S u s
a n F i e
l d gualala, ca
Journal
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Ocean view, north coast March 6, 2007 - Tuesday Last
week, I met a friend at SFMOMA to see the Brice Marden exhibit. I didn’t like his early work, the
flat-colored canvases. But I did love
his work using pastel, beeswax and graphite.
The surfaces were rich and velvety, dark & metallic looking. The way he gouged into the wax with a pencil
made it look like a dark copper plate, a hieroglyph. I wanted to get nose-to-nose with it. More
than the larger works, I was drawn to the smaller side rooms. His calligraphic brush strokes seemed as if
he were practicing, or trying to find a language, or thinking out loud. You could see how the very small sketches would
later lead to his larger paintings. I also loved
the way he set up a series of rectangles to work within. I understand that. Maybe it’s a characteristic of certain
personalities, that we need to mark off our boundaries, then try things
within that space - go to the edges, go deeper, say contradictory things. F. went
to Home Depot last week to buy lumber for the new studio shelves. Friday morning, we moved the table saw out
into the side driveway and cut the 2 x 6s in half lengthwise. Brought about half of them up to the coast
in the back of the car. The next day
we built about 5 of the underlying frames and bought 6 sheets of plywood at
the local lumberyard. S. is
busy getting ready to launch her website, staying up into the late hours researching
links. Another friend is working great
guns on her sculpture, thriving on feedback from other artists. Sometimes
I’m envious of where they are in the creative cycle. Where I’m at is in transition, lying low,
gathering together and discarding, and not resisting change. I’m worried about being so far from the
city, 3 hours driving time. How will I
resolve that? Will I be able to resume
art-making when the studio is finally set up?
And where will I show? To
counter these fears, I remember different things. One is that when it seems you’re moving in
the opposite direction from where you want to go, you often reach it in a
roundabout way you can’t foresee at the time.
Another
is not to jump ahead into the future and worry there won’t be solutions to
problems. When I ‘m settled up there, I‘ll
know what to do, what steps to take.
And besides my dear friends, there will be new people in my life who
will help open me up. Am looking
forward to that. |
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F. and new studio shelves March 20, 2007 – Tuesday Another
good shopping day. I had a 40% off
coupon at the local thrift shop and happened to wander in a room off the main
area that I often don’t bother with.
The space was crowded with old couches and racks of knickknacks, straw
baskets falling over each other in the corner, pillows and records and
electronics. Over against the wall, they
were waiting for me: clear storage
bins that opened as drawers, perfect for organizing art materials. Three were long and flat; they’ll fit
beautifully on the new studio shelves.
I bought six containers altogether, of various sizes, packed my cart
to overflowing. A bargain! F. and I
have been working on building the shelves.
There’ll be two units, each measuring about 8’ long, 24” deep, with a
total of 12 shelves. We’re about a
quarter of the way through, and now that we’re getting the hang of it, things
should go a little faster. Measuring
and marking, drilling, bolting. It’s a
lot of work, but I’m enjoying our time together and am grateful he
understands how important having my own space is to me. Each
month I’ve been getting email lists of art opportunities, places to send in
slides for group or solo shows. For
some time now, I’ve had no enthusiasm for these things. Lying awake at night, I secretly wonder if
there isn’t more to art-making than this, to try out for shows, chase people
to look at your work, fret about whether they like it. Have been oriented toward this for some 20
years now. Isn’t there something more? Saw the
most beautiful film last night, “Water”, directed by Deepa Mehta. The story was about an 8-year-old Hindu
girl whose husband died. She was taken
to live in a widows’ temple, where the women were outcasts. Each scene was like a painting,
thoughtfully framed and exquisite.
Mehta said she purposely did this to counterpoint the misery of the
women’s lives. The film’s beauty did
my heart good. I slept through the
night without waking. |
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Shelves completed March 30, 2007 – Friday I’ve
just spent the last hour or so in the new studio, sorting bags & boxes of
materials into groups. There’s an area
for textures like yarn, raw wool, old fur coats, fabrics. In a corner are beads, old bullet casings,
discarded frame samples, dried red potatoes.
Another area has blank canvases and framed works. Another has tools and framing
materials. You get the picture. I’m trying to get organized before loading
up the new shelves. We
completed them last weekend. They look
good and provide good storage space.
But I can see that I probably have yet to throw out even more stuff,
both here and at the old studio. That
can be both liberating and scary – liberating to think of working sparely and
coming into the new space unencumbered.
Scary because odd materials aren’t as plentiful here as they are in an
urban city. I think
of S. and how her studio is riotous with colorful furry “toyful” materials
that she has to wade through every time she enters her space. That’s an encouraging image to hold in my
mind as I sort through this. Is
probably a common problem with artists – too much good stuff in the world! A couple
of my neighbors are around. C., from
the metal shop next door, and the bearded guy I’d seen a few months ago. He’s wearing a bandanna and cleaning out
his black Have
been reading The Zen of Creativity, by John Daido Loori. He quotes an old Zen koan that expresses
well what I was trying to say a while ago, about reaching your destination
the roundabout way: How do you go straight ahead on a narrow mountain path which has ninety-three curves? The book
is pretty good. I like the idea of
approaching art through spiritual means, though this can throw me a curve
ball sometimes. It’s hard for me to
reconcile “stillness” and “waiting” with the making of messy, juicy art, angry
art, disillusioned art. He cautions against
putting ‘poisonous’ stuff out into the world… Loori’s
a great believer in having a feedback group you can check in with. He writes that many artists have no idea how
their art affects other people. When
his friends tell him his art is angry, for instance, he will continue making
photographs until that feeling is worked through and the art is really saying
what he wants it to. I have been thinking of donating the artwork “Dorothy Makes Sweaters for Colored Pencils” rather than destroying it. It’s just too big for me to lug up here. Am thinking of a children’s hospital, school, library. If someone reading this can suggest a place or person in the Bay area I might contact, please email me by clicking “Contact” on this website. The piece measures about 47” square, and is made with tinkertoys, a girl’s red shoes, beads and knitted pieces. To see the image, click on the “Sculpture” page, bottom row, center thumbnail. |
© Susan Field, LLC
2007. All rights reserved.