The New Work

Well, you don't have a picture of the new painting, because I painted over it tonight! Last night I spent four hours painting and stood back and looked at the work. I knew immediately that it just didn't work and I needed to do something about it or it would bother me incessantly. So, I left it last night, thinking about the painting and what I could do to solve it. I came up with an epiphany today at work as I doodled in my book. I knew exactly how to resolve 2 of the compositional dilemma's with one blow. So tonight I fixed up an old painting and started work on the new one, covering up all my hard work from last night. You would think I would feel some remorse about that, but actually I don't.
Somebody once said that at times, you have to produce bad art to get to the good art. I suppose it's much the same as a sports person having a bad day. So, I'm really thrilled to be moving in a direction that seems to be veering toward completion. I'm already formulating designs and ideas for the next work. I think I'm going to invest in the really expensive cotton paper, since it is heavenly to work on.
This week I've been looking at the paintings and contemplating that saying: "A bad craftsman blames his tools". What a laugh! Whoever came up with that saying was quite clearly an accountant. Or a lawyer. Definitely not somebody who works with tools at all. I can quite honestly say that the difference between paper that costs R150/sheet and paper that costs R50/sheet is so enormous, you'd have to be blind and void of all sense of touch not to notice. I used the best quality acrylic paint for the first time 10 months ago, and I'm absolutely certain an orchestra appeared from nowhere and began a thundering chorus of Beethoven's 9th symphony in my ear. While the neighbours may find the occasional burst of the choral symphony rather annoying, I now completely expect it as I open the tube of gleaming white and mix it into the cheaper colours sprawled across my palette. I work meticulously in colour code - my palette looks like an acrylic rainbow apart from the ochres, umbers and siennas! And the effect when the magnificent and expensive acrylic hits the canvas is truly magical.
I'm inclined to be secretive about my response to art. I once revealed to someone that certain paint texture is so appealing that it makes my mouth water. Well, you'd think I told the person some hideously grotesque confession and they've not quite gotten over it - they still give me the scardey cat eyeball!
But there are most definitely tools that enhance an artists talents enormously. The art shop that I purchase my materials from is a really amazing little place. It belongs to an artist and her husband. She's a genial little lady with pale skin and short red hair. She wears glasses and has that marvelous flat eastern cape accent that makes everyone else shiver! She spends most of her time in baggy clothing with the occasional paint smattering. She's wonderful and freely dispenses advice and discounts to cash paying clients. She calls me the Paper Lady, since I've never really bought much else. I didn't think I had that much stock of paints, but evidently I do. Her husband is also a short middle aged man with a slight stoop. He is an American and is seldom in the shop. I surmise that he comes and takes over when she's busy or out. The shop is at the front of their house - to say that I could spend the day in there would really be a gross understatement of the truth. My point is (finally) I was chatting to the husband one day and asking him about better quality oils. He gave me the run down and then his countenance darkened as he lowered his voice.
"Now this is the good stuff," he seemed to transform magically before my eyes into a shady figure with a trench coat, "But you really don't wanna start using this," his American drawl continued, "It's like heroin, once you start you can't stop." Since I'm not on the drug scene, I have no idea what they go for, but R200/tube certainly sounded like a heck of an expensive habit for me start.