If you were to ask me to define my way of working, I would say I create in a series, preparing a bunch of canvases all at the same time. I might think about a particular approach, an idea, I might experiment with variations. Often I arrive at art that is different from my original starting point. It’s always been this way and it suits my need for spontaneity, like having a compass at the ready but keeping eyes to the sky and an ear to the ground.
There are artists who have much more structure and discipline than I do. They keep copious notes on how they work: taking down information on colors or materials used, the temperature of a medium, how various papers performed under this or that condition. They have these great records to refer back to, these art cookbooks if you will, chronicling a history of methods and concoctions that are tried and true and yield exactly the dish they have in mind.
At the suggestion of a friend two years ago, I started keeping a log, scribbling notes about images I am thinking of, pasting in digital pictures of the work at various stages, noting things here and there. It’s interesting in some respects to go back and to see how a work evolved, where my brain was at that particular day. Yet I resist this practice wholeheartedly, putting it off when I can, thinking of note taking as homework. To me, it’s all the same: washing out my brushes, or putting on my seatbelt just to run into town or counting calories so as to stay slim and trim. Good discipline, yes, but things I do just because I have to.
In my previous life as a graphic designer, habit and repetition served me fine. I would pull up a saved file on my computer and use a copy of that file as a template for the next job. It was easy and I never had to “reinvent the wheel”. Back then those commercial jobs depended on speed and accuracy, and as they paid the bills, they made me efficient. I was very good at what I did. Yet bored to tears to be perfectly honest. Even now, nothing seems as tiring to me as predictability. It’s like eating the same thing every Friday night, week after week, always going to the same place for vacation, year after year after year. Ugh.
With painting, each new canvas takes me someplace I have never been before. Every work is a unique delicacy, a place to explore. I can take a map with me but the journey itself excites, and not referring to exact directions or using a formula can make my work new and fresh. I mean, who hasn’t taken that wrong turn, gotten lost? Isn’t that what makes it all interesting? Each time is like visiting a new country, seeing with clear eyes, all of it a challenge to who I think I am. I actually prefer the unknowing, of being open to raw inspiration, a new taste.
So I don’t go into a new series exactly sure of what I’m going to do. I start sketching and I go from there. A little something happens every day, maybe a month later, I will be walking away and then returning, looking at my work anew, allowing the muse to guide me. Experience helps with certain decisions, and the occasional note can spark a solution when I’m stuck. Yes, there’s room for planning and analyzing and checking the rear view mirror. But sometimes, there really is just one direction and that’s forward anyway…we have to just get going, open the door, move, and make the damn art.
Copyright 2009 Ann Haaland
