On Painting: "Resounding Jubilee".
Updated: 15 hours ago
I had an art teacher in junior high that when a student holding up a blank piece of paper in front of him asked, "Where do I start this?", his was reply almost always was, "At the beginning." Sounds like advice from the caterpillar from "Alice in Wonderland", doesn't it? Maybe it was. Was my teacher smoking a hookah over there in the corner? Not that I could see, maybe it was under his desk? The window next to him was open a lot. All that being said, I started this piece at the beginning, it's own beginning. I have no idea how one is "supposed to" begin an art piece. Clearly no one ever taught me that in terms of "follow these steps and you will have a poignant piece of art", so I have no way forward except to begin. Perhaps that was entirely my art teacher's point. Get rid of the "suppose to" mindset and then you will have a piece of art that is unique from who you are. I think we are far beyond where art is a "supposed to be" anyways. Don't you think? This scribble is where this painting begins, with a real sense of not understanding the way forward, with a real lack of direction, except forward with bravery.
With bravery. And that word "brave", well that became the word of the day to be sure. The week? I think it still is the word. Maybe the word of the hour. I kept hearing it in songs I was listening to and it was strongly alluded to in a piece of word art I saw at the local second hand store that day which quoted Joshua 1:9. "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." At times, verses in the Bible feel what I call, "extra". They stand out to me in a special way and it feels like this is the case with this verse. Quite a word to come out of the gate with for a painting. It lead to a post on my Instagram that day. What does that have to do with what comes next for this piece though? I think it's the foundation.
When all the sweeping loose lines of charcoal were done for the day I was left with something that felt fresh and never seen before.
And then the colour came along.
The first thing I think when I look at this beginning stage, is the rudimentary colour palate. I love primary colours and their simple secondary colours. There is something so wonderful about them. They feel so alive to me, unspoiled. The application of the paint in this studio session was also very free and loose. I didn't think a lot about what I was doing, I was just doing it.
It was chalk next, and the waves at the bottom of the canvas came first, vertical with no particular purpose. I just knew that I needed to have them as part of the composition. Then it was rectangular shapes next to circles. I love this contrast and is a very a much by feeling kind of step. I just started drawing all over the place and only dusted the chalk off if it felt wrong to me. So nothing in this felt wrong. Nothing. In such a polarized world it feels so freeing to make something that isn't wrong, it just is. With that in mind, I have decided not to care about the charcoal marks that are visible under the new layer of paint. Over time I have actually come to appreciate them, their history, and the humanness of them. In this session there was a conscious choice to actually try to save that history. There is a lot of life in those marks. They are a part of the latter, part of the finished piece, part of that feeling of accomplishment at the end. I love the feeling of a finished painting. At its end, when it has become everything that it was meant to become, that feeling moves my life forward like nothing else I've tried. It was the smallest brightest brush I used that day to paint in the lines of the buildings and the initial sketch of the hot air balloon. I love the boldness of these lines next to the smoother lines of the bigger filbert brushes! I can't get enough of it!
It is always amazing to me what comes to mind when I am in a painting session. At this point in the journey of this piece I was immediately reminded of Hungarian-born American conceptual artist Agnes Denes' conceptual art piece entitled, "Wheatfield - A Confrontation". In 1982 she planted a 2.2 acre field of wheat in downtown Manhattan near the World Trade Center. She described it as "an intrusion of the country into the metropolis, the world's richest real estate."
When those pictures were taken in 1982, it would've had a different feel for the viewers. The World Trade Centers are still there with no hint of what would come. Looking at that picture of the Twin Towers next to that beautiful field of wheat, I can't help but feel upset though. It is the 25th anniversary of 9-11 this year and I want to handle what I'm saying in relation to that particular photo very carefully. When I look at it, in the context of the year it was taken, the wheat field feels hopeful to me, even if that wasn't the original artist's intent. It is unexpectedly existing next to those buildings. Not in their shadows, but out in the glorious sunshine, the blue sky opening up above both of them. Seeing those two realities side by side, their narratives telling such different stories, conveys such a metaphor of well-being to me, that somehow down the line we figured out how to live in harmony with nature and fullness is the result even if in this picture we are looking back on a day gone by. The wheat field is thriving somewhere that you wouldn't expect it to, next to the soaring skyscrapers that had their own definition of life. It feels harmonious somehow. That they could both be there, in that moment, both beautiful, not competing, but flourishing.
So how does it relate to my own piece? I spent hours painting that day while thinking on this photo, on the hopefulness of that harvest image. Something beautiful was rising up for me in the context of that city scape. Inspiration was flowing from that vision and this piece came together in a matter of days because of that. It just knew what it wanted to be.
The green came next and really it makes it. There is always a risk of pushing a piece too far when you do something bold over something you already love. Is it worth it? We can only know in retrospect, but if you don't take that risk then advancing into something more profound will never arrive. I chose to risk it and felt rewarded! Nothing says brand new like green!
When I had finished my time in my basement studio I had painted my own interpretation of the New York City skyline. Normally I wouldn't paint something so on the nose, but there it is just the same. The building in the centre, the one with the heart on it is reminiscent of The Empire State Building. I imagined tall flowers growing up so beautifully all around that skyline, softening it. Water is flowing there, healing the land, making it beautiful again, the flowers growing as big as the buildings, in some places overtaking them in their height. There is a transistor radio on top of that center building, and it's broadcasting to the nations the beautiful change that is happening all around it, that heart of love. The waves at the bottom of the canvas are shock waves, but they are waves of resounding joy inextricably linked to the landing of the hot air balloon. They seem to be dancing in response to it, singing almost. The solitary sky blue colour of the balloon silk a reference to everything that is beyond us in goodness and holiness, coming down from Heaven and bringing the hope and life, like only Jesus can. It's like a care package from God landing at just the right time in the heart of the city. The working title of this piece was actually, "Liberty Drop" related to a dream I had a long time ago of allied troops parachuting down around the Statue of Liberty. And I felt like God was saying in that dream that help from Heaven is coming.
And while this piece very much has nods to New York City and I feel it is very much for them, it is also very much for all of us. Without comparing our experiences, have we not all gone through hard times on some level? Have we not all gone through one kind of trauma or another? In hindsight it makes complete sense then that the word "Brave" was a foundational word for this piece. It is an encouragement for people who have seen hardship and moved forward no matter what. This piece is all about real hope after trial, real life after loss, that better days are still possible. For the cross of Christ was not just to save us so that we can walk into eternity with Jesus on the day we die, but it's for today, so that His promises give us a breakthrough into joy. So no matter what our past, I believe that God is reminding us today that those hard days need not overshadow us, that we can become bright and experience fullness of life again, the latter replacing the former in every part of us. Corrie Ten Boom once said, "There is no pit so deep, that God's love is not deeper still." Is this joy though? I think it's more than that. I think it's a resounding Jubilee.
"I waited patiently for the LORD; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps. He has put a new song in my mouth" -Psalm 40: 1 -3a.
"You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." - Matthew 5: 14-16.
"Nevertheless when one turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all with unveiled, face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord. " - 2 Corinthians 3: 16-18.
"So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten." - Joel 2:25.
God is for you New York.
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