Interview with Sue Kreitzman
Reply
Category Archives: painting
Me, me, me
Last week, somebody told me that a friend had been talking about my art in the pub. They had seen it online and loved it. They had been following what I was working on and said that it was the kind of art they would buy, but… they found it a little odd that it was all about me. So, I stopped. I put the portraits on hold, I took a step back, I looked for other ways to express myself. I took the “me” out of my art and whilst I had fun creating in different ways, I did not connect in any deeper way with what I had produced. I was creating art that was neutral, impersonal, safe. I played, I experimented, I explored new methods and media, but whilst I enjoyed the process, after a few days, began to feel that I was not following my heart.
What I should have done, of course, was listen to the praise. I should have taken to heart the fact that this person I respect would spend their hard earned cash on art like mine, that they were interested enough to follow what I was doing, wanted to see more. I should not have let my own interpretation of a comment influence my art. But I did. When emotions are high, I often feel the need to get them out. I write, I draw, I photograph, I explore what is going on in words and images. It is when I feel things strongly that I channel my emotions, pour out and make visual or verbal that which is crowding my head.
As an artist, this is my way of exploring and expressing my thoughts, feelings, emotions, my light and dark days. I find that one of the most powerful forms of expression for me is self-portraiture. So I am back… being true to myself and working on a new set of self-portraits which reveal the pensive gaze, the dreams of colour and light, the fire and the fear.
Yes, they are odd, they may look awkward or uncomfortable, but that is how I feel sometimes and examining those sensitivities through art helps me make sense of them. So I will continue. “I like what you are doing”, another friend told me, “it must be a bit like therapy”. It is. And for as long as I find it enjoyable or beneficial, I will go on.
Stormy weather
Heavy heart this morning. Big boy off to school with long face.
He and me. Dispute. Shoes on, shoes off, amplified.
Driving. Rain threatening. Angry word. Then another.
Backwards and forwards. Stop. Rewind. Cannot.
Hug at the bell. Rebuff.
Home with small boy and sadness. Pick it up, change the pace.
Smile. Play. End of day. Time to go back.
A smile and a hug. Dark clouds gathering.
Home. We remain light.
Squeeze colours onto fingers. Paint it out.
Paint. Right hand not left. Cover the paper. Blot it out. Leave it to the elements.
Hail. Rain. Boys in garden. Laughing. Squealing.
Toad in the hole for tea. Batter rising. Frustration subsiding.
Comfort food. Monopoly.
Bubbles and bed.
Just playing
Last week I treated myself to some new paint. It has sat, unopened, under my desk for several days. Today, I cracked open the lids and just played. With no particular image in mind, I played with colour, texture, shape. I relished, once again, that delicious feeling of paintbrush in hand, paintbrush in paint, paintbrush on paper, paintbrush in water and back, through the motions again, over and over with fresh colours, new movements, different designs.
Wanting to add an extra something to my play piece, I went back to it, oil pastel in hand and played again, pastel on paper, pastel on paint.
And that is it, for today, just play.
(And oh, what fun it is!)
Fragility and growth
Last night, I was wondering what it would be like to create at the beginning of the day, rather than after dark. This morning, I awoke with the word “fragile” on my mind. Feeling somewhat flat last night and questioning myself and my mission here, I had reached out for help. It was suggested to me that I use my creations to track and express my moods and emotions… something I do inadvertently at times, but rarely consciously.
So, this morning I set out to express that feeling of fragility. Blue seemed the obvious colour to use for this word and an egg (raw) seemed the perfect canvas. As I took photographs of the painted egg, two other things caught my eye… some cress planted a few days ago, beginning to grow on a tray in the kitchen and some grass planted out in the garden a few weeks ago, now an inch or so high. In my mind I began to explore the connections between fragility and growth.
I will not go into detail here, other than to say that at that moment… photographing the egg, noticing the growth from the seeds, I saw myself as those fresh shoots… green, new, growing.
In the morning rain, the paint washed off, but the egg remained intact.
When we plant little seeds, they are fragile, delicate, vulnerable, but treated in the right way, loved and nurtured, they flourish and grow. I hope that in acknowledging my own fragility… in allowing myself to be vulnerable, but treating myself with love and care, I am paving the way for fresh growth and new learning.
