Nothing is Easy

As a gift to my friend Manuel, who modelled for me a few months ago, I decided to give him a small portrait. Considering the ease of the last one, I really thought it would be quick... 

No.

Nope.

Nada.

...oh it looks a bit like-

-NOPE.

:$&3&3&7$:&3

Ok ok...

IT FINALLY RESEMBLES HIM. :|

Just goes to show you it isn't WHAT or WHO you're painting, but the abstract shape, colour, form and tone within it. Always try to flatten the image- take away all meaning, twist it upside down if that helps you. Make it so you don't recognize it. Never paint 'Manuel'- just paint colour.

Good luck. 

Weeks

Waking up at 2:33 on a Wednesday, because of GOOD IDEAS.
I wonder how to make a perfect mold of a pyramid.
I wonder how to properly pronounce Spanish words.

Friday, I visit him.
Get into a deep sleep, it's as if I'm catching up every weekend
the bed is small, but I love the silence outside
the backyard is an organic hay farm
the house is under 500 square feet
we listen to owls and watch airplanes dip, I run up a steep hill.

I'm back home on Monday, visit some friends
some days we sit on the beach, I wonder about my white legs
against their natural tans, we all speak with a different accent
but together it's a jumble, fantasy language of noises and gestures
I don't care if anyone gets it but us.

                               Sebastian: Quick, chalk pastel on toned paper. C. Fralic 2014

Work.

Today I walked through the music department at my school. 

Through the soft plinking of keys and the blare of a horn, I struggled to differentiate the sounds- which were good, which were mediocre. My untrained ear was a probable cause- I can't read notes and can only stumble over a few guitar renditions of simple songs.

The problem was that, when I listened, it all sounded good to me. Every sharp note, softened croon, and pluck of a string was a beautiful noise, every song a talented honorarium to it's original maker.

This made me think, is this not all art?

Are we not all honing our skills, building our flexibility-our mental and physical strength? Are not most of us "talented" at this point? 

I wonder if my work is just part of the noise- like most people, very good. The fast-playing pianist ahead of their classmates sometimes but beyond their educational cloister, very small. A studio class of 15-30 students. A town with thousands of people. A country. A world.

A lot of people with skills of just the same. Strong, talented, ambitious. What sets them apart. There are a whole lot of us "talents". We are really nothing special, and you could say it's better to imagine it's for yourself. It's softer. 

I wonder if cushioning the blow is what holds some of us back from reaching far? If my nihilistic (perhaps mechanically realistic) way of doing things will ever set me apart. If I might pass on one day feeling like I never achieved the thing I wanted most (that I think everyone wants the most) not just being an "artist" but just to become something. To have some worldly purpose beyond just eating, sweating and shitting. If that is really unrealistic or if there's a way beyond. Dino Valls once told me, "work, work, work" but what type of work? 

Make more?

Be more?

Do more?

Work. 

I guess there's no harm in trying. 

Commitment Issues

Sometimes I have commitment issues.

Too pale...

Why did I put purple on it? Wtf

Let's use retina-scorching red instead!

Let's just scrub it with solvent and start again...

Voila! One layer... That was just one :(

What you don't see is that I make lots of mistakes... And it's perfectly normal to wipe, repaint and experiment.

Having no knowledge of colour theory (warm or cool) everything is pretty much trial and error. Luckily I have friends who DO know it, and that's why progress critiques are valuable to me. 

Also, lots and lots of paint thinner.

Manganese Blue Hue

My favourite colour, to paint with right now, is Manganese Blue Hue.

               Mmmmmm, juicy.

I happened upon this colour in a Gamblin starter set, and I suppose it's based on some old, toxic colour that disappeared for awhile. I had the same experience with my beloved Flake White (which used to be full of lead) and now I'm starting to think I am attracted to things which could potentially kill me one day.

The reason I am posting about some colour, is that people seem to comment most on the coloration of my works. 

I've always gravitated towards certain types of work with a juicy type of luminescence. I feel that pastels have a glow. All of my under paintings are done in a pale colour, very thinly, and I like to work up into the darks. I like to do this because I'm interested in the transparency of the layers of oil paint.

