The more you do, the more you do

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I've been so prolific lately. I didn't expect that to be an outcome of my daily painting - my intention was to get better and get in more hours of painting - though in hindsight, it is obvious that I would produce something. It is a great feeling - the flow of one painting after another. Many days, I practice small studies or techniques, and many times, those studies are good enough to frame. I love it when that happens. It is when I am practicing that I do my best work.
These irises were done en plein air last Thursday at Nola's Iris Garden in San Jose - in the order that I painted the three. I almost didn't go, knowing that it would be all florals, but I am so glad I did - I have never seen that many colors or color combinations in a single species. I have been doing florals lately just to get out of the box, and I thought they would be easy - they are organically shaped, mistakes can be hidden in flowers. But just because I can paint the flower doesn't mean I make a good painting. For that, something else needs to happen. Recently, during my second weekend in SVOS, I was speaking with someone about beauty in a painting and they asked me whether my needing to own that painting meant I valued it, or saw beauty in it. I agreed - that seemed reasonable. If I was willing to part with my money for it, it must mean it has value to me. But a few minutes later, I realized - no, that is not entirely true. For me to see beauty in a painting, what is true for me is that the painting needs to be more beautiful than the subject. There must be some interpretation, some liberty with color choices, something the artist brings of him/herself for it to be a thing of beauty. (And that is why photorealism doesn't appeal to me at all). I may choose not to spend X amount to own something I find beautiful - I don't think I am one to need possessions and that sort of attachment - but I need to be moved by the painting. Something ordinary, like a concrete/aggregate factory may look ugly to the normal viewer, but if the artist paints it and makes it a thing of beauty, it has succeeded and is beautiful. The best compliment then would be that the viewer never thought "this could look that interesting."





All this talk of beauty reminds me of a lovely poem by Mirza Ghalib that often comes to mind when I see beauty:



Sab kahan, kuchh lala-o-gul mein numaya ho gaye
Khaak mein kya soorte hongin ki pinha ho gaye.

Where are they all? Some bloom again as tulips or as roses
There in the dust forever how many forms lie concealed!
(TRANSLATED BY RALPH RUSSELL)

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