Art and Sweetcorn

In September 2009 my younger daughter Alina came to my studio for an hour or two. That visit led to an illustrated short story “Art and Sweetcorn”.
Here it is:

Alina Making Art

Sweetcorn is hot this season.

On the way to the studio I made a detour to the Farmers’ Market, but going home in the evening forgot the bag with the goodies behind.

– Alina, I’ve got sweetcorn in the studio. Would you like to come with me to get it?
– Ye-ye-yeah!

Off we go.
Out of the door, turn left…

– Mummy, can we take the shortcut?
– That way takes longer, Alina!
– I don’t care!
– OK.

carry on down The Mint;
up through the inn car park;
right down the cobbled street;
past the corner house with the pigeons;
take the passage on the left;
past the lamp-post;
into the court yard.

Some days my girls like to come to my studio, some days they don’t. Depends.

– Alina, would you like to cook the corn here, or would you rather go home?
– I don’t mind, mummy, I can eat it cold.
– Yes, but it’s not cooked: you have to cook it first.
– Aw… (disappointment strength 8/10). Can I do painting while it’s being cooked then?
– You may.
– I want to do Art.

“Artwork” 1

Sweetcorn’s in the pan.

– Which paint would you like, this (oils) or this (acrylics)?
– I want this one (acrylics).
– There you go.
– Can I have those little rolling things as well?
– Yes, sure. And there is your paper.

She is all settled, painting on the floor;
I am at the table, drawing her.
We are busy doing Art.
Silence.

“Artwork” – 3

Sweet aroma slowly fills the room…

– Mummy?
– Hm?
– Is the sweetcorn ready yet?
(glance at the clock)
– No, not yet. Another 10 minutes or so…
– Aw…

5 minutes later:
– Mummy!
– Hm?
– I think the sweetcorn is ready now.
– Uh-ehm…
– Come on, then!
– Okay! – I put the pencil down and get the sweetcorn.

It is hot. I put one cob under the running cold water. Alina comes to the sink to wash her hands.
– Mummy?
– Yes?
– I painted the difference between the Sea and the Soil.
– Oh, cool!

“Artwork” 2

Hands clean, she is content.
– Can I eat my sweetcorn now?
– Ah-a.
I give her the cooled-down cob, and place the plate with more of them on the arm of the chair. She climbs into the chair. Satisfaction 10/10. Life is good.

“Sweetcorn”

– Alina, are you going to paint any more?
– Nah-ah.
– In that case, you need to tidy up.
– Arrgghh, Godddd!

Marina Kim

Autumn, 2009

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Looking for your own face

Poetry Chaikhana blog (one of my perennial favourites) sent today a post with a poem by Farid ud-Din Attar. It says:

“You can never see your own face,
only a reflection, not the face itself.”

Self

…and I had a little recognition moment – “That’s what it is!”

That’s probably the reason I am obsessed with portraits. They are also reflections. And so are we for each other. When we face each other in conversation, or conflict, or play, or any other interaction – we become reflections of each other and for each other to see.

Is that why it is always an effort to be with other people (well, it is for me), because one turns one’s gaze outwards and allows one’s own “face” to assume the reflected images of what one can see rather than being an authentic self? Is it even possible to stay authentic in interaction with other people?

And is my making portraits of myself and others is a superficial (and, yes, futile) attempt to see myself, while actually, it hardly shows even a little aspect of the other? Arrrrh!..

Peter Spencer

Peter Spencer came with two boxes of eggs.

Said that his “girls” were broody, which isn’t good. At this kind of weather (spring, nice) they want to nest, become pecky and don’t eat properly. No good.

One led to another, I mentioned the dreaded Japanese knot weed in our neighbour’s garden. Peter asked to have a look, and  while there offered to string the corner of the garden full of nettle.

We talked about art and life. I asked him, if this life style he has now is what he ultimately wants? (I seem to be asking everyone awkward questions these days)

Being me.

Reminding myself of my one and only job -being me. Sometimes it means spending days on my own, in silence, in idleness, just staying in synch with God – the way I used to, when I was a child.

Mezzotint and more… Margaret van Patten

"Paper Thin"

While looking for artists working in mezzotint, found an amazing art by an artist Margaret van Patten.

