Digging Deeper - Unleashing Creative Expression in Representational Art

Have you ever gone into a gallery or browsed a fine art show displaying representational work and noticed that much of the art looks similar? Perhaps the paint application follows one of the current trends, or you see the same themes in subject matter repeated over and over. How many pieces stand out as truly unique? Do you get the sense of the artist's spirit or passions in any of them?

When you notice pieces that stand out, that capture your interest, what makes them stand out? Subject matter, a sense of humor, paint application, sculptural quality, materials, or...?

When I became a corporate art curator in New England (northeast USA), I really noticed a sense of "sameness" in representational art. Painfully few representational artists whose work I viewed created work that was truly unique, special, or different. My goal was to find works where the "creative soul" of the artist peeked out from behind the layers of paint. Unfortunately I kept seeing the same subject matter in similar styles from different artists. I wondered if they all studied together, or painted together, or read the same books? Why the apparent similarity? And how could we as artists break through this and allow our true selves to shine forth in our work?

This also made me start thinking about my own work, realizing I was falling into the "sameness" trap. That concerned me. I wanted my art to say something more, to reflect more of what I was as a person, to display more of myself. I wanted to be interested in my own paintings, not bored by them. 

Yes, you could say that I had an epiphany :-)

I think as representational artists, once we learn the craft of our art, most of us truly do want to create unique work that is instantly recognizable as "ours." Unfortunately we're often not taught how to do that within the representational framework. I know this was not part of my training at my very traditional art school, in workshops, or when I studied one-on-one with artists. I was most often proclaimed "successful" when I painted like the instructor.

Excuse me? Isn't that somehow anti-creative?

I don't think this is anything new. In fact, this is how artists have learned their craft for thousands of years, by studying with and copying the work of people more knowledgeable. That's all fine and dandy (and even necessary) when learning the basics of paint application or sculpting marble or drawing the figure. We need to learn the basics of our chosen "craft" - how to apply paint so that it doesn't peel off, how to effectively mix color, how to choose a chunk of marble that doesn't have a fracture....but what comes after that stage? Once we learn our "craft," what then?

It seems to me we're missing something in the representational art world.

We're missing that next level - the individual learning or development that comes after the "student" stage. We're not consistently teaching representational artists how to let their creative spirit shine through in their work.

It's my belief that each one of us has a unique creative spirit and a unique form of creative expression that, if we truly let it out, would make our work truly OURS. If you're an artist, isn't that what you want for your work?

Abstract artists are taught this in their art schooling, but it may come at the expense of learning the "craft" of art. Representational artists are taught the craft aspect of art quite well, but the creative spirit is often ignored. I think it's time we knock down some walls and learn from eachother, perhaps even merge the two forms of teaching and come out as stronger, more creative artists on the other side.

But let's be practical about it - art schools aren't going to change overnight. And if art school doesn't teach unique creative expression to representational artists, how then do you as an artist learn to go to that next level on your own?

How do you make your chosen form of expression truly your own?

For me it started by a year of playing and experimenting with paint, supports, grounds, and ideas. A year of unlearning, exploring, then reconfiguring what I wanted to say in paint...mostly on my own. Sometimes solitude is just what we need to make a creative breakthrough. I was encouraged by and learned from others: Valencia Begay, a wonderful friend of Navajo ancestry who helped me to gently let go of the artist I was before; another friend, a brilliant and creative photographer who encouraged me to step outside the norm; Mary Brooking, whose work and form of expression I greatly admire; and Nicole Hyde, an artist here in Colorado who has really learned how to imbue her paintings with her own unique form of creative expression.

The style that came from these experiments is still a work in progress, as it should be. I fully expect it to change and grow and morph as I learn more about myself, my Spirit, and the Universe around me.

During the time I actively experimented, I realized other folks might also want to learn how to let their Spirit shine through in their art so I developed  a 6 week class ("Unleashing Your Creative Spirit") that walks artists through the main part of the creative discovery process.*

To whet your appetite, though, I'll share a few tips here in this blog. Here's the first:

Learn to question and let go of the "shoulds," the assumptions, and the habits you've been carrying with you for no real reason.

