After I wrote in a recent post about how, in the mid-eighties, seeing Basquiat's work caused me to stop exhibiting my paintings, a Facebook friend responded: " ...too bad, but understandable. You shouldn't have
stopped, Carol."
Maybe, but I had to.
Looking back, I know I absolutely could not have worked out what I
did if I’d stayed in the ring. I needed to abandon all other considerations,
all other expectations. Success gets a bad
rap these days but in its right place, I’m all for it. The success I had early
on was the encouragement I needed to define myself as an artist. Success can
often make you bigger and better, as you rise to occasions, meet expectations,
and surprise yourself by going beyond them. It made me an artist. But then
there came a time when the only way to get at the nub of what I was doing was
to give it all up, even actively work against any possibility of outside
interest. With no one watching, I had complete freedom to fail—or maybe “flail” is a better word. That 10-year period of working undercover culminated in the journal paintings, and
another significant burst of public activity that lasted several years. The final paintings in
that series, exhibited at Gary
Snyder in 2002, represented the apex of more than 30 years of work. Afterward, having
developed them as far as they could go, I needed to regroup, start from zero. This meant
withdrawing again, as I felt unable to “find myself” or evolve as an artist in public. I'm
not saying this is true for everyone, just what was true for me, and not a path
I'd necessarily recommend, as it can be rather uncomfortable. It has helped that writing, an activity I see entirely as "research" for my
painting, has enabled me to stay in the general conversation, whether my
painting is or not. And believe me, all this is clear only in
retrospect; I had no idea what I was doing at the time or why. It was simply
what I had to do to keep my process interesting to me, to keep it alive and myself
engaged. And right now I’m more engaged than ever. I’m also confident that I’ve
finally learned enough about myself and my process that I can sustain it in or
out of the public eye.
Carol Diehl, Resolutions (Blue Quad), 2002, oil on canvas, 96" x 82".
Carol Diehl, untitled (as yet), 2013, graphite and ink on paper, 12" x 16".
4 comments:
The public eye is highly over rated.
I love the way you say that writing is research for painting. Great concept.
About the "public eye" being overrated, perhaps, but then working alone in a garrett is also overrated Being in the "public eye" can bring things out in people that they wouldn't have thought themselves capable of. I think we'd have even more and better female artists, if they received the same encouragement that male artists do.
"And right now I’m more engaged than ever. I’m also confident that I’ve finally learned enough about myself and my process that I can sustain it in or out of the public eye."
It's wonderful that you can articulate all of this now with the hindsight you've gleaned. And I love the "complete freedom to fail/flail" bit - beautiful!
Looking forward to seeing where this all takes you. Thank you for sharing.
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