Are artists ever satisfied?

Geranium Garden (detail)

Original oil painting 12x16"

by Susan Roux

I visited Rahina Q.H.'s site this morning and she admitted destroying a lot of her paintings during the past few weeks. It reminded me of a conversation I just had yesterday with artist/friend, Sandy Dunn.

Is an artist ever satisfied?

Sandy thought yes. Masters who know exactly how to capture what they want to convey and are in total control, must be satisfied. As we talked further on the subject, we were both left really wondering.

I recently did a painting and got to the point where the canvas was covered and appeared complete. It struck me because, years ago I would have been very satisfied with my achievement. Now however, I was not. There was a feeling I'd set out to capture that wasn't present. I contemplated for a few days trying to decide how to continue. I did return to the canvas, improving the feeling, but wishing I had nailed it better.

We discussed this. As an artist improves, does his or her expectations increase? And if so, will we ever be satisfied? Or... do the artist's expectations continue to increase at an equal rate to their seasoned ability, never allowing satisfaction?

I think we'll never be satisfied.

That's not to say there won't be a few paintings along the way that we are happy with. It just seems to me the further I get in this art world, the more I try to push myself and the less I feel satisfied with my work. Perhaps this on-going tug is what propels us. What drives us. Dare I say, sometimes insanely, to create and capture that which we have never achieved. I seem to want to be in control. I feel I should be in control. But too often, I feel like I don't even know what I'm doing!

Painting is hard.

I think it will always be hard. No matter how seasoned an artist we become. Yes, we'll figure out some things and be in control of those. But we'll always want to be in control of more. Like a crazy carnival ride that has us feeling like were flying by the seat of our pants, each painting gives us that same exhilarating rush. We're forever addicted to this seemingly idle activity, that really has our insides jumping and twisted completely out of control!

Sandy and I painted outdoors for the first time this year. Relaxed in the haven of my garden, we both found ourselves anxious. Forgetting how to paint in plein air fell upon our shoulders... Each year it seems occur. How to incorporate what we've learned in the studio during the past year, to the outdoors. It was less scary doing it together. Sandy and I are good for each other. Encouragement eased the anxiety.

Posted is a close-up of the painting I did. Here is the full painting.

The detail version was my favorite part of the painting. I decided to try another capturing that dreamy feeling. This is the outcome.

I want to attempt a third, using the top version as my guide. It will be interesting to see if I can achieve this feeling again... (note: the harsh visible darks are only present in the photos.)

Are we ever satisfied?

Perhaps the real question should be, "Do we ever stop learning?" And the answer is, "I don't think we do."

Rose Cottage

Rose Cottage

Work in progress 18x24"

by Susan Roux

I haven't had much time to paint lately. I seem to be spread out thin, unlike my figure... I didn't intend to paint yesterday, but after coffee and viewing all your lovely artwork, I couldn't resist going to play in front of my easel.

This painting was inspired by several photographs I took of this darling little house. I was so captured by the yard. I remember driving by and then stopping and backing up to photograph it. It was wild and untrimmed. Flowers meandered everywhere. When I began I intended to put more of them in, but the painting lead me in this direction. I let it. I was having so much fun painting it, that I figured another or maybe a series of others could be painted with different flowers portrayed.

Its a very strange thing. The whole time I painted, the colors looks so juicy. It had rich vegetation that lead you to the soft corner of the house. The focal point was clearly the white rose bush. But after I took the painting out of my studio, it seemed to transform totally. How upsetting!

The white rose bush is no longer the focal point. It almost hides! The front darks look dull and the lovely little highlighted dots of color that lead you in are practically invisible. What I thought was a killer painting in my studio turned out to be a real blah.

I know my art photographs terribly. The camera has no clue what to do with all my transparent colors. I think I have the worse art to photograph there is. Not only are colors omitted totally as in everyone else's art, but darks read as lights many times as well, causing strange blotches everywhere! I have works I try to post, but don't. The photos turn the paintings into terrible images that barley resemble the actual art.

But this is not totally the case today. I was so deflated with the transformation my painting took. Was I so wrapped up in the emotion of the work, that I didn't see it properly? Was it the angle I was standing at (slightly to the left) that made the colors look one way? Perhaps my roof windows were casting a completely different light? Do I need to have my eyes checked?

I wish I knew.

Stuck in my head, is the image of what I thought I painted. Believe me, it was very lovely! I was so excited about my day's work. Now I want to try and bring it closer to my imagined vision, but I fear losing the freshness. Isn't painting hard? I really thought it was all falling into place so perfectly. I let the painting direct me. I was so involved with it, in total concentration and responding directly to each stroke I had just applied. Frankly I was in a wonderful happy place at the time. Such a let down to see what I actually did...

An so I label it work in progress, though I'm not certain how to begin to approach it. It was so soft and dreamy, all about the vegetation with a hint of a house in the background.... I may need to do a series just to try and capture what I thought I already had. Has this ever happened to any of you? Its caught me completely by surprise! I don't think I've ever experienced this before...

Its almost like I was seeing things. Honestly, I'm quite baffled by it all.

I hope your day brings about happy painting and the results are what you thought you were looking at. Its quite troubling when its not.

Art revelation

We must talk.

After recent, long discussions with two of my gallery owners, an interesting subject has come up. Its the subject of improvement. The discussions have been about a conflict. An artist improving their skill versus not changing their art to keep a buying clientele.

I find this very disturbing!

Personally my drive has always been to improve upon myself. Upon my art. I think its true for many of you as well. Its a natural thing. An athlete strives to do their best and pushes for more. A musician, a doctor, a scientist, an engineer, every career I can think of, a person benefits from improving their skills. Why is this not true for an artist? How do we come to a place where it is no longer appreciated? Why? Why? Why...

In December one gallery owner talked about a very popular artist in the gallery. This artist painted ladies or children at the beach in a very bright and luminous way. She punched her reds and her yellows glowed. Edges were soft and dreamy, movement was captured and colors were very high-key. Her art was eye catching and her sales were high.

This past summer she arrived with changed art. Still ladies and children at the beach, but minus the huge areas of glow that, to me were sometimes overdone. When he asked why the change, she replied, "I'm evolving. I'm refining my art. I'm becoming a better artist."

Her sales dropped tremendously.

The gallery owner explained to me, in long detail over the phone, how the buying public bought her art because of the unusual glow. He said it was as though there was a light placed behind the canvas. Now her art was dark and even he too didn't like it as much.

Later I went to the gallery. I saw this artist's work. I loved it. In my opinion it had improved tremendously. The glowing was there. I thought the artist had brought new works in to please the owner. These were not dark at all. They were wonderful!

I asked the owner. He said they were the changed art that wasn't selling...

Just yesterday, my conversation turned to this same subject with another gallery owner. He too confirmed it as a fact.

In a struggling economy, where sales are difficult, what does an artist do with this revelation?

I know there's benefit to improving one's art. But does there come a point when it isn't appreciated anymore? Is everyone incapable of seeing improvement, except another artist? Are we the only ones who can appreciate when something was masterfully created?

I'm in shock. I feel confused and crushed. I need to hear your thoughts on this. Please comment.

Posted is a Susan Roux work in progress...