Places that Inspire

Some while ago, I read a comment by a British watercolourist, Tony Foster, who had been painting on both the North and South Rims of the Grand Canyon.  (He managed to paint six-foot wide pieces on location, quite a feat in of itself!)  What he said was, "My thesis is that despite a world overloaded with imagery, certain places still retain the power to inspire awe and wonder.  All of my work is based on the philosophy that our planet is a gloriously beautiful but fragile place, and that as an artist, it is my role to deliver a testament to the fact that wild and pristine places still exist."

He is right. Art is one way to remind people that we are still able to visit places that transcend our normal humdrum lives, with beauty and grandeur that humble and inspire us.  But the subtext of such reminders is that we need to be vigilant, thoughtful custodians of such places.

This past weekend, when I was out along the Georgia coast, drawing, I felt myself to be in such a place of inspiration.  There is something about a natural environment that has not been much changed nor manipulated by man: it has another feel, another rhythm.  More primal, perhaps, but infinitely more powerful, subtle, complex and yet, very fragile.  As you settle down in such a place to try and create art plein air, the magic of the place begins to seep in - the lay of the land, the movement of water, the breezes, the sounds, the play of light.  It is hard to access how these influences show up on the art one is creating - perhaps only others can see them.  Nonetheless, there is an alchemy, an inspiration that keeps one going.

Even when the art one is creating is on a small scale, unlike Tony Foster's, the dialogue between place and artist is very much there.  Perhaps one is working almost instinctively, but the influences and inspiration of the place seep into what one is doing.  This metalpoint drawing, Marshwrack, is about the wonderful, but seemingly chaotic patterns left by  the dead Spartina grass swept up onto the high water mark by spring tides and left there to decay and refertilise the salt water marshes.  Having spent time drawing a tenaciously majestic dead red cedar tree in Prismacolor, it was interesting to focus in on the marshwrack lying in rafts along the shore at high water mark.

Both these drawings were, in essence, about the cycle of life in such natural, wild places.  The dead cedar was decaying, slowly and inexorably, host to lichen and insects, just as the marshwrack was home to innumerable small crabs and insects who helped break down the grass stems.

These places of inspiration owe at least some of their power, perhaps, to the implicit reminders that, untrammelled by man's intervention, nature continues its exquisitely balanced and logical cycles of birth, growth, decay... We are straying into a world that should, and can when allowed to,  continue to evolve and exist in amazing, elegant sophistication. As artists, we are privileged to get glimpses of these wonders.

"Art should be a rebellion"

The wonderful Lebanese bard, Marcel Khalife, was interviewed in late February on PBS by Jeffrey Brown during the Newshour (http://www.pbs.org/newshour/art/blog/2009/02) about his music and life. Khalife evoked the song he sings, Passport, which uses the words of a haunting poem by the late extraordinary Middle Eastern poet, Mahmoud Dawish. The gist of what he said at one point was that art should be a rebellion, and it should not submit to ordinary life.

Perhaps one of the problems people have with the concept of beauty in art, (see my blog entry of 22.2.2009) is that often art implicitly challenges comfortable assumptions we have about our world and our opinions. A large percentage of artwork, in all media, is overtly or covertly rebellious. Politics, social customs, economic situations - a whole host of issues is addressed by artists in their work. If one is even vaguely aware that there are "subversive" messages in the art, one's opinion can thus possibly be coloured as to whether the art is beautiful or not.

Not submitting to "ordinary life", challenging the status quo, can take many forms in art. Even using art, as I often do, to draw attention to our collective potential loss when fragile and often beautiful environments are destroyed, is a certain form of resistance. Coastal Georgia is frequently under assault from "development" and so-called "progress"; any challenge to the notion that destroying places for personal enrichment is perfectly acceptable can be seen as rebellion. Every artist finds issues about which passions are stirred - those issues become that artist's personal rebellion. Society needs lots of artists - their rebellions are ultimately our collective conscience.

Life becoming Art

A wonderful quote from Sir Anthony Caro, the famed British sculptor, was in the 2/9th June 2012 Spectator: "I believe art is about what it is to be alive".  The article was by Ariane Bankes, discussing Caro's current exhibition of sculpture at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire.

Ms. Bankes was writing of Caro's huge and unending curiosity about the world around him, and his use of these interests as the source of his creative work.  It reminded me how important it is to be curious about everything around one: as an artist, antennae need to be up as much as possible, eyes and ears open, and a questing attitude cultivated.  Not always easy and other things in "life" obtrude, but even then, it seems that later, things not consciously registered at the time come floating back into one's mind.

I realised, the other day, that a day I had spent drawing on the coast was more rewarding than I had thought.  I was concentrating on what I was trying to do at the time, but indeed, I was "alive" to many more things around me.  The result was a watercolour that came flowing, quite some time after this day's drawing. The different elements of the painting - marshwrack, a contorted dead cedar, eythrinia flowers, a baby alligator, different birds - are those that I was not drawing at the time... but were burned in my memory because of the heightened senses that art was allowing me to have.  A lovely gift.  Capturing the energies and magical forces of life around one is a never-ending quest for an artist and a passport to living life to the full.

Art - an opportunity for reflection...

I had donated artwork to The Art Connection in Boston (http://www.theartconnection.org/) so that they can find nonprofits who cannot afford art for their walls but need the uplifting messages art can provide. Their spring/summer newsletter states, "Art offers an opportunity for reflection and inspiration. It can change a mood, increase morale, stimulate dialogue and build community." As I reflected on that statement, I realised that I frequently see the truth of it in the world all around me, as I am sure many others do too.

It does not take the present economic woes to underline the real value placed by people of all works of life in art - be they seasoned collectors or simply lovers of art. There have been enough studies done now to show the role art can play in helping people under stress, in hospital environments, for example. Years ago, a large painting of mine was placed on a wall opposite the elevator door on the ICU floor of the local hospital. One day, a dear friend phoned to say that when he had got to that floor one early morning of family drama, he saw my painting as he got out of the elevator. "I can't tell you how much it helped calm me down," he confided. I was deeply moved.

Coincidentally, a solo exhibition of my work, A Sense of Place, has just opened at the same Southeast Georgia Health System Outpatient Care Center Art Gallery in Brunswick, Georgia. Again, I am told, this gallery is constantly the scene of someone studying the art on display, collecting themselves and finding a short respite from the stresses usually connected with hospital scenes. By selecting watercolours, silverpoint and graphite drawings of local areas of beauty and serenity, I hope to remind the viewers of the wider world beyond. (Moon over the Marshes - watercolour)

The role of art as stimulating dialogue is always visible in communities where art has become an important ingredient in daily life. I read recently how many towns in the Rust Belt region are turning to art to try and revitalise their downtown areas which are so abandoned. Artists are like the yeast in bread, helping stimulate activities in empty buildings which cry out for new life and fresh starts. There is always something to discuss, too, when art is created or on display. Even the simple act of standing in front of a piece of art or listening to music or theatre - whatever - alongside a stranger seems to give one licence to address that person and start a dialogue. As a matter of fact, I met one of my now-dearest friends because I said something to her as we stood in front of a painting in a museum and we started talking. That's the magic of art! It empowers us all and takes us out of ourselves.