I don’t usually muse in this bloggy, rather post pictures of work in progress etc… But it is a sunny wintery day and my mind feels a like a ramble, so here I go.
Recently I signed up for an oil painting class, something I’ve never worked in before. Oil is the medium of ARTISTES – many of the contemporary famous ones, the ones from history, the medium for the work you see in most galleries, etc etc. It is fun… tricky fun, but oily good fun and quite liberating to be working in something that works so differently to watercolours. I bought a pretty set of Langridge Oils (and also happened to go to a talk by it’s founder – a man that knew everything about colour!) and started the classes a couple of weeks ago, also aided by red wine and cheese during every class session.
It got me thinking about the definitions we put on ourselves as “creative” or not, an illustrator or artist, a professional or amateur. A lot of class members are using this class as their first endeavours into trying something creative (their definition, not one I would put on them!) and for me it is a way to play with a new medium that doesn’t respond in the same way I am used to, so makes me re-think what I am putting onto paper or canvas, and look at things in a different way. (I illustrate lines, but am learning to paint light). So am I now making art?
I think the definition of art is better than the common understanding of art. It is cheesy to say, but if we go by the above definition, we just need to produce works with skill and imagination to be making art. So that illustration, incredible homemade dinner, sculpture in the sand (then captured on instagram) all counts. We all do it. And it all counts.
Anyway, for my own record, here are my early attempts at some first oil paintings…