I came across a link to a discussion of portraiture by writers and artists Michael Crummey, Mary Pratt, Craig Francis and Peter Wilkins via the Art in Newfoundland blog that I was eager to hear as it will likely be sometime before I have a chance to attend any art lectures in person.

Portrait painting has ranked fairly low in the hierarchy of art, but ever since I can remember I’ve been drawn to interesting faces. After all, the first things that hold fascination for babies are the faces in front of them.

Michael spoke about how the viewer helps to paint the portrait, but today the way we view things is filtered in increasingly political ways. Artists are aware and influenced by this. When a painter picks up a brush there are questions of sexual politics, the gaze, and cultural voice appropriation — emotional and psychological baggage that is hard to ignore. Thus, how clear sighted can we be? One of my earliest oil paintings was a self portrait as a black woman based on Marie Benoit’s portrait of a black woman: it raised a few eyebrows with regards to political correctness, but for me it was very much a self portrait on many levels. The artist and the viewer may glean different meanings or perspectives from the work, all because of the way that individuals see through different eyes.

Portraiture is often driven behind the scenes by commissions, and commissions did help pay my way through school, but at one point I was reduced to tears by one doctor’s wife who, after I’d spent a month working on her portrait in a tiny ill-ventilated basement, was not happy with my work and decided that she didn’t want it. She said I made her look “puffy.” After that I only painted the things I wanted to. Even as a generally shy person I’d find myself asking people, some of whom were perfect strangers, to pose for me because I found they had a presence I felt compelled to paint. I also continue to do self portraits and revel in that freedom. And then, I like to do portraits of my sister because of her spirit and presence, and because in some way it feels closer to painting a self portrait.

In essence, the joy of portraiture is about experiencing a painting from the inside out. We do not have to avert our eyes passing by this person on the street — we are invited to sit and stare and wonder. Michael also talks about how we can never fully experience being inside the mind of a painted subject the way you can with a character in a well-written book, but I think that, as with a poem, we enjoy the ambiguity of meaning and the complexity of thought this brings. There is a reason why Vermeer’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring” has captured the world’s attention for so very long, and inspired any number of award-winning plays, novels, paintings and, now, a movie. It is about more than a beautiful model and sexual politics. There is enigma in her gaze. There is an inherent connection with the viewer.

Self-Portrait by Frida Kahlo, 1940, Oil on canvas

With self-portraiture there is often the question of narcissism, but I believe that such paintings become a kind of art therapy, whether good or bad, a way to wrestle with issues of identity and exorcise personal demons. I think this quote on a Frida Kahlo website says much:

Lots of people have defined Frida’s mania for self-portraits (about 1/3 of her works) as a sort of therapy to survive, an alienation of suffering and physical pain from herself, a kind of repression of the ravaging action inflicted by external events on her body (bus accident, abortions, surgery operations and “weird” medical treatments of her age).

If anyone one knows of any other art podcasts on line I’d love to hear about them.

More on this later….

I have dirt under my nails from cleaning up in the garden today, and it feels good. Green has started to appear everywhere, especially when the light streams though the newly budding leaves in the willow trees lining our tiny backyard. It’s a sweet little garden, and just small enough for a novice like me to putter around in. It needs a little work, but we are are lucky to have that much space in Yellowknife. The growing season is short, so dreams of a painter’s garden filled with sunflowers and lavender is not to be, but it’s lovely to get outside while we can. I have visions of a little combination studio greenhouse for working in oil down the road, but am determined to stick with egg tempera for now. I have a long path ahead of me, but one I look forward to.

The little ones have been keeping me busy, but art will be coming soon… I promise. I think the quiet winters will be wonderful for painting, and the long hours of natural light in the summer will be amazing to work by long after the boys go to sleep.

Christmas, 2006

This was the only shot with everyone’s eyes open, but Doug did a great job setting up the lighting. It’s been a while since I’ve posted but we have been settling into our new home up North, and I look forward to setting up a work space in the new year. (Hopefully the littlest one will let me catch up on a bit more sleep any time now….)

With love from my family to you and yours.

Delivery Room, Pre-Birth, June 14th 2006

It’s a boy! Introducing Daniel Karl Johnston, my little newborn son, although at 9 pounds 3 oz, he was not so little. Up until a bit over a week ago, I had myself convinced that this birth would be the same as the last. But a few days before my due date while on my weekly visit to the doctor, I was surprised to find out the baby was breach. Since it was unlikely the baby would turn at that late date, and there was some severe swelling (my feet looked like balloons), I was told a C-section would be a less risky choice of delivery. I’m grateful to have had both experiences, and wouldn’t say one was better than the other, just different. The C-section was a little more of an out-of-body experience. I was saved a lot of initial pain, but the hardest part is having to wait several weeks before I’m able to lift or chase after my energetic toddler, Conor.

Right now I’m in the midst of constant nursing, diaper changes and getting to know Daniel while the days and nights blur together. Already he is surprising me in the moments he wakes up to look at me. There was such a startling look of awareness and thought in his eyes even before he was a week old.

Danny just moments after entering the world

This may be the last blog post I can write for a little while, since we’re about to pack up the computers. This is a season for changes. Doug has accepted a job in Yellowknife, and we are preparing to move across the country. I’m looking forward to a lot of things, but having the chance to paint the Aurora Borealis is definitely one of them.