Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Creating


Iguana, acrylic on canvas
Creating, whether one writes, paints, arranges flowers, or what have you, takes a person outside him- or herself. That’s always been my experience. I can be lost in a manuscript on the computer or in layers of paint on a canvas for hours, oblivious not only to the passage of time but also to pain and hunger.

Painting, for me at least, for as much as it takes me outside myself, it also takes me inside—to a different place, a deeper place, somewhere beyond the conscious. There is something primal about pushing paint around on canvas. Even when it is a frustrating exercise, which it often is, there is still something uniquely satisfying about it. Contradiction upon contradiction. It is both energizing and calming.

I scarcely recall a time when I did not paint, and I can’t imagine a time when I won’t want to. I’m certainly not alone in persevering despite various odds: finding the time, energy, and drive to ignore the side effects of my cancer therapy and just get on with it. Some famous examples are worth considering. Painter Georgia O’Keeffe in her final years continued to paint even as macular degeneration dimmed her eyesight. Classical pianist Arthur Rubinstein did not give up performing until he was virtually blind. Both continued creating into their nineties. Ludwig van Beethoven began experiencing hearing loss early on and was nearly totally deaf when he composed some of his best-known works.
Cat Chair, acrylic on canvas

Modern artist Henri Matisse was diagnosed with abdominal cancer at age seventy-two. When surgery left him bed- and chair-bound, he turned from painting to creating paper cut-outs, for which he became almost as well known as for his earlier paintings. He continued creating in this new way for the next decade until his death at age eighty-four. Impressionist painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir developed rheumatoid arthritis that left his hands paralyzed and so had his brushes strapped to his hands in order to continue painting until his death at seventy-eight.

If you are a creative person — a writer, a painter, a composer, a performer — you cannot not work, you cannot simply stop. You must create. Against all odds.

Note: Displayed are two recent paintings I composed as remembrances of a vacation trip to Puerto Rico a couple of months ago.