Narrowing my art and reading focus
When taking up a new artistic pursuit, conventional wisdom suggests a period of experimentation: try every medium, explore diverse subjects, and avoid commitment. This advice has merit in the beginning stages.
After diving into painting last year and exploring landscapes, still lifes, architecture, and figure painting across various media, I've come to recognize both the benefits and limitations of this scattered approach.
For those who begin creative pursuits later in life, as I did, the awareness of finite time creates an urgency that makes singular focus not just appealing, but necessary. There’s only so much time, resources and energy one can pour into an artistic life. And honestly, I really want to be good at one particular aspect of painting.
What’s become clear to me is that I enjoy painting still lifes and landscapes, but I’m especially intrigued by painting people. More specifically, people in solitude: alone, thinking, silent. And I love painting them on canvas, in oil.
So a few weeks ago, I asked myself: What if I went all in on this theme of solitude? What if I explored how to convey the stillness, the contemplative nature of a person? What if I focused on improving my figure painting skills and studied other painters who’ve done the same?
I know what I’m drawn to, so why keep chasing other things just for the sake of “experimenting”? The truth is, I can experiment within the lane I choose. That realization feels aligned with my temperament. I’d rather go deep than skim the surface. I’ve been told once or twice, I can hyper-fixate on things. Why not lean into this?
My reading life has followed a similar pattern of scattered exploration. So far this year, I’ve read the following books:
Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo
Essays on Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau and Hannah Arendt
Art on My Mind by bell hooks
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (via audiobook)
There’s no clear thread connecting these books. This is something I’ve always accepted as part of being a mood reader. But lately, I’ve been feeling the same pull toward depth in my reading life as I do in my art. I want to pause the scattered input and go deep on a few themes, to read across time, genre, and geography.
I feel like this is the way to build muscle around intellect. A clear-eyed, unwavering study of a particular subject for the sake of being deeply knowledgeable about that topic.
I’ve decided to pursue the themes of silence, solitude, and time.
These themes didn't emerge out of nowhere. My curiosity about these themes began after a near-death experience in 2017, when a plane I was on nearly crashed. The trauma from that event led to heart surgery to correct an irregular heartbeat.
To help steady myself from the upheaval of both incidents I spent a lot of time reading eastern philosophy books. Around that time, I also studied to become a yoga and meditation teacher. My interest in these themes, stillness, quiet, reflection has been present for years. Now, I want to engage with them some rigor.
Last week, I spent half a day in my local library combing through the catalog for books on silence, solitude, and time. I brought home a tall stack and placed holds on over 20 more. The selections included poetry, literature, and nonfiction. Books written from global and diverse perspectives and mostly written before 1999.
I also did some online research for films, artwork and scientific journals. I want to gather perspectives from ancient texts to modern essays, from philosophy, art and films to poetry.
To help myself stay focused, I designed a loose syllabus to track my reading, set goals, and take notes. I plan to share some of what I learn here on the blog and on Substack, as a way to retain and process what I am reading. I’m giving myself a full year to commit to this self-study.
I suppose this plan, attuning my art practice to one singular focus and creating a structured practice to my reading life will be my own independent study/residency, rooted in things I value: intellect, depth, curiosity and solitude.
I’m curious to see how reading deeply on silence, solitude, and time will influence my painting, and how my painting might, in turn, deepen my understanding of those themes.