Elizabeth Murray, 1940-2007

I note with sadness in this entry the passing of a great artist, Elizabeth Murray, who died in August at age 66. She has left the world with the gift of her brilliant, energetic, innovative paintings to savor and admire.

Getting real

I just learned a big lesson in the studio.

I started out the way I always do, with a brilliant plan on how to proceed, then watching it fall apart, and finally being shown what I really need to be doing instead.

Last night I had painted some large sections of fabric, and my plan for this morning was to cut them into strips and paste them onto a number of sheets of paper that I had painted over the summer. It seemed like a great idea, and I strode down the stairs to my studio, excited and confident.

UGLY. I made three or four extremely ugly collages using this method, stubbornly plugging onward, until I finally admitted to myself that my perfect idea really sucked. I felt that familiar frustration welling up inside me, that art is never as easy as I expect it to be.

So I did what I always do in this situation: I just start flinging whatever is at hand onto a blank canvas, and it usually results in SOMETHING – whether successful, or bad, but a new direction – just SOMETHING.

I started ripping the ugly collages I had just made into tiny pieces like mosaic tesserae and gluing them onto the canvas, not worrying about whether they were making a “good” composition, or the shapes were matching, or anything. Just RIP, GLUE, RIP, GLUE. (And enjoying The Jam through my headphones.)

The resulting piece (similar in color to the one pictured above, but with smaller shapes and torn edges) is … pleasing. It’s not perfect. It’s not going to change art history. But you know what? I LIKE IT.

This experience taught me a lesson – this and reading over a publication by mixed greens before I went to bed last night. Mixed greens is a gallery/web site that shows and sells cutting-edge artwork. It’s artwork that’s trendy, witty, well-informed, and hip.

Now while I appreciated the works in that mixed greens booklet, I didn’t LOVE any of the work in there. Why is that? I wondered, as I flipped from one page to the next. It’s really cool work. The artists whose work is pictured inside are obviously sincere, hard-working, talented, well-educated people. Why don’t I have any desire to look at their work for more than a minute?

I think it’s because they seem to be TRYING TOO HARD. It’s like they are more concerned with impressing you, or appearing to be smart, rather than just being themselves and letting whatever happens on the page or canvas happen.

This is what I started out doing this morning. I tried really hard to be elegant and resourceful with my initial collage idea, and it totally bombed. But when I just followed my instincts, and started gluing at random, I made a decent painting. Again, this painting is not going to change the world. It’s not the best painting I ever made, and who knows, I might end up throwing it out someday.

But when I look at it, I enjoy it. It seems real. It seems natural. It seems honest. And that’s the kind of art that really means something to me.

Whoever you are, you made my day

I just picked up my paintings from the Framingham State College faculty show (one of them is pictured above), which closed on Monday.

As I was wrapping my work, I read over the comment book that had been posted near the door, and was happy to find not only appreciative remarks about the show in general, but a number of kind statements about my work in particular.

One wonderful soul wrote, “Catherine Carter’s work = amazing.”

It’s a groovy feeling to know that someone really enjoyed looking at my paintings! Blessings on those generous writers who recorded such complimentary reactions.

This uplifting experience brings to mind a firm conviction of mine, and that is the importance of remembering to share our POSITIVE experiences, to thank and validate those whose efforts we appreciate and benefit from.

From the car service department that asks us to fill out a “report card” when we have our oil changed, to the comments feature on youtube.com, our opinions are constantly being solicited these days. And I often see people use these forums to complain or belittle.

Not that you shouldn’t speak up when you receive bad service. But just as many (if not more) times, we receive wonderful service, or have an enjoyable experience because someone tried their best to help us, or put a great deal of effort into doing a good job or developing their talent.

We must speak up about these good experiences too. The world would be a better place if the positive was highlighted more than (or to the exclusion of!) the negative. There are plenty of negative voices that need to be balanced with your words of praise – such as the fear-mongering rhetoric of politicians and the media, road rage, or the prevalent philosophy that whoever comes up with the wittiest putdown “wins.”

To whoever wrote that my work is amazing, I reply, your taking the time to express your pleasure is AMAZING, and I thank you.

