The paintings are so heavy to move, and I am having such difficulty getting the exact colours, painting and then repainting, adjusting, all the while bent double over them, that there is difficulty straightening up after long sessions of this. Ow. Ouch. My back! Being in the studio all the time must be unhealthy. I feel weak. What I'm going to do is work on the smaller canvases, 60 x 50 cm., for a bit as a break from the big ones. Even better, ‘I'm going to stop working, cook some dinner and flop into bed', I thought when, just then there was a thumping on my door. Hugo the artist, whose studio is one floor up, can't unlock the front door. He's just checked and would like to work on for a couple more hours, will I still be working then, he asks. Fortunately I hadn't undressed was my first thought. Being the only artist who actually lives in the building, such practicalities can sometimes be startling. ‘Oh I'm tired tonight', I say, ‘but at midnight I'll check the front door and go up to your studio to let you know'. Waiting for midnight means I start painting again. At half past eleven another thumping on the door, Hugo has decided to go home and the front door is OK. Of course by now my energy has resurged and I paint on for another hour. Funny how these things come and go like moods. One can be distracted and the heavy fatigue might be dismay or anxiety about the painting not working.
The paintings are so heavy to move, and I am having such difficulty getting the exact colours, painting and then repainting, adjusting, all the while bent double over them, that there is difficulty straightening up after long sessions of this. Ow. Ouch. My back! Being in the studio all the time must be unhealthy. I feel weak. What I'm going to do is work on the smaller canvases, 60 x 50 cm., for a bit as a break from the big ones. Even better, ‘I'm going to stop working, cook some dinner and flop into bed', I thought when, just then there was a thumping on my door. Hugo the artist, whose studio is one floor up, can't unlock the front door. He's just checked and would like to work on for a couple more hours, will I still be working then, he asks. Fortunately I hadn't undressed was my first thought. Being the only artist who actually lives in the building, such practicalities can sometimes be startling. ‘Oh I'm tired tonight', I say, ‘but at midnight I'll check the front door and go up to your studio to let you know'. Waiting for midnight means I start painting again. At half past eleven another thumping on the door, Hugo has decided to go home and the front door is Ok. Of course by now my energy has resurged and I paint on for another hour. Funny how these things come and go like moods. One can be distracted and the heavy fatigue might be dismay or anxiety about the painting not working.
First I went to the Copy Shop and got printouts of all the possibilities to check out my decisions, and then to Boesner's. It meant difficult decisions about which colours to get. The "hand painted" colour charts are a long way off from the reality of putting the colour on canvas. I bought great colours, I hope, from looking at the paint itself: unscrewing the tops and even putting tiny bits on a piece of paper. The result on my fingertips made me choose for one, Cadmium Green Deep whereas I had rejected it from the printed chart. It has made such a difference to me not having the paints that I'm used to working with. The experience of having to search and make the colours happen has been very intense. Finally, I spent another small fortune of two hundred and forty euros. Now I really am going to try not to buy any more paint and just use what I've got.
A long day making definite hard decisions about the colours for the next stage which meant a lot of trial samples mixing colours, as well as working on the computer looking at varying combinations. Living in the studio means that I can completely concentrate and immerse myself in the painting. Working right through without stopping until midnight. Not stopping for lunch, not talking to anyone, nor stepping outside at all, I felt quite spaced out having dinner then dropping into bed. I've made a shopping list for Boesner's the big Art Shop.
Today I recovered myself back into the work. All these visitors and descriptions of outings, I can almost hear murmurings of ‘and the work? What about the paintings?' buzzing in my ears. But my news is that the residency has been extended for a month. And that's why I haven't gone mental and was able to spend some time going round Berlin with my friend. That is so great coming just as I felt despair at getting the paintings finished in time. Is this instead of the perfect bowl from the Great Calculator of Checks and Balances in the Sky? OK thank You.
