Sometimes walk away.

I have noticed an interesting thing about how I learn and how I improve my art.

I used to think that the MORE time I spent painting-actually physically working

hard was in direct proportion to how much MORE I learned and improved my work.

Working hard is something I have forced myself to get good at but now I think that maybe this was not such a good thing to get good at after all.  Listening to the poet philosopher David Whyte speaking in San Francisco a couple of years ago I jotted something down in my sketchbook that he said regarding learning. He was talking more metaphorically, probably larger in terms of learning from our life – how to live, rather than art making, but it resonated with me.  It was a quick sentence and at the time I didn’t really understand, so I wrote it down so later I would. He said, “…Visitation, absence, visitation, absence, visitation, absence, (this repeated over and over again) is how we learn.”  In other words the time BETWEEN the periods of effort, the pauses in-between are fundamentally as important as the periods of work. He believes that this “on, off and on again “ process produces more consistent, more substantial results. This is true for me too. Does this resonate with how you learn?

I teach a 7-dayworkshop every year at Esalen. This is an amazing opportunity for people to spend an unbroken week just focusing on their art. The improvement is extraordinary. However I also teach a 6 week, 3 hours per week Artful Life ongoing course in my studio. What I am seeing, amazingly is that these students, even though they are only working 3 hours a week are also improving at an amazing rate. What I think is happening is that even though they are not physically painting they are nonetheless still THINKING about principles they have learned. Examples of color, value, composition all begin to creep into their everyday life and as a result their visual sensitivity increases. I see a marked improvement when they come to class the 2^nd and 3^rd time, even though they have NOT been painting. Miraculously they just have improved.

So maybe, and I am mostly needing to tell myself this, we don’t need to work harder, but instead just put the brushes in the can of turpentine and go away for the afternoon. Suddenly, in the name of improving my work, bird watching, maybe collecting driftwood or even playing bocce ball all suddenly seem relevant.  

Visitation, Absence, visitation, absence. I think I am going to like this new way of working. 

The photograph was taken following my daughter Lyla, 19 on the final ascent of "Clouds Rest" a nine thousand ft.  peak in Yosemite National Park. 

It Takes A Village

Why is it easier to attempt challenging things when you are part of a group?

This morning I arrived for a Crossfit class http://tjsgym.com/and walked in on the end of the previous 5:15 am class. I stood there half awake wondering two things. Firstly, what the hell was I doing here so early in the morning, and then secondly what an amazing display of will and determination I was witnessing. It was apparent that the group, the combined energies of everyone in the room, was making it possible for these folks to pull this off. There is something about having the momentum of a group that makes things possible for individuals to achieve more than they would on their own. I couldn’t imagine, for example, any of these people doing this workout alone in their living room at 5:15 in the morning.

I often lament that art making doesn't sometimes have this possibility. Artists just are squirreled away in studios miles and miles apart with no idea what anyone else is doing. The closest thing I have ever experienced of this kind of group momentum in relationship to art making is during weeklong workshops. Having a community around you while also working on your individual art is the best of both worlds.

Lately I have come to the conclusion that my art definitely has improved because of my community. Having shows, dealing with galleries, embracing and giving your energy to other artists and supporters who are interested and engaged provides me with an amazing buoyancy and momentum I just don’t think I could muster all alone. I believe that in order to do what I love I am convinced I need as many people involved as possible. Having a community that your part of and participate in is essential. When the community flourishes from everyone’s energy and input and begins to rise, then you along with everyone else do too.

Mistaken Paths

How much do we influence each? When does influence become copying?

These are all questions that all artists have to answer for themselves. If we are honest, we can all say, that at certain times we have copied others work. Nobody wants to admit this-it is so much better to be totally original.  But can we all be exceptionally unique?

I know that when people have remarked that my artwork reminds them of someone else’s that it doesn’t feel very good. For one thing, the art they are invariably comparing mine  to is usually better and more sophisticated. You can never ever be more original than the original. It does sting a little. The total opposite of creating something authentic, something personal is, rather sadly, creating something totally derivative.