For example, "oil paintings should not be touched" is one I carried with me for a long time. When I thought about it and questioned the assumption, I realized that was not what I wanted for my art. I also realized that I actually could create oil paintings in such a way to allow and encourage casual touches. I remembered how much I loved texture and wanted to merge a little sculpture into my oil paintings, so I had to let go of my preconceived notion that oil paintings should not be touched. Once I did that, I was able to work on ways to create touchable paintings.

To be continued...

*A separate, independent-study book is in the works. If you are interested in trying the class out for free, please contact me for details at nancyr_artist (at) live.com.
 

Espiritu

Remembrances of Ancestors are hallmarks of the peoples of Mesoamerica. 

Since ancient times, the Maya celebrated their ancestors in festivals similar to the modern "Day of the Dead". These aren't times of sadness. Rather they are upbeat, spirited celebrations of the lives of people who have touched us in some way. Without those who have gone before, we may not have been here or be the people we are today. 

These Celebrations are times to remember lives well-lived, or the little angels who touched us briefly. I personally love that this tradition has stayed with us through the European conquest because to me, the practice of honoring the lives of our loved ones gives us a sense of continuity, of time that is bigger than just our own century or so here on Earth. That we are the products of our ancestors, and at the same time we are influencing many generations yet unborn. 

There is also much personal meaning for me in this piece. I was born on Nov 2, one of the Days of the Dead, and several of my immediate family members, including my own little "angelito", have passed during the month of November. This is my piece in remembrance of them. 

The graffiti art form depicting Day of the Dead symbols seemed appropriate, as did the little gray ghost in the corner (a Gray Fox). Marigolds grow at the base of the wall, another Day of the Dead offering.

The Muse Part III - The Finish

With a few more hours of work yesterday and again tonight, I think I'll call this one complete...for now :-)  Yep, there is always a chance (a good chance) I'll fiddle with it a little more but any changes I make from here on out will be pretty minor.

Yesterday I added greenish moss and growing things to the stone. I got a little carried away and ended up removing about 2/3 of the moss. That much moss (it was a lot!) just didn't "read" right to me in this context. Sometimes less is more, I guess. In this case, I think the huge amounts of moss detracted from the sculpture and added too much warmth and interest to the background. Removing most of it did the trick of softening the stone a little and bringing a little life into the background.

I also toned down and cooled some of the brights in the sculpture. They were a little too bright and competed with the Jaguar for interest. On the Jaguar, I adjusted the light source a little, darkening, and in places cooling, more of the animal's left side and adding some purple reflected light.

Today I spent time pulling everything together - putting green and purple reflected light on the Jaguar since it will definitely be picking up the colors of its surroundings. The green is subtle but I felt it did its job of tying the animal a little closer to the background.

I added some glazes of warmth to the sculpture - oranges and browns - to repeat some of the warm tones that are in the Jaguar.

I also toned down some of the green moss by glazing over it with a muted red.

"God of the Night Sun" Oil on textured panel, 24"x30"

Time for me to move on to other paintings for now...



All text and pictures copyright Nancy Rynes, 2013. You may link to this site, but please do not copy anything from it without my written permission.

The Muse Takes Control Part II

Even a few days away from the easel didn't take away from an internal need to work on this painting. Today's work, about 5 hours' worth, consisted of developing the background sculpture of the Mayan deity.

Modeling the sculpture was a little more difficult than I thought - I kept the paint layers relatively thin and transparent, although thicker ("fatter") than the base layer from last time. I wanted to indicate the sculpture's three dimensionality but at the same time keep its colors cool so that it would stay "behind" the Jaguar.

The colors I used were muted versions of purple, green, blue, and even a little red.

I tried to keep the detail on the sculpture at a minimum because I want the main detail to be in the Jaguar, making it the focus.

Stage 4 on "God of the Night Sun" Oil on texture panel, 24"x30"

Now I'll let this dry overnight and tomorrow will work on muting down the background sculpture a bit. I might even add a few plants and vines and mosses to soften all of that rock.

Continue to Part III...

Content and paintings are copyright Nancy Rynes, 2013. You may link to this page, but please do not copy or in any way use these works without my written consent.

