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Step like a giant's Constance Humphries interviews me

Genie is a painter who specializes in ethereal abstracts that suggest the landscape, with the horizon line as dominant element. About her work, she says, “My goal is simplicity of composition, exquisite color, and interesting surface. I apply old-world methods of building color to contemporary themes.”

+1 ::: When did you first realize you are an artist?

It was a quiet evolution. The environment I grew up in wasn’t culturally rich, though there were examples of practical creativity all around me. I shied away from the arts because I felt painfully vulnerable when expressing myself. After my children came along, doing projects with them gave me a way to explore my own creativity without any lofty expectations. Then one day I found that a photograph of my then-husband and me had been damaged beyond repair in storage. It felt as if the state of the photo echoed the state of my marriage, and for whatever reason, I suddenly wondered if I could draw it. I think I had some irrational hope that if I could learn to reproduce the contours of our happy, hopeful faces, I might remember how to feel that way again. While drawing didn’t heal the marriage, it did unlock a door inside me. I came to understand the transformative nature of art and believe that it might have some application to my own life.

One night a month or two later when I was cleaning up my kids’ tempera paint, I sat down to smudge some yellow on paper, just because the color was beautiful and I wanted the pleasure of touching it. After awhile, I had a painting of a naked woman crouched awkwardly in despair on her kitchen floor. I was shocked to realize I could express truth with visual images, and I was more surprised when someone asked to buy it.

As impure and commercial as it sounds, learning that someone wanted to buy what I’d blurted out made me wonder if I could be an artist, and it was the fact that people continued to respond to my work enough to part with hard-earned cash that made me sure. That doesn’t mean I don’t love the work, or take it seriously, or dig hard to do it, or that I don’t paint truthfully with my own vision and impulses. But this has felt like a career since I started, and I do paint with the intention of selling. I think most artists come up against periods when the work comes harder, or we have trouble achieving what we want to. People who quit at those moments are probably not artists. But I think there is variation in what drives the rest of us to keep pushing when it gets hard. I can’t pretend that part of my motivation isn’t that I have three children to feed. Maybe a big-A Artist would keep at it even if she didn’t need the money, and a little-a artist keeps pushing because doing this work is how she survives. I don’t know. If that’s so, I don’t know which I am, since I’ve never been in a position where I didn’t need to sell.

+2 ::: Could you tell us about your work?

I paint in oils. The foundation of my work is transparency, though I do employ opaque colors to obscure. I’m driven by color and light, but have become more fascinated by balance and boundary in the last year or two, and have simplified my composition greatly in order to develop a deeper understanding of those concepts. My work is abstract, driven by process and internal exploration, but for the current body of work, I’ve narrowed my focus to explore the very primal visual cue of horizon. It provides a sense of groundedness, security, and expansiveness. I think as my work has evolved, it has become less about expression of my current state or position, and more an exploration of what I want to experience, the way that first effort at a portrait was. If I can evoke it, perhaps I can embrace it.

+3 ::: How did you find your voice/subject/process?

My voice emerged through the simple act of painting. In the first four years, I pretty much worked every moment I wasn’t sleeping or making grilled cheese sandwiches or managing the business end of being a working artist. I painted furiously for at least five or six hours a day, seven days a week, and I produced an enormous body of work. I didn’t think about developing my voice at that point, rather I kept my brush moving, and over time a group of coherent, consistent elements became obvious. Those things still don’t change much, regardless of how I experiment. I think my voice is clear and recognizable because it’s grounded in the sheer volume of that early work, produced before I started thinking very deeply about things likes voice or style or image.

+4 ::: Which artists have influenced you, and how?

There’s something about Diebenkorn that fascinates me, and I’m still learning exactly what — line, layering of color, but there may still be something more. I saw the Turner exhibit when I was in New York last year, and was profoundly moved by his surfaces. Picasso’s boldness and willingness to strip away niceties. Bonnard’s color and liveliness. Alice Neel’s frank honesty. Rothko for… everything. Pollack’s willingness to step off a cliff, Frankenthaler’s graceful dive. But I came to this exploration late in life, and I’m at the beginning stages of gathering context for my own work and strengthening it by appreciating what has come before.

+5 ::: What do you do for fun (besides creating art)?

Not enough! I enjoy doing simple things with my kids. I like movies, music, and long walks. I read and write when I can summon the mental energy. When I’m feeling social, I like conversations with friends about things that feel important at the time. I like to laugh at small silly things. I stare off into the distance a lot.

+6 ::: What inspires you to create art and how do you keep motivated when things get tough in the studio?

I’m curious. I like watching beauty emerge, truth fall into form, balance reassert itself after being lost. I was one of those women who actually enjoyed pregnancy and giving birth, and painting echoes that sensation of having something move through me into physicality. It has become as important as eating or drinking to me. It’s necessary for me to feel healthy and whole. That’s not to say that I don’t have periods of a sort of creative anorexia, that can be painful and difficult to overcome. The only way I know to move beyond that is to cultivate a willingness to tolerate a profound kind of vulnerability, and the discipline to pick up the brush and move my arm even when I feel my weakest. I don’t think there’s a way to make that part of the process easy, but working consistently can make it easier.

+7 ::: How have you handled the business side of being an artist?

Since I came to art through a back door, I’m naturally unorthodox in my career decisions. I read the books and blogs, then hack my way through what continues to feel like uncharted territory. I’ve had some amazing successes and some very challenging times. I try to ride the waves. Like many artists, I struggle with organization and details.

