MsCezanne's Odyssey

Every artist has their own view of their own work. Their own reasons for doing it. Their own expectations for others to understand or interpret it. Their own ambitions for what they want their art to represent. These views change over time, like anything else in life. Progress in the modern world has vastly changed the parameters that art can be viewed in. Indeed, one could argue that just about any man made object/idea is art, and even simply capturing nature can be art as well.

So what is my 'art'?

I'm referring specifically to my painting here. I have other arts I engage in, and, frankly, enjoy more than the painting at this point in my life.

The style I enjoy most is impressionism. I like it for the reasons it was originally demonised: I'm not painting what's there, I'm painting what I see. Impressionism combines reality and imagination without any real rules. What I'm feeling is as important as what I see, while what I see can influence what I'm feeling, so can an argument I had 20 minutes earlier.

Originally I wanted to be a famous painter: misunderstood in her own time, but fabulously popular to future generations. As I really learned to understand my techniques, I learned why the impressionists did as they did. They had to make money to survive, they had to sell their paintings. They painted what they wanted to paint. They painted because they had to paint. They only sold paintings because they needed to eat, and that was the skill they had.

I don't need to sell paintings to eat. I have a bureaucratic job that isn't spiritually fulfilling, but I don't need that from my job, I have my art. It fills my spiritual side. When I'm painting, I'm sorting through my feelings, and while creating it, it's vitally important to me, but when I'm finished (rarely is the painting itself finished), I've moved on. When I look at an old painting, I remember what I felt, I'm reminded what I've learned, and I'm surprised that I've grown (spiritually, my paintings don't remind me how fat I am...). No one will ever understand my paintings, they can't. I don't want them to. It's not that I want to be misunderstood. I don't care if anyone understands them or not. They're mine.

I love painting in the fall. It's a season of change, there is a fantastic palette available, and there's always something on my mind. By the time I've captured a forest of colours, my mind is at peace, and I'm ready for the rest of the day.

In other news, I have grown, both as an artist and a BBW. I've reached a nice jiggly 442 pounds, while Ian's dropped to a svelte 531 pounds.