Without any technical understanding of colour theory, I began by looking at my favourite colourists and wondering how they worked. One artist who inspired me deeply was Mark Ryden, who isolated himself with white during the Snow Yak Show and used only bits of very pale colour. 

       "Long Yak" Mark Ryden, 2008.

I believe this lead him into his signature tonal style, which has shone through his work since. When I first saw his work, it was still beautiful enough to capture me, and as a preteen I obsessed over a CD cover he'd designed for Jack Off Jill- but I would say the Snow Yak Show was a discipline based exercise that created some of his best work.

For that reason, I am isolating myself (as a colourist). I have been for awhile, and I think it's working. I haven't forced myself into the same paleness as Mark Ryden, but I'm sacrificing things... I only really let myself pick a few colours and white. Right now my paintings are about the red family- a consistent mix of oranges, reds, and pinks that remind me of the sugary Kool-Aid I drank as a kid. Then there's white- and when I get to really important parts, I use Manganese Blue Hue.

    Angels singing, trumpets and stuff!

It's like magic. Wherever I place it, colour comes to life. When I mix it, I notice things I didn't notice before. It's the secret ingredient in an Italian grandmother's recipe (it's more Garlic). I am madly in love with a colour, but I know it's only sheer luck. I know if I use it too much it'll become tasteless like a favourite food- eaten too often.

It will be fleeting, I know my love will disappear one day if I ever leave this family of colours... But for now, it's a fresh new romance.

If my boyfriend reads this, I still love you, but can you be my Manganese Blue Hue?

Sincerely,

C.

The Artist as GOD

Are you an artist? Do you know an artist? Are you trying to think of the politically correct answer? Most people will know a safe answer- maybe DaVinci. How about Monet? 

                 "Can I be one?"

There is something to be said about "what is an artist?" and in my opinion it seems to bring some spiritual significance in that some people might think they're not "talented" enough. Maybe they don't make big waves, turn water into wine, invent things, or paint everything blind with just the stubs of their malformed arms...

But they're still artists, and it's still art. 

An artist is not a title. It is not knighthood, or sainthood, or superpowers. Artists aren't alchemists (although some are) and they don't all start sculpting marble with their chubby infant hands (although some do).

What an artist is, is anyone that makes art. For tax purposes, it's maybe anyone selling their work or working within the field of art. If you just read about art, or think about art (sorry, conceptual artists...) I don't think you're an artist.

I promise you I am just like a plumber. If plumbing was art, I would love to fix toilets. I would unclog, cleanse and drain sinks every day, and relish the sound of a leaky faucet. I would spend each night making complicated solutions for new types of drainage systems and create the perfect flush.

But you would never question whether I am a plumber, so why question whether you're an artist?

S.O.S. Venezuela

I bought two 3' x 3' canvasses knowing only two things. One of them, was that I wanted to paint my friend Rosaura, a fellow artist, and the other was that I wanted to use a certain shade of pink. When I think of Rosa I think of her pink backpack, her favourite colour, and her name "Pink Aura" in English. Yet she is no typical pink kind of girl. Even if she plays tennis and smells like flowers, she has a rare depth that few people I've met can match.

One of these many facets is Rosa's heritage. She is a Canadian citizen who was born in Venezuela. 

"Rosaura" (in progress), oil on canvas 3'x3'

In order to for my photographer (Hailey Logan) to takes the references photos I needed, I began to discuss the politics of Venezuela with Rosa. I saw a glimpse of her true feelings and that far off look told me she wanted to be there, fighting for the human rights her people deserve.

This spurned on my idea for the second painting. I asked a friend we had visiting from Venezuela if I could paint him. Once again, we used this process of discussing what he felt about his home, and through broken English, Manuel began to unfold just like Rosa had. 

I feel like the words of Venezuelan citizens are being silenced but the freedom of expression is here with them in Canada. They have the conviction of soldiers, and I hope my diptych will express it in the way I want it to. 

Thankyou to my soulful models and my talented photographer. S.O.S. Venezuela.