An early sketch I drew as a teenager and a seascape from my years of painting realism. Change is inevitable. Looking back, we can see the changes in our own lives. As an artist, I look back over the years and consider how my painting has evolved over time.
I was drawing things probably as soon as I could hold a pencil. The sketching never stopped all through my school years and I drew everything from the horses I loved to copies of album covers. Every spare moment was a chance to pick up a pencil and draw what I saw around me. My mother was also an artist, and although I learned basic painting skills simply by watching her, I never really created any of my own paintings in those years. Perhaps I was intimidated by what I saw her create, but in any case, I held back and focused more on drawing. It wasn't until I had moved out on my own and started working, that I decided to try painting. Colour was a revelation. I was hooked. I decided to try acrylic paints which were still relatively new in those years, the vast majority of artists working in oil. I fell in love with the flexibility and quick-drying qualities of acrylic, even though I was told my paintings looked like they were done in oil. I attribute that to all those years I watched my Mom paint with her oils. It never occurred to me that the two mediums would be handled differently. At the same time as I was beginning to create my first paintings, I began attending workshops, taking art classes, and joining art groups in my spare time to soak up whatever I could learn about painting. My work took me across Canada and that enabled me to learn about art from different people, experience different approaches, and really expand my knowledge. In those early years, I was concentrating on realism, taking inspiration from the French Impressionists, the Group of Seven, and various other artists I admired. It was fun to explore, to try different techniques, learn new ways to see things. One thing I remember clearly was my absolute certainty that I would never create abstract paintings. At that time, they made no sense to me. The years passed and my work became more interpretive, looser. I began playing with the landscapes I created, my attention turning to unusual shapes, brighter colours, giving myself more freedom to play. I became obsessed with trying to create something that no one could capture with a camera. I was veering away from the realism I had always tried to attain with my landscapes, seascapes and portraits. I remember the day another artist I admired looked at my recent work, smiled and said, "You will be an abstract painter one day." No. I shook my head. That will never happen. And then it did. Making the decision to become an abstract painter was not a quick decision. I had gallery managers question my decision as, by this time, there were people following and collecting my realistic landscapes and seascapes. But I wanted the challenge. I wanted to see what I would create by looking inward instead of outward. Making the change in my style was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done with my art. There was a period of fumbling and experimentation. I had to allow myself to fail, miserably at times, to try again, and push forward. Slowly I began to see how my technique and approach had to change, and then of course, I had to forge my own path and try to create abstracts that were my own vision. I don't know if any art is truly unique. We are all influenced by the work of others, but as an artist, you strive to find something that is as nearly your own as possible. It is your artistic voice, as such. Which brings me to my current work. At this point in my life, it is important to me that my art communicates well, that it speaks as clearly as possible of things that matter to me in this life and time, even though the paintings are abstract in nature. I hope I come close because the journey that brought me here has been a joy and a wonder.
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Where does the time go? A new year is upon us and living in the moment has never seemed so important to me. Each minute, each hour, each day is precious. Slowing down. Considering the world around us and how we respond before that exact time and place has slipped into the past. Slowing down or better yet stopping once in a while, even just for a bit, brings so much into focus.
I think most artists seek to find their creative voice, their particular niche in the world of art-making. It can be a challenging life-long pursuit of trial and error, pushing yourself to reach further with each brushstroke, with each new painting. Is the work honest? Is it unique or is there, in fact, anything that is truly unique? Sometimes our goals can also be sidetracked or distracted, and we need to pause and consider where we are in the big scheme of things. Are we still heading in the right direction, staying true to our aspirations, or have we somehow discovered a new path? I have never felt so inspired to create new work as I do right now. Surprisingly though, I feel the impulse to not push myself as much as trust myself, to trust that creative instinct that simply says, "follow me." There will no doubt be unexpected surprises along the way, but the path is clear. Stay tuned. New paintings are in the works. We spend a good deal of our lives chasing things. Things like a better job, our idea of success, or just more possessions of one sort or another. Our culture has evolved to set us on an endless race that can be both seductive and addictive.
