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Organic Art: Part One

"Organic art" is the name I've given to my personal brand of abstraction. It describes a way of working, and style, that seems to have developed from a natural pension for doodling, or "doodlemania." In retrospect, my original "doodlemania" doodles may be considered somewhat unidimensional and contrived: I work on a specific piece (drawing then coloring) until it's finished. The more evolved organic depictions (using paint, not drawing media) challenge rigidity and take me out of a comfort zone. They also offer surprises, even magical moments. I tend to develop a number of pieces simultaneously, in multiple layers and following no particular plan (limiting control and deliberateness). The artwork feels more alive, a dynamic organism leading the way.

This body of work was first shown at Toronto Art Expo, sixth edition, March 6-9, 2008, Metro Toronto Convention Centre (Canada's largest juried indoor art exhibition dedicated exclusively to the work of contemporary fine artists, encouraging the participation of a wide range of Canadian and international artists, as well as selective art connoisseurs and business professionals from all over North America and Europe).

At Art Expo, I hoped to appeal to a range of tastes, budgets, and ages. This gallery reveals larger pieces from the exhibit. It also explains ideas, messages, and processes behind them. Paintings are listed in order of creation: Similar, But Different, Loving, and Passion. Combination pieces, like "Similar But Different" and "Loving," bring several canvases together as one. The Small Works gallery shows other (smaller) works exhibited at The Artist Project as well as at Art Expo. Some 08 Abstracts were included too (at both shows).

On reflection, I realize that my sketchbook explorations—prior to, during, and after the Biennale—greatly influenced the Art Expo collection. Also, each painting led into the next. "Similar But Different" embodies many of the shapes, colors, and brush strokes of the Florence Biennale collection, Buon Appetito! (maybe because it came into being simultaneously). But, that's where the similarities end. My personal mandate throughout its creation, was always abstract rather than representational.

After so much intense concentration with the Biennale's representational (food) images, the urge to loosen up and see what could emerge spontaneously was strong. Some of the brush strokes and characters that appeared in Similar but Different are also visible in Loving. In Loving, they're under the microscope. We get a closer look at what might and might not be—where energy can be put out (even if not reciprocated). Loving also marks a turning-point in my abstract repertoire—the cross-over from "doodlemania" to "organic art." Loving precedes Passion. And, interestingly, passion may come from loving. It also may come from not loving (insufficient opportunity to love or be loved being a common social problem today). Passion demonstrates a divergence from my regular process. Paintings don't usually pop up for me in the way that this one did. They have more belabored conception, incubation, and birthing processes. It was refreshing to work spontaneously, just going with whatever emerged, however rapidly.

 

SIGNATURE PIECES EXPLAINED

Similar But Different
3 x (48 x 36 in.), oil on canvas, 2007

In "Similar But Different," the art therapist in me enjoyed intervening and discovering, as well as giving permission to play with the paint, exactitude not necessary. If and when a detail emerged that attracted my attention, I embellished it, allowing other aspects to evolve organically. I worked on each canvas from all directions and angles. And, it was only once pieces were complete that the final orientation for their hanging was determined (which can still be changed). Since I am considered to be a "colorist," I enjoyed making the most of this label. My only contrivance was that the first layer of paint on each canvas start with a different primary color (red, yellow, blue), as backdrop. In the foreground, anything was possible, allowing magic to happen.

These pieces can represent whatever the viewer chooses them to, and are better seen together (as a whole) than separately. They are as mysterious and exciting as they are soothing—perhaps because of their iridescent qualities (which may, or may not, be evident in photographs). Each piece has a story with characters in it, and details can be joined together or considered separately. There's also a lesson: it's about "similar but different." Each piece went through the same production phases, but distinct backgrounds combined with the artist's mood, from day to day, led to varying outcomes. Color and form can be personal preference-driven, making certain juxtapositions and compositions appear more appealing than others (depending on who viewers are and their vantage points).

Loving
9 x (18 x 18 in.), oil on canvas, 2008

To be able to love and be loved is essential to human survival (and quality of life) that we can love and be loved. However, many of us don't have opportunities to find the love that we long for, or don't feel loved in the right way by the right other(s) at the right times. That acknowledged, longings still churn. What do we do with them? One option is to transfer them to canvas (sublimate). The title for this nine-piece series didn't come to me right away. Just like for "Passion" (which was to follow), once I was mid-way, I started to realize what I was creating—as well as why and how. The more I got into what I was representing, the more affected I became by the imagery being revealed (or channeled). Each time I walked into my studio and saw it, I felt a lift (and gift). Love was out there on the canvas, transmitting full-force—love that can be so elusive in real life. Creating "happy art," I realized, as I have done before, keeps me going in ways little else manages to (consistently and unconditionally). It helps turn up the volume (and mood) when essential. What needs immediate attention is identified and underscored in paint—like how important it is to take proper care of oneself, no matter what.

