I paint because ...

Very recently, a notable fine art museum curator decided to spend time with my new series, The Laws of Nature, which now includes fourteen paintings. Her questions were astute and delving: my developmental history as an artist, what I paint, how I paint, and ... especially, why I paint. At the end of her examination of me and my work, I was astounded by her praise and proclamations of "genius." I don't think of myself in that way, nor will I ever.

We artists typically view our work in a more practical way. We LIVE in, through, and by our artmaking. It's not our second nature, it's our first nature. We can't imagine life any other way.

Explaining myself compelled me to think about this a little more:

I paint because ...

I can't effectively express what I really want to say in words or music,
I see everything in pictures,
I must paint,
My life is incomplete if I don't paint,
I've always painted


You paint because ...

What's in a Name?

Fourier's Law
by Katharine A. Cartwright
Watercolor on Arches paper
26" x 20"


What's in a name? I began to think about this after reading your great comments yesterday. Influences upon our viewpoint about the relative value of art include not only outside "experts" and our own personal opinion, but also the title assigned to the work and (sometimes) the gender of the artist if the full name is revealed.

The title of a work of art often influences what we think we see and also the overarching concept that the artist wishes to convey to viewers. But, there are times when the title doesn't match what I'm getting out of the painting or sculpture. So, the name (title) can be confusing. For instance, my own work based upon the laws of nature led me to interpret each law according to what I see in my mind's eye. No one else has that viewpoint, so why would anyone look at the painting shown in this post and remark: Hey! That's Fourier's Law! Nope ... it wouldn't happen.

So, I must consider the importance of the names (titles) of my works. In this instance, they're essential. But, should that be the case? What would happen to my series (which is a comment on man's inability to create the perfect machine because of the limitations imposed upon us by the natural laws) if I named each work "Untitled"? I doubt that anyone would get it.

And then, there's my own name to consider. For this series of paintings, I decided to sign them all "K. Cartwright" because either sex could have created the work and it shouldn't matter which. Viewers are influenced by the sex of an artist when considering relative value and the "seriousness" of the artist.

So, it seems to me that names are very important when it comes to fine art.

What do you think?

Who's to Say?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent



Thanks for all your substantive comments to my last posts! I want to pick up a thread laid down by our good friend Robin . She wrote: I always wonder who determines how meaningful one's work is anyway, but I guess if it matters to at least one person (me) that's enough. This is a good point to explore.


Who does determine if our work is meaningful? As Robin suggests, it does begin with the artist her/himself and then perhaps at least one other person who “gets it.” Generally, we often look to directors, curators, critics, and art historians to identify the meaningfulness of works of art. But, those influences are extrinsic to the individual experience of just standing before a work of art and connecting with it.


In March 2010, we discussed here Robert Henri’s book “The Art Spirit.” In it, he writes: The man who has honesty, integrity, the love of inquiry, the desire to see beyond, is ready to appreciate good art. He needs no one to give him an art education; he is already qualified. He needs but to see pictures with his active mind, look into them for the things that belong to him, and he will find soon enough in himself an art connoisseur and an art lover of the first order.


I think that’s really the bottom line. The discovery of meaning is a subjective experience and one that can’t be left to outside influences if it’s to be real. I can’t count the number of times that I’ve read (or heard) from an expert about the importance and meaning of a work of art before actually seeing the original in person. Unfortunately, I can’t forget what the expert said when I finally get to the museum, but I do try to personally connect and shake off the voices of others.


Then again, when we go to museums, we are automatically influenced by the notion that the works of art in it are meaningful and important enough to be archived and displayed in a building worth millions of dollars. And, works of art appear in newspapers and magazines with articles written by “experts” who dissect them for meaning.

But, maybe we need experts to tell us what we can’t learn on our own. Or, maybe we need only to heed Henri and make the whole thing subjective.


What do you think?

Your Contribution to the Dialogue

Painting by Richard Diebenkorn

Frequently, I ask my workshop students to consider how their work contributes to the global dialogue of art. This means examining their work for its purpose. Does it truly reflect their own view of the world or is it imitative? The former lends authenticity to the work and has the best possibility for contributing to the dialogue. Each artist has something unique to share, even if the medium and techniques are traditional. What we have to say and how we say it are essential, in my opinion, to creating work that is truly meaningful.

