Gauguin, Unspoiled Nature and the Heart of the Vocational Exile

Always curious as to how and why a person painted what they did, this week I turned my attention to 

Paul Gauguin.

I have just finished reading this hard cover edition of In Search of Gauguin by Jean-Luc Coatalem.

At the onset, I found myself mildly frustrated by the author's self-engaged and possessive approach to his subject. His story begins with his own purchase of a highly intriguing auctioned photograph which sparks his imagination and drives him to want to know more about its origins in Gauguin's life. The photo is of a Polynesian woman named Helena Suhas, who was the mother of a young boy named Atiti who was painted by Gauguin upon the child's untimely early death. However, Coatalem neglects to include a replica of this photo of Helena in the book for his readers to visually share in his exclusive experience of owning the picture! It seemed to me a nasty tease ~ even though he describes the photo well, he falls short of the 1000 words that could justify its omission. Surely he would know we'd all want to lay eyes upon this rare picture! The question of the unpublished photo irked me....could it have something to do with the biographer's personal quest for the elusive, for that which cannot be accurately captured or retrieved, or in the case of art, that which cannot truly be owned?

After I got over this initial irk, I found myself bothered by his habit of changing tenses mid-paragraph or at the end of chapters. And then, after I got over that, I started to really enjoy the book, and couldn't blame Coatalem for obsessively entwining his own life's quest with the desire to taste the very aura of Gauguin and retrace his footsteps. Any art nut should at least understand that feeling.

As the book draws you in, this becomes the journey...going after the heart of the vocational exile, the Inca, Gauguin. I recommend that regular folk like me read this book near a computer, so you can google image the titles of the paintings as you go along if you're not able to conjure them up in your head on the spot like a seasoned art historian...the catalog of Gauguin's entire works is enormous and this biography refers to many of them by number and title, offering a scant mid-section of colour plates that only scratches the surface (it is a biography and not an art book after all). For me at least, Coatalem's descriptions sent me running to look up the paintings online.

I enjoyed the book even more once Coatalem began narrating it from his notebooks in Tahiti .....the allure of the exotic, the other-worldly quality of colour and landscape, and the local lore all come to life to offer up or or wash away the missing pieces the author seeks. Even so, he has to strain his eyes and imagination to see past the barrier of modern day buildings and traffic into the moving ghosts and scenes of the blissfully pastoral yet colonial-ravaged past that welcomed Gauguin ashore roughly 100 years earlier.

Eventually it began to make sense to me why Coatalem does not reveal to us the photo of Helen Suhas. Coatalem started out covetously chasing after any remaining relic left behind as evidence of Gauguin's near mythical existence. We know this woman also existed, and yet it's only by chance that we may come across physical remnants or proof of the essence of someone long after they are gone. This is Coatalem's repeated discovery as he wanders down a "multiplication of trails". He eventually questions his own motives as he despairs "Why are the details so pointless, and so compelling? What's the good of these signs, scattered like tiny pebbles, which lead nowhere except to what is already evident?...What haunts us is what has given us our foundation." And so perhaps this is why he allows Helena to haunt his book like a quiet ghost reminding the reader that she is not just reduced to a photo, she is a spirit.
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And I also came to grasp that Coatalem's habit of switching from the past tense of far removed days into the present tense at opportune moments mid-description was his way of remaining suspended in the eternal present in the place and situation of his choice, just like Gauguin sought to do.

Finally, I gained some insight into Gauguin's often unsavoury but nevertheless passionate and hedonistic character, his longing for fame and his suffering for redemption, his attitude toward his work, and his opinions on technique. And I also took with me some very valuable quotes by the artist to inspire my personal approach to painting. Some will say that reading about the inner lives of well known artists and studying their technique is another form of diversion and distraction for anyone who wants to be productive with their own creative pursuits. But I believe that immersing yourself in the lives of those who have gone before and paved their own path and forged a distinctly elevated style, especially against the odds of material difficulties and social solitude, is helpful in building your own vision and courage, and nurturing your own talent. And if not, it is never time wasted to lose yourself in beauty and play your integral part in art as audience!

I enjoyed this book, it was engulfing and stirring and many-layered, and I enjoyed revisiting so many of Gauguin's paintings.

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Here is one of my very favourite pieces by Gauguin, Tahitian Pastorale (Tate Gallery, London). You see these rich ochres, sultry red-oranges and gentle green shades and you think, he created this magical palette entirely in his head! And yet, Tahiti was this gorgeous, this rich in vivid hues. Artur Gilles, an expert consulted in the book, had this to say: 

"Gauguin did no more than copy, capturing the precise shades of colour. He was able to see."

Wow. What sight he had to pull it like this out of nature!

