“There is a pleasure in painting which none but painters know.” In writing, you have to contend with the world; in painting, you have only to carry on a friendly strife with Nature. You sit down to your task, and are happy. From the moment that you take up the pencil, and look Nature in the face, you are at peace with your own heart.
The colors to use, the shades to restrain, and the strokes to play with are what defines the art and his artwork. These, over a period of time become unique to the artist and can never be replicated. If replicated, it remains without soul. Every artwork created with labor and love, speaks to the person who is meant for it. There are many mass produced paintings, which no matter how beautiful and striking to look at, do not strike a chord anywhere.
Art that gets produced on a fixed time scale, according to me, is never art. There has to be enough movement of soul for something to be produced. Art cannot be mass produced until unless lunacy rules.
There are times when a blank canvas can stare at you for a long time and nothing seems to move. The blank canvas remains for a long time to come. And then there are those days when many canvases get consumed in few moments. There is no fixed schedule or timetable to create art.
There are a multitude of emotions that an artist goes through when creating a painting or a sculpture. The joy of seeing ones vision translate with hands, the despair of a wrong brush stroke, the anxiety of using a new color, the confidence of a repeated brushstroke, the tension of a measured stroke, the strain of fine brush work, the stressful judgment of seeing the big picture, the want to create a balance, the stray hair of the brush on canvas, the pace of emotions within, and a lot more.
To paint is to show a bit of your soul. Where words fail, colors and strokes convey. Deep seated sub conscious comes to life. It is a way of connecting with your inner self. And more often than not, we remain surprised with what we see.
