Where Do We Go From Here?

Although mom says that a painting isn't ever truly finished as long as it is in the artist's possession (one reason I have been tempted to remove some of her paintings from her
studio as soon as I feel it's completed,) we feel we have pretty well finished the two paintings we began.

After my last post, having mentioned the need my mom has for writing quotes down, due to Dyslexia and ADD, I noticed that one of the quotes on our painting of her was actually wrong.
She had written "Has in a tale..." as opposed to "As in a tale..."  There was some deliberation as to whether we should correct the mistake.  Was it not a more true portrayal with the mistake left in?  We decided to correct it.  And stepping back, we called it finished.  Having said that, it is still in her studio, as is the other painting, the one of me.

I'm glad we started with two paintings, rather than one.  If we were to judge our experience based on only one painting, we might have made the mistake of assuming any future collaboration would involve a similar process with similar results.  Having made two paintings together though, we have been reminded that it's more than just the two of us involved in the process, the painting itself plays a role. 

The painting mom started of me had much less back and forth.  Mom started and I finished it, with maybe one other trade in between.  Who's to say why, but it felt like a smoother ride.  We didn't have to think about it as much.  Perhaps it's because there was a story already being told.  The painting was of a photo taken of me many, many years ago by a photographer for The Oregonian.  He was out shooting Spring weather/human interest shots and came across me saving flowers from being tossed, as a city landscaper was replacing the Winter flowers in the Pioneer Square area flower pots. We both knew the story, so we only had to focus of choices involving colors and composition.

The painting of mom though, was trickier.  We had much more back and forth.  In the painting of me, a moment in time was the story, but the painting of mom, well, mom was the story. We eventually completed a very good representation of mom's outsides, but we had to figure out how to put her soul in there. The paintings, and our experiences with each of them were very different.

Overall however, talking with mom about the process of collaborating, we both found a few things to be true for both of us, while working on both paintings; 

1. We put much more thought into the process.  Having respect for the work each other had done forced us to also be more respectful of the work we'd done, so we found ourselves  thinking things through rather than just playing with it and seeing where the paintings took us.

2. We had to trust and believe in ourselves as well as in each other.  We had to find the confidence to risk screwing up the others work and trust that we had something to add. And we had to trust that the other would respect our input as much as we had faith in theirs.

3. In some ways the pressure was greater working together, and in some ways it was alleviated.  There was a certain amount of pressure to respect what the other had done, and to compliment it rather than undo it.  There was also a great relief of pressure when hitting a sticking point, one could simply hand the painting over and let go of it.

4. We got a great deal of pleasure out of it, and felt a great bond throughout the process.

So where do we go from here?  Should we continue to collaborate?  In some ways, we have come to the conclusion that nearly everything we have painted for quite some time now has been a collaboration.  While working on these two paintings, we have also been painting other things.  When we stand back, we always ask for each others input. Sometimes the advice we give or get from one another makes the painting.  So in a way, we have been collaborating all along.  But we do have an idea in mind for another painting we'd like to try.

Both of these two paintings started with a plan, a map so to speak. We may have taken a wrong turn here or there, but we had a destination in mind.  When I was very young, maybe 5 years old, mom and I used to go on adventures.  Our mother/daughter days would involve
climbing into the VW Bug with a packed lunch, and taking turns calling out "Left" or "Right" every time we came to an intersection.  We lived in the mountains outside of Hood River, Or., so often we'd end up at a stream, an orchard, or a picturesque waterfall, and there we would have our picnic.  No map was involved.  That's what we want to try next.  We want to start with a blank canvas, no map, and just see where it takes us.  It'll be an adventure.