So, what do you do?

Our world is full of cliches.  And what makes something cliche?  Some say because its true.  Another take would be that its too commonly seen or heard - Stairway to Heaven has become a cliche - not because its a bad song (its actually pretty damn amazing) but any of us who have grown (groan) up on classic rock radio know first hand how something once brilliant can become a cliche simply by the fact of being bludgeoned with it.  Over and over and obver we heard it and for a while this seemed great - wow!  what a cool song!  I love Led Zeppelin!  Its so sugary sweet then it gets all rock-n-roll nasty!  Perfect.  Even after the 300th time - it was still a great experience...  headphones & a joint in the highschool lava-lamp psychadelic dungeon or blasting from the boombox in the school parking lot with sunglasses and leather jackets or first days of spring cruisin down the road with the windows down and the strains of Page and Plant thundering from the rattling, crappy, dying little speakers screwed into the doors...  it still worked.  But at play number 301, somethingn changed.  We all felt a slight twinge of "uhg. this again?" - and we kinda hated ourselves for it.  And thus a cliche was born.

The other day I was in my studio showing some recent paintings to Jim Jarmusch and I pointed to the big Frida Kahlo painting thats been in process for over 2 years now.  I said, "This one has been driving me nuts, I can't seem to finish it.  And I know the image is kind of cliche but I was trying to transcend that but I'm not sure its possible."

"Don't worry about it," he said.  "People can be so fickle.  One year its a cliche, the next its the hot new thing. They can't make up their minds.  Just keep doing what you're doing and forget about how its perceived."  And maybe thats why he's revered as a sort of a cultural superboy.  Cause he just does what he feels ike doing. 

So you're hanging out at a bar or a party or an opening or a picnic and you find yourself standing awkwardly next to someone you don't know and the social compulsion is to start up a conversation, right?  I mean we are all a but autistic in some ways  and we can stretch those horrid silences way past what feels right but in the interest of peace throughout the kingdom, we just begin a little chat.  And how does it open?  Do we just dive right into, "What are your feelings about marriage, polyamory and the concept of palimony?"  Usually not.  It usually begins something like this:  "Hey, how are ya?"  (no actual answer required - a standard empty, "I'm good, how're you?" will do just fine.)  You see, this all means nothing.  What its really saying is, "Look, I'm just stuck standing here and we might as well talk, ok?  So as far as we know these are the cliches that we use to break the ice." 

And then the all time favorite comes up - it ALWAYS does.  If you're in college, its the dreaded, "So - what's your major?"  But out here in the real world it, "So - what do you do?"  But its all we know how to do, isn't it?  We want to know this.  Because we need to know if we should really even be talking to them.  If they are worth our time.  Because if they say, "I'm a porn dirtector," chances are nature will call or one of those 'silent' cell phone calls will suddenly arrive. 

So why am I going on and on about this crap?  (Because I'm trying to create a cliche?)  Because I was in a gallery the other day and - although it was the proper setting for someone to ask me the dreaded question - the person behind the desk said, "So, what do you do?"  And I rattled off a list of things that seemed pertinent.  And as I did I thought, "Maybe I should stop here."  But I kept going.  And thats when I realized I probably should answer this question to myself before I can go out and answer it to anyone else.

And I ask you (me) - "So, what do you do?"  And here's my answer:

I paint portraits.  First and foremost I suppose I am a painter.  I love the stuff - oils, acrylics, watercolors, house paint, latex or enamel, tempera, guache, ink wash - you name it.  If its color and I can push iot around with a brush I dig it.  There's something just primal and visceral about moving color around with soft bunches of hair that does it for me.  It makes me wonder why everyone doesn't do it.  I mean - its so fun!  And its easy.  There are no rules.  Its not like auto mechanics where you actually need to know something in order for it to function.  True, it may look like crap and you may have to throw it out or you may have wasted 5 bucks worth of materials but in the end no harm done, right?  I love paint! 

And a friend recently asked me, "So, why portraits?"  Well now there's a question.  And of course I fumbled with my answer even as he was constructively testing me to see how well I articulated myself about my work.  Because when it comes down to it - whatever it is you do DO - it comes down to words.  Strange as it sounds, it seems that everything always comes down to words.  We'd all like to think that explanations are not necessary.  My dad used to say, "Asking a painter to describe his work is like asking a dancer to explain how she moves through space."  Very true - there is a sort of futility to it.  Like, why should any one art form have to be translated into another?  Painting is visual language - so why must it be explained in literary terms?  Louise Bourgeois once said, "Any explanation is an apology."  And this is such a beautiful and powerful statement.  But she has indeed said so much about her work.

