It has been awhile since my last post. I am working on myself, and it is difficult. Finding that change is necessary, I have enlisted the help of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. In addition to spending my free time meditating, I have made a Buddhist Prayer Flag, which I have hung in my office at my day job. It is all about not giving in to the same actions that have brought the same results for years. Dog-faced Buddha is working overtime, flapping her bony wings to get from here to there.
This is only my second woodcut. The first came out fairly well and is on exhibit from May 15-July 24 in the Members show at the Printmaking Council of New Jersey. That first woodcut, printed, of a Bodhisattva warrior, can also be found on my wiki: http://elisedod.pbwiki.com/Art
I wanted to add as little paint as possible to this image. I think I achieved the balance I was after; just the right amount of canvas left white and the right amount of paint applied to keep the imagery fresh. In seeing it again, I am most pleased with the hand on the right. It conveys the stains on one’s hands, even when one tries to be good. It seems to be throbbing in pain, which is a good thing for this painting.
I have been reading about Tanrokubon. The Japanese name derives from the three colors most often used in their execution. They are books that were composed of woodcuts which were then hand colored inexpertly, and very often by family members of the pressman, to keep costs down. There is a real roughness about them that intrigues me. They fit into my desire to allow emotional content to rise easily to the surface of a work. Here is my simple and inexpertly colored drawing of the Dog-faced Buddha with her hand in the hole on top of a fetus’s head, with the Buddha of lovingkindness pouring down her goodness from the heavens.
I went to the opening of Fish Show II at Christyl Cusworth’s Swan Creek Gallery last night. I met some nice people, saw some terrific art by local artists, and had a great time. I had painted some dead fish a while back, and served them up on a platter. On my way back home, the light over the nearby cemetery was amazing. And, even better, look who greeted me at the door:
I am revisiting my childhood: never a good idea, I know; but I am trying to bring loving kindness to an unkind and angry past. That is the best way to fill the void. The painting is difficult because of the ugly emotional content and the continuous rising of more emotions when thinking back. The symbolism seems to stretch on forever, and the layering of imagery within this work has continued for months. Of course, revisiting the past creates a mirroring of the present, and I think of all of the anger I feel now towards all sorts of people who have nothing whatever to do with me personally. I have allowed them to fall into the trajectory of my life, and like the wounds of my childhood, I have intrajected them into my psyche. What a bother. This painting will most likely never be finished.
Perhaps it is fear which motivates us to see others as animals or grotesque creatures. I had been reading books about witches when I made these drawings. I can see why we persist in creating scary monsters. We are still faced with war, terrible violence and disease, albeit less of it now. Still, the world is a fearful place. I know I feel fear when faced with the “other”. Although, in my case, as a woman and a lesbian, the other is the “man”, the one with power, or perceived power, who can ruin the environment, or on a smaller scale, squash one’s dignity and dreams, if we let him/her. So, it is actually great fun, and a small pay-back, for me to create these, and I take pleasure in viewing them.
and we didn’t need salvation? I went this route with Malcolm X because I thought about his violent end, and all of the violence in the world. Buddhism is an antidote to violence. I remember reading how over time the spread of Buddhism in certain parts of Asia helped to stop the spread of hostilities amongst different groups. The creature at the bottom of the painting was found in Edward Topsall’s Historie of foure-footed beastes. The description I found of the beast moved me. I think it poignantly describes what often happens to those who work to save humanity:
When hee perceiveth that hee is pursued by the Huntsman, hee gets his young ones upon his backe, and with his taile, which is very long and broad, he covereth them, and so flying, provideth both for his owne, and their safetie; neither can he be taken by any other way but by pits, which those Savage men use to digge in the places neere which he is to runne, into which at unawares hee tumbles headlong.
The more graphic style of this work has a lot to do with my day job at Princeton. I see a lot of woodcuts and I have come to admire the shorthand approach to illustration that I have seen. It corresponds nicely with my desire to simplify the painting process, making it more direct, and I hope, more clearly an emotional experience for the artist and viewer alike.
I was inspired by some work I had seen at the alternative art fair in Florida during Art Basel. Artists were creating alter egos, and this coincided with my identifying more and more with my dog, Sammie. I wanted to create a painting that would allow me to explore experiences that still haunt me, but I wanted to do it as a Buddha. Since I am nowhere near Buddha status, I selected a doggie as myself. Saying I am a dog-faced Buddha allows me to be both low and high, experiencing life from both vantage points. I won’t get into any of the other imagery in this work. Instead, I will paraphrase a favorite expression of my mother’s, when speaking of her children: Some things should be seen, rather than heard.
I thought this painting was a symptom of my falling off the Buddhist wagon for a while. Now, I think it combines the influence of the Buddhist literature I have been reading with my innate sense of the wrongness of so much of the work-a-day world. Before I started to read about Buddhism and meditate, I felt that so much of our efforts are for naught. Life just keeps knocking us down, no matter what we accomplish. That is a lousy way to look at life. So I have tried hard to temper it with this: love everyone because we are all suffering. Open your heart to everyone, and they will open their hearts to you, and before you know it we will all be in a better place, one filled with love and harmonious relationships. The Bodhisattva in this painting is suffering, but she is sharing her love, and her merde with us all: illustrating the worst of both ways of thinking.