Inspired by Ted Seth Jacobs

I've been reading several art books simultaneously: some on the C-Train commute to work, some at home, some when I ake a break from one of the others I'm reading.

Most recently, I've been reading Ted Seth Jacobs' first two books: Light for the Artist and Drawing with an open Mind. I consider both indispensable, since both of my primary teachers studied with Ted (as did Tony Ryder, Jacob Collins, and Michael Grimaldi - to name a few prominent artists out there). A lot of it is the same information that my instructors teach, albeit in a slightly different voice. (Tim says he can still hear Ted's voice in his head when he paints - mainly telling him how he's screwing up, from what I gather.)

Reading these books reinforces what I have learned from Tim & Michelle (which they learned in large part from Ted), and every once in a while, a key phrase sticks out: I either hear something for the first time (probably from being too thick when I was in class!), or else just hearing it in different words strikes the inside of my mind like a bell.

Case in point:

"We look at the surface of the picture to see whether the effect we want to suggest is taking place." (Light for the Artist, p. 129.)

Wow!

In other words, check your canvas to make sure that the effect you want to create is actually what it is you are busy doing on the canvas.

Sounds pretty obvious, right?

But I'll tell you, I bet I don't have a specific effect I'm going after as often as I should, and certainly don't (or I should say, "haven't", since I mean to change this immediately!) consciously ask myself if I am achieving the effect I was going after. For example, "am I creating this shadow dark enough yet allowing it to glow?," or "does the light on this face appear to glow compared to the shadow side?" I think I know that I want it to glow, but I'm not asking myself this question explicitly when painting. I think this is a subtle but important distinction.

My usual modus operandi would be to tackle the shadow, attempt to round out of it into the light, and ask myself if I am painting light enough (which I almost never am). But I don't think I'm asking "is this glowing, and if not, how do I make it glow?" Hm. I'm not sure I can articulate why I think it's important to ask myself this while actually making strokes as opposed to having it as a vaguely-formulated goal. Other than, I guess, the problem that vagueness entails.

Another one - this time in Drawing with an Open Mind (p. 29):

"The representational artist allows himself to be constantly surprised by what is seen."

Again - wow!

What an amazing way to live! Imagine being (hopefully pleasantly) surprised all the time by the myriad changing things you were seeing. (Cuz that's basically what Ted is implying: everything is different from everything else, and everything changes from one instant to the next.) Wouldn't that allow us to live with that elusive innocence of children? Imagine walking around, as if you were in a foreign city for the first time and everything is new: Wow, look at that! Check that out! Holy shit, look at that!! It reminds me of the fervent lust for living in On the Road. Which, maybe it's time to read that again. As well as Nature & Madness. (I digress.)

Imagine, too, though, the impact it could have on one's work, to be surprised and overjoyed at the strangeness of the forms one is looking at. It seems to me that it could infuse a certain dynamic energy in one's art, as well as a more organic likeness. (Which, to my thinking, Ted Jacobs carries a bit too far. To be blunt: I barely like anything the guy has done, but I am VERY appreciative of the knowledge he has!)

Anyway, I am going to try to infuse more surprise and variety into my painting and see what I come up with!