I’m in the midst of re-evaluating the way I approach my career in the face of a tightening economy. I’m examining both my life and my business to make sure it’s in alignment with my wider beliefs, goals, hopes. I’d like to find a way to have my business become a simple extension of who I am in the world, the way the art itself is. I have ingrained judgments about worth and money that I’m trying to shake loose. Art has been a tremendous avenue for healing and expansion in my life. Business is about how that extends out into the world, and whether it brings enough back home from the world to sustain itself. Does it sound as if I’m married to my work and kissing goodbye when it goes out into the world to bring home a paycheck? Sometimes it feels that way.

I’m encouraged by the concept of social entrepreneurship, and by the continually expanding accessibility to the direct art market provided by the internet and other new models. I’m looking for places where capitalism and social good can dovetail, in ways that strengthen human connection and community. As a loner, that’s a challenge, but art has always been about opening for me.

+8 ::: Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

It’s hard for me to think that far ahead. I’m less than ten years in now, and I couldn’t have predicted any of this. My fantasy is that I’ll have built enough momentum in the business/selling arena that I can hand over the day-to-day running of the business to someone I trust, and just close the studio door and paint. But I don’t know if that’s in the cards. I think in ten years I’ll be doing more writing, will have developed deeper relationships, more insight and a sense of context. I hope I’ll feel more peaceful in general.

+9 ::: What’s the best and worst parts of being an artist?

The best part is feeling that my work is an integral part of my life, an extension of who I am. The hardest part is reconciling the unpredictability of an artist’s life and income with the responsibilities of being a sole parent. Beyond that, I’ve also found that the work I do affects my relationships. Living with the kind of emotional and intellectual openness and outspokenness I find necessary to do this work well has an impact on relationships, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

+10 ::: What advice would you give to an artist just starting out?

Work a lot. Find as much joy and contentment as you can in the process, without getting lazy and falling into habit or always doing what comes easiest. Stay curious. Try not to over-think the work itself, at least until you’ve created a large enough body of work to teach you something about who you really are as an artist, rather than who you think you should be. Tell the truth, both in your life and your work — it’s all the same thing. Develop your ability to tolerate discomfort and uncertainty as you work and learn. Avoid pretension. Stay humble — no matter how good you get, you aren’t as good as you could be.

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Read more artist interviews, along with practical advice about simplicity of living, insightful thoughts on the current state of the arts, and examples of Constance's exquisite work, visit Step like a giant.

small painting

Fruitful Times
12 X 12 inches
oil on canvas

Oil sketch

untitled
24 x 24 inches
oil on canvas

New 12 X 12 painting

Running Red
oil on canvas
©2009
12X12 inches

If you're quick you can catch the credit in the book scene.

Had a friend email and ask, "Can I interpret this to mean you have an exhibit at MOMA?"
No, but I have a painting in a very cool commercial.

If it's too small to read my name you can try here.

Manna Food Bank Benefit Update - new title, new logo

Event: Art for Food - weekend art market 50% of sales to benefit Manna
Date: To be announced in February
Location: My studio, Cotton Mill Building, Asheville's River Arts District
Participation: To be announced: Juried group of Asheville's fine artists

We have a logo to unveil:


Next order of business is to select a date, then I'll begin profiling the participating artists!

Madonna of the Totems: an Art Critique

Thanks to Kristina Laurendi Havens for posting this critique on a blog at 1000markets.com. I appreciate the time and care she put into evaluating the work, and of course the nudge at the end to remind people it's for sale.

This painting by Genie Maples really struck me the first time I saw it. The blue in particular is very special - it makes me want to go to my studio and see if i can get the right combination of pthalo and cerulean and prussian and whatever else it takes to re-create that beautiful blue.

Genie has developed a wonderful sense of balance and precariousness. She has used the compliments of orange and blue to bring out the strengths in each color. Yet she buffered their individual intensity with a sublime field of white. Had any of these elements been brought together in a different way, the painting could have been too jarring.

Color fields and shapes and linear elements are layered, and although probably thought out, have a level of spontinaety that not all artist's can achieve.

The title adds another element - bringing to mind images of Virgin Mary Figurines draped in blue. But this is one of those abstract paintings that can be interpretted in infinite ways by the viewer.

And as I was looking at this piece...I couldn't help but scan all the walls in my house...looking for that narrow strip that I never considered, but always felt empty! This painting would be a great opportunity to turn a forgotten space into a moment you can't ignore.

Note: click the image to see a larger photo.
Madonna of the Totems
40 x 10 inches
oil on canvas
©2008

Practicalities and Magic Numbers

...so I have someone talking sense to me about math. I want this fundraiser to be 50-50. We make a sale, half goes to the artist, half to the foodbank. Yeah, yeah, I know... that leaves nothing for administration, nothing for publicity, nothing for incidentals. I understand that's problematic. I understand that means someone (maybe me) is going to be underwriting this project to some extent.

I understand that my friend is looking out for my best interests, and that he's right when he says, "This is a good idea. I want it to be sustainable. 40% to the foodbank, 10% for administrative costs, etc, 50% to the artist. Go with that. That can work."

I know he's right. But 50% feels like a magic number to me. Half to the designated charity is the number that says to me this is not just about self-promotion, not just a sales gimmick.

Is that my cynicism talking? Is 50% a magic number?

What do you think? I'd like to hear.

Update: I've decided to go with my gut and use the magic 50/50 split. We're going to see how much we can accomplish on a shoestring budget, and harness our creativity to keep costs to a minimum.

Fundraiser progress for Manna foodbank

Reminder:

Updates on the fundraiser are here I'm still getting more traffic from people reading about "it's not just the artists starving" on this blog, but I don't want to dilute that story with bits and pieces of personal info.

Details are beginning to solidify.