Occasionally throughout my life, I've paused to take stock. Where am I? What am I doing with my life? Am I heading in the right direction or have I become distracted? Do I maybe need to shift into low gear or change direction? Then I ask myself what's really important? And do I already have enough, whatever that is? Have I achieved enough? Have I tried hard enough? Have I experienced enough? No doubt age plays a big role in how anyone would answer those questions. In the end, it's not usually the material things that really matter anyway. Was there enough time with family and friends? Was there enough walks with the dog, or enough time spent just looking at trees? Was there enough love and compassion? The simple things truly matter. Intention also matters. How about the phrase, "Enough is enough"? How many times has someone said, "I'm tired. I've had enough" when they are at the point of overload or exhaustion? There can be all kinds of repercussions from having too much. When I titled this latest of my earthling paintings "Enough", I was thinking about all the ways you can interpret that word. For me, I consider that in this finite world, we all need to consider when we have enough and what are the consequences of wanting more of anything. Truthfully, we probably already have enough. Or maybe the focus just needs to shift. That's a whole lot of meaning wrapped up in one word. Enough said. Spring is in the air and it was a beautiful day to deliver new work to the gallery. These latest from my studio are pure abstraction and I love the energy, immediacy, and freedom they exude. The same feelings I had while creating them. Not too much thinking, just allowing myself to play with colour and movement, responding without overworking. Sounds easy enough perhaps, but at the same time my eye was considering a multitude of things such as elements of balance and rhythm, tonal qualities, ensuring there were quiet areas to offset the wilder moments. And then I step away. Leave the work. Return another day to see how it makes me feel. Turn the canvas and consider it from all angles. Perhaps I jump in and alter colours, play a bit more, or maybe I just sit with the work and let it be. I never feel like I am in total control. It is an interaction between myself and the painting. I listen. My hand just starts to move, putting colour on canvas, my eye making lightning-quick decisions and, sometimes, not looking at all. These abstractions are all about letting go and seeing where the work takes me. I'm always surprised, always smiling, and happy with the end result. See these two newest paintings at 14 Bells Fine Art Gallery. "Maria" is the first of my new earthlings celebrating the rhythm of music. She is also the very first earthling created specifically for myself and (sorry) not for sale. An artist's inspiration is a personal thing, but I don't think I'm alone when I say music is a huge presence in my studio. Over the years, I've usually had music playing while I paint. The choice of music has varied from jazz and blues, folk and rock, to dramatic movie scores, but it has always made a difference.
Sometimes the music is just in the background, setting the mood while I work away. (Okay, yes, there may in fact be dancing involved as well.) Sometimes the song itself has helped me visualize an idea. In fact, I've created some paintings which I could only work on when I listened to a specific recording. Other times, the music provides the very energy that propels the direction of each brushstroke. A number of years ago, I presented a series of paintings in a solo exhibition entitled The Art of Jazz (see several from this series under archives here). This year my earthling series is taking the connection one step further. The earthlings themselves are responding to the music. This seems appropriate as I consider music is the universal language. I don't believe there is any country, any culture, which does not create its own music flavoured by a unique history and influences. Listening to music, playing music, dancing to music. We don't just hear music. We feel music. We create song with our own voices. It moves us like nothing else. I don't think folks are unhappy when music is involved. In fact, it usually pulls us together. I also believe the earth itself has its own rhythm, its own song. It comes from the ground beneath our feet, the wind, the ocean, and all the creatures who call earth home. I just hope we all take the time to listen, to learn to really listen and understand what this beautiful planet has to teach us. Wouldn't it be nice if we could all dance together. George GoodwinKilburne (1839-1902) It seems if you have a creative nature, that instinct will find a way. And in as many ways as possible. Many visual artists are also musicians or writers or actors. For almost as long as I have been drawing and painting (since childhood), I have also loved to express myself by writing. Sometimes the writing has taken the form of poetry; sometimes I have written newspaper columns about people. Over the years, I've also been lucky enough to combine those two passions by writing about art and other artists.
Interviewing and writing about other artists gives me the perfect excuse to meet artists I might not meet any other way. I love hearing the stories about their artistic journey, their inspiration, their challenges and successes. Each artist is unique and yet, we speak the same language. As well, being an artist (or writer) can often be a solitary pursuit, and meeting another artist is a welcome opportunity to talk to others who understand and share that same lifestyle. I also believe art collectors and all those who are touched by another's creativity, enjoy hearing the story behind the artist. Appreciation often deepens when understanding grows, and connections are made that might not exist without that background knowledge. Currently I am interviewing artists from The Prow Gallery, sister gallery to 14 Bells Fine Art where my own art is available. It's a joy in every regard meeting these artists and I am always grateful and humbled by their willingness to share from the heart. Check it out here: Breaking the Surface. It was over two years ago that I first presented my Earthling series. My mind was very much on the ever-evolving issue of climate change. (That hasn't changed.) At the same time, the idea of placing a stick figure into one of my abstract paintings had been something I'd been imagining for several years. When I was asked to do a solo show, the time seemed right to combine those two ideas in a new series.