Paper Thin
photo by Harold Hutchinson
Etching with mezzotint

The image is rich in content – messages from conscious and subconscious levels merge in an emotional and elegant manner. The technical diversity the artist applied to creating the plate makes for a complex yet un-crowded image.

Love her work!

Uneasy feelings and what to do with them

I had this uneasy feeling again and decided to do something constructive about it.

Step one: Identify what caused that feeling.

To help with that, think back to the time when it first appeared. Then, think what exactly caused it – someone’s remark, or action, or some event. Then, think what it made you feel like, or what negative thought that thing evoked in you.

Step two: Breath deliberately.

Concentrate on getting your body, especially brain, oxygenated (but not hyperventilated!)

Step three: Take action.

Whatever that event or thought was, take action to minimise the impact of it. If it’s an event with possible negative consequences, think how you can reduce the harm and take steps to do it. If it is a thought which caused you grief, analyse what makes it negative and think how you can turn it into a positive thought.

Step four: Let go.

Now, decide whether the action you took is all you can do at the moment. If the answer is positive, let go of the whole thing and go do something else. If the answer is negative, repeat steps 1-4.

Q: How do I know if what I did is enough?

A: You’ll know because the uneasy feeling is gone.

It worked!

Just thought that sometimes people live with those uneasy feelings lingering for years!..

Meaning of a dream revealed

All of a sudden a meaning of a dream I had a while ago dawned on me.

In a dream, I am being one of the two high-ranking officers, who are being publicly executed for the atrocities of the war. The mob is angry. We are guilty.

My companion is higher in rank than me and he is viewed as the main villain. He is the first to be executed. The method is rather morbid. One’s arms and legs chopped off at the knees and elbows, after which one has to move along the parallel bars (like in gymnastics) on the stumps of his arms.

I am witnessing my comrade as he is about to be executed. His face shows no fear, no resentment, no repentance, just pure anger and defiance. I admire his courage, as he, with his limbs severed, moves swiftly along the parallel bars. The expression of his face is very strong. I admire his strength, and gather my own strength now, as I am to go through the same ordeal. His example gives me encouragement that I also can do that, although I feel much weaker…

And so, suddenly I see what that dream means. It reflects to me, that I view myself as the one not belonging to the masses, yet not the leader. I am hesitant to act, fearing pain and danger, and need to see that someone has done that same thing before me. I need a reassurance that I can do it, whatever that is.

It’s funny how some dreams stay in your consciousness for a while and reveal their meaning to you layer by layer.

Dreams and symbolism.

I had a curious dream

I was on a quest. I had to find a secret/treasure/scroll. Some sort of token/object and it was important.
It was a bit like a coputer game because on my way there, at places, I felt like I was gliding through the air. The way you do when you play a computer game. On my quest, I went through varied terraine. A voice, or a thought was guiding me. Like this:

– You will have to go through a forest, –
And I’d be gliding through some woody area

– You’ll come out of the forest and see an open field, –
And I’d be in the open

– You’ll need to cross the river… etc

The trip part (and the rest, actually) was happening very quickly. And there I was, in the pergola alley covered with vine and The Secret was placed in a sort of altar at the end of it. I flue to it. It was here within my reach, somewhere at the eye level or a little higher. At the same time, a person appeared a few paces behind me on the path. He was a very-very old man with long white beard and white clothes, rather bend over. He said, or expressed in some way, that he was the keeper of The Secret, and he was waiting for a long time for someone to come and get it. He was long due to die, but couldn’t because of The Secret. And now, that I am here, he can finally die. And the objetct/secret thing floated down into my hand. And he died.

And I became the keeper of the secret. A feeling of burden poped into my mind. Having to grow old, like that
old man, being attached to that object, iprisonned really, all alone. Then it faded. I became two little children, (or perhaps I got two little children as well as me, because the perseption of me as such became faded or more of an observer, not the action man. By the way, I am almost always more of a male than a female in my dreams), THEY were the keepers now. They play, and they compete, and argue, and play, and compete, possibly over the ownership of The secret. And that’s the end of the dream.