And another I love....I can sink into this painting, Spirit of the Dead Watching... even though it has a foreboding air, the contrasting colours and luxurious repose of the vahine are both striking and peaceful at the same time.

I wonder, would we be reading about Gauguin at all had he not gone to Tahiti? He was the epitome of an artist flourishing in the precise surroundings that beckoned to him. When he came back to France, the Ministry of Fine Arts sent him packing, telling him his art was too "revolutionary", and he was soundly rejected by his peers, returning finally, distraught and poverty-stricken, to end his tapering days in the South Seas.

And now, Gauguin whispers to you. Listen. And next, may you pick up your paints, newly inspired:

" I want to make only simple, very simple art; for that I need to immerse myself  in unspoiled nature."

"Art is imagination, subjectivity, a language which is able to combine the visible and the invisible."

"Work freely and madly, and above all do not sweat over a painting; great feeling can be conveyed immediately, dream about it and seek out its simplest form."

The Turn To Spring

Well, it's been awhile since I wrote....I could almost post a picture of my Turkish Panel painting, but I just don't want to until it is entirely finished. It's soooo close to being done. And yet I keep needing to add more to it, the most complex bit is going to be the patterned border and some final layers with oil paint glazing medium...I also need to get some art materials in town...the glaze, some new fine tip brushes, and turpentine. It has been taking me SO long working on the one piece that K was moved to speak up and suggest I just set it aside so I could start another couple of less "strenuous" efforts. Discovering oils has slowed me down! I take forever to mix colours and the detailed attention to the work is like a vortex, it is a more demanding medium and yet for this reason I feel at home with it (I'm Scottish, we prefer the long and arduous road). Here I am still hiding my effort from you in the very early stages:

Winter this year on the island was a long haul of socked in grey, endless days of rain and intermittent wind storms, the odd power outage, waking up to a cold house and constantly stacking firewood into the wood stove to keep cozy.....then one day I peered down out of the studio window to see, forcing their way through all the weeds, little cutie bluebell-like flowers in my garden (I have no idea what their botanical name is, I need my horticultural sis to tell me). And ornamental plum blossoms in the yard! And each day a bit more sun. Now all I want to do is plant wildflower seeds everywhere! 

It took the sun to remind me how dismal we've been having it. Somehow we've pulled out of the blur...thanks to good friends and family who care and everyone in our household sticking to personal goals, even if we had to take the painstaking labyrinth route to get there...K's youngest daughter who lives with us is learning the ukulele and taking on knitting like a pro, I'm painting as much as I can between looking for work and K has got his green light to go forward with his own project. It's been emotional and difficult at times, but we've all grown. I suffer from periodic bouts of depression and so today I decided to start a symbolic portrait of myself riding free of worry. My own form of art therapy! It's a very small canvas (12" x 16") and I'm using oils again. This is just the sketch-like under painting for now, and I need to find some very fine brushes to keep it polished as I go along.

The other week K made a huge vat of his famous seafood chowder and we fed several friends all at once, some in our home, and to others we delivered a bowl of soup....we want to be able do this more often. I love filling our living room with people, it is gorgeously warm and inviting and full of old chairs and sofas and pillows (always room for another guest)....and being able to feed others is a wonderful triumph, especially when it happens to be whoever you manage to bump into during the day and ask over spontaneously, like a single neighbour or a grateful pal who is down on his luck. Then after everyone leaves, you can sit quietly with a glass of plonky wine and read another good art book.

I'll shortly write more about the book I'm currently reading ...it's a biography of that pesky bull-headed exile Gauguin, who went to Tahiti only to discover the ravages of colonialism and nearly got discouraged. I feel an affinity for his roguish escapism, it seems some of us will always wish we could find a place a few years ahead of the mad urban crowd and live like the natives who got it right in the first place. Easier said than done.

Paint Your Way to Paris!

Tonight I am discombobulated, and in a conundrum. If you've been checking in on my blurbs, or more likely somehow came across them by accident, perhaps you've noticed I talk about painting and great works of art a lot but have little to show yet of my own finished pieces. This may be because I start so many works and let them sit in limbo for ages. And. Ages.

Today I spotted this Andy Warhol quote:

"Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art."

Earlier this morning my partner came up with a condensed and effective summation of his own:
"You need to do it to get it done." 
(He was simply referring to me getting out of bed before 8 AM, yet the similarity to the Warhol quote is striking...K has always been a ruthless editor of lengthy phrases, able to hone a sentiment to its precise and hard hitting point in much fewer words ~ you may add this to the long list of reasons why I adore him) (I also refuse to let a fancy shoe company steal the spotlight by going too far with an entirely unrealistic too short version of the quote.)

