Art on the Run
I discovered watercolor painting as an art major. I thought of it as art in a hurry.
It was perfect for me. I could take a roll of paper, some watercolors, a few brushes, and two empty tin cups. I could throw them in my old Ford and head for a mountain canyon before the sun came up in the desert.
Up in a canyon, the stream would tumble over the rocks and through stone bridges. There is no better way to capture the symphony of movement and color than by letting your brush dance over the paper and catch the brilliant lights and dark shadows.
Winslow Homer could quickly capture a time and place right there on the spot. He let the water- diluted pigments loose on the paper and the scene would come alive.
Few were better at catching the flow of life than John Singer Sergent. Painting “plein-air,” he could selectively focus on certain subjects while broadly suggesting the other elements or people.
John Marin took the lightness of water-saturated pigment on paper to its ultimate expression, and into the “modernist” world. He let the water run, literally, and the paint became the subject.
But watercolors are not limited to the dance of light and movement. They can sink deep into paper as they submerge into the mood of a particular era—like the Depression—a heavy, difficult time. But Charles Burchfield’s light still shines through.
The art continues with masters like Tom Bucci. It is not just his technique that makes him a master, but his eyes. They look. He is out in the real world absorbing the nature of a place—and bringing your attention to sights you might have missed.
But is “art on the run” near the end of the race? An artist I have long respected has turned to creating digital images. He can do a landscape in the parking lot as he waits for his wife. Yes, some pretty pictures may happen, but they will never match the total immersion—the visual excitement of letting the paint dance on the paper as the sun peeks over the canyon walls.
The way to get beyond your past and ongoing traumas, and through the world turmoil of the present, is to reach into the vast magnetism of natural and supernatural life. Connect with the great forces of the cosmos—whether you are creating art or just observing. Be one with the supernatural force of art.
Thanks, Brian
Beauty