2014 and notes to self for 2015

It's that time of the year again; the yearly ritual of brushing off one's lassitude to look at life in the face. 2014 has been a good year. Some of the things I wanted to accomplish in 2014 were - create a body of work, exhibit in group shows, learn pottery, create a website and apply to juried shows. Creating a body of work was the most important goal, and so I paid it the most attention. I have spent many long hours (not long enough) in the studio. Despite the periodic frustration, doubt and procrastination, I did pretty well. I created a body of work this year and am still working on it. I exhibited thrice this year. (not bad) The pottery goal was fun. As for juried shows, I haven't been lucky this year. I didn't get around to creating a website for myself either. Perhaps 2015 will be the year for both goals.

I continued volunteering at Columbia Art Center (CAC) this year; my weekly appointment with the world outside the studio. As a volunteer, I've done some interesting projects/ tasks at CAC, but usually I help them with their inventory. In June this year, CAC asked me to give a talk to teachers and facilitators of a kids' art camp. I talked to the group about my work, after which we discussed subjects such as self-expression, success and failure, spontaneity, the creative process, the inner censor and taking risks. We ended with a painting project. It was a fun event. More than anything the experience told me that I could put myself out there. Scary, but fun.

2014 also marked the fourth anniversary of A Work in Progress. Four years! Sure I haven't given the blog as much attention as I should have, but still. With the new year I promise, dear blog, to shower you with more love. 

Now that there's no stopping 2015, I have a list of things I want to do this year. Paint on larger canvases, return to printmaking, go deeper into silence and stillness, exhibit in India, participate in exhibitions and apply to juried shows, create a website, and blog regularly. Work has taught me some important lessons this year and I want to keep these in mind in 2015: 

• When the resistance to begin work arises, dip into work regardless. The edges of any fear will begin to fade and the next step becomes inevitable. 
• Staying in the studio even when things are not going your way is vital. 
• Mundane activities like clearing your table can coax the answer hiding inside you to reveal itself. 
• Silliness and lighthearted defiance are great allies when the all serious ego tries to overpower you. 
• Everything takes its time.
• Everything flows into each other. Life is seamless.

I leave you now with some my favourite photos of 2014. Wish you a very happy 2015. May you have a year of creativity, joy, laughter, wisdom and peace. See you in 2015!

18th century Chinese artist on life-force and painting

I've been reading The Grove Book of Art Writing edited by Martin Gayford and Karen Wright. It is an anthology of writings by artists, critics, writers and philosophers on topics related to the creative process, viewing art, nature and inspiration and the artist. In it I came across a gem, a text by an 18th century artist from China, Shen Tsung-ch'ien. In this short piece he talks about life-force and the act of painting. There is a lot to take from it. So here goes..

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All matter is formed of accumulated force. Thus even the undulations of the hilltops and every rock and tree are possessed by a life-force inherent in them. They are multifarious, yet orderly, perhaps they exist in small numbers, but they are never dried and dead. Each has its own shape, and together they have a related unity. All things differ in shape and manner, yet all are governed by this life-force and possess the beauty of life. This is what we call shih, force of movement. When people, speaking of the six techniques [the venerable principles of Chinese art, laid down in the fifth century AD], place first the 'lifelike tone and atmosphere', they mean exactly this. When we speak of the force of the brush (pi-shih), we mean that the life-movement of the brush brings out the body posture of the different objects. Only so can the work be called a painting. When one prepares to put ink on paper, one should feel in one's wrist a power like the universe creating life. It flows out from one generously and freely, without obstruction and without deliberation. One puts a dot here and a dash there and the objects take form; anything is possible for one to pick up and carry along. This is the creative moment when hand and mind and brush and ink co-operate. As Wen Cheng-ming says, seize it, capture it at once before it vanishes, for speed is essential to catch that force of movement. ... The forms of hills and forests come from the life-force (sheng-ch'i) of the universe, and the ink marks and tracings of the brush come the spiritual force of the artist's mind and hand. So where the life-force is, the force of movement is also. The life-force makes the force of movement, and the force of movement carries the life-movement. The force of movement (shih) can be seen, but the life-force (chi'i) cannot. Therefore it is necessary to have the force of movement to bring out the life of things. When life-force circulates, the force of movement goes in harmony with it. So this life-force and force of movement come from the same source. Let it pour out and it will flow naturally and in graceful movements. There is no need to work carefully and yet it all fits in beautifully. Is it life-force? Or is it force of movement? Just pour it out. The insight of a moment may be thus committed to eternity, and the artist need not be ashamed of his work. Such pleasures of creation cannot be felt by an artist who slowly builds up his structures.

The moment of inspiration comes by itself, and brushes away all doubts and hesitancies. Like an arrow shooting out from the bowstring, it cannot be stopped; it is unfathomable, like rumbling thunder coming from the earth. One has no idea where it comes from, when it starts, nor wither it goes. It comes just at the exact moment, not a second sooner or later. When this inspiration comes at the moment of painting, a true masterpiece is born. It cannot be repeated by doubled effort, it simply eludes it. For the effort to recapture that moment is born of man (artificial), not of heaven (inspired). Only those possessed of the natural expansive spirit have more of such moments; they can shut out the mental effort and let themselves go soaring in freedom to wherever the spirit may carry them. ...

