A Solitary Pursuit

Painting is a solitary pursuit. We can talk about art together, draw together, and even do some painting together but, when it comes right down to it, most art gets made in the solitude of the studio. If, like me, you're an artist who also works another job to earn a living, that doesn't leave a lot of time for friends, family, or even the humdrum of daily life.

The only time our work brings us together with others is when we have an exhibition--and that is usually only at the opening reception.

In some ways the internet has changed this dynamic in that it has become easier to share images of works in progress or recently finished works with other artists and friends. I remember back in the 80s and 90s sharing snapshots of new works with distant friends in the mail--yes actual photographs sent in envelopes with stamps. We also had very big phone bills--the only way to keep in touch with artists in distant cities. Color photocopies from slides were also a big thing.

For years I listened to talk radio (NPR) while I worked--something about keeping the left side of my brain occupied, leaving the right side free to do its own thing on the canvas. Lately I'm finding the talk somewhat distracting -- perhaps because the news is just too depressing. Music has become a more constant companion.

Working in egg tempera is such a zen experience--just keep painting and the painting keeps on becoming. The progress of individual paintings is still uncharted territory for me. Unlike oil painting, I have no idea how long a painting will take. Each new work is s first--a first small still life, a first small portrait and now a first double portrait with nearly life-size heads. It's both exciting and stressful. I will press on.