I was never taught this in college, or even in any of the art workshops I took years ago. We students were given assignments that led to the mastery of technique and little attention was given to helping us develop our unique viewpoints. I never thought about it much until fifteen years ago. That made all the difference. I make no claims toward greatness, only that my work truly reflects how I see and think. That’s satisfying.

Recently, I saw a painting in a nearby art museum that had several technical flaws, but the overall effect was intact anyway. The viewpoint of the artist spoke to me and evoked a feeling. So, I started to wonder about the importance of the technical aspects of the painting. I’ve always felt that the best way to effectively dialogue through my art is to eliminate as many technical errors as possible so the viewer doesn’t miss the message. Then again, artists who are only technicians bore me to death. There’s a fine line there, somewhere.

What do you think?

Return and Other Things

Images: (left) workspace in studio (middle) extended view of studio (right) gallery wall in studio

At long last ... I'm back!! Our move to our now permanent home in Maine was epic in proportion. Not only did we move during the worst winter in recent history, but we had to install heat in the house first and also complete the interior of my studio (which is in a building separate from the house). Now ... after seven years of waiting ... we also have access to high speed internet and so I can rejoin the blogosphere.

Many, many thanks to all of you who emailed me during my long absence to encourage me to return to our wonderful discussions. I'm looking forward to reuniting with you (big smile).

Many great things have happened during the past few months: lots of teaching (concept development in art and technique) and lots of really terrific students, painting sales at an all time high, public speaking, and several shows (some solo) now and next year. It's exciting and rewarding.
Now, onto more important things. Lately, I've been thinking about the importance of wearing blinders as I continue to paint the "Laws" series. It's so easy to get distracted by other ideas or even succumb to the influence of works/ideas by other artists that appeal to me. I've always had to battle the distractions, and the further I get into a series the more myopic my artistic vision becomes. Is that helping or hindering me? I'd like to think that it's helping, but maybe it's retarding my creativity.

Edward Hopper once said: I find in working always the disturbing intrusion of elements not a part of my most interested vision, and the inevitable obliteration and replacement of this vision by the work itself as it proceeds.

How about you? What keeps you on track?

Simple Explanations and Your Tax Dollars

Occam's Razor by Katharine A. Cartwright Watercolor on Arches paper 26" x 20" If two theories predict phenomena to the same accuracy, then the one which is simpler is the better one. Moreover, additional aspects of a theory which do not lend it more powerful predicting ability are unnecessary and should be stripped away. The simplest explanation for my extended absence from blogging is lack of high-speed internet access. Moving to Maine has only one "down side" and that's it! Time-Warner won't string cable to our home, Hughes satellite is too expensive and unreliable, Verizon's MiFi doesn't get a signal, and local WiFi access is a fifteen minute drive. So, I'll post when I can and apologize for not visiting your posts!! In the midst of settling in to our new home, I managed to add this painting to the "Laws of Nature Series." My interpretation of "Occam's Razor" is that the "singularity" that theoretically gave birth to our universe is the simplest possible explanation for the laws of physics. Our complicated and elaborate attempts to modify what naturally occurs leads to chaos and can only be imperfect. So, the razor cuts through our efforts to reveal the primordial singularity in the ancient sky. I intend to stick with this new series for at least five years and will interpret all the laws I've already painted and visit some new ones. There's always room for improvement and new ideas. On another note, I'd like your opinion about public support for the arts. I was having dinner with some folks the other night and someone made the comment that he didn't want his tax dollars used for the arts. I strongly disagreed with him for many reasons, but would like your opinions. Should public funds be used to support artists and art projects? Why or why not? To what degree?

Adversity and great art

Sincere thanks to all of you who wished us well during our recent move from NY to Maine! We arrived at our new home a little over a week ago and are settling-in. Although there’s still a great deal left to do, we’re comfortable. A new buyer for our NY home appeared within one week of relisting the house, so now we’re awaiting a new closing date. That’s a relief!


We had hoped to persuade the cable company to run wires here so we can access high speed internet. Being unsuccessful, we’re subjected to the glacial pace of modem and dial-up, which explains my absence from the blogosphere. Wifi access is available at the library about a half-hour away, so I’ll take advantage of that every now and then.


I’ve begun a new painting in my series “The Laws of Nature.” It’s entitled “Occam’s Razor” and should be completed within a week. There’s more pressure to produce now, since I’ve been offered a solo show in May. Somehow, between now and then, I need to complete ten more paintings!