I understand the need to do this. I know because I have done it. You get so tired of not knowing where the hell your going, not being clear that you are on any kind of a road that is eventually going to lead someplace worthwhile, that you just need a pause, a rest perhaps, to float along buoyed by the efforts of someone else for awhile. It always seems easier to see somebody else’s path rather than our own. The reason, (and I would say the argument) for not co -opting someone else’s journey, is BECAUSE we don’t actually know where we are going. It is not supposed to be clear as we haven’t gotten far enough along to even realize it as our own and that is why it is so engaging and worthwhile.

If you are paying attention to your work, you will eventually create a path that is wholly you own. Your work is a reflection of you and you are totally unique and one of a kind. You are, by the very definition of what it means to be a human being, already original. We all are.

Your not supposed to know where you are going. We think we want to know. We think we just need a few sales to make us feel hopeful. We think we need to be making likeable work at any cost, but in the end, the cul de sac that one finds themselves in when they start copying someone else is just simply that—a dead end. In the beginning it feels easier but it actually is detrimental to the development of the artist because growth has stopped and invariably the far more serious state of boredom begins to creep in. It just simply is not interesting to do someone else’s art.

The Poet, philosopher, David Whyte perfectly articulates this line of thinking….  “If we can see the path ahead laid out for us, there is a good chance it is not our path; it is probably someone else's we have substituted for our own." 

We need to remind each other that none of us should stay very long in these stagnant somewhat embarrassing places for very long. Somebody needs to give us a swift kick in the pants and send us back out there, back out into the realm of passion, individuality and true authenticity.

I want to be a fireman when I grow up.

My next show is opening May 11^th in NYC and I don’t know what I am going to make.

I kept thinking that I had so much time. The year hasn’t even really started, my show is not until May which feels like the middle of the year – so close to June which IS the middle of the year. However I have learned that if you want to seriously promote and recover from making the work you need to be done a month early. That gives me till April 15^th  I like to have 3 months at a minimum. And now, today, I have less than that because the 15^th was 6 days ago. I always think that the next show I do, I will start way early,  and just take my time…paint a little every day, spend more time outside of the studio, see friends and go for way more runs with my dog, Maizy.

I think I am kidding myself about how I work. I possibly am fooling myself into thinking that at some point here with all this art business I will figure it out and seamlessly place it in my life in such a way that it is just an enjoyable pastime that gently results in exhibitions every 6 months or so. It is almost as if I have bought into the idea or the fantasy that non artists have of what it is like to be an artist and how great it would be to do just dabble away all day doing what you love and get paid for it.

Well it is great. But in a way it is great after AFTER the fact. After you have had the show, after you have sold lots of the work- that part is really great, not just because obviously one needs income but it also confirms that the hunches you had early on, the insecurities, the questions you placed and eventually answered were resolved correctly. We need to know again and again that we still have IT and that it is not just a fluke that we are artists - that this ridiculously vague notion of being an artist, whatever that means, somehow fits what you do.  I always thought it would be so great to be a fireman. That profession has such clear, defined boundaries.  Not only does society, friends and family understand clearly what you do but you do too. If the house is on fire, if the cat is crying at the top of the tree you know exactly what to do. A frigging alarm even goes off that TELLS you when to do what you do.

First you get to slide down that pole. (I just love that-what career builds into it a joy ride, a mini thrill into your day?)  Your fantastic day begins by jumping up from your bed, slipping down a slippery pole in order to save a few nano seconds of time. You are so needed, your time so precious, your job is so crucial that to run down the stairs one floor to get to your red truck would just not do. Your time is valuable. Lives, in fact, are at stake. You get a totally cool costume, sirens, giant water hoses, ladders, get to play with fire all day long and the distinct possibility that you could save somebody’s life. The job of the fireman is so not like an artist’s that it leaves me at a standstill. I have had thoughts about just getting a fire poll to leap from my bed and slide down to the studio but honestly there is no rush. If I get there a second or two earlier it makes no difference. I still don’t know what I am going to do when I get there. I could even dress a certain way but there just is no point. Nobody is waiting at a burning building to be rescued. There will be no possibility to be a hero today. I do have a dog. It is not spotted like a fireman’s but at least I have that part in place.