So, here I am blogging, here I am entertaining myself on an overvalued social network that shall remain unnamed, here I am job searching in extensive vain (today I spent over four hours navigating a single lengthy online job application I kid you not), here I am cleaning my house to impeccable sheen, here I am NOT PAINTING enough!  Not only that, there has been a shortage of people showing up for the life drawing sessions, and the disheartened organizer has decided to cancel it until next September! Whaaa? I am devastated. Must I start a new group myself ? This island is full of artists who love to model and draw...where is everyone? All we need to do is sit and draw, and the model just has to stay stiller than the rest of us...so easy, I've done both!  I had just started enjoying being part of a really meaningful group, and already there is talk of not enough interest. I'm not sure I can take this one sitting down...or standing up for...er...that matter. 

Here is my other conundrum. My mother lives in the Etruscan countryside of Italy, in what I call my "parallel universe". I have not seen her since I went to visit in 2007 which means I should start believing in time machines as well. Now, a family reunion is planned for August. It's only my mother's side of the family though, and just the adults....so in this case it is not so much an entirely inclusive family reunion as it is a partial gathering of a scattered clan. I have cousins in South Africa and Austria, and family in other parts of Canada...and everyone is converging in a country house outside of Paris for a week in August. I'm expected to attend and of course I really want to be there! But I'm not sure anyone truly knows how ill equipped I am to make an overseas trip, except maybe my best friend in the entire world knows, and that is another story. These days I can't even take the ferry to Nanaimo due to lack of a return fare! And must we all travel in 2012 anyway? What if the world chooses Paris as the epicentre for tragedy? Wait a minute, people have already died millions of times over in epicentres of tragedy in their own home towns or abroad, all over the world throughout history, so really, that is a rather silly and self-centred fear. In any case, I was pouting about such sour grapes when a friend chirped up and told me:
"Paint Your Way to Paris! Do a painting every week and blog along the way! Auction at the end of the week. Get famous! Go to Paris!" Well, I love her idea but fame I find a scary nightmare and the idea of churning out weekly paintings is even more intimidating. Paris, though, not a stale biscuit at all. And I do like the sound of having a structured goal.

So, I am going to lock myself in my studio and get busy in my little fantasy world. By the way, we tend to go mildly stir crazy in these parts as the long drawn out winter weather alternates between teasing and receding signs of spring's slow arrival, so the time for creative outbursts is ripe and I must jump on it.

I think it apt that I now go quiet for a bit and do not post again until I have finished a new painting to show you! I won't be gone too long...just a few days. And I can't lose...I can keep hanging my work in our home and enjoying the scenery no matter what! I'm turning out the lights now and going to bed, darkness drops even deeper, and a new day will come, whose light will not be wasted by anything it reveals.

Our Living Room on Gabriola, Trees Waking

My Mother's Living Room in Basso Romano, Trees Shining

If a tree peaks in the window in the middle of nowhere, does it make a sound? Yes, yes it does...a sweet and content sigh that whispers "You are always here with me anyway".

Out of the Woodwork, Creaking With Vague Ideas

Picasso said
"You have to have an idea of what you're going to do, but it should be a vague idea".

Saturday, and I woke to misty sun rays swirling through the morning shadows...(there are new buds outside the living room window, and more birds appearing on the porch)....

  

...and I was treated to an incredible breakfast put together by my man....

orange, avocado, banana, herbal cheese on nutty bread and...potater chips!!

On Thursday I signed up for my third summer as an artisan at the Gabriola Farmer's Market which begins in May. Only two months to get ready. And before then, I'm going to show my painting "One Season" at the Crafted Booty Event thanks to Mariko and Bryan.

Meanwhile, I plod away in solitude and just hope I can be pleased with the next eventually completed painting. I know my style is naive and simple, but it does come from my heart...I have no idea at the outset how a painting will evolve except that always, always, if I have a vision to begin with, it never winds up anything like it. Just as a leopard can jump at you and surprise you within your own dream, the finished result is always an entirely unannounced arrival. But usually halfway through, the painting is proud to be unfolding and it guides my brush and says "I am what I am, I was born like this, don't fret."

So, I'm just looking forward to buds opening, and getting my creaky body out of the house...I tore up part of the front garden the other day to rid it of weeds and make room for flower beds. What to plant there, not sure yet. As Picasso also said "If you know exactly what you're going to do, what's the good in doing it?" 

Quite frankly, whenever we start to slip into doubt (as I did at the start of this month in my job interview) we should all listen to good old Picasso. He was so full of clever quotes. I'll do better next time, Pablo! 

Incidentally The Tate Britain is showing Picasso currently, in case you are in London. 

I'm not, so as usual, books will have to do.

What a Mystifying Painting! ~ Erm, That's My Palette.

