the gritty field journal
by Lucky-Jack
I can think of very few relationships as one sided as art. Really. For most of us Art will never pay the mortgage or buy groceries. If this makes us salty, its likely because we have been conditioned to value things (and people) disproportionately based on their monetary value. Above: Clive Barker's 'Abarat' inspired nightmare mermaid. We likely won't be seeing her hanging in the Louvre anytime soon. For myself this is a struggle to unlearn. This goes far past my painting and into my feelings of self worth. This 'whats the point' attitude has prevented so much creativity. Now instead I like to ask "Why not?"
If creativity really doesn't matter, what do we have to loose from indulging it? Our time? What's one less YouTube how too video? Or one less Game of Thrones episode? None of us believe that after we die our net worth is tallied in the sky for all to see. Personally, its a life goal of mine that when I perish detectives are forced to paw through my belongings and there simply must be scandalous shit in there to find. So maybe its time we apply "Why not?" to our art. And while we are at it, why not apply it to more of our life too.
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Your art supplies don't have to be great to make art. Its so easy to invalidate our creativity because we feel gate-kept by better supplies or knowledge. Above: This pocket pallet is conveniently small and sure looks pretty in pictures but that's about where it ends I'm afraid. Above: A mixing chart reveals the truth, the paints are not a great selection (black and orange aren't pallet standards). These paints have different consistencies and separate out hella grainy. My next paints will be different. Probably with better blues so I can mix a wider range of greens as I mostly paint plants. Above: Ahh yes only the finest will do! This paper warps and lifts but honestly ITS FINE. I didn't even know a year ago if I was going to stick with this. I fully expected to loose this crumby field journal before I ever finished it. And considering its gone from Hawaii to Alaska and nearly every airport in between its frankly a miracle its lasted. My next notebook will likely be a moleskin landscape book now that I know this size is perfect. Embrace the short comings The very nature of art supplies is that they are temporary, meant to be used up as they serve us. How many times have we kept "the good stuff" safe under our bed or in the back of a closet to afraid to ruin it? This is the beauty of shitty supplies. Zero fear. Zero guilt. So ignore self-doubt and especially the idea that only high end materials can make it real art. Anyone who says otherwise is likely trying to sell you something. No amount or quality of supplies will give us more time, better subject matter or permission to be creative. The magic ingredient will always be you. Its hard to return from travel. All those problems we left behind, were just keeping our seat warm and waiting.... An unexpected benefit of keeping the travel log was helping me bridge the gap between adventures. Returning to predictable-but-safe harbors undeniably comes with niceties. Like a flat, level surface and a desk lamp. Above: Paintings were done on site, but much of my text and ink work is filled in after I return.
There is no substitute for a field journal, not in science and not in art. Many times while doing research projects I later had to pull out gritty sun faded Write in the Rain books to reference paper notes. And not just for data, but also other observations I hadn't known would be relevant at the time as we attempted to unravel the dumb plant mysteries what constituted my graduate work. How does this relate to art or productivity? Because even when we cannot be painting or drawing we must always be looking. Above: finished and still wet painting side by side with planning page and sketches...and inglorious paper plate pallet. Production is often just a small part of art. Take a moment to consider music. That concert may only be an hour long...just long enough for my knees to hurt as I loose focus to contemplate my suddenly mortal no longer 20-something body. But that stage performance could not have happened without the many hours of prep work. Painting is like this. Its easier to avoid stage fright when faced with a blank canvas when armed with a plan and a lot of experience. Left: We picked coffee in the forest while being eaten by mosquitoes and covered with ants. It was sticky and itchy. My 10x30 inch painting took two hours in the studio. I pay for space by the hour. I was able to do this because I had formerly scrutinized my subject in the field. Then, once in the hotel (safely away from all that hungry-for-my-blood nature), I made a detailed record of those observations. After, I did some additional research and added more observations as I processed the beans. Above: Journal page from our trip and forest walk. While the coffee we picked, processed and roasted made a lack luster cup of coffee the hands on element was especially valuable. I now knew how the fruit looked in all stages, and the flowers and leaves. This reference material made it possible to fabricate a composition for a larger work. Likely this could also be done digitally or via scrap booking if one was more clever than getting an art degree in undergrad. Ho ho that was a choice. There are three benefits to a planning page: 1-It makes painting faster/easier 2-It aides the memory if there is a long wait to paint 3-It takes the pressure off Its ok if the journal its self ends up being the product and the 'big work' never happens. Sometimes I do the journal page and then feel over it. When this happens I never consider it a failure. Really I have just saved myself $40 in paint and a few hours of frustration because forcing it never works. This is supposed to be fun remember? Above: Smushy muddy painting prior to line and detail work. This is the part that always gives me chest pains when I am certain I have made a grave mistake in trying to paint today.
