Recently, I finished a piece that I have been keeping under wraps a bit longer than normal. I think I have mentioned before that this piece is headed to Florida for a show organized by Victoria Selbach for Poets and Artists Magazine, that will be held at Sirona Fine Art this February. I am working on framing and packing the piece this week and I wanted to talk a little about my process behind making the painting. If you can’t sit through a little art talk, feel free skip to the end and just get the details about the show.

It is no secret that what separates bad art (and mediocre art) from the good stuff is often (always?) some element of suffering. Just like riding a roller coaster, a song that tells the story of pain that we can relate to (or glamorizes pain that we will never feel) lights up our brains in the most pleasurable ways. Something about facing suffering, in a controlled manner, is just extremely satisfying. I won’t pretend to understand why this is, but if you have ever faced two similar works of art and tried to understand why one makes an impact, while the other falls flat, this is usually a big part of the answer. Good artists have a (sometime unconscious) fundamental understanding of this and that is where “the rules” come into play.

First off, it should go without saying but I am going to say it anyway, good artists are good at making art. Seriously. I am going to go out on a limb and just say that every good artist has gotten to a point in their art making where making art got fairly easy. They got to a certain level of technical proficiency, they started to understand the aesthetics of their particular artistic language, whatever… making art started to become second nature. This is where “the rules” come into play.

If good art is about allowing people to safely suffer, to face difficult subjects, and it is coming out easily, you have a problem, you are not pushing hard enough, and the final product (art) is not going to be effective. If you do not feel anything when you make it, people are not going to feel anything when they look at/interact with your art. Hobbyists enjoy making art, artists work hard. When making art starts getting easy, when there is not enough suffering in the studio anymore, artists start creating barriers for themselves — they invent rules for their art work and process to follow. Ultimately, understanding the rules that an artist has set for the creation of the art can reveal a lot about the final piece.

Are you still with me? Am I completely wrong here? If you are an artist, do you not work within a set of (ever tightening) regulations?

As I was working on the piece that I would ultimately decide to send to this show, I was posting a lot of images of my progress on my website, on Instagram, on Facebook, and I got a lot of interesting feedback. Mostly, it could be separated into two distinct groupings:

 
The people that think my paintings are kind of weird (in a good way) thought I had pushed it too far towards realism, therefore I had created a somewhat less interesting piece.
 
The people that think I am a pretty good realistic painter thought this was a step forward in my ability to paint things that look like the thing I am painting, and therefore this was a more interesting piece.
 

In my mind, both of these groups of people are missing something. I am not intending to paint people as entirely weird caricatures, I am not trying to accurately render things to the best of my ability. What I am trying to do is create interesting paintings that communicate something, while working within my own set of artistic rules, and there is one rule that all my pieces follow. One rule that really defines the look of my paintings, even this one.

If there is one thing that really makes painting images worthwhile in a world where photography is so prevalent, it is the act of painting itself. The fact that some foolish human took the time to painstakingly create an image, gives paintings a weight that photography can not achieve. With that in mind, I go out of my way to make my paintings as labor intensive as possible. I use a small brush and mix every stroke individually. I spend more time than is necessary on pieces and try to leave obvious evidence of this in the finished product. I want to push the fact that some idiot human (that’s me) just spent a month creating something that a camera could have done better in 5 minutes. Painting this way is not the right way to do it, it does not produce the most realistic results, it distorts colors and adds strange textures, it complicates things. If I was more successful, this is the part where I would make a stink about doing it all myself and not using studio assistants, but I think at this point in my career that goes without saying.

In this piece, I have toned down the textures that are normally created by working this way, and people seem to have noticed. I did this so that other distortions could take the stage. I wanted the piece to feel unstable. The skin is not as textured and the colors are more even, but I tried to play with cool and warm areas within the body, allowing some parts to push back into the blues of the background and then shifted the lines of the blanket so the figure felt as though it may also be in danger of falling forward. I wanted the figure to feel pushed back into a corner, while still maintaining a strong gaze toward the viewer. There are a lot of small things happening in a simple composition and allowing too much texture in the skin made the piece feel overly busy.

The painting is being sent off to Florida, so be sure to check out the show if you are in the area, or in Poets and Artists Magazine, if you are not. The show has an amazing array of artists, all with a unique way of looking at women in their art. Best of all, it gives me a good excuse to get out of frozen Boston and work on my sunburn in Miami.

If you want to join me there, check out the opening reception event on Facebook.