Being an artist is all about not having a clue and spending inordinate amounts of time being directionless.  By its very definition there is no definition. It is a non -profession. The main missing ingredient is that there is no certainty. It is a mushy; find your way in the dark, figure it out as you go along kind of profession. Today, standing at the bottom of the hill starting to push a bicycle with two flat tires, it seems enormously unimaginable as to what I am supposed to do now. How am I going to get there? What am I going to make that somehow relates, somehow carries the thread of what I am interested in?

I will get to the studio today. It will probably take awhile as undoubtably there will be far more easier things to do before STARTING on that blank white panel that has been hanging in my studio for the past 8 days. I will get there, hopefully today, but I am not certain. I do know that I will begin here at some point. And that, according to my notes from previous years scribbled in the margins of endless half filled sketchbooks is how you start. How one thing will lead to another which in turn will lead you to the next. I am not sure it will work this way again like it has in the past but it is all I know how to do. I know of no other way to get there. I cannot wait to be able to look back 3-4 months from now and say I made the right decisions, that the hunches were right. That clearly, if I can make all this stuff, that this whole gallery 4 months from now is filled with intention, clarity and obvious certainty that I am still solidly and unmistakably an artist. I will not have saved anyone with my work along the way, nor will I be a hero for sure but I know I will be tremendously grateful.

Starting Again

Why is it so hard, after a break, to start working again? I always feel resistance. Several times during the Xmas break I came into the studio and, after working so hard here for months, I was surprised to feel how foreign it all felt. There was my table with all the used up paints and the floor was still covered with my paint mess. The evidence of my art making was everywhere, but I still felt like a visitor to my own studio. I have noticed that the absence of making art dangerously leads to more of the same..."The less you do the less you do." Creating is a muscle that will happily atrophy if we allow it. The solution, at least for me is to just begin  and try to show up and pay attention to what is in front of me and become wonderfully lost in it all. It takes a bit of effort at first although, like an awkward first kiss that is doubly filled with vulnerability and  anticipation, it also holds a degree of excitement for what might be possible for the future.
It does seem true in art making that "the less you do, the less you do." Fortunately, however, the inverse  is also true-"the more you do the more you do!"  This makes it possible to find your groove over and over again. It is how we build our own momentum and produce and create art like there is no tomorrow. It allows us to fill our studio, our imaginations and dreams with our art. Again.

Best Made Plans

Sometimes what I set out to make does not end up being what I make. I might have a clear idea of what I want, but somewhere along the way I change my mind or something comes along that is far more interesting that my original idea. This seems to be happening more and more to me. I also see that the paintings that deviate the most from my plan are often the best. So would if I began without any preconceptions? Why not just paint anything? How about a bunch of dots? I know that everything is going to change anyway and if I am not really driving the bus, so to speak, then maybe I should just do whatever strikes me at the moment. Maybe a painting is just a series of over lapping moments of experience. A small piece of our life that will be held, forever, in the form of a painting.

New Years Day Letter

This is a small painting 12" x 12" I made as a demonstration painting during the last workshop taught at Esalen, CA. All the paintings we work on are always done on this great size of 12" x 12". We use 1/4 Birch ply primed with gesso which makes a great durable surface. Perfect for sanding and gouging and collaging. I actually had time to paint during this 7 day workshop because everyone just got on a roll and I was no longer needed after the 4th day! This painting was made using a collaged letter. I thought it was appropriate for the 1st day of a the New Year, because, like an unopened letter there is a delicious bit of mystery and anticipation in the unknown about to become known. "Return" 12" x 12" Mixed Media on Panel.
Happy New Year!

