Blog

It creeps up on me, old habits, past ways of thinking. I'm happily dragging or grinding pastels over and into the rough surface of my paper, creating great work, or at least I hope. An image emerges from the chaos. Then I stop, I do this often, look in the mirror at the work and say some words I will not repeat here. Just minutes ago when I looked in the mirror all seemed fine with the paintings progress, so why now does it look like... I won't say it. It went the way it did, a direction that on the surface looks good, but beneath it, not beneath the pastel, but the intent, the reason for doing the painting in the first place, got lost due to technique.

Technique, style, the artist's look, it is that surface visual that says so and so painted this. Whether we know it or not we all have our own special technique. Even when your work might look very much like another artist's painting style, it is still yours. Technique is a good thing, it lets us stand out, it is like our signature, our own. You can't not have a technique. But damn it can also get in the way. Take us down a road we don't want to go down. It can take control, become to important and override the painting's and your intent. Technique is your best friend but it can also lead you down the wrong road.

Aside from all those things a painter is supposed to be concerned about, interesting composition, correct values and color, I have always had an interest in the physical aspect of the medium I am working in. Long ago in my realist period I wanted the paint smooth, no physical texture, if an object was rough, like the bark of a tree, I had to make it look rough not feel rough. As time went on and my ideas and desires changed as well as the mediums, the texture of the medium, had to feel rough. It was one of the techniques that allowed me to truly express my intent. I worked hard and long, years developing that way of painting that said 'Mark Brockman painted this'. In oils, when I worked in that medium, creating texture wasn't that hard, but in pastels, that took more time, more experimentation, more work. But either medium, any medium, requires more then just surface to express an idea, a feeling or story. I learned this and realized that a painting is only as deep as the emotion of the artist.

Technique was behind me. I was proficient enough in the handling of the pastels on the unique surface that I create on handmade watercolor paper that I can apply myself and pastel without concern to technique. Allowing me to devote my energy to the idea, the mood that my imagination or memory wishes to express and not worry about the physical look of the pigment. Texture should take care of itself by now. Technique should be an automatic action, the physiognomy of the surface should just happen. Or so you would think. But then cool things start to happen, an interesting affect, an unusual stroke, technique, texture, the look, sneaks in. Before I know it I'm thinking surface texture and no longer am I thinking about the reason for the work. That's when the bad words come.

Painting is like driving. There you are contently driving down the road, listening to your favorite music, perhaps deep in thought, doing what you need to do automatically to control your vehicle when you feel it. The bump, the crunch. You are a good driver, thought you were paying attention. How did this accident happen? Painting, like driving, demands constant vigilance. You want technique to get in your way and cause you to have an artistic accident, you want the painting to look cool but say nothing? Then stop paying attention.