Heart vs Fundamentals

Lupines at Dusk

Original oil painting 10x20"

by Susan Roux

Creating art can be a nagging series of conflicts. There exists a fine line between painting from the heart and adhering to the fundamentals. How much of one is too much? Painting from the heart is freeing and spontaneous. Letting go. The brush dips in color and impulse and the canvas dictate what color is next. You feel your creativity bubbling out of you and great joy is experienced in the process. If that's all you do, where do you end up?

Is there such a thing as having too much fun painting?

The fundamentals, those pesky rules, pull it all together. The values define shapes. Design and composition lead the eye. Sun and shadow patterns contribute to the illusion of reality. A wise man told me an artist is allowed only a small portion of fun to be visible per painting. Oh shucks, really?

Here is me painting from the heart. I was captivated by the lupines on Monhegan. I loved the way they danced in the sky. I photographed a lot of them, but the feeling of observing them could not be replicated in an image. I wanted to portray them at dusk. Those wonderful lupine shades were transformed during golden hour. How rich and warm the cool blue's, pink's and purple's became. I concentrated on capturing that. My photo references were poor suggestions, so imagination took over.

Once I finally captured the light I was after, I felt the painting was complete. Funny how if you toss in one crazy element you're unstable with, everything you're grounded on slips from memory. A well advised critique put it all back into perspective for me. Too much heart and not enough fundamentals. Form became sacrificed au lieu de couleur.

I returned to the painting, freed from focusing only on color and began to establish form. Somewhere between heart and fundamentals one can strike a balance that satisfies. Satisfies the viewer, satisfies the artist. After all, if the passage is not defined well enough, the viewer misses the message...

Back from Monhegan

We arrived with the island in full sun. It was a welcoming gift for a place that has a reputation of being so gray. The lupins were in full bloom and they sparkled with sunlight as we walked towards our home for the week. Flowering trees were everywhere and the aroma of sweet flower petals filled the air. I was so happy to be back.

It was already mid-afternoon. After settling into our room, it left just enough time for a walk through town before dinner. Cameras in hand, Mike and I slowly made our way down the narrow dirt streets. The slow pace made it feel like we were re-introducing ourselves to the island. Many things had changed so little, others had changed a lot.

During dinner a sudden downpour quickly changed the light filtering in the house. Lightening and thunder clashed and roared. Water poured down the street carving a deep variegated gully. I was glad I had taken a stroll before eating. How quickly things can change. It was a fast moving storm and before the dishes were done, a photographer noticed we had a rainbow.

Not just a rainbow, but a double rainbow!

Our house sits on Fish Beach and we were able to back up just enough to see the entire arc of the rainbow. It ended directly on our house! This had to be a good sign.

This was a very old house built in the 17 hundreds. It was a bit rougher than the usual accommodations I seek. But here as the pot of gold at the tip of the rainbow, I sensed magical things were going to happen. Excitement and inspiration were already pumping through my veins.

The house may have looked a bit dodgy, but our view made up for it.

This was the morning view from our second story bathroom. Yes, I said bathroom... I loved how the sun lit up the boats in the harbor. It made me want to jump out of bed. You may think I saturated the colors, but no. This is how vibrant it looks on a sunny morning.

Our ancient house softened with charm at golden hour. You can see it here at the top of the tiny beach. Not so dodgy looking anymore. Many people came to the beach in the evening. It became the perfect setting for clicking people pictures easily from the comfort of my beach chair. We had musicians in the house and they would gather outside to play and sing. Children would wade at the water's edge picking sea-glass and shells and dragging little sticks in the water. My camera was busy as golden light lit their clothes and captured their merriment. They'll be future paintings from this trip, I promise...