Failed Assignments to Absolute Brilliance in Ten Minutes Or Less!

Only 24 hours remaining until I get to see Mark Rothko's works at the Portland Art Museum!  I am ridiculously excited!

I remember my cousin's wife telling me once that her favorite artist was Mark Rothko.  I agreed that it was great, but at the same time I wondered what she saw that I didn't.  Like her, some people really seemed to understand his work.  It seemed to be composed of a secret language that was only decoded by some, while others like me were left to wonder what all the fuss was about.

I had seen some of his paintings in art history classes, books, film, and I really tried to understand with an open mind.  I still didn't get it.  Instead, they looked like painting assignments gone wrong.

On a field trip to the Toledo Museum of Art with my college classmates and one of my mentor professors, I finally had the opportunity to see Rothko's work in person.  It was a work similar to the one above.  It was a huge canvas and was mainly composed of intense shades of black.  I sat down on the bench in front of it, determined to walk away with a better understanding of what the heck he was doing and what I was missing.

The soft lighting revealed countless layers of paint to give some history of the artist's process.  At first, I was still aware of the people walking around me.  To be honest, I felt a bit ridiculous to be staring at a seemingly blank, black canvas for so long when the rest of the museum held so many other works that warranted "ooo"s and "ahhh"s.  After a couple of minutes though, the painting seemed to surround me and my thoughts quieted.  It was so weird, and I don't mean to make this over the top, but it was an pure emotional experience.  The emotions I felt ranged from safe and soothed to a heavy despair and fear.  Just when they would become almost overwhelming, they would change, going full circle. 

In a period of ten minutes, I felt that the work was an experience, not just an oil painting.  I have since read more about his art and life, and what he was trying to accomplish.  He was trying to create paintings that had the same pure emotional impact as that of music.  Eliminating the middle man of symbols, he was going directly for emotion through the impact of color with saturated canvases that envelope the viewer.  Oh, to go back in time and have a studio visit - I think he would be annoyed with my praises and enthusiasm about his work as he coldly sat chain-smoking cigarrettes between his paint stained fingers.

Upon moving to Portland, I anticipated several of his works in the Portland Art Museum since his family relocated here from Russia when he was young.  Instead, I found one or two small works by him and no more.  This is why I am so elated that they are hosting a retrospective of Mark Rothko - seeing his work in his hometown is so special, and I cannot wait to experience more of his work!  Like a junky, I can't wait until my fix!

I'm also kind of wondering if it was a fluke - did I see the only Rothko work in Toledo that would have that strong of an effect on me?  We'll see...  :)

The following link are photos of the current exhibition, courtesy of Portland Katu news - Enjoy!


http://www.katu.com/news/entertainment/Photos-Mark-Rothko-at-the-Portland-Art-Museum-139876153.html

New work! Falling Water

Falling Water, 2012

Oil on Canvas

24x48"

I finished one of the works that will be at the Sherwin Williams where I work!  I was excited to get this done and take it in yesterday to get feedback from my coworkers.  I was happy that everyone seemed really pleased and it also seemed that I exceeded their expectations - when that happens, it is a very good day!

A Catching Up Session with Good News

Detail of "Dwelling", 2012

Mixed Media Drawing

It has been awhile since I've posted, but I assure you that I have been working hard and I have some news!  There is a new fine arts publication coming out around May - Nectar Magazine - and the image above was selected for publication in their first issue!  I'm so excited!  This is the first publishing experience outside of my own endeavors and I couldn't be happier to this bit of progress!

My new website is up and running now - www.wix.com/krystallbooth/art if you would like to check it out.  I really enjoyed creating it, and I think that it runs circles around the old site.  It has a sampling of works from the last couple of years.

 On another note, the mixed media work I submitted for the Florence and Machine contest through Secret 7 and Talenthouse was not chosen. You can't win them all, right?

And finally, I have been given the opportunity to create some paintings for the place where I work part-time!  I know that I'll be trying to crank them out over the next week, and I really look forward to sharing what I do with my coworkers and our guests.  My artwork is actually going to be seen?  Shouldn't it be in a dungeon somewhere?  And don't worry, Mom, they will not be paintings of dead people. hahaha! (She worries sometimes...)  :)

Things are gradually shifting, but I feel as though 2012 has already surpassed 2011.  What a year last year was - good grief!  I am surprised that I still have hair on my head...though I have noticed a few white hairs that crept in when I was too busy fretting about other things.  Who knows?  Maybe the white hairs are a sign of good things to come.

No Pain, No Gain?

The Machine

(January of Twelve Collaborative Project: Krystal Booth)

2012, Mixed media on paper

10x18"

Above is the result of what I created for the Twelve artist collaboration.  I experimented quite a bit with this one and had a lot of fun.  Though what does fun have to do with it?

Fun seems irrelevent when we look at art.  We don't exactly look at every work and instantly wonder "did the artist have fun creating this"?  It seems arbitrary and afterall, do we really care if they enjoyed it?  Our main concerns are if we enjoy looking at it and the meaning of the work.  We don't necessarily ask questions that reveal a behind the scene glimpse of the artist at work.  Afterall, when we are in a museum or gallery we are faced with the end result, and not the journey.

Over the past couple of years, I have come to terms with dedicating my life to art.  It is a marriage, as I have noticed that it encompasses a dedication of for better or for worse.  It is stuck with me, as I am with it, though I hope that we never truly mean "stuck" when describing our relationship.

Last year I noticed that some of what I was doing was extremely frustrating and not really fun at all while creating.  After I finished a piece, I was more relieved than anything else.  I had excluded joy from the equation.  Books I have read and some sappy made-for-television movies I have seen exclaim "Enjoy the journey!  Love the process!"  There is valid and dignified truth to that, yet it has become a cliche statement that just sounds like I should be gluing plastic flowers to my face while singing in a commune somewhere.

Well, I think by November last year I had realized that I was making myself miserable.  I would stress out over works in progress and always feel as though they were hanging over my head.  The results were only momentarily satisfying, but I kept creating because if I don't create, I'm even worse off.  I get downright aggitated and depressed and envious- only ugly emotions need apply. 

As you know, in November I decided to do a year long session of experimentation.  I realized that it was the time because it became more uncomfortable to continue as I had been than to change.  It was also the right time because I don't have "a name" yet.  I do not have anyone expecting a specific style or way of working.  I realized that I was free to create as I chose to create without expectations.  I was going through a realization similar to Virginia Woolf's Orlando when he was thirty and spent his time under his favorite oak tree after bad press and declared that he would only create for his own pleasure and tastes (please note that I am not referring to when he was thirty and physically changed into a woman without surgery, which is a more miraculous realization by far).

This year long experiment has been marriage counseling.  Over these past few months, I have not felt the anxieties that were so common to me prior to this.  Creating feels, dare I say, fun.  It has been exciting and stress-free.  The process has been much less painful, which automatically makes me wonder if I am creating anything worthwhile.

To create anything of worth, doesn't it need to be painful?  I'm discovering that this could be a misconception about art that I have carried with me - some unknown baggage from an unknown source.  This can apply to so many areas of life, occupations, and goals.  In your opinion, is it true or a myth?  Does it have to be "no pain, no gain" at all times?  Is it a cultural phenomenon of the United States?  All Western cultures? Or believed by the majority of our planet?  What and where are the exceptions?