Weather Diary - Day 11 (Thursday March 30 2006 Sunny 65F)

'On Art'

"Which would you rather be if you had a choice - divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or angelically good?"
L.M. Montgomery,'Anne of Green Gables'

I have, inside of me somewhere, a little bit of L.M. Montgomery's 'Anne'. As a small child, my mother, (an avid 'Anne' fan from very early on), reads virtually everything 'Anne' to my sister and me. (I have a sneaking suspicion that I am that Anne's namesake.)
But here in my workspace, in the little cottage, in the village of Ocracoke, in the midst of my art pilgrimage, it is this question that I pose to the (inanimate) drawing I'm working on.

'Would you rather be beautiful or clever or good?'

I actually have several artworks on the go. Each time I reach a tricky bit, I move to a different piece, and round and round she goes. (She being me.)
If things are going well, I may suddenly look up, realizing that Chester hasn't been out for hours and hours.
If things are not going well, I sit at my table and stare, glancing at the clock every 30 seconds or so.
But today, things are going well.
Sunny, warm, with a spring air full of sweet scents, I fling open all windows and doors. I spend the first hour priming 24" x 36" masonite boards, boards which are now lying outside on the deck, drying in the sun, Chester sprawled out amongst them.  Inside, I set up three of my art projects.
One, a half-done watercolour of our friends' hotel, (or more accurately, one of the charming vintage buildings on their property).
Two, the work entitled 'Pilgrimage', with drawn figures walking across (what I refer to as) a moonscape.
And three, a long thin strip of canvas tacked to the top of a door and hanging down its full length, with the barest of beginnings of a figure work, a self-portrait at age twelve.

I ponder the 'beautiful or clever or good' question while regarding my 12-year-old self. Or at least, the slowly emerging figure work which I call my 12-year-old self. It is (virtually) life-size, and so far, is a mixture of delicate graphite and soft colour, the colour made with watercolour pencils, thinned out with a wet brush. These wet colour areas, (due to gravity), create long watery trails, giving the figure a sense of earthly attachment.
Beautiful?
I think of my old Scottish art prof, saying "We're not here to paint pretty pictures!"
Or clever?
Perhaps, (in some aspect of this work), I would hope to reflect some cleverness, or the odd moment of brilliance. But, try to get this across, and it shows.
Good then?
What makes art 'good'?

I work on the emerging figure work which I call my 12-year-old self. I find the place deep within, and close everything else out. I work on this piece with intuition, devotion, something akin to love. I don't worry about results. I immerse myself in each step of bringing out the figure. I immerse myself in the process.

I have everything I need today to keep me fully occupied. Not beautiful, not clever, not good. Just
enough, for now, to be in the midst of the process of creating.
The rest will take care of itself.