Saturday, October 30, 2010















It seems as though there are two types of images that I create: one type are the surreal images such as the Birth-Giver drawing (above this writing, on the right) and the other is more expressionistic such as
The Scream. (The image above and on the left.)

I created both of these images last week. The Scream at the beginning of the week--immediately after a panic attack at school--and the Birth-Giver, Friday night, during which I felt much more at ease--I was eating a sandwich and drinking a pint of IPA while drawing; there was also a fire blazing in the wood-pellet stove.

During the execution of both images my mind was almost a blank and my hand moved as if it were moving around on a Ouija board; automatically. (I would never play with a real Ouija board--I have heard some hair-raising horror stories about the use of those things.)

I did make minimal, conscious decisions, for instance before drawing The Scream I knew that I wanted to capture how I was feeling. I chose to draw the outline of a face, but then the unconscious impulse took over.

I also felt nudges as I drew, but other than that--and the conscious choosing of a color palate for Birth-Giver-- I stayed pretty much out of the way.

I always get surprised by what comes out. It feels as though I am tapping into a big, underlying current. It is immense, hidden, and pulsing with electricity. It makes me think of the time I put my hand on the concrete surface of a hydroelectric dam and felt the hum of hidden power.

This buried current comes out of me in images and symbols. Faces appear in my art and walls melt away into flesh. Sometimes the faces are stretched into screams. Sometimes they are half-buried and wrapped in roots.

I am also reminded of Carl Jung and his idea of the Collective Unconscious and how the same symbols occur, among various peoples, again and again: on cave walls and engraved in stone or cut into charred sticks, but always the same symbols--mandalas, spirals, labyrinths, stars, and cross shapes.

I don't understand it all and even though I do try, I am glad that I don't have all the answers.

It is these feelings of mystery and tapping into something bigger that myself that I like so much about doing art in the way that I do art.

I have heard of automatic processes before: the Surrealist automatism of the Surrealists such as Andre Breton and Andre Masson--among others--and also in the free-writing styles of people such as Natalie Goldberg who wrote a book that has helped me to write; it is entitled, "Writing Down The Bones."

Do you, dear reader, create in a similar or different way? I welcome your comments and feedback.

1 comment:

  1. I once was sculpting a face out of clay and I had a clear picture in my mind of the woman I wanted to come out. I knew what she was feeling and what her expressions would say -- what message would come out for us to see/feel/understand.

    But the face that kept showing up was NOT the one I wanted or thought was going to come out.

    I would scrape off the clay additions and start afresh, and still, that same face showed up. When I realized it was the same one as before, I was able to let go and allow her to emerge. .... With a whole other message.

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