It takes courage to cover up a completed painting, but it’s something I have learned to do. The question is why do I do it. In one instance, it was because of a technical problem: the black paint wasn’t drying and when I went to put on the final coat of cold wax, it began lifting the paint and the painting was ruined. That board was put into the pile of available boards for use in the future.
Searching For His Lost Life became Where the Road Ends.
This piece made it into my Slightly Off Kilter show last year, but when the show came down, I realized I wasn’t in love with the painting, so once again, it went into the available boards pile. I recently completed yet another painting, Something More Was Required. Yes, something more was required and I think that painting has come full circle. With the initial layer of plaster and multiple layers of oil and cold wax, this 24×24 piece is getting pretty heavy. From Searching For His Lost Life, to Where the Road Ends, it is now Something More Was Required.
Another recent transformation came when I took an 8×8-inch piece, To the Center of Silence, and transformed it into A Dark Curtain Against the Sky. I liked the original well enough, but it was a bit too yellow and wasn’t dynamic enough.
Then there was Beachcombing. I loved the little niche filled with treasures, but it read a bit too precious. And the colors were a bit jarring.
So, I scrapped and dug out the found objects and sea shells, sanded the board, and transformed it into Things Still Remembered.I haven’t filled the niche yet as that takes a whole different level of creativity. What is tucked into a niche is very powerful.
Finally, one more example. I did a couple of pages in my art journal, which I liked and thought would translate nicely into a painting.
So I loosely painted it onto a 30×30-inch cradled panel (after painting over another painting I had been working on for awhile – look at the big panel behind me in the first photo of this post – that’s what was on the board before I took the journal page and painted it onto the panel). It sat for a long time and I thought I liked it. In fact, it was ready to go to the gallery.
But something was niggling at me, so I took it back into my studio and began revamping it. It became something entirely different.
And then I kept going.
And going.
And going.
Stoking A Small Steady Flame was born and now hangs at Guardino Gallery in Portland.