So is it the case that literary art trumps all other forms?  Is it fair to say that since the most common way that we communicate is with the spoken word, that all aspects of our lives are broken down and deciphered in this one language?  Is it inevitable that we discuss "what we do" in words?  I'd say yes.  It looks that way.  So as this seemingly endless tangent draws to a close, I will get back to why I paint portraits.  Its because some things cannot be discussed with words.  And sometimes more open-ended meanings are more effective communicators - if not as specific. 

What is it about faces that so intrigues me?  Well, for one thing - for whatever reason - I have always found myself able to pull something out of what I see and translate it from the 3-dimensional reality we exist in into a 2-dimensional illusion (allusion) on the picture plane.  From the solid to the plane.  This is painting, right?  A translation of experience from a perception of matter into a representation depicted in a flat graphic reduction.  But I continually digress so friggin much that I can't even get to what I'm trying to say!  I'm trying to say that I've always had a sort of knack for capturing something apparent in a person's face and revealing it on the canvas.  But I'm not sure how that happens.  I mean, I did study observational drawing for years.  I learned over and over - ad nauseum - how to render from life.  I can't tell you how many cups, plants, chairs and other mundane objects I drew for so many years growing up.  It was something I could do easily so I guess I was 'drawn' to it (uhg).  But I did it A LOT.  I got it down.  But lots of folks have.  And I've seen lots of really 'dead' portraits by people who can draw better than I can.  SO how do I capture this aspect of 'life' inherent in a living person?  I have no idea.  I'm not saying I'm the best or trying to be arrogant.  I just know I can do this and I'm not sure why.  But this is one big reason why I have kept at it. Because on some level I'm trying to figure out how it works.  So often I find myself in the middle of a painting - and its just not working.  Its not clicking and its not falling into place.  Many times it just falls in immediately and I have no time to ask how it worked - it just did.  But the times it doesn't and I struggle to find it - this is when something is revealed to me.  I see the exact moment when the person's deeper being emerges onto the canvas.  So then I see it - I understand how it worls?  Hell no.  I have no idea.  Even as I watch it unfold before me, as my own hand brings it out onto the canvas - I have no idea how or why.  I am just going through the technical motions - doing the only thing I know how to do - following the method of rendering, step by step.  But I can't tell you how its done.  All I can say is - if you keep at it, keep digging - maybe you'll find it.  I paint untill it emerges.  Then I polish it up a bit (maybe) and its done.  But I'm always waiting for that instant to arrive when something relevant is being said.  Until that moment it is not art - just a pile of scribbles.  Its empty.  But when that spark of life reveals itself, then the brush can rest.  The mystery of art has stepped out of the shadows.  Not to be explained, just to satisfy something that was asked to be brought forth.  And thats all you get.  But thats enough.  Until next time.

And besides all that I'm just pretty fascinated with faces.  So much is broadcasted across our visages.  So much in revealed that spoken words are often useless.  But when it comes down to it, no one has really been able to fully scientifically disclose the ways subtle muscular movements correlate with emotions and the expression of ideas, thoughts and feelings.  How is it possible that the simple raising of an eyebrow, in context of a situation, can create such a powerful sense of meaning.  Comedians and actors portray so much to us in the subtle movements of their faces.  Why has television not become an outmoded medium?  Because we are all obsessed with faces.  We love faces.  When we love someone we love their face.  When we hate, we hate a face.  When we feel any feeling - its almost always related to a face. 

Faces are insanely complex.  In goes the food, the drink, the smoke, the air, the smells, the sights, the sounds - out come the words and a handful of relatively inmentionable fluids.  A lot is goin on there.  Song comes out of a face.  There is so much that goes on - so much that goes in and out of a face.  Its truly endlessly complex.  I'm skating over it all momentarily but if you were to really attempt to break it all down it would be a War and Peace and you would just throw it down and look in the mirror instead.  Perhaps visual language IS more effective in some circumstances.  And I guess thats why I love to paint faces.  because I am attempting to explain them to myself and others in a language other than words.  As you see, I'm not making much headway with words on this topic.  I hope my paintings get these ideas across a little better.

So what else do I do?  I like to write, I love metal sculpture, working with clay and wood on occasion.  I play bass and six-string guitar and write songs.  I've been in about 7 bands over the years.  Someday I'll put together a record of my greatest "hits".  Ah theres so much that we all do.  What of it is important to us?  What is important to others?  To culture?  To history?  To the benefit of all?  Its hard to say.  I guess we all just do what we do and most of us aren't very sure why we do any of it.  We just follow the course that seems right - or at least the one that seems to make sense for us at the time.  In the end it will likley only matter to us each individually.  And most of us will forget most of the choices we have made.  Some of these decisions will rise to the top and become the pivotal moments in our lives.  But will we know that when we are making them?  Probably not.