How Important is Knowing an Artist's intention to Understanding a Painting?

'We Threw Pebbles in to the River as the Turquoise Moon Descended.'  acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

This question came up during a conversation with an artist at an exhibition recently. Is it really necessary to know why an artist painted a painting you are viewing at an exhibition or possibly thinking about buying?  While most buyers will purchase purely because they like something, recognise something in the painting, find joy or beauty in the colours, or follow and collect that particular artist's work, I personally believe it is essential to have an understanding of an artist's intention and ideas. It can enrich our viewing and enjoyment of the artwork and reveal things that are not immediately apparent.

At the same time, some artist's work needs less explanation than others. One well known website which sells artists' artwork advises that an explanation can often help sell artwork. As I scroll through paintings, I often find that some call out for the reading of their descriptions because the artwork may either be quite striking and unusual, or challenging.

The artist's personal statement is really important to gaining insights into their sources of inspiration, their methods and why they choose those methods, and how they find inspiration and interpret their ideas. The creative 'process' is incredibly interesting and much can be written on this and its mystery, but artists often feel the need to verbalise their intentions. Some paintings are easier to 'read' and others do need the message behind them explained, though generally it is assumed that a painting should speak clearly to the viewer. Ultimately, painting is a language and learning about painting is very rewarding and enriching.

In relation to my own work, when I'm painting I don't want to know exactly what I'm doing. I'd never paint if it was simply a case of filling in spaces I've calculated in advance. But there is always a demanding and passionate idea that generates the impetus to make the image. Ideas bounce off one another, jumping in to my mind in the middle of the night, or I see some shapes on TV or in a magazine that just seem to give an answer to a difficult passage in a painting. It could be a word, an idea could pop in to my mind while cleaning the house. Anything can inspire or give clues when your mind is buzzing with imagery and that creative passion is pushing at you to unveil a demanding, all encompassing and emotional theme.

My painting 'We Threw Pebbles in to the River as the Turquoise Moon Descended,' pushed at me for days to paint it. The theme is the transience of life and a desire to sit by a river (a metaphor for the passage of life) and have time to throw pebbles until the moon appears. It is about reflection, the desire to be awake, to feel life in all its aspects, to have the time to feel oneself in relation to the world. 

I've seen the moon rise in Cyprus in many colours and somehow turquoise fitted my feelings. I feel that in my work I 'surf' on meanings, pushing at the paint in a dogged way, making many erasures until I pull that image in to reality. It doesn't always work, of course, and the painting may take days to consider if I need to do more work on it. When dealing with unknown factors, you ultimately have to learn to read your own work and to absorb new elements in order to move forwards, which is why I let work sit for a while in order to be able to 'see' it afresh.

This next painting, 'Beyond the Black Lake' has just been finished a year after I thought it was finished. As my ideas for the translating of my ongoing themes keep being tweaked and the language extends, sometimes I see things that are irrelevant. 

If I'm asked to explain its meanings, it comes down to very personal feelings as with much of my work. The lake is the darkness in life. There is movement in the landscape, the movement of daily life, the tracks of passage across the land, brightness amongst the darkness. Possibly the turquoise shape above the lake could be a house and a suggestion of security. I like to enter meanings the painting suggests and follow those clues. I go in to another place entirely.

'Beyond the Black Lake,' acrylic on canvas, 35 x 45 cm

When I write about my work, or speak to people, I find that my intention is quite important to explain. My work is a reflection on the passage of life, personal journeys, and finding a way to translate these in to paint while exploring what paint can do and suggest. I let the paint direct me as much as possible and try to learn from the process of painting. It is always open to the potential for something new and exciting.

To be continued.

New Paintings and Some Great Exhibition News

'Walking Towards a Shared Future,' oil and acrylic on canvas, 120 x 160 cm

This week I received some good news: this painting has been selected for the 8th Beijing International Art Biennale which this year will be showcasing artwork from 125 countries and will open on 30th August 2019. I was really pleased to find that my painting will be included and it will be my third time in this Biennale (previously, 2015/2017) and my second international art Biennale this year.

