Hurry up and Wait

Sometimes ©2010 Megan Chapman

I have something I would really like to show you all, but I can not. I have been working on a large 30x40" horizontal canvas painting from the new white series. This is how I spent the week in the studio. I've been enjoying holding myself accountable lately by thinking I will post my weekly results here. However, I have to hold back at this time. This painting practically slayed me. It kept being this ugly behemoth and would not submit to my prodding to become something until finally, under the gun of time, it became and I stopped.

I really like what is happening in the painting, but at the same time I see things that could be improved upon. If I venture forward and make improvements, I could kill the painting and the very elements that might be making it work. Usually in my paintings, I go until everything clicks and feels complete. In my mind my paintings are usually tightly balanced and make "sense." In this white series, I am forcing myself to stop right before they ever get to that point- this makes me uncomfortable but also very excited.

Right now I am feeling a sense of urgency about painting, which is really thrilling. So, the large painting, that I love but am still a bit unsure of, is in a holding pattern, I will not touch it for the next few days. I have to be careful. I will start something new. I will harness this restless energy and perhaps explore some of the challenges I am currently facing.

These are all lessons from the studio this week and I am listening.

Thank you for all the positive feedback I have received in regards to the Manual for Living and the white series, it has been helpful, inspiring, and a much needed push to keep going.

Next week, more paintings for you to sample and enjoy.

Completion and works in progress

A manual for living
a ten page guide

prologue

The last time we almost touched

The opportunist

The goal was always heartbreak

She smiled while she died inside

Nothing left to wait for, Nothing left to lose

Every time she vanished her heart was smaller upon return

We grew homes inside each others bones

There are storms in her heart

epilogue

This is the manual for living, complete with the last two pages, "We grew homes inside each others bones" and "Storms in her heart." I am still struggling to get the exact color in the photographs, they are a cross between the lush darkness of last week's images and the subtle colors and focus of this week's images. These were painted with white gesso, charcoal dust suspended in walnut oil, and colored and graphite pencils. These are on 140lb. Arches Watercolor paper and are each 12x9" with approximately a one inch border on all sides.

Besides completing the manual this week, I also worked on two other canvas paintings that had been in progress for a while. These are part of the new white series I shared a couple of weeks ago. These may or may not be done, the paintings are done, but they may or may not have words, and they will be given a slightly glossy clear coat in the end.


I hope you enjoy the new works, again I must say it feels great to be finding my rhythm, and exploring the past while I trudge on into the future. Thanks for stopping by and for your support and encouragement.

*the song I listened to on repeat while I worked on the two new white series canvas paintings is here.

A book of stills...

A manual for living
a ten page guide

prologue

The last time we almost touched

The opportunist

Every time she vanished her heart was smaller upon return

She smiled while she died inside

Nothing left to wait for, Nothing left to lose

The goal was always heartbreak

epilogue

A work in progress, as you can see there are still two pages missing.
This song was on repeat and loud, on my headphones the whole time.
Better photographs and completion of this project coming soon...
Thanks for stopping by.

I found a movement...

Sleeps like Strangers © 2010 Megan Chapman

"Surrealism will usher you into death, which is a secret society. It will glove your hand, burying therein the profound M with which the word Memory begins." - André Breton

Because it is snowing

A preview...

a pocket full of live wires
©2010 Megan Chapman
16x20"

the notes we will never sing
© 2010 Megan Chapman
10x10"

I dream of tornadoes...
© 2010 Megan Chapman
19x10"

You can click on the images to view them larger...

A pocket full of live wires...

scribbles from my studio wall

Let's see...

Last Thursday night I gave a lecture to the Boston Mountain Potters Association, on ways to successfully market ones art. It was fun, I enjoyed the opportunity to share some of the things that have worked for me in the past. I was honored to be asked to speak. I felt it was a good talk but perhaps not one of my best. I was a little scattered and perhaps a bit fast in my talking, but I enjoyed it and they seemed to as well. So that makes the 3rd formal speaking engagement of my career.

Also last week, a review was written about the 20th annual small and miniature works exhibition at the Aaron Gallery in Washington D.C. I was thrilled to find my work mentioned. "...Megan Chapman’s works, with their dark, yet very deep and intense colors, convey a sense of power and strength so aptly expressed in her piece titled Implosion." You can read the whole review here and don't forget if you are in the Washington D.C. area please visit the show, which ends at the end of the month.

I also mailed off a small work on paper from my Etsy shop to Finland, I have never sent anything to Finland before, so that was a thrill. Thanks to my etsy shop ArtMaven, my work has been collected in Canada, England, The Netherlands, Australia, France, and Scotland as well as all across the United States.

After wrestling with some of the worst artist's block I have ever known, I managed to paint in my studio, with some good and mixed results (out of frustration I cut up a 40x30" canvas into 3x3" ragged squares!!) However, I have continued on with my white series, even though some people were shocked when I mentioned the idea, as I am known for my use of color. These paintings will be more like drawings on painted white canvas and other surfaces; using charcoal, colored pencil, with some words involved as well. While seemingly new they are rooted in a past obsession with white, grey and black drawings that I made in my book series similar to images that appeared in my "cult deprogramming manual" in 1999. It is strange that I feel the need to justify this shift in my work, or prove to people that it is not unknown for me to work with little color.

I will share pictures of these new pieces soon, I just want to let them jell and process them some more. I am excited and I am enjoying keeping them to myself a bit right now.

Tomorrow, I am giving a talk at the Fayetteville Underground called Art Collecting 101: The Thrill of Original Art at the Revolver gallery. I am excited, scared, and looking forward to seeing what happens at this lecture. I have never given a talk like this before. I will give you a full report next week. I really just wanted more people to see the work of Michael Shaeffer and Christopher Baber and their Matters of Consequence exhibition I curated. It is an amazing and dynamic body of work that contains many affordable works, and I thought it would be a good jumping off point for many new or younger collectors. We will see what happens.

I think that is all I have for you this week. I am currently listening to this song on repeat in my ears thanks to my dear friend at the factory. Nothing like new music to get the creative mind up and running again.

Thanks for looking in and remember, everyday we paint is a victory!

4:29 am.

It is still dark and I should be painting.
When my studio was in my home, I would be painting right now.
I would feel the pull of the old creaky stairs, to my attic studio. I would look out the high window and see the sleepy neighborhood and I would feel that edgy sickness and thrill of being awake when I wasn't "supposed" to be. I would put my huge headphones on and turn up the music I knew would help me get lost and I would work for several hours at a time. I would see the sky turn from inky black over the mountain to that pale purple to grey blue. Sometimes, I would see the sun start to skim the tops of the trees and I would know it was time to stop working.

I would jump up and down, I would sing, curse, and have conversations in my head with the ghosts in my studio. I would paint for them and I would be happy.

I miss those times.