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Enjoy the past comments below for Fast and slow…
Fast and slow art making: I think it’s important to pursue both, and with a vigor! Vigorously sketch! Do 30 second sketches while watching tv. Do 1 minute sketches while sitting at a park bench. Force yourself to choose moving targets. These exercises will force your eye to see the primary shape of things, and to see also what it is that brought you to the subject. You will learn about your own perceptions, and you will train your hand to be an extension of your eye this way. Slow down intentionally and force yourself to render a detailed drawing of your “other” hand now and then. Don’t put it aside before it is really poppingly realistic. Choose a really difficult perspective to stretch your right brain! When you come to your main event, you will have put some stretch and spring into your way of seeing things and you will see the difference. Really! It does work.
Everyone has a predetermined rhythm, tempo and timing. You can’t change it. You were born that way so live with it and move on.
Yes, I’m one of those ‘dividers of the world’ –those who either eat one piece of popcorn at a time, or those who shovel it in by the handful, and a subcategory of people who have children and people who don’t.. but back to the art..Someone said it best: ”Fail to plan, or plan to fail”. Seems to cover the bases in artistic endeavors; rarely (but not, never) do we find lasting evidence of quality that doesn’t have a deep level work, intention, and vision behind it. Thinking deeply first, seems to allow you to act quickly in most things!
I have been teaching my art around the country from Sacramento to Ireland and I find one comment that comes up at the beginning of every class. “I just need to let you know that I am really slow,” with the look of shame in their eyes. So before every class I talk about Your Own Creative Speed. Your post about Fast and Slow was great and timely. Who said fast was good? Go at your own pace. That’s when we are the most open to push out our creativity. Thank you for the words today. I guess I am on the right track.
This letter made me reflect on the question I am often asked at art fairs and exhibitions: “How long did this painting/drawing take to make?” I never know how to answer. Do I count the umpteen years I’ve spent mastering my craft, the months I spent stewing over the particular concept/composition, the days spent fine-tuning the idea, or the hours taken to actually execute it? It may have been one of those paintings that flowed magically off the brush in what felt like moments, or a drawing that was laboured over for seeming eternity. But why does it even matter to the observer? Why are people hung up on time anyway? It should be the outcome that counts. In my experience, good art is always a combination of laboured intention and fleeting impulse.
Thinking fast and maintaining focus is easier if you bypass your emotions. Many physicists, mathematicians and economists have figured that out, i.e. the young Einstein and others.
As in all aspects of life, balance is the key. A good piece of music has fast and slow, forte and pianissimo passages. Flamboyancy needs a solid foundation.
A very timely article for me Robert! I just finished doing a painting which took me two weeks partly because there was a child (hands, arm, head) and a horse (head in particular) in the image. The background didn’t take more than a few hours, but the rest took a week and a half! I wanted to get the forms down as carefully as I could but having it look like I didn’t labor over it, since the piece is a donation for an Equestrian Center having a fund-raiser. Its likely that people going there know something about the main focus, probably more than I do. I spent a lot of time this past year doing fast and furious smaller pieces. This was good since I felt I needed something to make me make decisions quicker in laying down shapes, values, and color. Plein air worked for me to help accomplish this process, but back in the studio I do slow down and think through my processes. You are right, it is finding the right balance. Inspiration is the first part for me, then getting that down on canvas the way I envision it is the process. Fast or slow, its completed when its done….I just know when that is.
This article is especially timely for me. I have been agonizing about a plein air piece I submitted along with another painting, for a juried show. I started to worry that they would be able to see right through the fact that I did no thumbnail, no value study, just dragging my stuff onto the beach to paint some beautiful weeds, which took about 2 hours. I’ll be darned if they did not pick the plein air piece! After reading some posts, now I realize that I had been studying those weeds every day for about a week before I painted them. I love Carol’s thoughts on this, “Thinking deeply first, seems to allow you to act quickly in most things!”, these word seem to wrap up the subject nicely!