I found this simple little wooden brush holder at GIRO awhile back and it's my favourite tool with which to tame my somewhat OCD oil painting method.

I start out with it empty, 

but as I use my brushes, 

I place them in the slots, 

and if possible in the order of the colour wheel. 

That way I can get more out of an already used brush if the colour on it works again on its own, or as part of a mix. Once the holes are all full with used up brushes, I usually clean them all and start fresh again.

As for cleaning brushes quickly before almost immediate reuse, a friend of mine recommended a a gentle and deep rubbing through with a tossable cotton cloth and a quick rinse with dishwashing liquid and water ...this can save relying on turpentine every time!

I also like to keep dry brushes and Q-tips handy simply for scraping through a wet layer of paint to the reveal the dry layer of differing shade underneath, or even to wipe off excess from heavy-handed dabs, rather than smudge them with a cloth.

Speaking of Smudge, here she is keeping me company on her favourite sleeping chair in the studio.

 
I love having my pets around while I paint. Usually Seeker will plop down on the rug and watch me with one eye while watching the cat with the other, or give me advice on shading and such:

And of course, for the dreamer who lives inside of  books far too much, pets are willing to oblige without questions as well...blurring out now....envisioning...dancers of some sort, in fluffy aqua tutus against mild russet walls....and caramel orange smudges.....

No Matter When You Die, It Will Be Too Soon

Nothing more to say here. The title says it all. Well, ...except...No matter how difficult things get, stay in the adventure. Go towards the light and the love. Violence begets violence. Stay the peaceful one, no matter how hard it feels to do so, no matter how it tears at your soul. Stay peaceful but inquisitive, peaceful but searching, peaceful but open, peaceful but passionate. We are all still learning, at different paces. Have compassion. Do not think you are always right, or expect others to know it. Listen. Understand. Be graceful. Communicate with respect. I try, I really do, but we're all flawed. Acknowledge your flaws, but don't beat yourself up over them. Don't take things personally. Look at the big picture, the one that is way (WAY, sorry to say) bigger than you. Put your own beautiful self in the world, make no apologies for what you entered life as naturally, but know you can keep moving towards your better self. You will hurt yourself and others on the way to your enlightenment. It's inevitable. You arrived here for a reason, exactly as you came. I'm not wise...this is what I have learned from others, and what I value so far on my journey. Often, I find it hard to listen to and to live by. So, I pass it on to you, my sister, my brother, my dear dear entire worldly family, in thanks for teaching me the same, and in the hope we can all keep each other going. ~ Ranza xo

I Don't Know Why I Liked it So

This is one of my favourite oil paintings ever, Blue Mountain by Vasily Kandinsky, for so many intangible reasons.

Painted in Russia in 1908/09, I first saw it (or at least, first really paid attention to it) while flipping through a book called Living Colors, A Guide to Color Palettes Through the Ages (on page 143, if you happen to have the book). I turned the page upon it and stared at it for a very long time.

BLUE MOUNTAIN ~ Vasily Kandinsky

I don't know why I liked it so, perhaps the first lure was the combination of vivid colours brought to a textural burgeoning flourish by short dab & chop shaggy carpet brush strokes! It's three coordinates are the three primary colours, and I think this is at the heart of its emotional impact. It struck me as fervent, playful and yet prophetic. So, it didn't surprise me to read that Kandinsky believed that "colours should be used in art purely for their emotional and symbolic content." The segmenting of this painting beckons you to honour the very separate physical presence and movement of the red, blue and the yellow, parted between by a rising divide that to me resembles a white fire-hearted river or glacier smoking its way to the sky! The triumphant rearing up of the horses (oh I love horses!) heralds a proud pageantry and optimistic procession marching onward. Its modern "chunkiness" and brave simplicity of contrast just makes me want to stare at it and enjoy the impact. And above all it inspires me, I do believe I will reach for this type of effect in some of my yet to be unleashed work (says the procrastinator). 
Curious about Kandinsky, I read up on him a bit more and realized I enjoy his philosophy as well as his groundbreaking embrace of abstractness (oh to be ahead of your time). I also share his dream of  "a better more spiritual future through the transformative powers of art."

Oddly enough, the house we live in is painted room by room in the three primary colours! The living room is red and yellow, the kitchen is blue, my studio is yellow and the bathroom is red! This sets off a base for the most adventurous decor, as any object added as an accent falls gracefully into the entire prism and nothing really needs to match but instead blends in to subtly enrich the overall feeling of charm! Is art intrinsic to our lives? Yes, even in the most subliminal way.

Daffodils in Sunny Kitchen Against Blue Walls

Indian Accents in the Living Room

My Yellow Walls in the Studio