Contemplating Artistic Process - A Philosophical Examination When is it "enough"?
Yes, the old adage - "a good artist knows when to put their brush down". But when does this happen? And what processes are at work when making that decision? It's one thing to grow up surrounded by art - creating it is easy on my own time and when no one is watching. But when I made the professional leap I was headed into uncharted waters. My formal education in fashion design was an effective stepping stone in terms of growing my skills in illustration & painting, as well as creating a business model, but there is another side that only the experience of running my own business (being the captain at the helm) could teach me. When presented with an opportunity to open my vintage furniture boutique, The Junction, in 2010, I sought to eventually have it function as an art gallery and to sell not just my own, but my mothers artwork as well. My proposal, which still rings true today, is that we would use furniture as the vehicle for our business - to drive the paintings forward and build our body of work over time. This formed an environment where I could develop skills to sell artwork to clients, refurbish furniture, do book-work, learn advertising skills, and design an interior with a hands-on approach. I have no doubt that the trials and tribulations that I went through at that time shaped my grasp on how to market my work a great deal. It's true that art is a fickle pursuit, and it is impossible to please everyone, but that is something I came to terms with long ago and probably a catalyst for the vast array of styles produced by artists intent on sharing how they see the world. Correspondingly, art patrons can attain a piece of art that moves them based on their personal taste. But marketing aside, I need my art to be "enough" over here in my own corner, with my own unique style in mind before I can bring myself to show it. It's a daunting task to organize something that is by nature so incredibly arbitrary, especially considering the innate urge many artists have to create something brand new and unlike anything else. So what do I use to measure the worth of my paintings and decide if they are finished, or up to par with my body of work? To sum it up in one word: presence. Am I present during the process of creation, and am I attuned to the ebbs and flows of creativity, willing to express and give myself to my work? One way to answer this question is by paying attention. There are some vital lessons in the vigorous strokes, spilled water, hours of overtime, joyful tears from a client after she sees her commissioned painting for the first time, or taking criticism without being offended. There's even more knowledge to be attained from all the days and nights spent in the studio, juggling customers, working in other departments of my job, going through life's trials and tribulations, insomnia, physical impairments and pain that every person must endure at some point in their life. These lessons can be testing at times and I might ponder if I'm on the right track. "Are the scales on this dragon looking a little too rough? Will it please viewers if I smooth it all out and go for precision here?" The resolve can be simple: there's is no need to censor myself, period. This is a beautiful moment to let pain, joy, fear, grief - all of the emotions - flow onto the canvas and allow myself to embrace them. If that means that the dragons scales are crusty-looking, and all-over-the-place, so be it! As long as it's honest. It sounds radical at first, but when you think about it, it's in these moments of vulnerability that we can offer our authentic selves, and create in a way that is honest and reflective of the present moment. These are the times when I find myself with a brush in my hand. "Is this enough"? I ask once again, which is just a front for the real question: am "I" enough? Well, at some point, repetition in the trade makes it clear that I have my own refined process in achieving consistent, high quality paintings. I recall that I've put the necessary work and time in to get where I am, and I've been present while doing so. In return, I must trust this process wholeheartedly and with no hesitation in its unfolding. With that established, I can start asking some of the more rudimentary questions: "Have I done all that I can do for this painting, or is there somewhere that could use more attention? Is this something that I would put on my own wall?" Since the start of this endeavor, I've been the one refereeing myself. I have an excuse when I'm in a slump because I can tell myself "if an agent was handling this for me, I'd be all set!" But hey, what a grand opportunity and journey into Self this is. I have the incredible honour of being present in all aspects of my trade, taking the good with the bad in strides. If something is not up to my standard, I will change it to produce a successful outcome. If I just give myself permission to go there, to face myself and my fears, the good and not-so-good, I will start to see beauty in those weird, oozing bubbles of paint, and I might let them take up a space of their own. Then, when they glide across the canvas, I know that they will be exactly where they need to be.
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The Disc Golf Series - Binding Two Worlds "There are two main definitions for liaison that stem from Old French and before that, the Latin word for 'to bind.'" -Vocabulary.com Sometimes you just have to let life take you places. Shake up your normal routine and find new interests. For me, disc golf has been a liaison connecting my thirst for nature with a desire to stay active. Not to mention its inherently beautiful locations (great eye candy for any painter!). Like most blossoming interests, you don't really know what you're getting into at the start. I was first on Pender Island with my now husband and brother when we found frisbee-like discs in the boathouse we were staying in. Realizing that there was a full-blown 27-hole course on the island, and that this unknown (to me) sport actually has a huge community world-wide, we decided to get into the woods and play. Paintings (above) were all inspired by my time on the course in various locations. From BC to Washington, Oregon, and Maui! I didn't care about the rules, nor did I have any skills in the game, but to me, the warm and sweet fir-filled air with ravens casting their shadows high against the cliffs and treetops was absolutely intoxicating. It was summer, and it was paradise- a place that lets you forget the passing of time, So with beers cracked, parties of 4 cheering in the distance and neon colours flying through the trees- it was needless to say we went back there every day during our vacation. So, my love for nature and beauty drew me into the sport as I honed my new skills, and in turn inspired a series of several paintings over the next few years. I have been places and seen things that I wouldn't have otherwise. If you're like me, it was a crucial reminder to take a step back from work (which I tend to bury myself in), get comfortable not knowing what's next and become a conduit for the new found beauty in front of me. All images displayed on this site are the copyright of Bridgette Van Egmond and may not be reproduced
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AuthorBridgette Van Egmond has been passionately creating paintings in her Victoria, BC studio since 2010. ArchivesCategories |