The emotional state of the dream at the end of it is of lively peace and dynamic serenity… As if life is good -challenging enough, comfortable enough, moving on in the right direction.

Loyal Reader or Royal Leader?

“Thank you for being a loyal reader and supporter of ReelSEO.” – said the top line of today’s newsletter, but to me it read like “Thank you for being a royal leader and supporter of ReelSEO. Well, my pleasure, say I. Or say We.

Because REEL SEO newsletter is my favourite of all newsletters that I am subscribed to so far. I am subscribed to three newsletters so far. And out of those three REEL SEO’s newsletter is my favourite. By far. There.

 

About me. The old story

The initial idea was to write about portraiture. But I realised that the only subject I can talk about with any degree of competence is myself. So, it is all about me. I hope that amidst my confused struggle you may find a particle of sense applicable to your own circumstances. One way or another we are all in Arts, and I am sure each of us faces this question of “What is Art?” at least once in a life time.I gave it some big thinking lately, and here is my story. The way I found myself in this profession is by following not my passion, but a number of accidents. And so, I spent my first couple of years in art college wondering what I was doing there and why. Even then the suspicion crept in, that the skill, the abilities, the status and the paraphernalia of being an artist are all secondary attributes. The primary one is the message. The message was missing. I had nothing to say, no opinion of my own. My life was happening outside of the college walls, and it was more real, more fun, more current than anything under the abstract and ambiguous concept of Art. I quit Art and the college and got busy with life. In a few years time there came a yearning to know more about Art. Or maybe it was a wish to appear more knowledgeable about Art. Which one of these was more true – I cannot tell. I came back to the college and started anew with renewed vigour. Soon I realised that in order to be serious about Art one has to make one’s living out of it. So, I started an art gallery, with a next-to- nothing knowledge about Art and no idea about Business. I wasn’t alone in my innocence – the whole country knew nothing about business! But we were learning fast. It was fun, at times nerve-wracking, thrilling and rewarding. The best thing about the art gallery was having the opportunity to learn about the world outside the impenetrable borders of Uzbekistan, as the community of foreigners in Tashkent constituted all of my clientele. One thing led to another, soon I had a chance to travel abroad, and in 2000 I took myself and my Art to London with the hope to find somebody interested. Then I met Tim and stayed in England. Life became fulfilled in an unexpected for me way with the arrival of children. Art never had a priority with me, and now it had to be content with even less of my attention. It became a means to earn the living for my family. Or perhaps having the family added an incentive to make Art. Which one is more true I again cannot tell. Also, by never really ceasing to make Art, I never had to give myself up entirely to the intensity of the mother and baby relationship. And it did a lot of good to my sanity! Meanwhile I was trying to figure out what Art is. I believe there is no better place for this kind of search than Britain. There is so much of what falls under the description of Art one way or another, so that one gets the big picture. And besides, one doesn’t feel alone in one’s bewilderment about it all. Art. Visual, literature, music, performing, applied. Design. It is everywhere. Big art and minor art. Mainstream and outside art. £Million Art and worthless art. Value of Art. Where am I in all of this, where is my Art in this picture? What does it mean for me – Art? What is success in Art for me? Success is Fame? Success is Money? How important is it? In order to achieve Fame and Money, what am I prepared to give? This big recessional scare we all had lately got me rushing from one thing to another, trying to prevent disaster. The exercise was productive, but in unforeseen ways.The world’s amplified worries about money brought to my attention that I managed to get this far in my life without giving money much thought. I decided to establish a closer relationship with money. The idea being that by studying money, I’ll understand and love it more, and it will reciprocate. Like a good girl, I got myself piles and piles of books on business, art management, marketing, money, attracting money, selling etc, etc.I talked to everyone, especially the more fortunate ones, about their relationship with money and how they got there. It is said that to attract money, you have to concentrate on what money can give you. I surrounded myself with cut-outs of mansions and cars, expensive accessories and top-of-the-market gadgets. I truly gave it my best shot. And here is my conclusion: Money is a game. And this game does not excite me. My intention to make money a stimulus for my productivity failed miserably. I don’t care for the riches of the world, however hard I try to convince myself otherwise. And being content with what I have, I care only for preserving the freedom of doing what I like