I always find it interesting to document the progression of a painting. At times it's a bit frustrating to find myself preferring something I did at an earlier step, but mostly, it's intriguing just to review the process. I've learned over the years never to rigidly adhere to an initial idea because it tends to interfere with the dialogue I inevitably have with the accident fairy.
The germ of a concept for this painting originated around 2005 after I read (and glued in my battered journal) an Associated Press article by Lisa J. Adams. In it she detailed how Mayan Indians living in small villages of Mexico reverently honour their ancestors once a year. The fascinating rituals Adams wrote about triggered thoughts and writings about my father.
Years later, someone kindly shared a photograph that she had taken during a San Francisco parade for the Day of the Dead. I blocked out an extremely foreshortened skeletal figure on canvas but wasn't ready to take it further and put it aside for months.
Le jour des morts exists in Québec, but as a religious mention, it is rather insignificant and tends to mirror the time of year. November 2nd is generally gray and colourless. Leaves have separated from the trees and the snow has not yet fallen to brighten the neutral surroundings with its assorted shades of white. Colour is an important element of my visual repertoire so things had to continue simmering for a while longer on the back burner.
The new studio space that I set up in the new year motivated me to finish the painting, primarily because the window on the right let in extremely bright light reflected from the never ending snow. The view and deathly cold were definitely going to have an impact on this piece.
The germ of a concept for this painting originated around 2005 after I read (and glued in my battered journal) an Associated Press article by Lisa J. Adams. In it she detailed how Mayan Indians living in small villages of Mexico reverently honour their ancestors once a year. The fascinating rituals Adams wrote about triggered thoughts and writings about my father.
Years later, someone kindly shared a photograph that she had taken during a San Francisco parade for the Day of the Dead. I blocked out an extremely foreshortened skeletal figure on canvas but wasn't ready to take it further and put it aside for months.
Le jour des morts exists in Québec, but as a religious mention, it is rather insignificant and tends to mirror the time of year. November 2nd is generally gray and colourless. Leaves have separated from the trees and the snow has not yet fallen to brighten the neutral surroundings with its assorted shades of white. Colour is an important element of my visual repertoire so things had to continue simmering for a while longer on the back burner.
The new studio space that I set up in the new year motivated me to finish the painting, primarily because the window on the right let in extremely bright light reflected from the never ending snow. The view and deathly cold were definitely going to have an impact on this piece.
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| THE PAINTING ROUGHED OUT |
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| A FRIEND IS ADDED, THE BACKGROUND BECOMES SNOWY |
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| TIME TO ACCESSORIZE |
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| ADJUSTMENTS: ELEMENTS BECOME MORE COLOURFUL, BACKGROUND IS FURTHER DEVELOPED |
During the process, I momentarily squeezed through a pinhole in the fabric of space and time to become another in a parallel universe. A beautiful, temporary separation from reality ensued as I zestfully navigated the secret recesses of my psyche.
The painting naturally evolved towards the humorous and became wickedly absurd.
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| ANCESTRAL GOSSIPS |
A routine usually sets in near the end: after a period of painting comes a period of sitting and staring, then again more painting, sitting and staring.
Then voilà it's done...sort of. There are always little things to fine tune: edges to paint, dabs of paint to apply here and there, but essentially, it's finished. Time to vacuum the brain and start anew!
Now where is that dirt devil?
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