Passion
60 x 40 in., oil on canvas, 2008

Passion, unfortunately, has to be held in check too often. Art-making can provide a release for it (of sorts), if we are lucky. This image emerged on its own, and at a time when I was particularly sensitive to the subject matter depicted. Inevitably, refinements to this painting took me on a personal odyssey. On closer inspection, many viewers might identify with aspects of it, even if not consciously. Certain details don't need to be discussed, interpreted, questioned, or dissected. They just are. The colors, shapes, dimensions, and juxtapositions included, emerged as they were supposed to. I just went with what came out—little need for embellishment or denial. Some viewers will see the completed picture a I do. Others might see something else.

Organic Art: Part Two

LOOK AND SEE: MAGICAL ANIMALS

This is a series I didn't plan to paint. It just happened. Art making has its own rhythm. If we can be open to the gifts it provides, magic and meaning abound. I find that after creating more intense (realist) pieces, there's a (natural) need for a break—lighter work. Also, picking up the brushes again can be challenging, sometimes. Fear of failure, forgetting techniques, and loss of confidence hover. Focus needs to be regained and sustained, somehow.

"Just start," I tell myself. "Try to get playful and relax with the paint. Don't have a plan. Do and undo, without being hard on yourself. Something will emerge when and if it's meant to. Lose control. Details and detailing aren't important. If something excites, take things from there. Don't worry how long it takes, or if it's perfect. Turn the canvas around. If it doesn't seem right one way, it will (eventually) another..." Sometimes this "pep talk" works. Sometimes, it doesn't.

When the "Look and See" series started emerging, I was very thankful that I'd been able to let myself go with the flow, allowing imagery different to my typical repertoire to be born. Once I gave into the process, thoughts started swirling in my head. We might look but do we see? We might see, but do we look? There's always questions. But there aren't always answers that tell us what we want to hear or believe. Everything is there, however, staring right at us. It's just determining, at the time, what we do and don't want to recognize or believe.

Look carefully and you will see. See carefully and you will look... I did. And, once I'd found something, I stuck with it (after changing my mind a few times). You may find different things than I do. There are no rules. If you look and see and come up with the same as me, enjoy! If you come up with different than me, I'm happy that's possible—would be curious to know more.

What I like about this Look and See series is that it wasn't something I knew about in advance. There were aha moments along the way. Some imagery may appear silly or unusual. But it doesn't matter. What does matter is the option to work out-of-the-box and try something different.

If we see something from afar, we usually know what it is. But, only as it comes into proper view are specifics visible. Memory, when allowed to exert itself, can help fill in the blanks (for better or worse). Limited information isn't always a handicap. Less can be more, especially where imagery is concerned. Sometimes just enough is just enough. Reading between the brush strokes is an interactive process. Artist and viewer (and artist as viewer) test and tantalize: powers of imagination as well as contemplation, at work.

By looking and seeing, I regained motivation. A creative dry spell led to the finding of hidden treasures (in the form of animalkind). Now, a little about each of them (in order of creation).

Birds of a Feather: Ducky
36 x 48 in, oil on canvas, 2008

These two characters kicked off the series: Ducky and Beaky. Cliché as it might sound, birds of a feather stick together, and Ducky and Beaky are no exception. They look much better that way. Ducky is in motion, high energy and fun.

Birds of a Feather: Beaky
48 x 36 in., oil on canvas, 2008

These two characters kicked off the series: Ducky and Beaky. Cliché as it might sound, birds of a feather stick together, and Ducky and Beaky are no exception. They look much better that way. Beaky is a lot more sedate: just taking in the view, eyeing what's out there—like Ducky.

Deer Fox
48 x 36 in., oil on canvas, 2008

Skiddish and cunning combined, while she peruses and waits. Solitary, yet in harmony with the environment, she positions herself for a fight or flight, or simply to enjoy the day.

Horsing Around
60 x 40 in., oil on canvas, 2008

This piece seemed to be taking on ethereal qualities till Horsey emerged. She is a playful and defiant, but an ever-delightful creature

 

MY OBSESSION WITH ANIMALS

Whether I intend to paint them or not, animals seem to emerge somehow. And, the less contrived they are, the more interesting they seem to be! This is what I have discovered as an artist who who has drifted from abstract to organic art-making. Viewers opinions may vary, of course.

 

 

©Susan R. Makin, 2009