red Tree here is not reactive, bowing to the circumstances the world puts before it.  No, it is proactive, creating its own stance and its own reaction from the world.    It is indeed ahead of the curve.

I think that’s what this is all about, the idea of being proactive in carrying out and maintaining one’s own vision of their world.  Trusting that the sometimes invisible things that they see can be made visible to others.   That might be the definition of a visionary or a fool.  That’s the thing about being ahead of the curve– you may not be around to see which is true.

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GC Myers- Muse 2002

GC Myers- Muse 2002

I am now preparing for my show at the Kada Gallery, Alchemy, which opens in two weeks on November 16th.  Along with all of my new work for this show I am including a small group of paintings from around 2002.  These are paintings that were darker in tone , both visually and emotionally, than my other work at that time, reflecting my feelings in the immediate aftermath of 9/11.  These pieces have not been shown in years and I believe that they have aged well, especially when they are not considered in the context of the time in which they were created.  I am eager to show them again.

I went back in the archives of this blog and came across this posting that speaks a bit more about how I handled the reception for this work when it first went out into the world.  This painting, Muse, is not part of the group.  It is, as noted below, in the  trusted hands of a man who I consider a friend in Virginia.

here’s what I wrote back in 2009:

This is a painting from back in 2002 titled Muse. It was part of a series I was painting at that time, in the months after 9/11, that some of my galleries still call my Dark Work. It was painted in a style that I call my obsessionist style these days, meaning that it is painted by building layers of color over a dark ground as opposed to the reductive style I have used so much in the past where I apply a lot of wet paint, puddles, then pull it off the surface until I reach the desired effect. 

When I was doing these paintings they seemed like a stark contrast to the reductive work, especially given the tone of that time. They were well received although not with same gusto as the lighter, more transparent, work. I felt very strongly about this work but allowed my desire to please the galleries need for my most sellable work override my desire to pursue this work to further levels. I moved back to primarily painting the wetter reductive work and was able to continue to push that work further through color and texture. I never regretted the move back to this work but there was always a little nagging voice in the back of my mind that I hadn’t pushed the other work to its full destination and had let outside influences hinder an inner process. 

I have begun to see my body of work as my own personal narrative, the story of who I am and how I am seeing my world at any given time. In order for it to be so it must be an honest and complete reflection, guided by my own inner muse and not outside forces telling me what I should or should not do. It took a while but I realized that I have the ability and right to control my own personal narrative, to tell my story in my own way. 

I’ve done this in many ways for years already. I am constantly given ideas for paintings or am requested to do commissions but seldom do I follow up on them unless they fit in with where I see my work heading. In that aspect, I normally reject outside influence. I stick to my narrative.

The piece above, Muse, actually fits this post well in that it now belongs to a man who asked me to do a painting of his son, a truly gifted guitarist. He sent me photos and they were wonderful. He was long and lanky with a really interesting ethereal look, a portrait painter’s dream. In fact when I looked at the pictures I could only see him as painted by other painters I know. I struggled for a while trying to do something with this but in the end I realized it wasn’t part of who I was at that point, not part of my narrative. I let it slide and after a long while, apologetically explained this to the father who was extremely gracious. 

So I am back focusing more, at this time, on this obsessionist work, allowing it to be a bigger part of my story. I will continue to paint in the other style but I just feel that there is something waiting to be told, something to be discovered in this other work at this time. That is my decision made without outside influence, my choice for my personal narrative.

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Hub

GC Myers- Hub sm

This is a new painting, a 24″ by 36″ canvas, that is going to the Kada Gallery as part of my upcoming show, Alchemy.  Actually, it’s not a new painting.  Most of it was painted in 2009 and was shown for a short time before coming back to the studio, where it has been for the last three years.  It has been an enigma to me hanging on the wall there.  It has a real oomph to it, a visual wallop in the color and form,  but there was always something lacking.  I finally determined that it was just too dark through the center.  I had decided when I originally painted it that the darkness was where the piece was going and was integral to the painting.  So I stopped at a point when I should have been forging onward.

