My purpose tonight, is to present two views of my work. One goes without words, the paintings on the walls speak for themselves. But I’ve been asked to also make a verbal presentation of the perspective of a painter. I’m directing my thoughts to the student who is exploring their own possibilities and to the rest of the audience. Here is the story of my life in art.
I began making pictures as a child and found myself drawn to doing so over all other activities. I liked solving problems visually and I was good at it. I suppose that being capable encourages continuing a pursuit. I drew all the time. I went to Saturday morning childrens' drawing classes at the Cincinnati Art Museum. I remember the students took turns being drawn, with large colored crayons. But the art instructor never asked me to sit and pose for the class. She saw that I could draw and she made sure that I did.
I Paint Outdoors! When I was fourteen, Mrs. Pearlman, the same teacher, gave two students a scholarship to the Cincinnati Summer Art Academy’s Adult classes in watercolor and oil painting. The oil paint ended on my pretty summer skirts that my Mother made. The morning watercolor class met outdoors in the park where the school was located with views of the city, the Ohio River, a reservoir, pond, gardens and city streets. Once we went to paint the circus. These experiences were the beginning of my love of painting outdoors. Balancing my canvas on my lap and seated on the curb with a palette and water bottles that must not spill, I happily painted. They were day-long classes. At the end of the summer, I remember the exact place where one of my watercolors hung in the exhibit. My selective memory is of a terribly proud child.
My Schooling. I went to an excellent Art College—the University of Cincinnati—in a program where I received two degrees in four years, a Bachelor of Fine Arts and a Bachelor of Science in Education, June 1962. Though I only taught full time school for one year following graduation, I have been committed all my life to being an educator as well as a painter. After twentyfive years. with my three children nearly grown, I went back to school at New York University where I concentrated on Japanese woodblock printing under Bill Paden, and received my Master of Arts degree in 1987.
Changes in My Goals. My perspective now, is not what I expected when I graduated from college at age 22. Then, I made art because I was good at it and was challenged to be better. Then, I expected to be one of the great artists of the century. One of my teachers said as much when he recommended me for a scholarship to the Aspen Summer Art School in 1961. I had a wonderful summer in Aspen, continuing my outdoor landscape painting in watercolor. Somewhere along the way, I recognized that being famous ought not be a goal even if it is one that is attainable. Quoting Roald Dahl, “The secret of life, is to become very, very good at something that’s very, very hard to do”. This was my goal for many years. Being famous could bring a nice yearly income, but of course that is a ridiculous goal for a fine artist. Only a few attain it. Much more important to me are my relationships; how I treat my family and friends with love.
I did not expect to learn that painting is a wonderful way to come to know about myself and to know about life. Though not famous, there has been, for me, recognition of my contribution as a painter and this clarifies for me that I am somebody with worth. Everyone needs support for their value in society through their work.
Juried Shows. One of the ways I gained confidence in my work was through entering juried shows. The first one was in the year following my graduation from UC. The exhibit would be hung in the Cincinnati Art Museum. As a young woman who had spent many Saturdays there, I was very hopeful that my painting would be accepted. I still remember this painting of my husband, David, in an old fashioned swim suit along a tree-lined bank of the Little Miami River. But it did not get into the show. Many more times my work would be rejected. Many times it was also accepted. In time I learned to not take it personally. Art is subjective and each juror has different experiences and is looking for different criteria. I’ve gone to see both the shows I got into and the ones I didn’t. This helps me understand the juror’s viewpoint. If the work is all conceptual or nonobjective or abstract, no wonder mine was not accepted. With the internet, I look up a juror and determine whether she will be interested in my work. This past Spring I was accepted in the Hunterdon Art Museum in Clinton, N.J. The juror’s background was in contemporary intellectual concepts, but I took a chance, thinking that the large format of my new paintings would be viewed as contemporary. My 40 x 60 landscape was accepted. I believe the mere size interested the juror. It was the only painting that was done on location in the show. I was very pleased to be able to represent all of those doing work like mine, and glad for the high ceilings and large walls that offered me a chance to show my big ones.
Why I Paint. For me, the painter’s life is the very best choice of life work. Its main tool is the eye and looking and seeing what is out there. Most people miss a lot of the visual world in their hurried and busy lives. They are not looking. Each day my work is to observe through my eyes exactly what is taking place. For example, what kind of light makes the color of the field of grass? This is always changing and for, me always fascinating.
My Subject Is the Landscape. Since I began in 1954, at age fourteen doing watercolors in that summer class, my main subject has been the landscape, though I’ve also chosen to do cityscapes, beaches full of people and still lifes with flowers. I seem to have narrowed my subject to landscape because of how I respond to it. I always choose to be outdoors rather than in a studio. My love and joy for this experience is in all seasons. My senses seem to respond to the scents and textures in the air, to the sounds of insects, birds, and water over stones. These can’t be painted, but they open my heart to the subject that I can paint and they influence the painting. My subject allows me to work more with my feelings, intuition and instinct than with my head. I stay away from intellectual concepts and ideas, because when I do them they seem phony.
