Instant

A serious talk
Skype drawing
charcoal on bond paper
9 x 12 inches
Barbara Muir © 2010
(Before I start a commission portrait
painting I frequently do sketches
and drawings to "learn"
the subject - either live,
or from photos. My friend
Tamara has a beautiful face
and a difficult one to capture.
During a recent conversation
she lit a cigarette. I said that
this was the only way she could
ever have a cigarette and talk
to me. We'd need to be
thousands of miles apart.
(I don't smoke.)

I grew up in the age of instant. My mother like many
of the women of her generation was thrilled with
"instant mashed potatoes", instant coffee, shirts that
didn't need ironing, the entire smorgasbord of
convenience foods. She was a great cook, but was
delighted to be able to use these foods for
shortcuts.

Now the rage for instant has become so dominant
that kids have trouble sitting still in school, because
they're used to keying in whatever music or videos
they want to see on their computers. Microwaving
food, instant bank machines, the list goes on.

But when you apply the instant mania to art the
concept loses some of its appeal. It is possible
to create a painting quickly on a small surface,
I know that myself. But for the bigger, deeper,
more intensive, work, instant just doesn't cut it.
The blog world is excellent for demanding
product. I think that's good for artists. It has
been a wonderful discipline for me to know
that people are out in the world waiting to see
me create something.

But it's also hard if (as it does) work takes time
to gel, doesn't come together instantly --
floats around in the brain for months before
manifesting on canvas or paper -- eludes the
artist. Then, when the idea does congeal
it is complex, doesn't permit speed, needs
a lot of work, fast work some days, slow
meticulous detail on others.

This is a concept I'm wondering about right
now because I want to spend a while on my
paintings - hire models, work out poses, think,
and think, and think until I get magic. Or
not think until something pops into my head
and hits the canvas. Constant work on a small
scale is like the daily short runs before the marathon.
Each one has its own meaning and value, and
counts in larger explorations.

Have a working-on-your-inner-art day.