It was one of those cases where I misread the painting and what it was telling me.

So this week I finally took it down and went back in, bringing light to the central swath of the painting.  It created a huge change in the mood and impact of the painting, the Red Tree stepping forward from the shadow in which it was trapped for these years.  It finally became the painting I was thinking it was when I cut short its creation back in 2009.  It still has the darkness, mainly in the foreground, that I felt was integral to the painting’s impact but now, through the added light, it had greater depth into the scene.  Everything just stands out so much better.  The dynamism that I felt was there is now fully visible.

I’ve been fortunate that this doesn’t happen all too often, this misreading of one of my pieces.  But if it has to happen, it is so gratifying to be able to revisit the painting to rectify the situation and reveal the truth of the painting that I had overlooked.

Here is the “before” image:

GC Myers- Huboriginal

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GC Myers Early Work ca1994I came across this little piece recently.  It’s a small watercolor on paper that was done in 1994, while I was still developing my own voice and before I began showing my work publicly.  It’s not a great piece of work and will always just live its life in a bin of experiments and other pieces that just aren’t up to snuff.  But this little painting always has meaning for me, providing a lesson in trusting your own instincts as well as weighing the words of guidance given to you.

You see, I had another artist around this time critique my work.  He was a professional artist with years of experience and I trusted his judgement, wanting any feedback that would help me narrow my quest for an individual voice.  On this particular piece he told me that it was sorely lacking, that the figure needed to be more accurate in its depiction, that people would not respond to this kind of rendering.  I  wasn’t positive in his advice but I hesitatingly took it to heart and avoided figures for many years and even to this day hear his words when I consider a figure in my work.

I consider it a huge mistake on my part and wonder what my path might have been had I discounted his advice at that time.  I mistook him for a guide on the creative path to my own voice but what he offered was a route that took me to where he himself was headed.  His guidance was purely subjective, linked to his own vision of how the world looked and should be depicted.

His road was not mine.

Over the years, I have become resistant to listening to others when they begin to tell me what my work should be or where it should be headed.   I also am hesitant in giving advice for the same reason– our destinations may not be the same.

It may not be much but this little piece is a symbol of the trust I now have in my voice and intuition.  It is a constant reminder that it is up to me as to how I use the advice given by those posing as guides on the path.  In this way, this painting is priceless to me.

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GC Myers- Correspondence

GC Myers- Correspondence 12″ X 34″ on paper

Well, the opening for my annual show, Islander,  at the West End Gallery was this past Friday evening  and, as I wrote here on Friday, I had some apprehensions.  Not about the show itself.  No, on that front I was confident and felt that this was one of the  best shows I had produced for the gallery.  No, it was just that summer openings are sometimes sparsely attended, especially  when the weather is as beautiful as it has been for the last few days, everybody trying to pack in as much time as possible outdoors.  But thankfully people did show up and the evening turned out well, even successful.

I would like to thank everyone who did come to the West End on Friday.  I can’t really express how appreciative I am.  It was such a pleasure getting to meet many new faces and talk with them for a bit.  One of the luxuries of the summer opening is being able to spend more than one or two minutes with someone.  I have had openings where even that short time is a stretch so being able to actually relate more about the work to someone who has traveled to see the show is a big plus.

For example, there were two couples, Melissa and Peter from the Albany area and Julie and Mark from Westchester County, who had traveled to Corning to see the show after coming across my work at last year’s exhibit at the Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown.   I was able to spend a little more time getting to know  them  and to tell them more about my work.  I only hope that I didn’t talk too much!

I have written here before about how I judge a show by how much time the people in attendance spend looking at the wall rather than how many people gather in front of them to talk.  The faces are all turned outward toward the walls rather than inward.  This show was a good example of such a show.  It wasn’t as crowded as some shows but those in attendance were definitely there to see the work.  That is what I am looking for from my work– paintings that continue to draw the viewer’s eye to them and provoke a reaction.  In this particular aspect, this show was definitely a hit.