The Muse takes Control

Up until about 3 or 4 years ago, most of my paintings came about in a pretty typical way for a representational painter: I'd see or take a picture of something and then decide to paint it. I'd often play around with the composition or lighting, add or subtract elements, or alter the "mood" a bit. But most of my paintings originated through this rather "left-brained" process.

I was pretty happy with this approach. After all, this is what I learned in art school and later, my mentors here in Colorado. Many, many representational artists create much of their work in this way. There is nothing wrong with this. Being inspired by what an artist directly sees or experiences has been a pretty well-accepted approach to art for the last 5,000 years or more.

But there have been artists of all kinds who have created works in slightly different ways. Sometimes, as in the song "Yesterday" written by Paul McCartney or the book Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, the work comes to us in a dream. Others might "see" a finished painting or sculpture suddenly pop into their brains while doing something else, such as driving or meditating, then later create the piece as they saw it in their mind's eye.  Others at times seem to tap directly into an unseen source or flow of creative inspiration. We might call this a Muse, our creativity, or our artistic spirit - something that seems to speak to us, that tells us what to create, or guides us along the path to a finished work.

About four years ago, my creative process started to change. I may write about this more later, but the short of it is that I moved to Maine and somehow that shook up my creative side. Through a series of dreams, spiritual episodes, and meeting some key people, my Muse started to "talk" with me.

No, I'm not crazy :-) In modern terms I guess you would say that I began to allow myself to fully listen to my deep, inner well of creative vision.

Or is it that I allowed The Real Creator to speak through me?

Many spiritual leaders have taught that the Source of all deep creativity is The Creator ("God," or however you envision such a being or force). I'm beginning to really feel the truth of this, especially with my latest painting.

In late June, I started to get an internal sense that I needed to do a painting featuring a Jaguar, the four-legged King of the Mesoamerican forests. The ancient Maya kings also aligned themselves closely with the Jaguar, and many kings adopted "jaguar" as part of their kingly name.

I allowed that internal sense to percolate for a while, "thinking" that I would pair the Jaguar with a Mayan sculpture of a Jaguar in the background. But that's not what my Muse wanted me to paint :-)

My mentors and instructors never told me what happens when the Muse takes over...

"She" started waking me up at 3 or 4 AM, urging me to work on the painting. I finally gave in one morning last week and started working through my library of photos of Mayan art and architecture, through books of old archaeological drawings from the first European scientists who studied the ancient Maya, and through sketches of heiroglyphs, names of rulers.

I finally came across the name of a deity and something clicked: the background would be a sculpture of The Night Sun God.

"God of the Night Sun" stage 1, laying it out.

The Muse continues to wake me up early, urging me to continue working on the painting.

"God of the Night Sun" stage 2, blocking in the Jaguar.

"God of the Night Sun" stage 3, day 1 is complete.

At the end of the first full day of painting, I'm mentally worn out and am more than ready to let this dry overnight. 

Continue to Part II...

Content and paintings are copyright Nancy Rynes, 2013. You may link to this page, but please do not copy or in any way use these works without my written consent.

Evolution of a Style III: A New Dose of Inspiration

As an artist, I've come to terms with the fact that my creativity sometimes comes in waves and occasionally needs a jump start.

I have a large one-person show coming up in October and have been painting for it now for a few months. OK, I admit I should probably say "struggling with painting for it" because, at times, being at the easel felt very difficult rather than energizing.

By early June, I knew I needed a new dose of inspiration.

Mesa Verde to the rescue!

I admit to being scared about taking 2 weeks away from the easel just when I was at my busiest, but in the end it I think I'll be more productive for having taken the break.

Of course I came away with a lot of photos that will make their ways into paintings at some point. But I think I came away with something even more intangible: a deeper and clearer sense of history, a sense of the amazing creativity of both the Ancient and modern "Pueblo" peoples, a deeper sense of the connectedness and richness of cultures here in the Americas before Columbus even dreamed of sailing west. I began to deeply appreciate the amazing architects that have lived here on this continent for thousands of years. How difficult it must have been to eke out a living in a changing landscape and climate. 

I hope too that these intangible elements, feelings, somehow make their way into my paintings.

