Fear of bad art

In most paintings I do that are the least bit ambitious (i.e. they'll take me more than one session to complete), there is inevitably a moment when I stare at the unfinished piece and say to my self, "What on earth was I thinking?" This sense of dread is fairly paralysis-inducing, and I do well to spend more than 20 minutes at a stretch before I have to flee from the evidence of my own inadequacy as a painter.

I'm sort of to that point right now.

Although not huge, my current painting is the largest I've done in a long time, as well as being one of the more complex. While individual areas have some nice work, as a whole it feels rather clumsy and cobbled together. 

What keeps me going is knowing most of my better paintings hit this low spot where I can't stand them. It's a necessary part of the journey.

Knowing this doesn't make it any easier though.

On a side note, I'm about ready to pronounce the previous painting finished. I hope to shoot a picture this week and post it.

Henry Whiddon - Rest in Peace

I got a message on the answering machine the other day that delivered the sad news that Henry Whiddon, UNT Art Professor Emeritus, had passed from this veil of tears.

Henry had been one of my professors when I was in graduate school at UNT and eventually served as my thesis advisor, as well as my mentor, role model and friend.

At the time I started graduate school, I had just finished working eight year in advertising, with the result that I had developed an unfortunate sense of emotional detachment from my work.

I did stuff I thought was clever that I didn't really care much about.

Henry was not the only one to see through this lack of involvement, but he was the one patient enough to talk about it; usually with roundabout parables and analogies that made his point with kindness and gentleness without bitch-slapping. He had a rare gift for telling you things you needed to hear, both good and not so good, but with a kindness that never left you feeling beat up or defeated. His sense of calm was infectious and much appreciated.

I called Chris Goebel, who'd left me the answering machine message and we regaled each other with our memories of Henry. Chris had been an undergraduate at Texas Wesleyan College (now University) when Henry was chairman of the Art Department. It sounds like they had the kind of freedom that comes from not being noticed.

Reading the online obituary I learned a few things I'd never known about my former teacher: he'd worked as a senior set designer for the Atlanta Municipal Summer Theater while a grad student at the University of Georgia. TWC hired him when he was only 30.

By the time I'd washed up on his academic shore he was in mid fifties (ironically, where I am now). He never lost his appreciation for the silliness of life but could, at the same time, conjure up these little life-altering suggestions. I remember once, when I'd used up my store of clever (i.e. crappy, contrived) ideas for paintings, he recommended I go find a copy of The Golden Bough by James Frazer. When you get stuck, he told me, turn to any page at random and start reading -- you're bound to find something to inspire you. I took his advice and found an idea I used for 3 years.

Now when I teach, it is his encouraging, kind and patient manner that I attempt to emulate when giving feedback to my students. I don't always succeed, but at least I know what I should be doing.

God bless you, Henry, where ever you are.

Repair job

I finally got around to doing a little painting repair this weekend.

Background: we had an old painting my wife's aunt had done many years ago. Somehow in its travels it managed to acquire an inch long tear, no doubt from something poking it. The painting wasn't valuable in a monetary sense, but it had sentimental value. I said I'd repair it.

Before going much further I consulted the source of all wisdom, my ancient copy of Ralph Mayer's Artist's Handbook of Materials and Techniques. Among the chapters is one on conservation, which includes a section on repairs. It became my road map for this project.

Ted Pillsbury : 1943 - 2010

Ted Pillsbury, longtime director of the Kimbell Art Museum passed away on Thursday of an apparent heart attack at age 66. Most in the art world would probably agree he was largely responsible for making the Kimbell into a world class museum.

Edmund P. Pillsbury, who held a doctorate in Italian Renaissance art from the Courtauld Institute of Art, served as museum director from 1980 to 1998, and was responsible for numerous important acquisitions and major exhibitions.

The Dallas Morning News website has good overview of his career as does the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. KERA has posted a video of a 1998 interview with Dr. Pillsbury.

New painting - Porch Musicians

Just finished a painting tonight.

At least I think it's finished. Sometimes I'll look at something after it's cooled off for a few days and discover I was wrong about it being finished (or not finished). Mostly I'm tired of working on this, which is often a big factor in deciding when something is done.

To hedge my bets, I may do another version later.

I've decided my next painting is going to be a variation on the portrait of Dorothy I recently completed. I want one that doesn't look so much like a "we named this building after her" kind of portrait, if that makes any sense.

Shot with my iPhone, which is why it looks crappy.

First batch of sketchbook drawings now live

I just uploaded the first batch of sketchbook drawings to the Ralph Art Website. You'll find them under Art > Sketchbooks on the dropdown menu.

So far I've scanned over 70 pages (though not all will be sent to the website). This first lot has 27 images, listed under the categories People, Places, Stuff. The next batch will include Children, Cats and Interiors. Given what I do, that almost covers it.

Since I do these primarily for my own amusement, most of these have never been seen before.

Enjoy!