Memories in Stones

Pavel Stransky, 91, uses the metaphor of a balance scale to describe his life. One side is filled with darkness and bitter sadness while the other is filled with lighter moments, love and forgiveness. When I asked him which side weighed more he softly said the darker side.  As a young jewish man of 19 on Dec 1, 1941 he was rounded up by the Nazis and sent to Thersienstadt, a concentration camp / ghetto created  by the Nazis to be used as a staging area for the transporting of thousands of Jews to various concentration camps in Central Europe. His girlfriend was rounded up as well along with his mother and other family members. The walled town which originally accommodated 5,000 was filled by the nazis with 60,000 jews, Christians of non aryan descent, the infirmed and the mentally ill. Imprisioned in this ghetto with little food and no clean water he was fortunately still able to maintain some contact with his girlfriend. When the Nazis decided to ship him to Auschwitz- the largest of the German extermnation camps, he was told it was simply a relocation. Pavel and his girlfriend married the night before so she could accompany him. The only way they could go together was if they were married. So they married in the getto of Thersienstadt and their honeymoon was to go to Auswitch together. Of course, once they arrived they never saw one another again. Through a series of small miracles, the two of them, unbenowst to both of them at the time, survived and were reunited after Germany was defeated and the camps were liberated. Pavel and his wife both surviving Auswitch was one of the very few miraculous stories that came out of this gruesome, dark time. Almost all prisioners perished in the camps. During the afternoon we spent with Pavel, who today conducts tours at Thersienstadt,  he walked us to a memorial, gravesite filled with stone markers signifying the thousands that perished there. When visitors pass these markers they place a found stone upon it's weathered surface. The sadness that these stones symbolize is somehow still able to coexist, at least for me, with the inescapable deep beauty of their random arrangements.

Pollencia,  Mallorca, Spain

The walls of this town are so beautiful. Walking through the narrow streets I had to wonder how just the passage of time could create such amazing surfaces. But it is not just the  patina of Time. There is also something else, although it took me awhile to realize it. The other part that goes into the creation of  these gorgeous surfaces and compositions is the fact that there is a non intentionality about them. There is such freshness to the ingredients- a haphazard drainpipe nailed to the wall 50 years ago, random graffiti, a scrape from a passing cart or just the repeated repainting and repairing of the wall over time. This aspect of randomness can be difficult to invite into making artwork, but I realize more and more that often it is the most interesting aspect of a painting.  Like an overloaded cart that is pulled too quickly and ends up scraping the wall in just the right spot, sometimes I just close my eyes and make marks on the surface of my paintings. As hard as I try, rarely do I come even close to what can be seen on the walls of Pollencia.

Opening at Caldwell Snyder Gallery

A tremendous thank you to everyone who made it out to my opening last Thursday evening. I can't ever remember working so hard for so many weeks never having much time to see my friends or even family... Spending a few hours in a beautiful room filled with my artwork with some of my favorite people was a night I will remember for a long time. Again, thanks.

Click here to see the whole show or download a catalog of the paintings or visit the newly designed
Nicholas Wilton website.

Finishing.

I just finished a whole series of paintings for my first solo show with Caldwell Snyder Gallery in San Francisco. Tomorrow I am sending the last 4 paintings to the gallery. I have never painted so much for so long before. There is such a sweetness to finishing something that several moths ago seemed like an impossibility to complete. The struggle that I experienced is offset by the tremendous amount I have learned. It feels more like an improved sensitivity to color, shape, texture, and a quickness of resolution or rather  faster realizations when  I am heading in the wrong direction. My daughter, Lyla, just graduated high school yesterday and at one point in the ceremony the audience's attention was drawn towards the faculty.  The teachers were all sitting together - all so different from one another in look, dress, teaching styles and of course areas of expertise. I thought how fabulous it would be to have so many people's influence on my life or art. Instead, my learning, seems to be more about spending a tremendous amount of time alone in a room thinking about and trying to make sense of what I am making directly in front of me. It seems unlikely that learning mostly ( there is usually a dog present) by oneself would actually take place, but remarkably it does. The dog's name is Maizy and the painting above her is an almost finished commission for a wonderful family in Silicon Valley. The painting is inspired by a box of crayola crayons and their gigantic aquarium filled with tropical fish. The painting will hang in their playroom.

