I came across some old art, and made it new again. That was fun for me, looking at it with fresh eyes and different life experience behind me.

It also reminded me of “events that shape us”, and never-answered questions like whether our paths are determined by planning, grit and circumstance or if they’re a pre-ordained destiny. Conscious decisions vs. fate. And if it’s a little of both (which is more what I believe), and how they play with or against one another. Because looking back on a lifetime of making art, it’s clear to me that it was there all along, whether pushing up like weeds from concrete when I turned away or fought it, or blooming with passionate contentment when embraced. How it played itself out could have been different, and I’ve often wondered just how much impact different choices would have made ~ but life being both so mysterious and interconnected, who’s to say what other things would come into play when taking a different fork in the road that may have landed you right in the same place.

And what does all that have to do with O’Keeffee and me? It’s a bit of a twisty tale, a piece pulled from the “how I got here” files ~ which I suppose all started with a love for flowers.

In my early art years, I was very focused on honing my skills and basically marveling at the whole process of watching something come to life, through my hands, onto a blank piece of paper. It was “something I did”.

But when it came time for college and higher learning, I didn’t go to an art school. I had an aversion to the possibility of being surrounded by self-important people wearing berets thinking high-minded, overly-grand things about art ~ so I went to a wonderful liberal arts university with a champion football team and kids who studied everything from geology to literature to chemistry, pottery and music. I was already “immersed” in art and that seemed enough reason to study other things. Too much of one thing would have been, well, too much.

At the same time, a quiet rebellion thrived inside me against studying other artists. “Why?” you may ask. Mainly because I didn’t want to be influenced. I wanted my own style to emerge freely on its own. I didn’t want to copy. Second reason, I found art history incredibly boring. History was great, and art was great, but the two together caused much clock-watching, seat-squirming and suddenly heavy eyelids.

Given my ignorance of art history, you might then understand that I hadn’t a clue when during one of my early shows some of my work (like those shown here) was compared to the work of Georgia O’Keeffe.

“Who?”

Well of course I had to find out who this Georgia person was. I didn’t want to be like somebody else! Or worse, have people think I was trying to mimic.

It wasn’t hard to find examples of her work, and as it turned out I was pretty impressed. Flattered too, really. And I understood where they found the resemblance, unwitting as it was. Then I went on to read about her life, discovering that my O’Keeffian connection went beyond art to things like walking similar terrains (Lake George, the southwest and New York City) and even having my own version of a Stieglitz at the time.

My work is not very O’Keeffian these days, but it was a cool pairing back then, and that kind of over-sized styling never left my realm of creative thinking. And while I’m still not a full convert, it also marked the beginnings of my first real interest, outside of a classic admiration for Michelangelo, Norman Rockwell and Andrew Wyeth, in the subject of “art history”.

All because of a thing for flowers. Goes to show we never know what will lead us where, and the journey will happen regardless.

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some of Chris’s rough sketches

Can it be Tuesday again already? That sure went fast! But it means another great video from Chris. This week he’s talking about something that plays a pretty major role in my own life, so I’ve decided not to make any elaborate commentary ~ of course, if what he says has anything to do with stream of consciousness, or infinite possibilities, he’s on to something…

(If you missed my introduction about Chris Staley, master potter, educator and Penn State Laureate 2012-2013, you can read that here.)  Enjoy!

The post Tuesdays with Chris: “Drawing as Thinking” appeared first on saxtonstudio blog.

It’s the same for any of us who dare to “do better”, to be the best we can be, and then some. To rise above. To discover, to conquer, to surpass, to make dreams come true ~ or to simply grow as spiritual beings. It’s the same for any of us who dare to bloom.

This is a favorite drawing that my daughter likes to show to her friends and say, “can you believe that’s a pencil drawing?” And she’ll often say to me, “Mom, how did you do that?  Seriously, how does that even happen?” And I tell her it’s because I practiced a lot lot lot. Yes, it’s something I had a propensity for early on, but I worked it. Like Malcolm Gladwell’s study in his book Outliers, I’d put in my hours. And if I hadn’t, this eagle would not be hanging on the wall as an unintended, but still valuable lesson right here at home.

Olympians, of course, really know how to work it. The hours they put in are nearly incomprehensible to the majority of us mere mortals, but the results of their habits are profound. I don’t know how anyone could escape feeling inspired to push a little harder, be a little better, aim a little higher. At the very least, we can admire the amazing human spirit, just by watching what Olympians know and exemplify.

And yet… without ever having stood on an Olympic podium with a shiny gold, silver or bronze medallion, there’s probably not one of us who couldn’t find a positive example of our very own that proves Aristotle right. Excellence is a habit, not an act. So go for gold.

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