I've been thinking about how the paint gets from the tube to the canvas, and where the artist fits in. One advantage of my extra screen time/search for artist enlightenment these past months is that I've watched a lot painters in the act. I've peeked into their studios, seen how their paint-squeezed-out palettes look, learned some about how they prepare their hearts and heads for the work, heard talk of what they try to let go of, and so on. Completely fascinating.
Reflecting today on seven unusual months of observation, I realize I've absorbed some (idiosyncratic and varying) subtleties in the practice of applying paint. How much paint is on the brush? Is it stiff and thick, or softened by mediums? What kind of a mark does the brush make? How many strokes does the brush make before reloading? How much does the artist try to control or not control the brush?
Here's the beginning of a painting I made yesterday. As I worked, I had somewhere in my head the freedom of gesture and generosity of paint I saw in a MOMA class demonstration by Corey d'Augustine. I like the start.