I will say that driving home was both sad and joyful - I always shed tears when I leave the Mesa Verde area, but dozens of ideas for new paintings flooded my brain on the long car trip home.

Newspaper Rock, Utah - Ancient Social Media?

A continuation of my series on ancient rock art sites of North America...

I tend to think of Newspaper Rock, Utah, as the Social Media center of its day. I have no idea if it was, really, but it seems like a possibility. I like to try to envision an ancient ancestor of 1,000 years ago, gazing upon this rock trying to decide what message to leave today.

In a relatively small area of rock are hundreds of pictures pecked into the patinated surface, some perhaps 2,000 years old (or older). Images include animals like bison, antelope, bighorn sheep, canids (dogs, wolves, or coyotes), flying squirrels, deer, elk, lizards, birds, and even horses. Images of people abound, as do abstract symbols that may make no sense to us in the modern day. Footprints of bear, people, children, deer, and birds amble across the surface of the rock as if their maker had just disappeared over the top of the boulder.

The sheer number of images is overwhelming...below are two samples:

As in many other sites, we're not really sure who left us these images, or why. Good bets are Archaic people from 2,000 years ago or more (nomadic hunter-gatherers), and what we now call Ancient Pueblo, "Fremont", modern Pueblo, Anglo, and possibly Ute.

And why this particular rock? Today it's along a pretty busy route near the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park - perhaps this was a pathway frequented by ancient peoples as well. The patination of the surface of this particular rock is also very dark, making it very easy to distinguish images pecked into its surface. And its surface is at present-day ground level - easy to access, either for the artist or viewer. 

Then again, it's very possible that this site  had some sort of spiritual significance to the ancients who first used it to record a message, prayer, or important event. Later generations added to it and this possibly added to the significance of the site too.

Some images seem to record the coming of the invaders on horseback - perhaps Spanish, perhaps Anglo. Others appear to be symbols significant to modern Pueblo peoples: the Snake, concentric circles, heartlines in animals (see above), and handprints.

Whatever the messages or the significance of the site, this is one of my favorite places to visit in Utah. The sense of deep history is just a palpable here as at Mesa Verde or Chaco Canyon. People made these images. People similar to you and me - hardier in some ways, more in tune with Nature, just as intelligent and sensitive and feeling as we are. People wanting to leave a mark or a message or a prayer, or record a story or event. 

We're not so different at our cores, are we?

Evolution of a Style Part II: The Overlap of Art and Science

Something I've had to embrace in the last few years is the duality of my personality and my interests: I love both art and science. Unusual? Maybe, although I find that quite a few scientists are also gifted creatively too. For many it's music, for others, poetry or creative writing. Some love photography of one form or another. And while sculpting or painting isn't common among scientists, it's my gift and I think it suits me.

My studies many moons ago at University were a combination of geology and archaeology. I love old stuff, I love trying to figure out old stuff, and I love Nature. I love knowing that I am just a small part of this world in both space and time. I guess science keeps me humble and allows me to connect with both people and Nature of the past.

But I'm artistic too - maybe moreso than I am analytical or logical. I think visually, in pictures, most of the time. Putting my thoughts into words can be a real challenge - and so I find it pretty amusing that I spend a lot of time these days writing about science. I started drawing when I was a wee lass - by the age of 6 I was much more accomplished at drawing than I was at speaking. I also wanted to be an archaeologist or a paleontologist. As a kid I just accepted my dual nature. It was me and I was OK with it.

But for most of my adult life I've felt as though I've needed to "be" either one or the other - artist OR scientist, creative OR analytical. I flip-flopped back and forth between art and science, probably to my own detriment. I always felt something was missing in my life as I embraced one side or the other. I felt split down the middle, and never really comfortable wearing either hat by itself. Adults can be so strange sometimes!

But a few years ago a friend of mine, Valencia B., a wonderfully spiritual Navajo woman, challenged me to merge the two side of my personality and see what resulted. Since then I've allowed them to come together in my "Fusion" series of paintings. This latest piece, "Lord of the Winds" is an example.

What does it mean to merge both sides of my personality in my art?

