Why Water? Exploring the Artistic Flow of Life and Memory
I’m currently working on a series of paintings about water. But the other day, I had a WTH moment, trying to figure out what the heck I’m doing, what’s my purpose, and where is this headed, somewhat of a mini existential crisis about my work. As artists, we all have those moments, whether we share them publicly or not. I realized I needed to sit down with the work I had already created in this series and journal to hear their voices.
Sounds woo-woo, doesn’t it?
Frankly, there’s nothing wrong with a little woo! But this process is based very much in reality. In grad school, I had a professor who had a very concrete way of processing your art. You wrote about your literal process -“I painted circles in pale white and pale blue. They overlapped the watery cobalt blue and faded under the earthy red oxide block.” And so on. It doesn’t sound very exciting, but through journaling about your actual process, you can see the connecting threads. They begin to reveal themselves in your words.
You start asking yourself, why did I do that? I was also asking myself, why water? It’s always why. You ask one question. You answer. And then you ask why. It’s getting to the deepest center that you can to reveal the truth of your work. It’s not easy and can be quite daunting. You may not even get to an answer right away. But it will come when it’s ready.
Through The Marsh, 30×40, mixed media on canvas
A friend and I have a running joke about all of my artwork. I’ll ask him what he sees, and he says, “Water.” He isn’t wrong! It appears in a lot of my paintings, whether I intend to or not.
In this series, many paintings seem to be inspired by the ocean. However, I will have inspiration from lakes, ponds, rivers, and creeks. I feel deeply connected to water. It’s a constant presence throughout my life, and many of my childhood memories are centered around water experiences.
I always wanted to be a mermaid - to live in the water surrounded by the underwater world. It always felt magical to me. My favorite childhood movie was (is) The Little Mermaid by Disney. (I won’t lie, I can sing every song.)
We were always fishing, boating, swimming, tubing, clamming…every vacation to Maine, we stayed near a body of water. Or we took trips to the water. We would go to what we called “the rocks” near my Grammie’s house. We would take our minivan and drive down this extremely steep hill onto a plateau of sand and gigantic rocks usually covered by the ocean. You could only go when the tide was out; otherwise, it was nothing but water.
We would climb on these gigantic rocks and discover the little tide pools in the rock depressions and gaps. They were always full of minnows, little crabs, snails, barnacles, shells, and mussels clinging to the sides of the rock. There was also yellowed, dirty green seaweed everywhere. You had to watch your step, or you would go sliding painfully down! The smell was brackish, fishy, salty, but fresh and bracing (I have yet to find a candle that truly expresses the smell of the ocean). The waves would crash against the rocks, spraying us with its foam.
I remember clamming with my Grampie in the mudflats at our cousin’s cabin on the bay. The sulfurous smell of the sucking mud as your boots squelched, the tiny air bubbles popping on the surface indicating a clam treasure below.
My dad had an aluminum fishing boat, and we often took it out on the lakes. Sometimes to fish, sometimes to simply be. We didn’t always trust the boat, considering it had leaks my dad supposedly repaired.
Water is mostly memories of good times.
As I process this series and continue working on it, I’ll share more inside thoughts about it. The next post will explore how this new series of paintings is connected to older work I did in the early 2010’s. If you have questions or thoughts, please send me an email at info@katcollinsstudio.com. I’d love to hear them!
