On January 10, I went to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston to see Sargent’s watercolors, a 92-painting exhibit of works collected by the Brooklyn Museum and the MFA in two bulk purchases in 1909 and 1912. Despite the crowds, I experienced none of the usual museum fatigue. Each painting presented an irresistable invitation to get as close and linger as long as museum etiquette allows. Every single one. And mostly, I accepted. I barely noticed the subject matter and composition of the paintings, although they were pleasing and perfect, respectively. The light in all of them was spectacular, of course. But what jumped out at me most was Sargent’s confidence.
Watercolor is a very fast and unforgiving medium. Make a mistake, and it stays there, staring at you. The more you fight it, usually, the more obvious it becomes. Of course, the paintings in this exhibit are Sargent’s pick, unlikely to be mistake-riddled. But if he had other watercolors that were ‘mistakes,’ these paintings make it clear that those mistakes fuelled rather than diminished his confidence. There is no hesitation in his brush, no concern about sketch lines persisting in incongruous places, no consistent or calculated balance of detail and abstraction, no set technique. Instead, he plays. In some, wax resist adds areas of highlight. In a few, he leaves swaths of blank paper. In others, he adds thick daubs of opaque watercolor. Some have dry strokes of color, others wet and bleeding washes. I invariably found myself looking across the room and saying silently, “That one is so much more detailed than the rest,” only to move closer and find an almost completely abstract collection of lines and color.
Up so close, you can feel his energy. Some brustrokes are smaller, more concentrated, more detailed — a hovering, calculated, controlled energy. Others (and frankly most), are sweeping, with nothing held back. You get the sense that he spent a lifetime learning but only moments to create each painting. The written descriptions in the exhibit multiple times referenced Sargent’s work ethic, saying that for him vacations meant endless painting. You can tell from these watercolors that painting was not work for him, but still it is clear that his confidence is a result of both artistic genius and an enormous time investment.
I found myself wondering why I do not spend more time painting. It is not work for me. Yet I have invested very little time recently. I have no delusions of reaching Sargent’s level of mastery. But these paintings have inspired me to build my confidence by painting (and sketching) more frequently and, just as important, by playing more while I paint. I expect — and frankly hope — to create some ugly paintings along the way, because otherwise I’m not doing it right. And, to keep myself on task, I will use this blog to record and share my progress. I will also use it to share the trials and tribulations of selling art, and to hopefully gain and impart some knowledge on making and displaying art.
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