The challenge of opening that show during the start of the pandemic was something I've written about before and I give full credit to Cheryl Bell of 14 Bells Fine Art for her determination in making it happen when circumstances were far from ideal. The response to the Earthlings was over-whelming, encouraging me to continue the series long after the show ended, as I do today. They have evolved somewhat over time, but their impact remains the same. They seem to connect with people and that is what you always hope for as an artist, to create a painting that perhaps says far more than you could express any other way. I have been asked how long it takes me to create each of these paintings. For all their seeming simplicity, each of the Earthling paintings takes a considerable amount of time and thought. It usually begins with a feeling I want to express about our planet, our humanity, our similarities. Then I must consider how to best communicate that through the child-like innocence of a stick-figure. I do a great many sketches searching for the most expressive pose. One constant I adhere to is the multi-coloured aspect of each figure which represents the fact that no matter where we come from, no matter our culture or background, beliefs or way of life, we are all the beings of a planet called Earth. The painting backgrounds remain purposely abstract, colour and light never quite materializing into something recognizable, but perhaps suggesting some earthly quality. Above all else, these are Earthlings. We are all Earthlings and maybe that's where the connection lies. I hope so. The Earthlings will continue to evolve, continue to express feelings about our planet, our life and times. I honestly don't know where that will all lead, but I hope they mirror a positive, compassionate, and united future. I'm very pleased to be exhibiting two paintings in the first Society of Canadian Artists Atlantic Members Exhibition opening Saturday, October 15 at 14 Bells Fine Art Gallery in Halifax. This is the first SCA show to highlight elected and associate members from the Atlantic Provinces and I'm in very fine company. The 35 artworks vary in both style and medium from paintings to sculpture and photography. The show continues until October 30th and everyone is welcome. For those unable to visit the gallery in Halifax, the artwork is available to see online by clicking HERE.
My Mom passed away this week. She was the first artist I ever knew. I watched her from the time I was a very young girl as she took colour and created a world of memories where there had only been a white canvas. I was spell-bound. She was mainly self-taught taking an adult education class to learn the basics, but Mom was fearless painting anything from the local landscape to commissioned portraits. She was a farm-wife living out in the country, but that never stopped her. First she started sharing her work on easels set on our front lawn on the corner. Cars stopped. Lots of cars. Soon she was showing in local exhibits and taking endless commissions. Eventually she became a student of artist Charles Couper and took her first university course to study art history. She loved painting and was immensely proud of the series she completed of the historical main street buildings in her hometown of Berwick. Seven years ago Mom suffered a severe stroke, but within months, she was painting again. We were amazed. Then one day, she asked me, "How do I make green?" And she knew. We both knew. She just smiled and put the paints away. If she couldn't paint the way she always could, it was time to stop.
Mom, all your paintings are still out there. They're hanging on walls and featured in books and people still love them. You were an artist and you were my inspiration. Well this was a surprise in so many ways. Recently gallery owner Cheryl Bell emailed me about an interview, explaining producer Paul Kimball was creating a new show called Gallery 902 for Eastlink television. Sharing my art is why I paint, but having my photo taken (let alone being on film) is right up there with standing on the edge of a tall building. Not my favourite thing. However, director and host Veronica Reynolds invited me for coffee and put my mind more at ease. This might even be fun. In the end, it was actually a great experience and I'm so grateful for the opportunity.
As an interviewer, Veronica does her homework. She asked me to look back to when I first became an artist (it was as soon as I could hold a pencil), my transition from realism to abstract art, community art projects I've been involved in over the years, and all about my current work hanging at 14 Bells Fine Art Gallery. It was a wonderful opportunity for me to remember how this artistic journey all began, the challenges and high points along the way, and what lies ahead. Although I've always made art, it took me a long, long time before I would call myself an artist as I just felt so humbled by all the great artists I admired. But then I finally realized that being an artist was not something I wanted to do, it was who I always was from the start. A huge thank you to Veronica and her team for the whole experience, for allowing me to share my story and my art. Personally I can't wait to see the entire upcoming series when it premieres in 2023. This province is blessed with an abundance of fabulous artists and each of them has their own personal story to tell. Also a sincere thank you to Cheryl Bell, owner of both 14 Bells Fine Art and The Prow Gallery, for making this all possible. |
Anna Horsnell SCACanadian painter of contemporary abstract art Archives
April 2024
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