Artist’s Gaze, Seeing Women in the Twenty-first Century

Curated by Victoria Selbach

At Sirona Fine Art

Dates: February 21 to March 22, 2015

Opening Reception: February 21, 2015

Featuring work by:

• Aleah Chapin
• Alison Lambert
• Alyssa Monks
• Bernardo Torrens
• Brian Booth Craig
• Cesar Santos
• Christian Johnson
• Cindy Bernhard
• Daliah Ammar
• Daniel Maidman
• Delita Martin
• Dorielle Caimi
• Erica Elan Ciganek
• Erin Anderson
• Hollis Dunlap
• Jamie Valero
• Jason Bard Yarmosky
• Jeff Faerber
• Jennifer Balkan
• Judith Peck
• Krista Louise Smith
• Lauren Levato Coyne
• Maria Kreyn
• Mark Horst
• Mary Beth McKenzie
• Matthew Cherry
• Melinda Whitmore
• Mia Bergeron
• Michelle Doll
• Nadine Robbins
• Nick Ward
• Park Hyun Jin
• Patrick Earl Hammie
• Reuben Negron
• Richard Thomas Scott
• Ryan Shultz
• Stephen Early
• Stephen Wright
• Susannah Martin
• Tim Okamura
• Victoria Selbach
• Wesley Wofford
• Will Kurtz

Recently, I was visiting my friends over at Sloane Merrill Gallery and they decided to give their summer intern the task of putting together a short artist interview with me. For those of you that know me personally, it is obvious that this is a fool’s errand. Giving me the stage in a room full of lovely young women and turning the spotlight on me is no way to get any work done. What started as a few simple inquiries about my art turned into hours of dodging questions, intern teasing, and rambling stories (mostly stories about cows that day). While the afternoon was enjoyable, I didn’t expect many lucid or relevant thoughts to be caught for the interview.

She did, however, manage to sift out one important thought that I want to elaborate on today. When listing to music, I am often overcome with waves of emotion. These moments are very unpredictable and run the spectrum from overwhelming rushes of nostalgia, or feelings of amazing calmness, all the way to what I described as a full body tingle. That rush of excitement that sweeps from head to toe, vibrating your whole body with excitement.

I often worry that people do not experience this sort of purely emotional response from purely visual, static forms of art like painting and sculpture. Looking at great paintings is always intellectually stimulating and is quite and enjoyable experience but, those intense feelings that music so often brings out in me are missing. People tell me that paintings have the ability to stir these emotions but I just don’t get it. It should go without saying; this is a troubling realization for someone who spends so much time and energy creating paintings.

After talking about this concern with the women at the gallery, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I am always chasing this idea when I make paintings. I am always trying to create images that I think will trigger these feelings. Images of moments that we have all experienced in some form, images that should trigger nostalgic feelings, or memories of pleasure, or maybe memories of pain. I am fine tuning the colors, adding contrasting visual elements, bits of text, nothing seems to work.

Then it hit me. I have been experiencing these moments the entire time, not with finished paintings but, during the creation of them. So many people describe creating art as therapeutic, relaxing them or bringing them increased feelings of sanity. This is not at all what I experience in the studio. Making art is hard. Not hard physically but, mentally draining. It is a stress filled rollercoaster ride, like a whirlwind romance, filled with dramatic mood swings and chaos, waves of pure pleasure followed but crushing frustration.

Realizing this made me feel a little more relaxed about wasting my life creating paintings. Like so many things in life, it is more about the journey than the destination and, it seems that people can find and appreciate these struggles and emotions in the finished pieces of art. This realization also helps explain why my best paintings feature models that I know and love, even if the imagery of the piece does not necessarily reflect their personality or my relationship with them.

With that in mind, I want to show you my latest piece. It features my, soon to be wife, sunbathing. Like most of my sunbather paintings, I have corrupted an old masters representation of the lamentation of Christ but, that is not important for this blog post. What is important in this context is that I did the initial studies and photographs for this painting, a few years ago when we first met. Back before we were (almost) newlyweds, she was just a pretty stranger walking through The Distillery building, and I was just a broke artist who needed someone willing to model for free. As we started dating the creation of this piece got pushed aside as I was inspired to (somewhat obsessively) work on a large scale portrait of her instead. Now that our relationship is changing once again, I thought it was a good time to bring this piece back, to finish the painting that initially brought us together.

Now, that story has little to do with the message and imagery of the completed painting. I came up with the concept for the painting before we even met and in its world, she is just a helpful volunteer. However, in the studio, where paintings are frequently abandoned incomplete, and the (fairly simple and easy) act of rendering is turned into a dramatic battle within my own mind, having that deeper connection and interest in the model is often the difference between success and failure.

The title of the piece is simply, “Sunbather #4”. It is done in oil on custom birch wood panel and I will be dropping it off at Sloane Merrill Gallery (on Charles Street in Beacon Hill) this afternoon. By popular demand, I have conceded to make a series of smaller pieces that are a bit more affordable and, most importantly, fit into apartments or houses with normal sized walls. If you like this piece, let me know and go by the gallery and have a look. While I really love working large, I know that large pieces are just not practical for many people. So, if the pieces sell and feedback is good, I will try to keep focused on making more small pieces.