This past year my family and I decided to not do physical gifts for the holidays. Money has grown a bit tighter as I am still looking for regular work and we promised ourselves we wanted to start focusing on shared experiences. We opted instead do a little traveling. Above: I have a complicated and not altogether healthy relationship with food. Regardless, fruit and vegetables are one of my favorite painting subjects. I often find myself grateful for a non-conventional and frugal European upbringing. My childhood as a military kid was spent mostly in Italy and Germany. Frequent moves were challenging but it really put stuff into its place.
The more stuff, the longer it just took to pack. We often didn't have our home-goods for months at a time anyway when we changed continents. So growing up, family time meant drives, walks and picnics.... and not really a lot of presents. When I moved stateside as an adult I noticed the relationship between civilian's and gift giving expectations. I remember one year the grocery store had navel oranges, 3 pounds for ninety-nine cents. They were quite large about a pound apiece. I grabbed an orange, for every grad-student in my shared office space so about 7 in all. This was pre-COVID so we all stood don't-cut-infront-of-me close in the checkout line. People were chatting, it was the holidays and gift-giving naturally came up. I mentioned that all the oranges I carried were gifts. (It is my custom to hold and carry all my groceries in my arms as using a cart often leads to overspending for me.) The lady in front of me heard that the oranges were gifts and she laughed, not unkindly. I think she thought I was making a joke and she said, “No silly, real presents.” I hope that even when I reach financial security, I never feel that way. This winter eating papayas from a roadside stand while sitting on the windy roof of our hostel really felt like a gift. Originally used in Japan to reinforce thinning garments or tack down quilted scraps, (boro), its a natural to the task of darning. Sashiko thread is loosely twisted, so it easily blends with the other threads around it. Above: Ideally one uses a darning egg, standing in for this today is a red potato.
The socks in question are thigh high cotton, a shame to waste just because of thin heels. The finished job, while not perfect has them once again feeling comfy and padded. And yes I often use a potato. I just don't want to be a human who owns a darning egg...or a dress mannequin. Despite making the majority of our clothes. There is deep down inside me an optimist. She believes that every time I do such a task, that this time will be the last time. An optimist with a bad memory apparently. If painting en plein air appeals then camping can be another great opportunity to fit in some creative time. Its rustic and gritty but totally doable. Lets talk about the sanity saving art of banking time. Above: Infrared photo of me painting early in the morning at the Coronado National Forest campsite taken by H. Winsor. Camping brings to mind some vivid memories for me, mosquitos, pit toilets, s'mores...ok maybe not in that order. It can be a hectic trial to also squeeze in some personal time. I learned from the best, my grandmother had four kids and still made time to read everyday. Here are some lessons she shared with me:
Above: Finished work, this was the view of the mountains overlooking our campsite. We would love to hear your favorite tips for banking time.
When we can't take it with us....or really probably shouldn't. I can fit three glass vials in my field bag, everything else stays when I go home. Artists are notorious for being collectors of the macabre. I know I can't be the only one with dead birds and insects in the freezer. But traveling with such treasures is another matter entirely. In addition to the questionable legality of moving with them, especially vertebrates, there is also the issue of fragility. (And, how long our partners will over look the stinky collection of "research materials" amassing on the hotel room nightstand.) The raw beauty of such things are lost once out of their environment anyway, so I like to put them back for others to find as soon as possible. Here are some helpful tips I use:
Above: My crunchy dead friend yielded many a fine image, and stayed on the island when I left.
Signs all over the island of Kauai said this and honestly the wisdom feels sound. So often we try to be more and do more and in the process we do not leave time for us. Art often falls victim to this. We wait for something 'worth painting' like our everyday isn't good enough. Above: I started with three persimmons but who's counting? Often I do my pages one wee image at a time. I did this page spread while eating over the course of a few days. Our creative outlets do not have to be complicated. Make it small. Make it simple. Make it done. Above: What I eat often feature in my journals Avoid getting tempted by trying to find that perfect reference photo online, or taking that perfect photo. Those 20 minutes could finish an illustration or write a few sentences.
Eventually all those "20 minutes" add up. My journals are imperfect, but that's fine. The next page can always be better. We all want to do it in theory, the notion of plein air painting always looks so romantic in photos. The reality involves bugs, poorly behaved pets, mud, impatient friends and sun burn. Above: Finished work of a single 'representative sample" Is it really worth it? Absolutely! There is an energy one can only capture in the thick of it. Notes to be scribbled on the back of each work. Observational data to gather that will enrich future works. What did it smell like? How hot was it that day? These things cannot be gotten by image search alone while sitting comfy at home. Here is how I manage:
Above: Anisacanthus (desert honeysuckle) in the field. It was so bright the reflection off my paper hurt my eyes. I used this image to ink the work at home and you know, not get cataracts for the cause.
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