- Shen Tsung-ch'ien, fl. 1781

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at work in the studio

The fall is giving way to winter here in Maryland. On days like today, the sky is grey, the rain drizzles and the cold turns the water drops on branches into ice. On other days, the sun shines but it gives more light than warmth. The leaves are still dropping off trees. Sometimes they leave the tree gently. There is a decisive moment when the leaf lets go (or is it the tree that lets go?). Sometimes a gush of wind makes the separation a forceful one, sending leaves off trees with a whoosh. It's lovely to see the seasons change. And from my studio window it looks even more lovely. 

Other than enjoying the winter, I've been spending a lot of time in the studio the last couple of months. For the most part, I've been working on a new body of work - a new set of paintings and drawings. I am enjoying doing the work immensely. The great thing about doing abstract work is that you are always surprised. The way I've been working is such that I don't have a plan (see this post about working without a plan). So I work - looking, adding, subtracting, searching and changing - until I come to the point where the composition comes together. Arriving at this point is such a thrill because you don't really plan on getting to that exact place. You can't plan how certain marks, splashes, drips etc will interact with each other. You always stop in your tracks, and for me that seems like the best way to work.

I've also been reading in the studio. These days it's the work of John Cage that I've been reading about. First I read 'Where the Heart Beats - John Cage, Zen Buddhism and the Inner Life of Artists' by Kay Larson. Now I am reading 'Musicage: Cage Muses on Words, Art, Music', which is a series of conversations between John Cage and Joan Retallack. Both books are very interesting and thought provoking. Sometimes I read fiction, but I usually keep fiction for the evening.

Writing is another thing I do when in the studio. Sometimes I write before I start painting. It allows me to quieten down. Writing also helps to gain clarity. Sometimes putting things down on paper is all it takes to really see something. But usually I write because I have a thought and I want to explore it. And when I write I use a pen and a diary. I'm not a typer-writer really.

The painting, reading and writing, all happen in the studio. Here they all come together, one flows into the other. Sometimes when there is a lull in drawing or painting, I look to writing or reading to refresh me. But you know, sometimes just sitting doing nothing is good too. At that time it's the studio itself that provides inspiration. The easel, paints, brushes, inks and pencils present a scene full of possibilities. I have on the walls a few of my works, a linocut and a monoprint. On the table and windowsill I have my collection of leaves and stones and such. And of course there is always the window to look out from.

I'll end here with some photographs I took this morning in the studio. Enjoy!

abstraction and the virtue of letting go

inner city, acrylics on canvas, 30x40" ©2013 priya vadhyar

For the last few months I have been taking classes at The Drawing Studio. The one that began late in October was called Xtreme Painting: Looking for Dragon Smoke, an abstracts-in-acrylics class taught by Josh Goldberg. Taught against the backdrop of Eastern philosophy, Xtreme Painting looks at the act of painting and the expression of a non-representational language.

On the first day of class, Josh asked us to stand in front of our fresh canvases without a plan and empty of thought. As we began, he asked us to be spontaneous, and let go of the idea of control. Over the weeks, we were encouraged to be unattached and non-judgmental. We were to look at the marks objectively and act according to what the painting required. Looking critically at the composition, the colour and the direction of brush strokes, while keeping the painting fresh were just some of the lessons we learned with each session. We were to be alert to accidents/ opportunities that arise, and look for clues that might suggest the next move. Over the next eight weeks, we learned to trust ourselves, see our work and let our inner abstraction find expression.

What was interesting was learning to be completely present in the act of painting without the distractions of the ego, judgement and past/future considerations. Complete involvement in any process can be a tough hill to climb if we are too eager to reach. And yet that's exactly what's required for true expression.

To learn more about this way of painting I'm now taking the second part of this class (Xtreme Painting: Riding the Dragon). Inner City is one of the paintings I've completed.

inspiration in the studio

When I am in my studio, I often look up at my wall for inspiration. Stuck on it are cuttings, pictures, small drawings, reminders and beautiful objects which revive me, push me to do more and often give me sound advice. Advice comes from some of the people who have inspired me immensely - Georgia O'Keeffe, Virginia Woolf, John Muir, Maya Angelou, Henry David Thoreau, Vincent Van Gogh.

When I am frustrated with a painting, Georgia O'Keeffe says,
"Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant, there is no such thing. Making your unknown known is the important thing." 

To be true to myself, Virginia Woolf says, "This soul, or life within us, by no means agrees with the life outside us. If one has the courage to ask her what she thinks, she is always saying the very opposite to what other people say."

That art is not separate from the rest of life, is what John Muir says, 
"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe."

Courage comes to me from Maya Angelou who says,
"Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently."

Henry David Thoreau reminds me to persevere,
"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

And finally, Vincent Van Gogh sternly tells me to have faith, 
"Painting is a faith, and it imposes the duty to disregard public opinion."

Who inspires you?