There is a reason why hard work and perseverance are the mainstays of being an artist. While we would all like things to go a little faster, that is when many mistakes are made. I think the tendency to, at times, go too fast is exacerbated by our current culture of instant gratification.
Slow painters have trouble when it comes to establishing dealer relations, sales, etc. Volume and productivity are vital to creating a market.
I am not a painter..I am a hand weaver. Thank you so much for these exceptional newsletters. I rarely read one that does not contain something that I try and apply to my work process. They always manage to validate something that I am struggling with.
As a watercolorist who delights in subjects in action, I have to act quickly when I spot a promising subject–so I usually take a few snapshots, as well as an occasional video. From there, the challenge is to simulate the gesture, which I do with rapid sketches. Once the composition is determined, I complete the background, and often the foreground, as simply as possible, within the parameters of drying time for successive washes. From there on in, though, the devil is in the details.
Everyone has their own pace. This pace isn’t an issue when it comes to creating artwork except, of course, if you are an Illustrator under a dealine with your editor. There aren’t too many of those anymore. Nowadays deadlines come part and parcel with industry artists; those still working for the studios in animation. Whether fast or slow, the results are what ultimately matter. I personally like the “dashed off” look even thought I know from experience that this “look” can take weeks, even months to achieve. A good work should look effortless no matter the time it took to paint it. I never want to see the labor behind a good work.
One has to compare the slow methodical way of putting things down, looking at the with rag in hand, wiping off and then repeating the operation, generally in one limited spot until the right stroke is formed, with the energetic, here, there, all over the place energy that sees a work materialize holistically.
Those rare paintings I was able to complete quickly were prefaced with weeks of contemplation about them – the subject, the composition, how I wanted to handle the light, what to edit, alter, etc. Those I agonized over for too long I did not give the same consideration and study to, thinking they were one of those “ready mades” and I could just paint what is in front of me. No. Then I found myself correcting decisions mid-painting that should have been resolved before I ever started it. The final product was mediocre. I am in the midst of such a situation right now and I should know better after painting this long. I think I’m annoyed at my limited output and wanted to rush that which can’t be rushed. Slow down, work out the problems with a good plan, then paint it.
Why does it have to be fast or slow? When my daughter was learning the violin, her teacher told her to practice a piece faster than it should be played and slower. That has always stuck with me with respect to painting and it makes sense, because different mental/physical processes are called up. When I am in the painting doldrums, I set the timer for 15 or 30 minutes and do 6 paintings in two or three hours. That gets the blood moving, shows me what I know without thought, unshackles me from perfection, and its really fun. When I want to focus on some aspect of painting, I go slow and allow myself to go past the point where I might quit in frustration–to really figure it out, to do it thoughtfully–to bring to bear what I know and set it in my mind. I say do both.
We can also divide scientists into two main kinds, those that waste time and money on silly research and those that don’t. I don’t believe human psyche can be divided into two “systems”. I’m no scientist so my opinion is probably worth absolutely zilch. Who cares about systems? Are we so afraid of just letting ourselves run a course that feels natural that we need science to help focus? There are pitfalls everywhere, no matter what system we believe we’re in. Art is full of pitfalls, sometimes necessitating quick decisions, sometimes slow. If that’s “confused” I’m OK with that. I’ve read in Time magazine that another sociologist’s research showed that people wanting to buy a house took better decisions if they had less information than those that belaboured their decision by going through reams and reams of information. It means that gut decisions may be what is good at the time, and so I prefer to go with the gut when painting. I can, however, go along with Kahneman’s theory that “Optimism is a source of high-risk thinking”, proven by the grand cock-ups in the US banking system as well as just about every war the US has undertaken since World War II. But that is a different story and more than a step away from the making of art.
Cotton Fields at Dusk oil painting 9 x 12 inches Brenda Behr, NC, USA |
I love your painting.