A question I am often asked
One day I joined some other artists on the grounds of John McKenzie House, a historic home in North York, to do some plein air pastel drawings. Some interested passersby liked what I was doing and wanted to know how long it had taken me?
So I told them, "About and hour and a half, and about 20 years." A bit of a flippant response, I guess.
But the truth of course is more complicated than this.
I had to choose the materials to use, buy them and organize them. Paper, charcoal, and pastels are just a few of these.
The paper has to be prepared and mounted on a panel so it won't buckle (or dela with the consequences later.) That all gets done at least a day before heading outdoors. I spent the better part of the afternoon there, and completed two sketches, drank a thermos of coffee, ate my bag lunch, took a bunch of reference photos, and chatted to numerous people.
Back at the studio, these sketches may require small adjustments if I intend to show them. Then they need to be finished with a protective spray, mounted with mat board, and then framed. That process, believe it or not, takes longer than the creation part.
You might be surprised at how often I (and most artists) destroy work that is not up to our standards. I might paint over it, if it is a canvas or panel. If paper, I might tear it up and use it as collage material in another work. Works on paper that can’t be saved often become my business cards. Even a failed painting, when cut up into small pieces, can look pretty good. The intense colours, and bits of lines are often quite appealing.
Generally, there is a lot of warming up and skill building work that never makes it into a finished painting. All of this time is needed to play with ideas, try new materials, and learn, learn, learn.
And of course there are the thousand administrative tasks that need done, like taking pictures, posting to social media, applying to shows, updating a website, and similar. This time commitment is actually part of being an artist, even though it is not usually very creative time.
Perhaps art is like any other pursuit, really — we see the part of the iceberg that is above water, and not the big chunk below water.
A pastel in progress
