Cafe in Bonnieux, with a fountain and Plane trees
A computer breakdown, the nicotine and cat-urine coated house, and a little under the weather condition have kept me from blogging for two weeks.
Back to South of France, finally.
For all the talks I blurt out about how my art is about freeing myself from the commercial context and establishing relationships with the particular time and place rather than having a recognizable product style, as I set out with my easel and paints, I had one big number in my mind: 3000. "Since this trip is costing my a little over 1000 dollars, I'd better come back with paintings worth at least $3000 in gallery prices," that's what I was thinking on a conscious and subconscious level. I knew I was setting up a trap for myself which I had pathetically repeated for over 20 years, but I packed my suitcases with enough prepared papers, boards and canvases to occupy a painter for 6 months. I could already see, before my departure, all those blank surfaces covered with vibrant colors, decorated with nice price tags.
HA!
When I first got there, I adhered to my strict and productive schedule: I was painting for 3-5 hours each morning and afternoon. I was staying with Mme. Salva, my friend's mother, who spoke Spanish and a little French, and absolutely no English. She was so kind and generous, she prepared incredible meals for lunch and dinner every day (she was the school cook for twenty-six years). My French sucks and Spanish is even worse so it was quite comical the way we tried to communicate with each other. Her daughter Marie and husband Patrick, who lived 20 minutes away, were also very hospitable. But the first few days reminded me of what it was like to be an exchange student, not knowing the language or culture, and feeling isolated and dumb.
Incredibly, my journal entry on the second day describes my discomfort and longing for Suika and Martin, and this is what I declared to myself to combat that: "I am here to paint, not to socialize or cultivate new relationships; I am a professional artist, not an exchange student."
Sad, isn't it? ...and does it vaguely echo someone else's attitude?
Now, if I may analyze this sort of callous mentality, I find guilt to be the heart of all this. I was feeling quite guilty for leaving Suika and Martin behind in the midst of a moving mess, and for spending money when we could use every penny (though they themselves did nothing to make me feel guilty). The only way to justify it was to see it as a business trip with tangible results. Enriching my personal experience, taking myself out of the ordinary context to cultivate a new perspective, or simply having fun, were not good enough excuses to spend a thousand dollars and three weeks, although these are the essential elements of art.
This is why it is so hard to be in the arts, I think. Guilt and creativity don't go together. Yet, we are, at least I am, such a slave to expectations--financial, social, personal, whatever. And when I don't meet that expectation, I feel guilty and ashamed. Guilt and shame act like weights that bring you down from a free flight in blue sky. Alas.
Luckily, I'm not that hardened yet. Actually it is my painting that teaches me, always, by revealing my hypocrisies and contradictions. All my paintings were dead, dull, or out of synch. No matter how hard I tried, it didn't happen. What do you expect? This I finally figured out on the last day, but the light is so completely different there from where I live. It's not just the light, but the air, the vegetation, soil, sky--everything is different. I had to unlearn what I learned and relearn completely new ways of seeing, kind of like learning a new language.
By the time a week had gone by, I was really having a good time despite horrible results in painting. I was enjoying breathing the air, interacting with the village people, meeting with old friends, and most importantly, Mme. Salva's company. Although I was still expecting to come up with good paintings during the second week, it was no longer an oppressive burden. I felt I was being creative in some intangible ways.
(I promise I'll come back sooner this time! ...but not because I feel guilty)
12:01:32 AM 
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