That’s another frequently asked question, I can’t simply answer with a few names.
Does it sounds too pretentious if I say: “None”?
I know the impression that everything has already been done. At least once and in one or another similar form. And the other acclaimed opinion: There are no original ideas because everything is based on (sometimes unconscious) earlier seen things. If you take these theories not too literally I’m willing to agree, but to explicitly mention another person as an example is just too much credit.
Sure, there are couple of old (dead) masters who did great work. On my first paintings you might discern the gloomy atmosphere of Carel Willink and Pyke Koch. “Ah! So you do have someone who influenced you!” I hear you say. Well, if you think imitating and being influenced is the same thing, then yes.
After practising and doing the obligate trial & errors, I left that path and found my own style. But the often misplaced connection between the words imitate and influence is just what makes me reticent to answer if someone asks me who is the source. If I mention another artist, the questioner and readers probably will search for similarities. And I think that’s an intrusion to the identity of my art.
Patricia Van Lubeck
Patricia Van Lubeck
There are a couple of artist of the present too, who are making inspiring art. But then again; they are doing their thing and I’m doing mine. I’m happy we all have found our own spot to swim in that enormous art pond. It should feel weird to rub on someone else’s achievement.
Like a lot of painters I have a slight aversion to the question: “What is the meaning of this painting? What do you want to tell us with this work?”
Actually, it is the same question when asking a writer: “What does your story look like? Show us a sketch”.
I can understand that an abstract painting needs some explanation, but the more realistic subjects should have to be clear of intention.
In comparison with a book, the stories of paintings are small. They are the frozen scenes of an anecdote, a fantasy, sometimes an opinion or a memory in the broadest sense (a widely known history or a dream only seen by the artist). Ok, there are millions of paintings aimed to be nothing more than decoration. Like plain realistic landscapes, that only intent to say: “I’m beautiful”. That’s the other end of the spectrum. But most paintings do tell a story as compact as a motto … and loading them with words will ruin the perception for the individual viewer.
I will explain that last sentence.
In the blog What is art I concluded that art should touch emotions. Not necessary the big ones that make you cry, but a tiny spark of inspiration is enough. That spark is different for every single person. Compare it with Cupids arrow. Didn’t you wonder why your friend had fallen for that jerk? Well, the arrow is totally personal. The link between an artwork and someone who’s touched by that artwork is totally personal too.
if I should explain my paintings, then I find I’m unbalancing the course of the arrow. My words would distract the viewer to compose his own meaning. I won’t say my words are ‘leading’, but they can be directing. And that’s not what I want.
My motive to create a certain painting is not more important than the meaning that somebody else finds in it. One example; For one person the lonely single tree in front of a crowd reminds him of his beloved mother who always was the misunderstood one in the family – but for someone else the single tree maybe means the encouragement to finally follow that person’s own path.
A few years ago I wrote about some awesome real living trees in Spain I discovered AFTER I painted similar sort of trees in a painting.
I was under the impression that mother nature had imitated me! Not mentioning that the Spanish trees were probably older than I am, but please, let me cherish my illusions.
This week I stumbled upon a picture of Bosco verticale. A vertical forest set on a building, designed by Boeristudio in Italia. Putting their image beside my painting I could add another story to my imaginary prides.
And if, ooohhh if it was not me, if the Boeri-guys were not inspired by my painting, then at least there must be something in the air that gives people all around the world the same ideas. A source with ingredients for certain concepts which are apparently evident for this era.
Click on the images for the painting and the article.
I’m living in New Zealand and most of my clients are not. The worldwide shipment of an original painting is at my expense.
The shipment for a canvas giclée in a tube (rolled with no stretchers) is for my expense too. Most local framers can stretch a canvas for not too much money.
If you want a ready-to-hang giclée (stretched) it need to be send in a box and then the transport costs are for you. Mostly quite expensive.
During my years in New Zealand I found a company that constructs excellent boxes, designed to ship artworks if necessary to the moon. The boxes are not too heavy, very sturdy and lined with soft foam.
In some cases I’ve even created extra bags if people need to carry them around after unpacking the box.
Another thing that’s included, is the framing.
I paint my canvasses all the way around the edges so they can be displayed without framing. But a proper frame does give them an extra touch. It’s very much like a monitor or TV-screen; the frame separates the image from its surroundings.
I like to use a so-called ‘floating frame’, which attach to the back of the painting. Because this kind of frame only shows a very small edge, it provides a framework without being too prominent. The frame I prefer is black except for the front edge, which is gold or silver depending on the colours I used in the painting.