After publishing this blog post, I'm going to my new art studio. I now share this fantastic space, just above the State Theater in downtown Portland, with five other people. My scheduled time slots are exclusively for me. In all the ways that matter, this is my own studio.
In the '90s, I needed to write. I had to write. It didn't matter what, as long as words were coming out of me onto paper (or the computer screen). This year is the time when I need to draw or paint. There is a physical need in me to get out all of this stuff, these feelings, these visions, these ideas.
Recently a friend asked me to make a picture for her to buy. So much of me wanted to say I couldn't take her up on the idea. I'm still pretty nervous about how it might work out. What if she hates what I make? I was also worried I wouldn't know what to draw/paint. She asked me to make something that was sort of about her (paraphrasing).
Setting aside my nerves because it was such a compliment that she had asked, I told her I had to wait until something came to me. Then, about a week ago, I started seeing her drawing/painting. I need to check out what colors of oil pastels I have to see if I might start working on her picture today. Her picture has become more persistent and insistent. I see it pretty regularly now. I'm very interested to see how it will look compared with what I'm seeing and feeling in my mind.
The other picture I might start will be of a tree. I already know the title of the picture (for most pictures the title comes to me only after I finish it, or mid-way through the creation process). While I know what feelings the painting will be about, the layout has me stumped (ha! tree? stumped?). I want to draw it on the left side with the branches reaching over to the right, but that feels so school child-like. As I'm writing, though, I'm zooming in closer onto the tree and have some new possible ideas.
When I get into the studio, I want to start drawing something. Anything. I know the huge feelings I have about the studio space might make me start an entirely unexpected drawing/painting once I'm actually in the space.
My friend asking me to make her a picture is an honor. A gift. Even if she didn't pay a dime just her suggestion and the lessons I'm learning about myself and my picture making process are worth so much more than money. A picture made "on commission" just like real artists sometimes do.


Salon.com
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