I know it's the middle of January. I think probably by now everyone is over talking about the new year and the organized people of the world have already made their plans. But not I! This month I have deliberately taken slowly. A process of thinking, day dreaming, and contemplation. I've read textbooks I never read in college, I've made lists and lists and sat daydreaming on our new sofa about the work ahead and career goals for 2017. Thinking through the why's and what's of my brush strokes.
I have always loved floor plans. But to date, they have been a bit utilitarian for me to focus on. I think this year I am going to include them more. As I will be focusing on series, they will perhaps be a supportive or additional series to compliment other pieces of my work. They are at once informative on a variety of levels and can be quite elegant to look at. You are able to get at the purpose of a space, if you will, as you survey the floor plan. In the Marble House floor plan, you see that it is somewhat of a voyeuristic home. To be seen and show off and entertain.
As I plan and daydream about 2017, I have mused over my inspiration and the answers I accept in response to my quearies. I have never ever been good at the sciences or math, simply because I think their scope of answers never touched on the questions I asked. As a child I was never particularly distressed by gravity, or what the process was that made rocks hard, or the system that made rain. I simply accepted those facts as having one answer that someone already knew. One answer that you can come to by a string of numbers- that someone already had in a book. I have always been a happy camper knowing that other people are going to take care of any problems that might arise from these sciencey things. If someone ( usually my poor dad) ever started giving me a scientific answer to a question I asked, I would just get annoyed. My questions were never quenched by equations.
Not that I never thought about the rain. I understood the rain as a child. When I watched it fall it would come flying to the earth- unconsciously, uncontrollably, and with great emotion- like a temper tantrum. When it started no one knew if it was going to sprinkle or pour. Suddenly, it would burst forth- unstoppable either by any other force or its own doing. It had to rain, it just had to! Why shouldn't the weather have temper tantrums too? Surely it felt. Surely it must get jealous of being with all the people below. It got lonely maybe. It had to express it! It fell in great pools of sadness or in large expanses of happiness. Each storm was so different. It wasn't without purpose though. There was a cause. Sometimes if we just let it fall from the sky and allow the rain to let it all out it was simpler. But when we really didn't want it to rain, and it did anyway, that was when it was most complicated. As it fell, all the intricacies of why it was falling were splattered onto car windows and then the car would try and push it away-to stop the temper tantrum! But pushing it off would distort the whole thing! Was the rain mad at the car? For trying to tell the rain it didn't care about why it was raining. Yes, maybe. That's not very nice of our car. Quite mean, actually. Mean car. Sometimes I felt like our car was mean to me too; it was always cold inside the mornings, not warm or kind. The water pushed back from the front of the car streamed across our backseat windows. The details of the argument from the car and the rain's deluge were mapped out here. I would study them. Some sad drops would get stuck and separated from friends. They got lost and left behind. Lonely and shaking and scared. But soon other drops would come and catch it up and they would run off together. So many of them, but they all looked worried and hurried.
Gradually, the rain would tire itself out and the sunlight would come gently - or sometimes suddenly too- and comfort it- like a soft phrase of affection. No need to cry anymore, the sunshine will make it all better. Softly, the rain would stop, and catch its breath and accept the sunlight. The sunlight would make the water happy and beautiful and okay. It would sparkle and warm up, and soon, the sad tantrum would be forgotten.
You see, temper tantrums were something I had a singular understanding of at the ripe old age of six. The rain and I had so much in common!
I know this doesn't sound very productive- but I have felt rather productive. You see, for artists, the plan and the intention and the inspiration are what make the art. It makes me feel full to know that all my childhood musings are worth something now. They all had a purpose. They were all intended. And now they are all useful.
I may say here, that I still sometimes personify elements of the world like this, but I have always recognized God's omnipitance. He is always in control. This is perhaps why I never worried about science but cared for the rain.
So in 2017 I plan on thinking and daydreaming and channeling it into my brush strokes. What to paint and why. My plans for this year include several series on american cities, mansions, French chateaus, and perhaps some floor plans as well.
I can't wait to share them all with you, and if you have ideas for series, or your own understanding of the rain, I would love to hear it! I hope your day is full of sunshine and warmth and cuddles!