Now, why do I want to scrap this painting in the first place? That is a difficult question to answer, one I have been working on solving for weeks now, and to be honest, I don't think I'm all that much closer to finding that answer. However, the fact that I'm now considering reclaiming the admittedly nicely constructed cradled masonite board from the paint that lies upon it tells me that a strong part of me is ready to let go. But why, I keep asking myself. What has happened during the process of making this painting that brings me to want to not simply put it away to never be seen, but commit to erasing its existence?
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| The painting in question |
I don't hate this painting at all. The subject matter of a dying wizard on a bench on a bridge handing the viewer an egg is something I've had in mind for a while, if not in the form of a painting, then a sculpture. I wanted to paint this in the vein of Caravaggio, employing glazing (which...I am not terribly fond of), and plenty of chiaroscuro. Caravaggio was chosen in particular for his piece The Calling of St. Matthew, a work that has had a great impact of me since taking art history in high school. There was something I really wanted to try to say with this painting the way The Calling of St. Matthew said to me: whatever you were before now, none of that matters...
Is all this information besides the point? If I had done a lot of pre-planning, if this was something I've always wanted to make, then why do I feel no drive to finish it? I think I have an inkling towards why. To preface, which I should have done at the start of this post, none of this might make any sense. But, during the critique I got on this painting, I felt as though I said through words, using my voice, what the painting was trying to say, and it was enough for me. It was enough for me to say those words, they were powerful enough on my tongue, and I seemed to have disarmed the painting in some way. It's as though I let its value be determined by the potency of its message, and once I took that away from it, it finally became a painting again, one I didn't particularly want to work on anymore.
I love wizards, and I actually came to like some of the glazing process as I painted this, so largely, this was an enjoyable process. But what would I be working towards if I finished this painting. It might be a beautiful painting by the end of it, and it would be completed. I wouldn't have to look at its unfinished state, and be reminded of how close I came. Is that satisfaction enough for me? I don't think so.
I think I got everything I needed to get from working on this painting, not necessarily what I wanted, and that's not a bad thing. Finishing was never the lesson I needed to learn, I know how to finish paintings, even if its a hard line to draw. I think it came down to making the painting have to be about something before I let it be what it was, stripped away of that. The things I say may come across as matter-of-factly, neat and tidy conclusions, but reaching this point was anything but that. I have never stripped a painting from its surface before, and saying that I've though about doing it is different from actually doing it. The experience will never be lost, but I will be sad to see it go, if this is the path I decide to take.
-That's all for now,
Gigi M.
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