Working on paintings is always so much like dating. The start of a new piece is always filled with excitement, I end up staying up late into the night painting and when I am forced to leave its side, I am still daydreaming of the endless potential of my new fling. Unfortunately not all relationships are like the movies, some thing are just not meant to last and sooner or later every minute is pure torture. This latest painting started out easy but, putting the finishing touches on it seems to be dragging out endlessly. While I am happy with how it has come out, I can hardly stand the idea of working on it another minute. I think that means it is time to put it aside (for now) and start something new.

While I was trying to finish this piece, and dreaming of the next painting I received some great news. I walked out to my mailbox expecting the normal assortment of junk and was instead greeted by a letter from the Elizabeth Greenshields Foundation notifying me that I have been awarded a grant to help fund my painting. Needless to say my idea for the next painting went from, “make some small paintings to sell at open studios” to, “make the biggest best painting possible.” So I immediately stretched myself a monster canvas and got to work. The new piece is all laid out and the under painting is nearly finished so, check back soon too see what the next piece will be.

Next month I am participating in a show over at Lot F Gallery along with two of my favorite Lot F artists, Josh Falk and Sean Flood. I will be showing some of my large paintings along with the next set of mixed media pieces. As always, the art will be good, the people will be interesting and the beer will be free so, be sure to come by the opening.

Facebook members can join the event page here

Lot F Gallery presents THREE

Works by

• Sean Flood
• Nick Ward
• Josh Falk

New works from three Boston artists. Each with strong and distinct styles. A number of large substantial works will be available, as well as a range of other pieces.

Refreshments will be provided

For more information and pre-sale appointments email info@lotFgallery.com

I just finished three new small-ish mixed media pieces.  I started out by sketching out a simple line drawing of the portrait, then scanned it in and used the sketch to create a halftone pattern for screen printing.  Then, printed the image on primed panels and went back into the image using my normal methods of painting.  Mixing the mechanical looking screen prints with some pixelated looking painting seemed like a good combination and, overall I am pretty happy with the results.  I am thinking about pushing this technique further by using more layers in the screen print but I need to mull the ideas over a little more before I make the leap.  In any case, would love to get some feedback on these pieces and, if you like them, head on over to Lot F where all three (one printed in red, one printed in blue, and one printed in black) are available for sale this month.

By the way, excuse the junky cell phone photo, sent the pieces out without getting a decent image… oops.

I will have my work hanging in a show at the Distillery Gallery for the month of October. There will be an opening reception on October 1st from 6-9pm so, if you have wanted to see some of these paintings in the real world, here is your chance. Read the official press release below and be sure to join the Facebook event page to help spread the word.

The Distillery Gallery Presents:

“People, Places & Horses”
featuring works by Aimee Belanger, Monica Nydam, Nick Ward, and David Wooddell
October 1 – October 22, 2009
Opening Reception: October 1, 6-9pm
free and open to the public
516 E 2nd St., first floor
contact: Scott Chasse, gallery director
(978) 270-1904 / scottchasse@gmail.com
www.distilleryboston.com
Hours of operation: Mon-Sat, 9-5

The Distillery Gallery presents “People, Places & Horses,” a straight-forward exhibit of four Boston-based painters individually consistent in their chosen subject matter.

People:
Nick Ward’s close-up portraits reveal exaggerated elements of facial characteristics mixed with sparse use of text or vivid color as a backdrop. Each work is an uncontrived study of texture and form punctuated by the suggestion of everyday routine.

David Wooddell exhibits a clear appreciation of his predecessors and a mature, diligent work ethic by painting live models in a modernist manner. The focus of his rich, heavy-bodied figure studies balances between the subject and the individual brush stroke, resulting in luminous portrayals of the human form.

Places:
Aimee Belanger blurs the lines between imagination and reality with landscapes based on photographs, memories, and dreams. Her juxtaposition of stark architectural elements with colorful organic settings results in imagery of places that may or may not exist.

and Horses:
Monica Nydam‘s “Horse Series” entertains the viewer with painterly renditions of snapshots involving the subject. While some pieces use thick linear brush strokes to create “pixelated” visions of the mare or stallion, others involve hints of distortion or motion. Each work shares a candid, stolen-moment quality with the next.

Please join us on October 1 from 6-9 pm for the opening reception.

The Distillery Gallery is located on the first floor of The Distillery artist’s building in South Boston. This unique public display space is committed to featuring Distillery based artists, Boston artists, and invited guests. For more information about the gallery and The Distillery, please visit The Distillery website.