This leads me to the theme for today’s blog: the importance of adversity.
Since we have no access to TV yet (another long story that involves Direct TV and its inability to provide us with someone to install the satellite dish that still sits in its box in our garage) we watch old DVD’s. I have the complete set of all six seasons of “Northern Exposure.” Near the beginning of season three is an episode about Ed’s discouragement with his film-making. General store-owner, Marianne, advises Ed that adversity is important for the development of great art. Without it, artists cannot significantly improve their work. That’s been my experience about everything, but that’s probably because I’m one of those people who seem to mostly learn from trial and error.


How about you?

What I have learned & Moving day

Thanks, all, for your wonderful comments to my posts. My last post, Understanding Art, included a comment that challenged me. Our good friend, Mark Sheeky, asked me “After years of analysis Kathy I wonder what you understand about art?" That’s a great question and one that deserves an answer.

My answer is contradictory: I’ve learned that I know very little about art and also all there is to know. I know little of the entire history of art, the myriad of materials and techniques used in all art forms, and the personal lives of artists past and present. There’s an ocean of information and my knowledge is just a drop in that ocean.

On the other hand, I know all there is to know about my own artmaking: I know why I paint, what I paint and how to paint it. I know my own world and can navigate it. In practical terms, that’s all I really need to know. (Sorry for all the "I's")

So, why bother to spend years reading about and discussing art theory?It's to satisfy my need to expand my understanding of my chosen profession. I no longer want to function as an artist in a vacuum, and need to connect with the art community and its roots. I’m curious. This has been a satisfying experience that has lead me to all of you! How great is that?

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Personal update: We’re finally moving to our home in Maine on Wednesday (16th). We would have moved earlier, but were waiting to close on the sale of our NY home. Just a few days ago the purchaser backed out (only one week before closing!). We were upset, but have learned to make lemons out of lemonade and are moving on. The house is back on the market and in the good hands of our realtor and a friend. It'll have to sell without us.

So, Wednesday is moving day followed by settling-in. I’ll try to check in whenever possible. Thanks for staying with me over the years and during my frequent absences. You’re all so dear!

Understanding Art

It’s mind-boggling how many books, essays, and articles have been written to instruct others on how to understand art. Analyses of technique, composition, materials, meaning, etc number as many as the stars in our galaxy and yet we seem to need more of them every year. Art has been put under a microscope. Although we artists hope our work will draw attention, but do we really need someone to act as an intermediary between our creation and its viewers? Do we really need someone else to explain to the public that which our art naturally speaks for itself?

One could argue that we all need to be educated into understanding art. Certainly that would be true for learning about materials and techniques. Perhaps it’s also helpful to the viewer to learn about the circumstances surrounding the creation of a work of art, and many analyses offer this type of instruction. Since I spent most of my career as an academic, I can’t argue against instruction. But, as an artist, I want my work to speak directly to viewers without the interference of an intermediary.

And, when you think about it, who really understands “art” anyway? I like this quote from an Ezine article by Redi Zartey:

Understanding art in its totality is almost an impossible task for a human being. There are over 3,600 terms in art to be understood. And these are not definitive in nature. Art is when you are free to redefine these.

What’s your opinion?

Painting Workshops: The Season Begins!

A brand new season of painting workshops will soon begin, and I’m ready to teach. Yippee!! For me, the season begins in May and ends in October. Venues are spread from coast to coast (California to Maine) and I’m always thrilled to work with new and returning students.

My lessons in painting match my personal philosophy: All great paintings begin with a great concept, and that concept must come uniquely from the individual artist! It’s all about helping my students find their own voice and then effectively expressing it in a way that’s technically masterful. It doesn’t matter to me which medium my students select, it only matters that they’re willing to engage in original and meaningful artmaking.

It’s taken me awhile to develop a good method for helping my students to find their own voice, but it really works. I challenge them to tap into their own relationships with the world around them and apply their intuition and imaginations to their interpretations. This means turning away from imitation and strict copying of photographs.

What I really love about teaching is witnessing how my students respond: lightbulbs turning on! I never grow tired of it, and am anxious to begin the new season. So, materials are being packed, airline tickets are being purchased, and anticipation builds as I look forward to working with a whole new batch of students.

If you’re interested in enrolling in one of my workshops, the schedule is listed here: www.kacartwright.com.

Come join us!