Painting for Life

About the Painting for Life

Around 2000, I had an idea for a Painting for Life. I was wrestling with the concepts of order, randomness, emergence, cultural meaning, myth-making, and discovery. I began to see grids (the grid, any grid) as symbolic of humanity’s processing of our environment in order to make sense of it and use it. In addition, I observed that what captivates us most are the anomalies that resist the “grids of understanding ” we apply to them. Thoughts for me usually occur as imagery, and so the way that this thought manifested was as a painted grid with unintentional, unavoidable imperfections — the cost of acting on and within the world with limited human faculties. With each grid stripe painted, the artist does his/her utmost to ensure a perfectly linear, neat line. However, invariably, mistakes are made and lines run and drip. I speculated that in time, the artist would begin to see relationships between the drips and smudges – the anomalies. As time passed, the artist would be unable to resist seeing relationships, and then symbolism and analogy, and ultimately meaning, stories, and myths embedded in the qualities and relationships of the random drips and smudges. At the same time, the grid itself would fade into the background and lose meaning. Once the relationships are seen, they can begin to guide composition and self-generated structure. Meaning and myth can be generated from what was initially random error.

I next imagined such a painting paralleling a person’s life. I wondered what mine would look like. So in 2001, I began the Painting for Life. I wanted to see what would happen if I made a frame and canvas and meticulously painted a grid onto it. I wanted to live and interact with it daily, and paint on it for the rest of my life when inspired to do so. I wanted to see what would emerge.

With the exception of one long hiatus when the piece plateaued and my life was passing through a litany of transitions, I have painted on it since 2001, and occasionally invited loved ones to contribute to the composition. It has morphed, found subject matter, the rudiments of a style, and gotten stuck a time or two. Once or twice, it was necessary to wipe out entire sections of the painting when the composition lost its way. But I’ve never painted over it completely, and it bears the layers, textures, triumphs, and scars of our relationship. Unfortunately, during the first two years, documentation was sporadic and then lost altogether. Since then, I have photographed when the composition temporarily gets to a stopping point. I will now begin posting photos of its progress on this blog. I will go back as far as possible with photos and provide a representation of what the grid looked like when I first laid it out.

Recreation of the original 'grid' painting with imperfections, circa late 2001. size approx. 54"x40"

Recreation of the original ‘grid’ painting with imperfections, circa early 2001. size approx. 54″x40″

Photos of painting between 2001 and 2002 were lost. This is where they pick up again in late 2002.

Evolution into early 2003.

Evolution into late 2003.

Evolution into early 2004.

Evolution into late 2004. It is finding a composition and palette.

Evolution into early 2005. At this point, it has found a subject for the composition and is moving into a less abstract and more representational phase.

Marriage and moving made me hold off on updating for a while. Then it found a place on a wall and I became busy. Also, I did not know how to move it forward without risking making it worse. Seven years passed. I looked at it daily and reflected on it. The story evolved, but not the painting. Early in 2012, I decided that I had to getting going again, even if I messed it up for a little while. The transition back into it was awkward because of the gap. I accepted that it would have to grow a bit more abstract for a while as we reconnected with each other and found a way to move forward together.

Marriage and moving intervened and work ceased. Then it found a place on a wall and I became busy. Also, I did not know how to move it forward. Seven years passed. I looked at it daily and reflected on it. The story and meaning evolved, but not the painting. Early in 2012, I decided that I had to get going again, even if I didn’t know where to go with it next. I accepted that it may have to be a bit awkward while we reconnected with each other and found a way to move forward together. I began by tracing over flows and composition with a dry brush, just to reconnect with it in a visceral way. Next, I dove in and began highlighting new aspects of the composition (as seen above), looking for the way forward.

Spring of 2013
PfL is finding a new organization.

Spring of 2015
PfL evolved slowly at the end of 2013 and through 2014 as I dealt with a completing a PhD, personal trauma, and re-entering the workforce. Nonetheless, this period served to break the painting from where it had gotten stuck for so many years.

Spring of 2015
Re-engaging the PfL became part of the healing process from the trauma of betrayal, retaliation, and defamation. It was appropriate that I began painting again at this time. Painting became part of accepting the loss and healing. The pain and loss was commemorated in the painting by cutting a piece of the painting out. This represented the damage done by the betrayal and retaliation and defamation. The idea was that I would paint over the canvas until the hole was filled in with thick-bodied paint. There would be a visible scar, sure, but there would also be healing and renewal and a new direction through the process.

Spring of 2015
The final touches of commemorating and mourning the wound before moving forward.

Spring of 2015
The piece of PfL cut out.

Spring of 2015
Moving forward. Healing.

Spring of 2015
Moving forward. Healing.

I have six months worth of updated photos to post and no time to post them. This has been a restorative time. For now, these images will have to suffice.