What makes us feel alive?

I often try and think about what makes someone connect with a work of art. What is it that stops us in our tracks and makes us reconsider, even in a small way, how we see the world or feel about it? Sometimes this happens when we see a work of art, read a great story or just come across anything at all that moves us. Often it is not planned or expected. This video of two friends out on a boat ride so perfectly captures that moment. Life can be so rich, so unbelievably surprising that all one can do in the end, like these two girls, is just laugh and be thankful.

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

Costello Childs Gallery Opening

Thought I would post some shots of how the work looked in the gallery....It was wonderful to meet many of the designers and art consultants who have purchased my work for their clients as well as some of the local collectors. Scottsdale has a wonderful art community and everyone turns out to see what is happening...Whenever I do a show, work like crazy to make the paintings and then take a week off, show up in a new town and then walk in to the gallery, I always get some kind of insight or fresh realization about my work. This time I saw that the black and white more simple paintings I had made were very strong. I wasn't so sure about it when I originally made them. There is something about making paintings that are very simple, not only compositionally but color wise as well, that increases their potency. Less is often, more. I plan to do more like them in the future.

New Paintings for Solo Show

Here is a photo of my studio towards the end of finishing 12 new large paintings for a show at the Costello Childs Gallery in Scottsdale, AZ. The show opens Oct 19th and runs through Nov 23rd. This body of work represents the biggest creative effort I have given in a long time. I don't think I have ever made so many large paintings at one time. I know the large studio has helped me work better at scale as I can get back from the work and see it in context with all the other paintings. One painting starts to improve and then all the others seem weaker which in turn makes me push the others till they are at the same level. I was expecting to be exhausted once the delivery truck came and took all the paintings away but oddly I am not. I walked back into my now empty studio and just pulled out a bunch of blank panels and started in again. Either I am mad or this art-making thing is addictive. Maybe a little of both.

Artplane Evening Series Begins Sept 6th!

For anyone who is possibly within driving distance of Sausalito, CA. I thought I would post the info for the Artplane Evening Series.
This 6 week course is an abbreviation of the longer 5 and 7 day workshops we hold every year. They have been lots of fun so far.
The photo is of the texture making tools that everyone uses. I painted them all red because when we travel to various art studios to teach we invariably lose a few because they blend in so well....

ARTPLANE EVENING SERIES

Upcoming 6 week series: Tuesdays 6pm-9pm Beginning Sept 6th!

Thanks again to everyone for making the last session so much fun. Please pass this email on to
any of your friends who might enjoy the class. Word of mouth is my only advertising!

Come join the next 6 week series of studio classes taught by Nicholas Wilton in his
studio located in Sausalito, California. This ongoing course will be especially helpful for
those artists who are sometimes challenged by maintaining creative momentum and
achieving goals in alignment with their personal vision or creative path.
Beginning students as well as those who have already completed an Artplane Workshop
will find this weekly touchstone incredibly supportive and inspirational.
Not only will our small group be working together in class but we will also be
clarifying a practical process to develop a cohesive body of personal work.
We will be working on 12" x 12” wood panels using primarily acrylic paint.
For more advanced students alternative materials and sizes can be substituted.
Included in the class will be demonstrations, slide presentations, great music and of
course the tremendous energetic lift that comes from working with friends.
Basic materials are included but can be supplemented with your own.
Come prepared for a whirl of self expression, and the very likely possibility that your
art can, in fact, become much more central in your life.

Course Fee $250 Please submit payment by mail or paypal to enroll. Additional info
will be sent upon enrollment.

Nicholas Wilton Artplane Creativity Series 480 Gate 5 Rd Ste 300W Sausalito, CA
nick@nicholaswilton.com studio 415 601 8447 www.artplaneworkshop.com

Nicholas Wilton Paintings Book!

