What’s Underneath: Living in Layers

Everything that we do has depth and intrigue and is built in layers. Layers of learning, layers of action, layers of material, layers of intention and meaning.

In my experience of art making, first, there is the idea, then exploration of the idea (or research), gathering materials (the surface, the palette…), skill building (classes, experimentation), arranging a work space, and then the work: the background, the rough sketch, laying in general colors, changing or adjusting the colors, extra marks and more paint layers, correcting the drawing, sanding back or uncovering, details, finishing touches, stepping away throughout to evaluate and then go back in again—today, tomorrow, next week….

I used to think, rather unconsciously, that a work of art should come about in one step—idea and execution all blooming at once. And because that didn’t work well for me most of the time I just thought I wasn’t imaginative enough or cut out to make art, to BE an artist. It was a kind of impatience or perhaps ignorance; a shade of unaware impudence to think that I could cut so quickly to the beautiful and satisfying product I hadn’t even the skills to create.

But now—somehow I kept at it despite so much struggle!—I remind myself that all these layers are the best part; the development, research and extended execution are the slow food of my daily life. This is my history and the more engaged I am the richer it becomes. The more I take risks with my time, which is my life, the fuller I become, take risks with my actions, the more I manifest and then have something to respond to. Layer upon layer I reach through the known to the unknown to reveal the mysteries of myself and the world I live in and create.

When I was a college student so many years ago, as the term came to a close I always anticipated a long list of personal projects: write regularly in my journal, write poetry, draw and paint, read specific ambitious books or clean and organize my room. But often I couldn’t start. I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t know about steps, about layers, and I was afraid of being disappointed. I was disappointed. I didn’t understand that each small action builds on the next in infinite layers over time. And each layer is important to the whole.

Again, years ago, when i was more engaged in throwing pots on the wheel, I really disliked the heavy footed ugly stage a bowl had to go through before being trimmed into its final elegant shape. And even still, when I’m painting or drawing I try to love every stage into a harmonious state as much as possible because it encourages me, but also I am learning how to sink into the adventure of discovering the next move, experimenting, trying things on, covering up even parts I love, redrawing the figure, adding, taking away, letting myself be absorbed in the process. I can let it be messy.--even ugly. I can wait. And whatever emerges is both me and not me. It is the history of my play with the paint, with subject, with mark making. It is my history, my choices.

You might not see all that’s underneath, but be assured we are all living in layers.