Blog

 Dear M.

I'm giving you a heads up. I will not be attending the next session of your head and figure drawing class. Frankly, our teacher-student relationship was not a good match. 

Yours is the class I ought to have taken forty-five years ago.  I wish that I had either majored in art or gone to art school. In my fantasy, I would have studied the mechanics of drawing the human head and figure from you.  I would have dutifully taken notes, followed your instructions, reviewed the masters, and practiced. Being young and hopeful, I would have endured harsh criticism in order to learn from you. After many years of your classes, I would have been on my way to developing a strong body of work and a career.  And, like the stories I have heard from those who were taught by strict nuns; I, too, would have looked back and known that my classes with you were difficult, but so worthwhile.

I am too old to realistically revisit this fantasy. First of all, I do not want to start over in my artistic pursuits. But, even if I could begin again, I would not. I am no longer the same person.  Without regret, in my life I have married, given birth, graduated, worked, and retired.   My lifelong experiences, especially as a student and as a government worker, have extinguished any burning desire to incorporate a new set of rules into my life.  As an older person, I do not accept everything that is offered.   I am not a sponge and I intentionally filter out that which I consider irrelevant. I choose to be in an environment where I can comfortably ask a question or engage in a dialogue. When it comes to art instruction, associations, or exhibition opportunities, I only select those that I will find enjoyable.  Because of who I am today, I cannot thrive in your class. There…I have said it.

Yet, at my stage of life I continue to learn and improve.  But now it is on my terms.  As a mature adult, I have adopted meaningful practices from painting workshops. I now have a vibrant palette, an excellent oil paint formula, and the skill to effectively apply warm and cool color theory. I joyfully utilize what I have learned when I paint live models.  And, at home I crank up the music and paint with gusto.  So, with all due respect, I will continue my intuitive approach to being an artist.

M, I wish you the best. I do know that the right students will continue to benefit from your knowledge, talent, and method.  Sincerely…Jacki

Diebenkorn…I loved the show Richard Diebenkorn: The Berkeley Years at  the Palm Springs Museum of Art.  It contains abstract and representational work he made from 1953 to 1966 in Berkeley. I was awestruck… and struck by two distinct notions.

First, I was surprised to learn that the abstract paintings preceded the figurative.  I always thought that folks go to art school to learn to paint in the traditionally prescribed manner.  Then, they rebel or venture or explore and gradually develop an individual style which, often, is abstracted.  However Diebenkorn's journey was in reverse.  Abstract art was all the rage in the early fifties and Diebenkorn just jumped right in.  He plunged into the Berkeley landscape, flattening the shapes, losing perspective, and coming up uninjured to enjoy the fresh California air. Then, he began to explore his surroundings and associations more literally.  The flat shapes and distorted perspective remained, but figures and objects began to appear.

Berkeley #3 1953 Oil on Canvas 

Coffee 1959 Oil on Canvas

The second surprise was how much I loved this work.  The freshness of the colors and composition truly appealed to me.  In thinking about Diebenkorn's paintings, I realize that I am attracted to his wonderful balance of strokes, edges, and color fields. Here, I ponder these characteristics using my own non-academic vocabulary.

I saw distinctive loose brush strokes, literal stripes, and expressive notations in his paintings.  I think that these marks are what he did in a particular moment and are spontaneous reflections and remarks. His brush work and jottings are like charming, inspired, and witty comments.

In both his abstract and representational work, there are borders and distinct edges.  In my thinking, Diebenkorn used these boundaries to make strong statements and powerful exclamations.  There is nothing timid about his work, yet I didn't feel assaulted.

I basked in his color fields.  These fields are generous shapes which may be variously interpreted as design elements, landscape features, objects, or merely the space between. Regardless of their purpose, for me, Diebenkorn's color fields are like a pause, a moment of silence, or a breath of fresh air.

I couldn't ask for anything more. Except for the exhibit book...