Often visitors to the Studio have questions about how I make my paintings. It’s natural, considering how process driven my work is, and how the materiality of that process adds extra layers (literally and figuratively) for people to wonder about. The ‘what are they made of?’ and ‘how long do they take?’ inquiries are typically followed by ‘how do you know when to stop?’
Stopping is an interesting part of abstract work. You can often rip right past a point where maybe calling it done would have been a good idea, though you can keep adding and come to a new stopping point. You can also hedge your bets and finish when it feels safe - but that often results in a painting that doesn’t feel complete. For me, the stopping point comes after the whole process has slowed way down and become very thoughtful and deliberate (this after a long period of intuitive, quick and boldly made layers). I can feel the end nearing, and the painting and I are in conversation about what it needs to feel right. The end usually comes in the form of a very small final detail, and a distinct, satisfied feeling of “Yes! That’s it!”
Today a lovely visitor followed this answer by asking what the final mark was on a specific painting. Goodness I loved that question! It’s the first time anyone ever took a general answer and moved the conversation one step further by asking for specifics! Aside from it being really fun to try to remember the last mark, it meant we were engaged in real, connected discussion - my favorite kind. It meant my ramblings about how I make my work were interesting to them, and sparked enough curiosity to ask more. It also made me sit in front of a painting and concentrate on it long enough to recreate the process in my mind. I didn’t remember the last mark at first - but when we looked for a while, it became apparent to me where it was. It was wonderful to dive back in with someone and look that deeply again.
So this is for anyone who thinks maybe they’re asking too many questions, or asking ‘dumb’ questions, etc. As far as I’m concerned, if you’re asking thoughtful questions sparked by your own interest and curiosity, there are never too many, and they’re always good ones. Take this with you and go be curious about something, anything. Ask thoughtful questions.
xo - mwj
(last mark, btw: a soft scrape of deep Prussian blue oil pastel)