For me it means allowing my inner science geek to have fun: reading scientific journals, keeping up with a few scientists' blogs, visiting museums, volunteering on research projects, wandering around at ancient, sacred sites letting the stones speak to me, reading books....and then taking all of this, giving it a chance it to "stew" in my creative mind, and allowing elements to combine in ways my inner scientist wouldn't have dreamed of.

In the end, the artist always wins out. 

The piece above had its beginnings by my stumbling across a line drawing of the Mayan God of the Wind in a book about the history of the Maya. Just a line drawing and a few words about the deity and the part he played in the culture. Months later, after I had "forgotten" about the line drawing (or thought I'd forgotten about it), this painting popped into my brain, essentially complete. I "saw" it there in my mind as if it were already done, a memory. The only thing I needed to do was paint it! Confusing isn't it, but that's how many of my paintings are inspired - I see them as finished products in my mind's eye.

I had to relocate the line drawing in the book and then, using photos of Mayan temples and sculptures as general reference as to what their ancient stonework looked like, I invented the background carving of the Wind God. So it's a "what might be," not a "what is." The carving itself doesn't exist as I've depicted it here (as far as I know it doesn't). I invented it to suit the painting that I wanted, or rather needed, to create. I wasn't constrained by something that already existed - I was free to invent the sculpture and its colors and patina to suit the finished painting.

The reference photo of the Mot Mot (the bird) was taken by Steve Jurvetson and I adapted it for my use here in this painting. I liked the Rufous Mot-Mot because its reddish colors echoed the warm peach tones and the purples I wanted to emphasize in the stone background sculpture.

Fusing the inner science geek with my artist continues to be both challenging and fun - and ultimately personally rewarding. This series of paintings is probably more "me" than any other paintings I've created, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Evolution of a Style: Part I, The First Step

About a year ago, a new style (or maybe "theme" is a better word) emerged for me that combined my love of history with that of nature. 

"Discovery" Oil on panel, 24"x36" (copyright Nancy Rynes)

I'm still enjoying painting these pieces - they're probably more "me" than anything else I've ever done. But I knew at the time that I let these new pieces out into the world, they would have a lasting effect on my more literal, less symbolic works which I also still enjoy creating.

Over the last few months, really since I finished the painting below (The Gift), I noticed that my technique for painting my more literal pieces was beginning to change subtly. 

"The Gift" Oil on linen, 18"x24" (copyright Nancy Rynes)

Now, compare the paint application in "The Gift" to that in the painting below, done over a year ago:

"Red-Tailed Hawk Study" Oil on Board, 16"x12" (copyright Nancy Rynes)

While the paint application on the birds is very similar between the two paintings, the backgrounds and edges are quite a bit different. The Hawk painting has thicker paint, especially in the background, and much harsher edges. It's definitely powerful, but not exactly what I had intended to achieve. 

My paint application has gradually thinned since the Hawk study, a bit more controlled and at the same time, softer in edge handling. Applying paint thickly and energetically is fun, but for me it's also barely-controlled chaos. It was really easy for the whole mess to spiral out of control where the only solution was to scrape and start over. It also made it more difficult for me to achieve the softer edges that I wanted, especially in my paintings of birds. I finally reached the point a few weeks ago where I was totally frustrated with this thicker paint application. I felt like I was forcing myself into this technique, and it didn't feel right to me anymore.

With the slow move to softer edges and thinner paint application, my paintings started to achieve that softness I was looking for - but it's not quite there yet. I'm on the right track, though. This painting, called "A Little Attitude" is closer to what I want to achieve:

"A Little Attitude" Oil on Canvas, 9"x12" (copyright Nancy Rynes)

Being frustrated with the technique of thicker paint application, and knowing I'm closing in on the look I want, I've decided to spend some time in concentrated experimentation with paint and surfaces. What I need now is to bring a little more thought into the process, but at the same time leave myself open to play and serendipity. 

Play and experimentation are valuable techniques for any artist in the evolution of a style. I teach this to my students and now it's time for me to live it myself for a few months.

My goal: I want to somehow combine a softer, thinner base paint application with finishing touches of more impasto-like flourishes. I want my edges to be more varied - more softness overall with harder edges at the focal points. I want more luminosity in the finished product - a better handling of light and glow and sparkle.

