Editorial

by Barbara Benedetti Newton, August, 2010

Just as my grandsons will go back to school and tell about what they did over the summer, I want to write about my summer workshop experience with Albert Handell.

His work is inspiring, the workshop setting was beautiful and the group of artists was kind and supportive. I even enjoyed standing in the blazing sun and painting plein air for hours. But, as a result of taking the workshop, I have developed a nagging question. Which is more important to me when creating a painting, the process or the product?

Ever since I broke away from the exacting colored pencil work of my past, I have taken joy in making imprecise marks with pastel. My art is moving toward abstraction and I work intuitively, hoping my choices of color, value and composition will come together to form pleasing relationships. When they don't, I hose the pastel off and start again. This has become my method of working and is very exciting to me. My experience with this process is scheduled to appear in The Pastel Journal, October 2010 issue.

My move toward abstraction came about because I was losing interest in painting traditional landscapes. “Pretty pictures” is the way I have come to think of my scenes that are so fully developed that they leave little to the imagination of the viewer. My intent is to create observer participation in my work. We each have a list of artists whose work inspires us. My list includes the work of Mr. Handell because his paintings go well beyond being pretty pictures. I attended his workshop eager to watch how he works, hoping that I could emulate him and regain my interest in painting literal scenes.

He carefully lays out the scene as a graphite drawing before he proceeds to a thoughtful selection of color and value. He seems to spend as much time in preparation for the pastel work as he does in applying the pastel. I noted the differences in the way we work. I just want to get to the color and texture. To paint in the manner he does, I would need to s-l-o-w down in the foundation/bones stage. When I’m not sure what to do, do nothing. Walk away. Turn the painting to the wall for a while if I have to. Be patient. Do not wash it off.

Back in my studio I began my first painting since the workshop and tried to follow his method. My graphite sketch for “Summer Sojourn” was carefully rendered. I was precise with the form of the trees and bushes and I indicated in graphite where my darkest values would be. So far, so good - I felt my painting had good bones for the next step, which for me, is an oil-wash under painting. Usually, I boldly drip, splatter and play with color, letting my foundation suggest my painting, but this time I made an effort to stay with the plan and was careful to not obliterate my graphite drawing. In selecting specific pastels for the painting, I set aside my intuitive process. Instead, I carefully compared hue, value and temperature on a test paper. I was surprised how few colors I really needed. And so, with my limited but adequate palette, I began to paint my scene.

Every stroke and color worked. Because I was painting with a plan, not by trial and error, the painting came together quickly. It was never in any danger of being washed off because it (and I) didn’t go through a phase of uncertainty. I am pleased with the result, and feel I have a successful painting/product. But, the process felt safe and predictable. I didn’t have an exciting, wild-and-crazy fun creative experience. So I wonder: which is more important, the process or the product? My optimistic artist-friend Emily suggests, “Maybe it will all come together [for you] in time, the wild and crazy fun process producing the product. It could happen...”

In the weeks since I attended the workshop, I realize the most important thing I gained is a better understanding of myself.

I can relate to these words I found while skimming a book I am about to read, “The results of artistic expression may bring relief, joy, and harmony, but the process thrives on tension. Conflict and uncertainty are the forces that carry the artist to new and unfamiliar places.”

Trust the Process: An Artist’s Guide to Letting Go by Shaun McNiff, excerpt reprinted with permission of the author.