Here is a new book on my paintings! You can preview it here or better yet purchase one for your art library!

Nicholas Wilton Collectors Edition 2011 by Nicholas Wilton | Make Your Own Book

Artplane Creativity Workshop 2011

We just returned from teaching a 7 day Artplane Workshop at Esalen along the Big Sur Coast. We had a tremendous group. Some participants were working artists, others had little or no experience, but by the third day all were making amazing work and from where i sat, having a tremendous amount of fun doing it. It is hard to imagine a better blend of things: Art making, eating delicious food (that you do not have to make or clean up after), laughing, wine, chocolate, good friends, and floating in hot springs at the end of a full day beneath a blanket of glistening stars.
While our workshop was going on there also was a workshop led by Kim Rosen on Poetry. It seemed everywhere you went on the property her students were handing everyone poems on scraps of paper. They were even floating them in the hot springs. It was quite delightful coming across a poem in your day or having someone just come along and present you with one. We all had them in our pockets and, as a result, decided to use the poems in our workshop. To offer a visual response, an answer to the poem elves generosity. We cut our 10 x 10 boards down to 4 or 5 in square and took fragments or lines of these poems and used them as inspiration to generate imagery. Below are a sampling of some of these poem boards made in the workshop.




I am going from memory so I apologize in advance if your artwork happens to not be here or is credited incorrectly. From top to bottom:
Diana Arsenian, Sharon Virtue, Christopher Chaffin, Sharon Virtue, Nancy Worcester, Jennie Oppenheimer, Barbara Kyle, Sharon Virtue, Nicholas Wilton, Ashley Jones, Jennie Oppenheimer, Nicholas Wilton, Jennie Oppenheimer.

Stremmel Gallery Show

Thought I would post a few pictures from my recent show at the Stremmel Gallery in Reno. The opening night turned out to coincide with the arrival of the worst storm of this last winter. I braved the mountainous drive to get there even though by the afternoon it was snowing pretty bad. I figured it would just be me and possibly the road snow plow guy at the opening. I had never shown at this gallery so when I walked in I was delighted to see how beautiful the work had been hung. This particular gallery has the spaciousness of a museum and the director, Turkey Stremmel and her crew are particularly good at designing shows. They understand how to use white space. Lots of open space between paintings only makes them look that much better. The gallery also have a consistent following so by the time the doors were opening there was quite a crowd for such a stormy night. Much of the work sold which made being snowed in Reno the whole next day perfectly ok. You never can tell how things will turn out.

New Studio

I have not written here since end of January...I have been incredibly busy the past 2 months moving into a new studio. After 15 years at least, working in and around my house in West Marin, I finally decided to move to a studio space that is more centrally located, one that has other working artists in it, a harbor complete with sailboats, seagulls and a general feeling of happy activity. I think, no I know, that many artists deal with feelings of isolation. Of course making art for most people is a solitary activity. This actually is a good thing. The difficulty comes when your left to work alone for ever and ever. I know for myself that staring at my own work for too long or maybe just working alone for too many days in a row starts to wear you down a bit. I remember when I worked in NYC in a small apartment, (If your not going out and your not seeing anyone all day then there really is no reason to get out of your pajamas...see how bad it can get?) and how, when the fed ex guy would come to pick up something, I would just talk his ear off. I would just try to keep the conversation going as long as he would stand there. When the only human contact you have is with the UPS or fed ex guy then it probably is time to change your working environment. This studio, I originally was going to share with someone and then greedily kept all 1,300 sq ft for myself, is located in the ICB Building in Sausalito, California. It is an enormous 3 story building that originally was used to manufacture sails for sailboats. There are literally hundreds of artists all piled in the building. I now work with one door open and have all the pleasant interruptions I want all day. Anyway, once I got here I wondered why I had waited so long. I never could justify a move for so many practical reasons such as having to drive, the cost, etc. But I possibly overlooked the one reason that should of trumped all others...I would be happier! Duh...