Monday, April 25, 2011

Horse Projects then and now



Almost every week, I'll have reason to think of a friend's talented daughter K and something that happened several years ago. One morning, her mom (then my boss) was almost late for work, and K for school, because of K's Grade 5 project on one of her passions -- horses. As I heard it, the project was huge, complex, and creative, and K worked on it every available minute. When it came time to leave home one morning, K was not only still in pajamas, she was IN THE ZONE.


...or, as creativity guru Mihaly Csíkszentmihályi coined the phrase, she was in a state of flow:


"...being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you're using your skills to the utmost." (This quote courtesy of Wikipedia, which provides no guidance on the pronunciation of his name!)


On good studio mornings, I've been IN THE ZONE myself...until suddenly, Omigod, what time is it?


K's story touches me for its own sake and also because of its pre-quel and sequels.


The Pre-quel: At a much younger age than K was then, I had my own personal Horse Project. For endless Saturday mornings (in my memory), I sat at my little desk, writing and illustrating a multi-volume geneaology of "Blackie the Colt," my most prized stuffed animal (though hand-me-down and threadbare).





A sample page shows Blackie with her uncle and the aunt named after a friend's older and greatly admired sister.


A couple years later, we moved to another town where a new classmate was a cool kid with a horse. Yes, her own real horse. Coincidentally, she was named Judy, and she could draw horses like a dream. Of course, she knew everything about horses, and I realized from something she said that "Blackie the Colt" must, in fact, be "Blackie the Filly."

Sequel #1: K takes riding lessons and she's progressed so much that she's teaching younger kids now. She's going into high school next year and is getting rave reviews for projects even more sophisticated and comprehensive than The Horse Project. Obviously, this gal spends important time IN THE ZONE.

Sequel #2: Judy-The-Person (vs. Judy-Blackie's-aunt) has grown up to be, in her daughter's words, "still a cool kid, but now with two horses." After a lapse of some decades, she reignited her career in professional photography and as you'll see here, she spends a lot of time IN THE ZONE.

Sequel #3: In my adulthood, my mother retrieved my own Horse Project from her treasure trove, and I was astonished that it comprised only three folded pieces of cardboard. Time (and a realistic view of output?) warps when you're IN THE ZONE. These days, the author/illustrator of "The Books of Blackie the Colt" makes about one painting a month and writes a blog about..............Omigod, what time is it?



Monday, April 11, 2011

And now for something completely different

Over the years, I've done dozens of drawings of wild and garden plants in their various stages of unfolding, and finally I was struck by the obvious: For so many plants, each aspect of its being -- buds, leaves, roots, seeds -- is as striking as its flower. I had the idea of a series of paintings on this theme, an idea now partially realized with my March 2011 painting, "The Seed is the Flower."

It started with September's hastily gathered bouquet of crocosmia and rudbeckia seed heads, which sat on the front porch through the winter. One day, the time was right, and I brought it into the studio and placed it on a box well below eye level.


I made a quick study which almost immediately planted the seed of an idea.


As I worked at the painting, something kept nudging my memory. It wasn't just that the stems reminding me of my own "A Brown Study" -- but the spaces between the stems suggested...something. But what? I finished the painting -- as shown below, it's rather different from my recent still lifes. (You can view the whole progression here)


It was only then that I recalled a series of drawings/paintings in one of my art books by, surprisingly, Mondrian, master of stern geometries. Look at this sequence, and join me in wonder, at where "the spaces between" took him:--