No editing, low ISO, this really is ONE photo. Artistic miracle indeed.
I tried to put the ‘Creative’ in Italics, but the topic cannot be Italic.
Maybe there is no reason for the word to be.
I wanted to describe what the day of a not-doing-much-creatives looks like.
5.00: wake up, think, read, prepare and write the blog post.
7.00: baby wakes up, we eat, I make him even more beautiful &
8.20: take him to the childcare (2 days a week, 300 euros per month)
9.00: have to visit the supermarket to be forced not to forget about eating (and cleaning)
9.30: make, edit and put new photos of paintings available on homepage and other places
10.30: leave for an educative talk for entrepreneurs at Viru Conference Centre
12.20: at library for learning about brand export, patent, and legal timelines; comparing articles of associations etc // half way there //
13.20: baby became weepy and grippy, had to be brought back from childcare and all other plans cancelled.
14.20: new plan: painting: new works to be made and weaker old ones to be continued (there’ll be another post about that one because growing dissatisfaction is good for culture)
…that continues throughout the day, together with regime of cleaning, cooking and playing, because you never know what the next moment demands.
Definitely you need to have several full attentions.
Definitely you have to stop your very bright ideas at their best moments.
With the ability to continue whenever you can.
That trial might end the same way. 10 times. (Jesus could say, 100 000 times that is!)
Definitely you need full concentration on every aspect of the two main attention acquirers at the same time and the gills of nerves made in iron. (No, that doesn’t work: the steel was hard-bitten.)
You have to learn how to stay calm in this rat race.
Well, I feel my best in doing so, at least better than ever before. Now is the time,
and the time, of course, the Time is pretty creative.
Black Honey And Blossoms. 2015-2017. Oil on canvas, 80 x 60 cm.
Just yesterday morning, I covered my painting brushes again with oil. I had ran out of linen oil, and gave them the only one I had at home, which was coconut oil. To my surprise, the brushes had drank it all by the evening. How is that even possible? Do the brushes feel what they get and enjoy when it is better, softer, tastier?
Having the idea of taking care of paintings (& creation in general) in mind, I left the bed before sunrise, put the dressing sack on and poured myself a nice big cup of creamy coffee, I would like to say; but another, realistic – real – version of me knows, that taking care of several things means leaving the bed rather in rush to get the story done before the baby wakes up.
That keeps it modernly short to highlight the serious points.
OUR SOULS GIVE LIFE TO THINGS.
As the artist gets older, receives more wrinkles (honorary badges for experiences), becomes more precise with bony fingers, it mostly means better materials become available for use. Because they cost more. And they might be harder to get.
The study years are spent thinking way less about quality than the years to come.
After some time, the soul wants to residue on a better realm.
For some reason, I have not noticed such persnickety among art lovers.
Known fact, the old masters used anything from fruit boxes to bed sheets.
But now, I think every artist becomes a bit more responsible for their works on walls.
Also I have experienced clientele (I still hate the word! They own pieces of my soul!), who come back with worry that the underframes have changed their posture. Those have been the early works. Nothing catastrophical. Change the underframe, straighten it with a wire or a piece of wood. Who has time for that?
If such a poor thing has happened, I’m glad only in Estonia, I’ve taken responsibility, paid in time and money for having chosen the cheaper or easier road (a right thing to do when building works are on every other road), asking someone I know to put hands on or gave instructions what to do. In a free world, I deeply recommend avoiding such overwork by thinking about the possibility beforehand.
It is rather reasonable to pay more for something that lasts. You don’t want to let your painting be dragged by every clam. Now, I use the best of frames and the best of linen, so such things have not happened. But: give them worst scenario weather and they will try to run away, dance in the rain, and cause an architectural piece, changing into conceptual art….
One can have a lot of personal traits, but I deeply recommend considering the materials before buying the painting: modern era: make fast, sell fast, is not the ideal that makes art last. The safest is to buy only (not mixed) oil on linen (or canvas or cardboard). No water-based and oil-based colours mixed together (who does that?). Unless you need an effective crackleware under the decorative frame for an evening at your place.
Otherwise, as always, things you love last. You check them from time to time, do so rather with groove as a routine; get yourself a wonderful last century squirrel tail brush that you can have – if you are lucky – from an antique shop, to remove the dust so the painting can see that you are still there, loving in return.
Otherwise it is like a mirror, it wants to see you, too.
So glad to announce,
that people can now have my works in accordance with the fast-paced world – with one click!
You are very welcome to visit my just-opened online store at a web address http://www.liis.us
If you can’t find what you’re looking for, just let me know 🙂
Time goes by and when one has paintings in the corner of the studio, at a visible place, it might happen that the temptation comes to add something. Again and again.
Until an old work becomes a new painting.
The glorious moment of satisfaction comes,
when there is no such temptation anymore.
Everything is perfect.
The Boy With A Yellow Ball
(previously Eye Of The Sun, for example)
2017, oil on linen
100 x 120 cm
I think it is Post New Age now, the sign of it being crystals occupying even the most shop-floor festivals’ tents and corners. The Twinflame sagas in harmony with fat rebellious “Goddesses” (wearing stone crowns!) being mixed with drunk vegans smoking weed. This short post was inspired from the zoo, and it has a purpose. It is to remind you, that all the promising things are not an exit to a sweet escape in the end (you have to do the work yourself).
It is no secret that even the holy things are being made into businesses these days, but it is even more see-through when going to those market-festivals and seeing, close to finito, those torn out faces expressing nothing less than spleen — be it of low income, of communication with people or just life. Fact is, in that case, they don’t have the Power.
And then there are cig-smoking beef burger makers, smiles all over their faces.
I really want to remind that HOW YOU ARE is what matters, not the stupid, pointless pink cloud you are thinking you are on when acting X or Y. There are no necessary things to “be” or “do” that have social or mythological meaning. (Read: explanation that gives you right whether you are wrong or not.) [Or makes you a better person, sic!] There is just no greater controversy than…
Choosing something that looks beautiful, but deep within, it is made in purpose of wrong reasons (nothing wrong with making money by itself e.g., worse being too long, forced working hours!) as the materials can’t convey any message through a non-forceful source. The thought — or meditation — matters. You have to recognise the energy of the object you see.
If a thing doesn’t have strength, it has nothing to give.
So as a weak person just doesn’t have much to share, even if (s)he wants to.
That is what I needed to bring into remembrance this evening, also when choosing art.
Choose wise and choose strong. There is hierarchy in nature — for a reason.