Profile of Lasse Antonsen

Click here to read my latest installment of In The Studio, this time a profile of mixed-media artist Lasse Antonsen.

Santa Claus comes in September

“O-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-comin' down the street,
Oh please let it be for me!
O-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-comin' down the street,
I wish, I wish I knew what it could be!”

(From Meredith Willson’s “The Music Man”)

I know how those folks in River City felt.

I’ve spent the better part of the last month preparing for my fall classes, typing syllabi and xeroxing handouts. This past week was the first full week of my college classes, and I’m anticipating the addition of three more classes when the museum I teach at resumes its fall season in a week. This has cut into my art-making time and, needless to say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.

So you can imagine my excitement today, when I heard the gentle THUD! of a box being deposited on the front porch: the delivery of $300 worth of art supplies I had ordered from Dick Blick. (That’s the advantage of teaching; it pays for the art supplies.)

At the sound of that box landing on the porch, I knew I now had in my possession a big box filled with Golden fluid acrylics, in a maze of new colors, nickel azo yellow to alizarin crimson to phthalo blue. AHHH! Nothing could be more exciting. Thank you, Mr. UPS Man*, you’re as good as Santa Claus.

Now I have three days to play, play, play with all of these fine materials. Next week, it’s back to class. But for now, time to savor the joys of the studio!

*I don’t mean to sound sexist here. But I’ve never seen a UPS delivery woman, although I did read a short story about one once.

My review of Gallery X's "Public Hanging" show

My review of the current "Public Hanging" show at Gallery X in New Bedford appears in today's New Bedford Standard-Times. Read all about it here.

For more information, visit the gallery's web site.

Faculty show

Five of my paintings are on display as part of "Faculty:Works," an exhibit of recent works by Framingham State College art faculty members, at the Mazmanian Gallery on the campus of Framingham State College. The show is on view until September 21; the gallery is open Monday through Friday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Feel free to contact me for more information at carterpaintings@aol.com.

Keeping the faith

Artists have to have faith that somewhere out there is the perfect destination for each of our paintings, and that we ourselves are seldom the best judges of that destination, even if we like to think we are.

The painting below, "Knot," has finally found its ideal home.



I made it in 2005, as part of a large group of paintings in a similar style, and right away, I knew it was one of the best of the series. I entered it in juried shows, sent it in response to calls for entries from galleries, used it as part of calls for curator applications, all rejected. My gallery at the time sent it to a hotel in New York for approval, but they turned it down and sent it back on their truck. I dropped it off with an art consultant who initially seemed hopeful, but they eventually sent it back too, having received no interest from their clients.

This went on for two years. I felt frustrated, knowing that it was a strong painting, but what else could I do? I had tried numerous times to get it out into the world. The work just seemed destined to sit forever in my storage bin, wrapped in plastic.

Finally last month I hooked up with an art consultant I hadn't worked with before, who asked me to bring by works in series. I grabbed "Knot" and three others from that series, figuring I had nothing to lose. The work had been rejected yet again, just a week before, for a juried show in Chicago.

As soon as the consultant saw this work, she was enthusiastic. (See, I KNEW it was good!) She had a friend who was starting up a biotech company and had decorated the offices in beige tones, so she felt the bright colors in "Knot" would add some dash. And sure enough, this company bought "Knot" and three others from the series.

What a perfect destination for this painting! The colors and the possibilities for the subject matter fit right in with the company's needs. It was a win-win-win situation. And if it had been accepted for that juried show, it wouldn't have been free and available for this client to look at and fall in love with.

So while so much of getting the work out there seems to involve fending off "NOs" in situations where we thought the work SHOULD be, we have to keep believing that there's an unseen benevolent hand, guiding the work to where it ultimately belongs.

The painting made me do it

I've done it again. I SHOULD be doing a million other things. But instead of tending to my "to do" list, I found myself walking into the studio, tying on my apron and grabbing a brush.

Sigh. Is it wrong to want to run away from the world outside, and just PAINT PAINT PAINT? It's not like I don't enjoy the outside world. I just enjoy being in my studio more.

Anyway, a newly completed painting is pictured above. I'm really getting into these torn paper collages on canvas. They look simultaneously messy but elegant, just like I want my work to look.