Recently, I saw an interview with Penelope Cruz and Pedro Almodovar on Charlie Rose. When asked about the experience of making movies, Penelope talked about the anxiety she feels at the start of each project. She called it being addicted to the feeling of being new, and described it as a fear that maybe she’s forgotten how to act or to become the character. I think any artist understands that fear and how strangely delicious it can be.
When faced with the empty paper, the white canvas or the blank screen, isn’t there a moment when the beauty of that emptiness meets the anxiety putting something? Don’t we all wonder, what am I doing? What’s going to happen? How can I translate this thought or emotion into something physical?
But yet we start. We jump in. The first stroke is put down, and for me, it usually
looks shocking and almost mars the blankness of the paper. And then I tell
myself to keep going, and the next stroke is laid and the next and then the
idea I had – usually pretty nebulous to begin with – starts to take shape. And, if I'm lucky, it takes over.
So this is all to say that I feel like I'm truly starting over after several months out of the studio. And what's pouring out is not something I recognize or maybe even like, except that I do really like it and it's just flowing and flowing into a hot mess – something like a benevolent nightmare.
Here's some new work - This one's finished:
Detail:
In process:
Red, Black & White - first stages:
Second Stage:
In process - first stage (large - 44"H x 30"):
In process - first stage (22"H x 30"):