I painted this specifically for the Biennale which had the theme of 'A Colourful World and a Shared Future.' I was thinking about how the world is not groupings of separate living organisms; we all rely on one another - people, animals, plants, insects - in order to survive. The world is one organism. I was also thinking about my own relation to nature which is a deeply spiritual one and how I love to 'go missing' in the land. This could be described as my archetypal landscape because my favourite journeys always include mountains, distant vistas, colourful fields and fruit trees, and a pathway to a metaphorical future. In this case the path is conveyed by coloured bricks to represent mankind and the communities around the world and also our connection with everything else. I always feel that art can give messages to people and I hope mine is a joyful one full of optimism.

I painted this large canvas fairly last minute as so much else happened last year and I was only 5 weeks before the deadline for posting the submission materials in December! I had an idea of what I wanted to paint, the two figures being pivotal to the expression, but other than that I let the image develop and find its own colours and shapes. It is a bit more figurative than some of my recent work but I have never seen myself as an artist who can only go along one line.

Meanwhile, this week I worked on 2 new paintings which are also based on my feelings about being in the landscape and which I will post soon.

To be continued.

How I know When a Painting is Finished: Changing Your Mind is Ok!

'The Black Road,' acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm, 2019

For this post I'd like to write about re-assessing paintings, whether they are recent or older works.

I frequently change my view on a painting, regarding whether it's finished or not, either a few days after working on it or sometimes months or years later. 

The painting above was, I thought, not finished and when I wrote about it a few posts back I said I would work on it more. At this point in time I'm seeing it as finished though as artists we can always change our minds and sometimes it's impossible to resist the call to work on something further! I've destroyed several paintings through this call, though there's no need to panic because they simply become something else.

'Sun Fan and Coast,' acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60, 2019

The more I paint the more I let time elapse before committing myself to the idea of 'finish' and for this reason I often work in series. There may be one element which I may not like which later I can find a way to integrate, or some elements which need painting over. Sometimes though, a painting is finished according to its own terms and a better idea is to start another or several others. This nearly always allows me to see if I truly need to continue or if I have merely become bogged down in irelevancies. Another example of a painting I was going to work over is 'Sun Fan and Coast,' inspired by a recent visit to Cyprus.

I'm realising more and more that if re-working a painting will change it in to something completely different, or adding things will over-complicate it or disrupt the composition, it may be better to put it aside and start something else. The reason I now feel this painting is complete is because I feel comfortable with the composition and message.

Here is another painting I looked out recently to repaint, as I sorted through work from a few years ago, but then I decided it is ok; it works within its own terms and also I have lost 'contact' with it. I can not see any particular element I want to change. One of the reasons I have posted it is because seeing a thicker application of oil paint, with textures worked in to the paint, has given me inspiration for my current work. Painting is like a spiral of ideas back and forth, up and down, everything feeding into everything else.

'My Somewhere Else,' oil on board, 45 x 35 cm, 2016

Over the years I have learned to feel more able to let a painting stand still until I feel connected enough to it to allow further work, or a totality appears to my eyes that suddenly feels complete. It certainly needs a lot of looking at work; quiet moments to just sit and try to see what is happening.

The magic of creativity in painting is that you may not see things the same way from day to day. I'm working on a large watercolour and today when I looked at it some elements jumped out at me in a way they had not appeared when I last viewed it - and these elements now seem complete - while others, which I thought were resolved now appear in need of either more emphasis or to be taken out completely. 

Finally, here is one I am still working on. I find the hardest part of painting is the last stages when your moves, like a chess game, become narrower - unless you decide to totally work over the image and start again. This painting was inspired by the realisation that this year I was finding it hard to 'let go' of winter for many reasons. Somehow the colours of winter and the dark days felt cosy and safe, with skeletal branches transformed to bright colours by sunlight, marvellous soft tones, sudden shadows drifting across blocks of trees and fields. I thought about winter as an image in which a figure is shedding a winter coat at the first signs of Spring. This one has been waiting for 2 weeks now because I want to think really carefully before my next moves.

'She Threw Off her Winter Coat and Headed Towards Spring,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 2019