Finding my way in color and texture
A few years ago, my family and I were in Santa Fe, New Mexico on spring break. Being an artist and self proclaimed feminist, I of course, love all things Georgia O’Keefe and New Mexico is the land she called home. One afternoon we went to the Georgia O’Keefe museum. My husband and son indulged me as I fully immersed myself for hours in every exhibit. From the biographical video right off the lobby to the gift shop right before the exit.
In between, on every wall, were her paintings, her photographs, her drawings. I was repeatedly told by docents and security guards to “please stand back”. To the point I was close to being kicked out. I would hide behind a wall, so they couldn’t see me stare at these works from inches away. I wanted to see the brushstrokes. I wanted to see the bumps of the canvas. I wanted to touch the art.
The first time I ever saw a Van Gogh in person, I almost died inside. I was at the St. Louis Art Museum. Not even being an Art History major in college could have prepared me for what I saw. I’m not joking. Anyone with a little knowledge of Van Gogh knows the man loved to lay on the colors thick. We know his colors were vibrant and a little chaotic. Well, your Sunflowers poster on your bedroom wall doesn’t even come close to what you see in person. And yes, I got as close to that canvas as I could without tripping any alarms. I looked at the canvas from all sides. The paint had to be many inches thick. I wanted to touch it so bad!
Of course I never ever ever touched the art. I’m not crazy. I would never compromise anyone else’s work like that! Especially not priceless works of art where I could be arrested!! Though maybe it would worth it. Curiously enough, when children see my paintings, they instinctively want to touch them. Their parents usually stop them, which I appreciate. But I also let them know it’s ok to touch my work. Because I get it.
I totally get it.
All of this came to mind as I was winding yarn. I was enjoying the color swimming before my eyes, while I was feeling the texture of the fiber thru my fingers. It reminded me of how I prefer painting over drawing. The smoothness of the paints as they flow from the brush to the substrate. How I prefer paper or wood panel to canvas. The smoothness of the application. It’s the same for acrylic as with watercolor as with fiber. I love the textures.
I recently started playing around with watercolor. I wanted to try to find every color imaginable. I obsessed over watercolor sets and the idea of making my own. Watercolor is unpredictable and chaotic. So many textures on the paper. The blooms and smooth washes. My favorite thing to do is make color mixing charts. The possibilities of color mixing are endless!
I also love yarn. My favorite yarn is wool that is hand dyed and variegated. Each skein is a soft and squishy mix of colors. When I knit with it, each stitch is different. A different color and a different texture. I become bored to tears if I try to knit in one color. So boring. I’ll scour the internet for the one pattern that will be challenging enough but also easy. And I never use the same pattern more than once.
All these thoughts about color and texture have been on my mind a lot lately. A dear friend recently said to me “ You and I don’t actually care for arts and crafts, we just love color and pattern.” That statement really struck a nerve with me. I’ve struggled a lot with giving myself the title of “artist”. I feel like a fraud. I hate the idea of finding “the one” artistic medium. The one where I finally put down all the other crafts and devote myself to it. To hone that skill until I’m a master and I’m famous and I make enough money to live my life independently. Where I am truly and technically an artist.
But because of my friend’s statement, and because I’m learning to let myself explore all the mediums and crafts, I think I’m learning to understand a new definition of artist for me. I am not just a painter or a fiber artist. I’m kinda everything. A friend and mentor told me once that to truly be an artist and to make a living as an artist, I had to pick one medium. She said that I would never be taken seriously if I messed around too much. But now I know that’s bullshit. Making stuff is my happy place. Playing with color and texture and pattern, no matter how it’s done, is an art.
For now, I’ll continue to play with the yarn. Until some other new art or craft comes along that tempts me with it’s color and textures. And then I’ll obsess and learn all I can about that new medium. And all the while, I’ll continue to call myself an Artist.