Again, many thanks to those who came to the gallery.  It was my pleasure to meet those of you who I was able to speak with and be assured that the energy you provide me carries me through a lot of long days alone in the studio.  Thanks also to  Linda, Jesse and Hedy at the West End for their their friendship and commitment to my work over the years.  Their hard work on my behalf is so appreciated.

Now, on to the next thing– getting ready for my Gallery Talk at the West End this coming Thursday, from noon til one or so.  Hope you can make it!

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GC Myers- Harmonic OneI call this new painting  Harmonic One.  It’s 14″ by 34″ on paper and is part of my Islander show at the West End Gallery in Corning , opening this Friday and running through August.

This is another of those paintings that I start then set aside, waiting for a moment of clarity when the direction of the painting comes through to me.  Sometimes I set them aside because I simply lose momentum, lose the rhythm that is driving the creative force forward and find myself dulling the painting.  Other times, like this, I set them aside because I reach a point, in full rhythm, where I must choose a direction and cannot because I so like what I see before me that I am fearful that I will make a wrong decision which would destroy everything.

The thing that attracted me to this piece and caused me to hesitate when I came to that point on this piece was the color and texture of the sky.  It was chaotic  and rough with bits of differing tones of blues and pale greens.  It was just alive and seemed to dance on the surface.  There is a detail from the sky shown at the bottom of this post.  I knew that to just jump ahead too quickly would diminish the whole effect of that sky.  It required a focal point that would play off of the chaos running through the sky.

Of course, my focal point, my central character,  was going to be the Red Tree.  But it had to have a certain weightiness, a feeling of strength that would create a solidity that would contrast with the foreboding confusion of the sky and bring the whole into some sort of equilibrium.  In short, a tree that would create harmony.

I repeatedly would put this piece on my table and, time after time, I would take it away without touching it.  I just could envision such a harmonizer.  I was at a point where I was beginning to think that I had created a piece that would never go beyond mere potential.  The finished section began top lose vitality and I thought it would go in the heap with other work that never lived up to their possibilities.

But finally, it showed itself in the form that you see.  It transformed the whole thing, bringing a peaceful solidness and force that brings the chaos of the sky into balance.   The title came easily.  In the end, I was tremendously pleased with this painting.  It had everything that  I looked for in my work–depth, texture, color, contrasts, and a feeling of vitality all in a deceptively simple package.  All that I could ask of it…

GC Myers- Harmonic One detail

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GC Myers-Icon on Copper

GC Myers-Icon on Copper

I haven’t done it in quite some time, but I have used metal leaf, usually gold or copper, several times in my work over the years.  There is something about using the leaf in a work that transforms a simple composition into one that has greater depth and weight.  This is always surprising to me because the leaf itself flattens the picture plane.  Maybe we have some innate elemental response to the qualities of the metal leaf, its richness and sheen, that goes back through the ages to a time when the use of luxurious metals was the province of sacred art and artifacts.  I know that always comes to my mind when I see metal leaf used in artwork.  I find myself considering the work in a different , more reverential, manner, as though I were considering a religious icon.  I suppose that is why I always describe this work with that term, icon.

GC Myers- Under a Copper Sky

GC Myers- Under a Copper Sky

While I try not to use leaf too often in my work, there are two such pieces in this years show at the West End Gallery, which opens this coming Friday, July 26.  Both are small pieces on paper, both with copper leaf.  I find the warmth of copper leaf appealing and more in line with this work.  The compositions are quiet and very simple , allowing the central figure of the Red Tree to stand starkly against the elegant weight of the copper.  This juxtaposition without a lot of additional elements and detail allows the tree and the copper leaf to shine in harmony.

The piece shown above, an 8″ by 8″ image,  is simply titled Icon on Copper .  The painting here on the left is a bit smaller at 4′ by 6.5″ and is also simply titled Under a Copper Sky.  They are both at the gallery now for the show, Islander, which runs until August 30.

 

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