Shell Games: September 2012

Shell Games

This blog is about the creative process that I engage in while painting. My goal is to clarify my thinking, explore some philosophic questions and get feedback (be gentle!) on my work. I may pose some specific questions from time to time, for example: “Do you think the background would look better in blue or green?” or “I’ve been adding and deleting details for three weeks, is it time to stop?”

The title of the blog, “Shell Games” is the name of a series of large scale oil paintings that I’ve been doing (you guessed it!) of sea shells. I’ve been motivated to explore a range of meanings within meanings, metaphors, and how people view the world and reality or non-reality issues that come up. The paintings are meant to be DEEP, not just cute or pretty, with varying levels of success. You can choose to interpret them as purely decorative, but I’m hoping they have more internal essence than that.

The name “Shell Games” is a double entendre. It comes from old time carnival illusionists and hawkers who would hide a pebble under a shell (or cup, or hat or whatever) and then move the shells around. At the outset, the viewer would lay bets on whether he could follow the action well enough to say where the pebble was when the illusionist was finished. Sometimes, a sly carnie would, through sleight of hand, remove the pebble altogether, thereby cheating the watcher out of any chance of recouping his bets.

In terms of painting, it’s about how you follow the action, what is seen or not seen, what is inside, what is outside, what the distractions are, where you are going or not going. With shells you’ve got that inside, outside and relationship to context that is so interesting. And it has to be playful in some way, too – hence the “game” part of “Shell Games”. It’s not clear if I can get to “edgy”, but edgy would an advancement for me.

Life is a carnival, the Persian poet Rumi would say a Tavern, but the drinking metaphor is too dry for me. I like carnival better. We enter by a gate, there are all kinds of amusements and ways to lose your way or your money, and at some point it is time to go home.

If you would like to see more of my work please visit my website at VictoriaHaskell.com.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

No Rope

I am thinking about two disparate things in regards to my work which are actually connected in an odd way, the movie “Dark Knight Rising” and the Olympic games. So how is that? It's about effort and trying, support and no supports, and the subtle ways they can play out in the mind. In Dark Knight, the hero of the story (spoiler alert!) is trying to escape a particular prison by climbing up the insides of a well. He has a safety rope tethered around his waist and when he falls, the rope catches him, keeping him from crashing into the ground. He and the only other person who previously escaped also had support people on the ground, people who care, counsel, feed and encourage him. But the key to escaping is, “No rope.” You must climb up without the tether and really feel the need to make that last final leap or face death. In the Olympic games, our athletes, during the competition are like the hero of Dark Knight; they are alone and they must succeed or fail based on their training, strength, concentration and will power. But they, like our Dark Knight hero, also have support people around them, who helped with the training and and a million other things and that made the trip to the games possible.

There are decision points in all lives where we have a choice to make about the direction we are going in and an acknowledgment of the sacrifices and work that go into that choice. Often I feel like I am at that point. My gut tells to me to cut back on the hours at my day job and go “No Rope,” a motivator for actually making it in the art world. With “No Rope” we do a lot of things that perhaps we wouldn't have done, make contacts, write letters, get out there more, promote ourselves; whereas if we have a day job, or a significant other to support us, what's the point? But another part of me says that I must be free to do what I love doing and that a market mentality makes it un-fun. I would prefer to make my pictures with an “in the moment” state of mind, not a feverish state of work ethic stress. Maybe that's really the way we should be approaching art and life, in a Zen-like balance with the Universe, letting go of the rope entirely, and just walking forward, unattached to our ambition and egos. So, for now, I am walking a line of compromise, with a question rattling around in my head, “Rope? No rope?”