Intentionality and staying open to the unknown
Since I use landscape as a jumping off place to reach into the unknown, I started thinking about how one (me) can start off thinking about going in one direction and wind up in another.
I’ve just completed five paintings that were derived from a photograph that I took down by the Corte Madera Creek-a favorite walk of mine-close by and always beautiful, even at low tide.
For the past few years my work has been influenced by water in many of it’s variables, but most recently I’ve focused on the water in the creek, it’s ripples, it’s stillness, the reflections and now some shadows. Sometimes when taking a photograph of the water, my shadow will cover a section of the composition. Although I haven’t previously used my shadow, I’ve been thinking about using it as it is similar to paying attention to the reflections in the water. So I’ve started a painting of the slough in full sunlight with my shadow in it-another version of the slough, another version of my attention to reflections. While I’ve just started this painting, I can tell already that although my intention was the continuation of working with the water and the creek and the slough, emotions that I hadn’t realized were there are taking form and begging to be seen and heard. The only way that allowed myself to be cognizant of this is by being with the work in progress, in my heart and soul, not just with my head and hand and so this takes me back to the question of intentionality. Where is intentionality generated? I suspect that most would think that it comes from the mind or the brain, a thought followed through. My own experience is both in life and in making art is that having a premise to start with, an intention so to speak, is like having a map, but allowing an openess to what happens is like getting lost and liking it.