Robert Beck, March 2014
Robert Beck maintains the Gallery of Robert Beck at 204 No. Union St., Lambertville, NJ
www.robertbeck.net (215) 982-0074
People might think that when painting live at an event I slip into some kind of zone, turn on the taps, and watch the magic flow from my fingertips. I wish. Most experienced artists will agree that the best you can do is create an atmosphere where good things might happen and hope Dame Fortune will be punctual.
In this instance I was invited to paint at a fundraising benefit, with the finished image being auctioned the same evening. I’ve done many of these events and at almost every one the schedule failed to take into account the time it takes to do the painting. This function began at 6:00, auction at 7:30. Clearly, the organizers figure I shake paintings out of my sleeve.
I let them know they had to drag their feet on the auction and went to work right away. It was a dinner dance with a great swing band. I was on the fence whether to include the word “Swing” that appeared on the stage backdrop and decided to go with it. The larger issue was how to portray the people on the dance floor. There was more than a crowd to describe, and more than just movement. It was pairs of dancers, each in time with the music.
Let me mention that painting people is not as forgiving as painting, let’s say, trees. With trees you don’t have to be exacting with the limbs. When painting people you have proportion and articulation to consider, and when they are dancing there is action and expression.
So to get back to unleashing the magic, there I was with the clock running and no idea how to paint a floor full of dancing people, but I started anyway. This made folks around me feel I had things under control, and less inclined to ask me questions like, “How are you going to paint with everyone moving around?” Truth is, I just had to figure it out.
I went for quick and simple gestures until I found some that looked dance-like. I would do one in about 30 seconds, wipe it out if it didn’t work, and try another. In a half-hour I had completed the three primary couples I needed. The lady in red and her partner were really good; blue and green were OK. The one in rust was just fair, but they only needed to be in the same dance. The rest of the people were indications. The lady in red makes the statement, and having other dancers’ arms extended like hers tied them all together.
That sounds pretty straightforward but it’s difficult to make analytical judgments when the voices in your head are screaming doom and you really don’t know where or when the saving brushstroke will arrive. But anticipation is in the marrow of painting. If you put yourself out there, keep your process active and open, and entice the genie into your circle of possibilities, she might…just might…reward you with a good dancer or two.
I’ve said many times that I don’t think of my paintings as art, but as a record of the art that happened. When I look at this image I remember leaving the event and walking out to my car with a feeling of accomplishment. Not just from being able to pull off a credible painting in ridiculously little time, but finding a good answer amid the mental chaos. It’s not something hidden up the sleeve. It’s having made so many mistakes that I know a lot of things that don’t work. It’s keeping focus and not letting myself be bullied by outside expectation. Or doubt. This is the game, and it’s afoot.
As in Kipling’s “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster/and treat those two imposters just the same,” life is what’s happening now, and whether good or not so good it’s something to be worked through and not wasted. Same with art. Not wanting to discover things strikes me as the real disaster. So even though there are a couple of hundred people who have been told I’m going to do a crackerjack painting in no time at all, and my subject is constantly changing position, I get on with it. The worst that can happen is not that I do a crappy painting today or tomorrow, the worst is that someday I will not be able to paint, and that day is going to come. When it does I get to tell that imposter that it arrived too late.
Hoofing It
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