Do You Throw Out Old Paintings?

Last summer I went through some paintings from the 90's and with the help of my granddaughter, I made decisions about which to keep and which to destroy.  That went along very well, until one morning I woke up and realized with a sinking feeling that I had thrown out a painting that I really liked.  "Throwing out" means cutting it up into small pieces and putting it out into the garbage.

My friend Bob has told me not to do this.  Although I thought enough time had gone by for me to be able to clearly sort the wheat from the chaff, it is obvious that I couldn't.  Lately I have been looking through some even earlier records from the 80's, and I can see that I often threw out paintings that I wish I hadn't.

Reading in The Art Newspaper about the famous artist Gerhard Richter, I see that he has thrown out numerous paintings during his career - but only after they have been photographed.  "Sometimes, when I see one of the photos, I think to myself: 'That's too bad; you could have let this one or that one survive'," Richter is quoted as saying, but added: "Cutting up the paintings was always an act of liberation."

I don't even have good photos of the ones I destroyed.  But some of them did need to go.

Early Collage Canvases

Recently I received an email from someone who found me on the internet, wondering if I was the one who painted a painting she proudly owns.  After she told me some of the details, I realized it was from a series I painted in 1977!  In the struggle to represent landscape, I collaged fabric on to the canvas and then painted on top of it.  The resulting texture gave a nice surface for the paint.

She was so pleased to find me, relating how much the painting meant to her.  When she first saw it years ago it 'spoke to her' and she made the sacrifice of paying for it with post-dated cheques, scrimping on her monthly budget, even cutting back on food, to make the regular payments.

The painting above, Kemp II, acrylic, 30x38", is not the one she has but is from the same series.

Card Photo File for Paintings

The other day I was talking to an artist in Edmonton.  He is the one who in 1980 taught me to keep track of my paintings with card files.  Here is a photo of one:

Using 5x8 inch cards, I take a photo of every painting and staple it to a card.  I number my paintings by year, month, and then 1,2,3 and so on, and I put that number in the upper right corner.
The name of the painting goes on next.  Sometimes it is a temporary working title, which can be changed later.  I put the size of the canvas, and the dimensions, and the medium used (i.e. acrylic, or oil, or whatever it is).

If I have varnished the painting, I jot that down. When I sign the painting, I note on the card where the painting is signed and whether I have used initials or my whole name.  On the back of the card, I record when I send it out on consignment, what gallery it went to and when.  If it is sold and I know who bought it, I note their name.

It sounds complicated, but it has worked well for me.  I have sent off many paintings over the years; the galleries aren't always good at documenting the ins and outs of inventory, so I make sure that I know.

Here is a link to the website of Douglas Haynes, who shared this piece of helpful advice with me:
http://www.dhaynes.com/

Gauguin and Polynesia

Last Thursday I went with a friend to Seattle to see the  Gauguin & Polynesia exhibition.  We went on the train, and had a long pleasant afternoon there.

The Seattle Art Museum has done a beautiful job of hanging the show - the paintings are well spaced and lit, so that the colours shine brightly.  Gauguin said that he wanted the colour to vibrate like music and I felt that it does. It glows, with nothing strident or harsh or clashing.  The paintings aren't large, most 30 x 36 inches maximum.  As much as I don't think I would have liked the man, I do like the way he put down the paint.

If you look through images of his work, you see many self-portraits.  They are all done from the same angle, with his head facing to the right and his eyes looking sideways.  This is the way it has to be when you are doing self-portraits; it is awkward because you have to look in the mirror and at the same time  face your canvas.  This one that is in the show has a nice bit of yellow-orange on his shirt front, and a good dash of black below to heighten the other colours.  

Karen Wilkin Writes About Rembrandt and Degas

In the February issue of The New Criterion, Karen Wilkin writes about Degas' response to Rembrandt's prints.  When Degas was a young artist studying in Italy, the prints inspired him to do numerous self-portraits, in a manner that was a rejection of the strictures of the Academy that he was fleeing in Paris.
Karen Wilkin on Two Young Artists

Helen Frankenthaler Passes Away

I was just reading about Helen Frankenthaler, who sadly passed away in December: http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2011/dec/28/helen-frankenthaler   Of course, I have always admired her work;  she was a great painter and a role model.  To my surprise, they write that she was often compared with John Marin, an earlier painter of atmospheric colour and sensitive line.  I never made that connection.  His work I passionately loved, and when I was getting started I poured over reproductions of his landscapes and cityscapes.  This is one of his watercolours:

About Looking at Paintings

I find it hard to say what I like or dislike about paintings.  One thing I have noticed, though, is that I find sentimentality embarrassing.  Sentimentality I would describe as the too-obvious pulling at the viewer's heartstrings. I want a deeper emotion than that.
A treatment of a subject that is different from what I have seen before always gets my admiration and interest.  I don't mean something ugly but more a unique way of seeing.  Also I look for the honest commitment of the artist - energy put in, coming from the urgent need or drive to create.