doing, when I like doing it. Which is many different things. Stylistic diversity is a reflection of my inability to limit myself to one area, or style, or theme. I can see a few topical threads forming throughout the years, but at any given moment I tend to have some seemingly unconnected things going on. Which common sense in pursuit of success condemns as a bad thing. But by trying to limit myself to one or two themes or media, I realised that I limit my output, instead of improving. Besides, I tire myself by the mere effort of keeping in the rut. How about the excitement of new ideas? What about the enjoyment of the creative process? My friend Brigitte and I went to a talk by Dave McKean. He is an incredibly productive artist. But also versatile. The style is immediately recognisable, while the media are many. There were some points in the talk which I found particularly important. They came about as an answer to a question: What would be his advice to a budding illustrator? He said that it is important to go and do it. So many people think and talk of doing this and that, but never get down to the business of realising their ideas for fear of failure, or being simply lazy or disorganised.“Just do it. In time, that work will accumulate, and if it is any good, it‘ll find it‘s place. By which time you‘ll be surprised yourself, how much you‘ve progressed.” Another piece of advice for illustrators – learn to write too. Although Dave has a very long and productive partnership with the author Neil Gaiman he finds it important for an illustrator to become a writer. The underlying idea is to be as versatile as possible. These days technologies take over some highly specialized technical jobs in the industry, allowing the artist herself to be in control of the whole process from the concept to the end product.What he said again confirmed to me that diversity is not a bad thing, and my secret folder with the short stories has the right to exist, as well as odd collages, and ink drawings and all the rest. I’ve got to allow myself to take every obscure route I am compelled to take, instead of sticking to one safe certainty. The reason why diversity is never welcomed on the art market is the need to sell the output. I recommend reading a book “The $12 Million Stuffed Shark” by Don Thompson, which is the greatest eye-opener on the business of art. This is a quotation from that book: “Never underestimate how insecure buyers are about contemporary art, and how much they always need reassurance.” The reassurance the buyers need lies in quantity and recognisability. I am sure, the secret of the sell-out of the latest show by Anita Klein is to be found right there. Jack Vettriano’s unique creative career is proof of just the same – quantity and recognisability. There are other ingredients too, but one thing is definite – sales have nothing to do with skill or aesthetics. So, I came to the conclusion that I had better forget about the big art market, because I will never be a good product, ie: highly productive in one area, motivated by money, and as a bonus – shocking. What’s my way to success then? Well, first of all, owning a shop is the biggest advantage. Took me 8 years to stop being shy about it and to appreciate it fully! My shop = my independence. Another cornerstone of artistic freedom is the Internet, and it becomes more vital every day. There are great examples of how to reach out to the audience, and build up the following. Dave McKean’s advice about learning to write becomes very hot in this context. The whole world is a stage open to those, who can captivatingly express what they have to say. Individuality was never in a better position. Being an artist is a solitary business, and the opportunity to bounce ideas off others seldom presents itself without extra-effort. That’s why we came together in the form of this club, and I hope it’ll grow organically into something fruitful. Meanwhile, and in between, I find a lot of inspiration through the Internet. For instance, getting ready for our meeting, I found the website of a doctor of psychology Ellen Rudolph, and her words which brilliantly express what I was trying to say: “Such is the artist who is so unified as a whole that his or her properties cannot be derived from a simple summation of their parts. They are more than the mere sum of their parts. Like that of the bow and the lyre, the artist’s harmony consists of blatantly opposing tensions. The greatest achievements of humankind have happened because someone, somewhere, made the effort to think outside of the box in the face of pressure to explore more conventional spaces. Think of that the next time you strive to overly control your life.The universeflows, as you and I also should. Art is NOT a fixed idea that you have before you start making it. It happens when we let go of our self-induced constraints and finally let ourselves feel.”  The essays by Dr Ellen K. Rudolph.http://www.drellenrudolph.com/psyessay1.html Today, answering my question “What is success in Art for me?“ I say, to learn not to constrain my creativity by my feelings of duty, limitations or fears, or by somebody‘s ideas of what Art is supposed to be. To create freely and fruitfully, and then put all the pieces together and make up a story of one life.

Sincerely thank you for reading!