Profiles of Contemporary Art and - ARTisSpectrum

Moving the goal posts.
When I created my first art with a list, it was the furthest thing from my mind that I would do so many of them. It just felt so good
to do them; I completed a half-dozen before I knew it.
This gave me enough confidence to aim for twenty — a good, worthy, imminently doable goal. But I had more ideas in my quiver,
so I kept going. Quite honestly, I liked setting an artistic goal, and then breaking it. So I set another. I decided to aim for forty of
fifty paintings, write a corresponding piece of poetry for each, and publish it as a book. By the time it came out as “Art of Lists,”
I had dozens of subsequent paintings to pursue, so I set another goal: “Art of More Lists.” The same thing happened when I
achieved this goal. I am now working on the sequel to the sequel, a volume called “Art of Even More Lists.”
My point here is not a plea to publish, but rather the appeal of pushing yourself with achievable markers. It’s like losing weight.
If your aim is 75 pounds, it can be discouraging. But if you aim for ten and it makes you feel good, you will then continue for the
next ten, and the next ten. The journey of these mini-goals becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Living on adrenaline.
In my most prolific phase, I found myself so enamored with this series; I could easily paint until four or five in the morning. I often
worked on several pieces at the same time. Sometimes I would paint by night, and create photo references by day. I once actually
postponed a vacation rather than depart in the middle of a painting.
I can’t help but think that this is a good thing. Undoubtedly, it’s a high. It suggests that your creative juices are racing through your
veins, your brain, and your total being. It means that you are onto something that feels completely relevant to you, and essential
to pursue. During this time, I was consumed with one word: more.
I wish that feeling for every artist.
It’s better than any drug.
Tired vs. Exhausted
There’s a good chance that you’ll feel that you are ready to head towards great undiscovered terrain prematurely. After all, you
are tired of working in the same vein. The lure of the unknown beckons. And yet, I remind myself that painters far more accomplished
than I have cultivated their own signature style over many, many years. Picasso stayed in his blue period for three years.
Roy Lichtenstein created his comic book images for seven. Jackson Pollack continued his splatter work until he died.
I once told a fine artist that I thought it was time for me to move on to the next thing. He disagreed. “No, you are not done with
this,” he advised. And then he told me something rather mystical. “It’s not completely your decision,” he cautioned. “The work
itself will tell you when it’s time to move on. In some way, it will announce to you that this journey is exhausted. You just need to
be attuned, aware, and objective enough to hear it and see it.”
So I continue.
As the Wiz said, “Ease on down the road.”
I still have ideas for a few dozen more paintings in this series. It’s a pipeline, and I am not prepared to jettison it until I find something
that excites me as much. But I am beginning to experiment with other completely new avenues. I did one a few months
ago and liked what it represented. It spurred several ideas in that direction.
Then I went back to my “Art of More Lists.”
Last month, I headed in a completely different direction. That intrigues me as well.
Again, I returned to “Art of Even More Lists.” Obviously, I am not done with it. However, it is telling that I now wish to play in other areas.
Maybe I will never completely leave home.
Despite my apparent fatigue with this series, I have grown very attached to it. It’s been like a marriage. I have given much to it,
and it has given me years of happiness and artistic growth in return. The thought of never doing another list truly saddens me.
So I will not say goodbye to it. By the same token, I cannot feel trapped. In the vernacular of shrinks, perhaps it is time for a more
mature, open relationship. My current thinking is that I will continue to create work in this series, but I will definitely explore new
artistic avenues. Maybe one will speak to me, and demand my full attention.
Part of me really hopes so.
Part of me also knows that when that occurs it will be one bittersweet day.
John Nieman is a fine artist who lives in the United States. He worked for many years in marketing before turning his considerable
visual talents to professional art. His work has been included in a number of national and international shows.
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