I'm not sure where this path will lead, if anywhere, but it promises to be interesting and fun. I hope you'll check back on my progress as I share ups and downs, progress and setbacks, lessons learned, and maybe an interesting new slant to my traditional work.

Content and paintings are copyright Nancy Rynes, 2013. You may link to this page, but please do not copy or in any way use these works without my written consent.

Buckhorn Wash Pictographs, Utah

The San Rafael Swell of central Utah houses one of the largest concentrations of ancient rock art of any place in the world. Human-like figures from long ago dance on alcove walls. Paintings of small birds - hummingbirds perhaps? - "fly" over their heads. Images of Bighorn Sheep, Pronghorn, coyotes, and domestic dogs accompany the painted humans in their timeless vigil.

One of the Swell's most easily-accessible sites is also one of its most magnificent - Buckhorn Wash.

The main set of pictographs (rock paintings) at Buckhorn Wash depict humans and humanoids in the Barrier Canyon Style - similar to the art I wrote about at Sego Canyon. To me, most of the figures seem to be a hybrid between the older Barrier Canyon Style and the relatively more recent Fremont Style, but this could simply be stylistic differences beween artists and tribes living at a similar time. Until archaeologists are able to definitively date these panels, my view is just speculation.

The entire panel takes up about 130 feet of the cliff face in the Wash. In one portion of the Buckhorn panel - the most famous part - human figures sporting something like wings or fringed clothing hold their arms out. Are they trying to fly? Are they dancing? We just don't know. 

Viewers coming here with a Christian mindset may see "angels" even though these paintings were likely completed centuries before the birth of Jesus. Other folks see the work of "shamans" or the illustrations of visions or psychedelic experiences (usually, they say, the result of hallucinogenic substances). Still others are convinced this art is proof of space aliens. Why are we so keen on attributing this art to shamanism, drug usage, supernatural beings, angels, or aliens? 

Well, I think it's because we're trying to view this art through the filter of our own, very modern viewpoints and experiences. Let's give these Ancients some credit and try to see things from their perspective for a change.

Take a walk through a few modern-day art galleries and note what you find - my guess is you'll see a huge variety of work by some very creative artists. Some artists record what they see or experience in their daily life. Some depict their sleeping dreams, others, psychedelic experiences. Still others incorporate political commentary in their art, while some might depict their religious beliefs. Some artists paint their families or pets or flowers or the animals they see every day and others work from and depict emotion and intuitive insights. 

We don't walk through a modern gallery and assume most of the work we see is the result of drug use or religious beliefs. Perhaps some are, but most aren't. Why then would we view the works of the Ancients any differently? They were humans just like us. They were individuals who were creative and intelligent (if you don't believe me, you try to spend even a season living off the land in Utah). And they probably  had many different reasons for creating art on rock, most of it we may never understand.

It's OK to never understand - yet we persist in trying to mold what we see into something identifiable in our world. Or we try to shape it to fit into our individual beliefs and prejudices. If this describes you, stop for a minute and just appreciate this ancient art for what it is - ancient art. Allow it to retain its mystery.

Some of us may still view the Ancients through the filter of modern American (Caucasian) culture where there persists unrealistic, entrenched views of Native Americans either being inferior or else living in some completely idyllic, Utopian harmony with Nature and the Creator. The truth is probably far from either of those beliefs. The Ancient "Americans" were people, like you and me, intelligent and creative, full of hopes and dreams and faults, trying to live their lives well but sometimes making mistakes. Sometimes life was easy, sometimes difficult. They learned and played and loved and passed on their knowledge and beliefs to the next generation - through stories and perhaps through art on rock.

Perhaps a Spirit world was very important to them and these images pay homage to this. Or maybe these paintings tell tales of individuals in the tribe, their travels, exploits, and meetings with other clans. Maybe these images record people in families or generations of families - like a modern day family tree. Perhaps they are the result of hopes or dreams or visions. Or maybe they illustrate stories of heroes and villians, hunting expeditions, or lovers and enemies. Or are they they work of ancient "graffiti artists" - young men and women who just wanted to make their presence known by painting on the cliffs?

We'll likely never know, and that's OK. I like a bit of mystery in my life.