Creative reflections on an artist's life, place, and the joy in between

One technique that artists, particularly painters, employ is to step back from the art frequently to gain a different perspective on the work. By doing this, we can see the work within a greater context. Often, this perspective uncovers clues that help direct us to where we want to take the work.

As I paint, for example, I am only working at an arm's length, away from canvas. If it is a larger piece, more than say 12" in any direction, because of my close proximity to the canvas, my attention is focused only on the passage I am working on. Yet, there is still a larger area of the canvas I am consequently ignoring from this intimate view. In order to find harmony within the painting, I therefore need to step back to make sure the passage I am working on works within the larger composition. Additionally, stepping back enables me to more clearly see how the painting as a whole works.

By stepping back, I am providing myself opportunities to see things from a broader perspective and make changes that serve to unite the work, making it stronger. I believe this is a metaphor for looking at life beyond art.

Yesterday, as I was in the middle of a painting session, I had an amazing revelation. For my latest collection of work (which I will soon post online), I have focused on taking my Interludes series to a new level. This direction stemmed from my experience in Chicago, at The Artist Project, and I have spent my time since then aligning my work to match that vision.

While working on one of the pieces yesterday, I literally found myself looking through the painting, to future editions of my work to where it will evolve to over time. In other words, I could literally see a process from where I am now to where I will eventually be, just as clear as if it had already happened. The joy will ultimately be in the process, but knowing where I am going gave me such a warm feeling, I could hardly contain myself.

Over the weekend, I delivered two new commissioned paintings to some folks who had patiently waited for the arrival of their art. I always enjoy this part of the process. At the beginning of a commissioned project, there is an energy I share with my clients that comes from possibilities of creation and collaboration. Once I am able to capture and visually demonstrate my ideas, and they are accepted, that feeling shifts slightly to one of anticipation. There is no way I can precisely illustrate what the final work will look like, so there is a leap of faith between my finalized sketch and the finished painting. As a result, when the paintings are finally delivered to their new home, the emotion elevates to a point that always makes for a joyous reception. Last weekend was no exception.

"How do you know when you've finished a painting?" he asked. It's an interesting question I get asked a lot. The more experience I gain, however, the easier it is for me to answer the question because I am more deliberate with my work than ever before. In other words, I know what a "Jared Steinberg" painting should look like. My work is the rhythm and harmony of lights, darks and color with a consitent treatment of brushwork. I have also developed a particular philosophy on color pairings that serve to shape my palette. Because my style has emerged to a certain level of consistency through the expressive brushstrokes which I call Contemporary Expressionism, I can often visualize my paintings on canvas while they are still blank. My paintings are finished when the work matches my vision.

I think the real key to all of this is work. Hard work has given me time and experience to be more intentional with my art, resulting in an inherent understanding of my paintings that has developed concurrently with my skill level.