Who Do I Paint For? I use painting to discover what is hidden in me as well as in nature. I strive to find the truth about my subject and myself and to bring it before the viewer. It has been said that I paint because I have to. Perhaps that is true. Something in the subject, my subject is usually the landscape, causes me to respond and to want to put it down. Often the beauty in nature overwhelms me and astounds me. Partly I want to put it down for myself and partly I want to put it down for the viewer. It is hard to say which comes first. I look hard at the landscape and try to paint it the way I see it, but it never becomes exactly the way I’ve imagined it will. I work toward a goal of reflecting what I see and I’ve learned that when I’ve not come close that that doesn’t mean I lack a good painting. Sometimes it is that very painting that may be the best one, but I can never make that judgment immediately upon finishing. It will take time to see it properly. I become so involved in my work that I am incapable of being able to remove myself and see what I’ve painted. Not reaching my intent and idea of perfection is why I keep trying again and this makes me come to paint the next painting! The process of making a painting is like working a puzzle. Which piece comes first, next, and where is the last one that connects the whole and how does it all fit together? How can I show what is happening in nature at the moment that I responded?
My Medium Is Watercolor. I also paint because I love the challenge of making beautiful pictures with colors and water on beautiful papers and I want to communicate that experience. I had a wonderful teacher in college from whom I learned a great deal of life and art, but also of the medium of watercolor. Phil Foster, of Cincinnati, was great in oil, too. I too, thought I’d use both mediums, but found when I had three young children that it was quick to get in a watercolor while the children napped. Also it was less messy. Now, I realize that it was my choice much more because it fit my personality. I like to make decisions quickly. Too many choices in oil drive me mad trying to make one. I also rarely see an oil that I respond to as much as a watercolor. I like the transparency, the brilliance, the spontaneity, the directness and the freshness.
I think of watercolor as a spontaneous medium which means that things sometimes happen out of your control! When you do not like the image, you may have to change it in some way. Mistakes can lead to better solutions because they open your imagination to new answers. They get you on to something you did not think of before. They stretch your thinking. They help you to be more resourceful to other ways of communicating your vision. It is more possible than most people think to make corrections in watercolor. For example, beginning with a wet surface, you are able to make changes in your errors because they are light or pale in color. Keeping your color light in the beginning, gives you time to discover how you are going to paint the landscape. It gives you time to make changes before you add darker colors. In watercolor, you may keep adding transparent colors on top of the original color if you let it dry. The color underneath will show through and enrich the color on top. Generally, adding one more color onto the paper is enough. Later, as you progress, there may be times when you will choose to break this rule. Also, I think of the painting as guiding me rather than me guiding it.
Selling Paintings. From time to time I am fortunate to sell my paintings. My first two sales where made in my last year of college and signed with my maiden name. A few years ago, a friend’s son in the Poconos, Nick Salmon, discovered one of these in a home while he was a student in Cincinnati. He was pleasantly amused and mailed me a slide of it. It was of Clifton and Ludlow Avenues, a busy intersection near the University and I had sold it for $35 in 1962. I also remember the second, smaller one that I sold of an Aspen meadow, also at $35. Of course I no longer remember all of my paintings. I am always happy when someone wants one. I do not know how it feels to be painting without some response. For me, this is the other end of painting where I am communicating to others. However, I hope that my strong sense of right and wrong is always present. To make a painting for money as if it was a product is wrong. This is commercial art. In Fine Art the work should always be done, first for its own sake. If it results in a sale, that is a byproduct. The integrity of the artist must be for the art, not the dollar. Unless they’re extremely lucky, artists need to make an income some other way than through their work.
The Creative Light. I tell my students that painting must be done through the love of it. I tell them that if they’re having fun then that is a good indication. I remind myself of the same. Am I having fun? Because then I am exploring and experimenting. I tell my students that painting is not supposed to feel like work, as in drudgery. Our spirits needs to be open for the creative light to flow through to the work. I tell my students and myself to relax. Remember how you liked making pictures when you were little? It can still be that way. Remind yourself of that, when you feel it’s not going right. That helps to relax your self-criticism. By experimenting, it may not go the way you expect. That is part of the fun because the unexpected can be a delightful surprise. You may find yourself saying, “Wow, did I do that?”
I often begin with meditation and breathing techniques in order to come to this kind of freedom for painting. In classes, I tell the student to sit with the subject and begin when they’ve responded. They will know when that is.
Beginning a new body of work is sometimes difficult. When I’ve had travel and family obligations, etc. that have taken me away from my work for a period of time and I’ve broken the rhythm and discipline, I often avoid the beginning of a new painting. I become intimidated by the masters who’ve come before. Thinking, that the next painting must be better and more important than all the rest will stop the flow. By aiming for a masterpiece I never get one. It must come out of my response and the joy that occurred. Once I begin, the rest is easy. Finishing, I am renewed, energized and happy. I wonder what the fuss was? As I’ve experienced the process over and over, I’ve learned that doing the work always makes me feel better.
Painting for the Soul. I did not know that a life time of painting would effect my philosophy of life or my spiritual growth. The work you do makes you who you are. My views are a result of what I’ve learned through painting. For example, I am aware of a dimension beyond the real and rational surface of life where I live everyday. I have experienced the mystical because I paint. Sometimes I have finished a painting not remembering that it was me who controlled the brush. Was it, I ask myself? A painter has a lot of time alone in the studio, or for me, the landscape. More time to reflect, wonder, marvel, breathe the air than many other occupations. I think this is positive for the soul.
The process of painting is a kind of meditation because the focus on the subject is so intense and direct. Time is no longer linear and I become absorbed in the moment while hours go by. Now I paint to let go of the world and to experience peace. In 2001 I was painting on 9/11. Later in the day when I heard of terrorists taking planes and destroying lives, I decided that the only thing I could do was to keep on painting. The next day I painted the same subject again, but this time I made it very big, a 40 x 60.
