So, I’d been feeling like my own creative stuff was stuck in a major rut. You know that feeling? Like you’re just going through the motions. I kept seeing these abstract paintings by so-called famous artists, and honestly, my first thought was usually, "Seriously? My kid could do that." Or, "What a load of nonsense."
But then, a nagging thought started. What if I was just being ignorant? What if there was actually something to it that I was missing? So, I decided, right, I’m going to actually try this. Not just look, but try to get my hands dirty. See if it’s really as easy as I thought, or if these "famous artists" were onto something.
My Brilliant Idea: Let's Get Abstract
First off, I figured I needed some inspiration, or maybe some targets. I started digging around online, looking at the big names. You know, Kandinsky, Pollock, Rothko, Mondrian. Their stuff is… well, it’s out there. Pollock with his splatters, Rothko with his big fuzzy rectangles of color. Mondrian with his grids. Seemed like a mixed bag of "huh?"
I didn't want to just copy them, that felt pointless. The idea was to understand what the heck they were doing, or at least trying to do. So, I read a little bit about them. Some of it was pretty high-falutin' art speak, but I tried to get the gist.
Getting My Hands Dirty (Literally)
Okay, so research is one thing, doing is another. I decided to start with something that looked deceptively simple: those color field paintings, kinda like Rothko. Big blocks of color, right? How hard could that be?
Well, turns out, pretty hard.
- First attempt: I just grabbed some cheap acrylics and slapped a couple of colors next to each other on a canvas board. Looked awful. Flat, boring, like a badly painted wall. Nothing like the images I’d seen where the colors seemed to glow or vibrate.
- Second attempt: I read that these guys used layers, thin washes of paint. So I tried that. Better, but still… meh. Getting the edges soft, making the colors interact instead of just sitting there – that was the tricky bit. It wasn’t just about picking colors; it was about how they felt together. Took ages, and a lot of paint.
Then I thought, "Alright, Mr. Tough Guy, let's try Pollock." The splatter king. This has got to be fun, right? Just fling paint around. So, I got a bigger sheet of cheap canvas, put it on the floor of my garage (thankfully), and went for it. Used some old house paint thinned down, sticks, brushes, my hands even.
Total chaos. Paint everywhere. My initial "splatters" were just big, ugly blobs. There was no rhythm, no depth. It looked like a paint factory exploded. I looked at Pollock’s actual work again and realized, damn, there's a structure in his chaos. There are layers, a sense of movement that isn't just random. He wasn’t just chucking paint; he was dancing with it, controlling the uncontrollable, or so it seemed. My attempt was just a mess. A big, sticky mess.
So, What Did I Actually Learn?
After a few weekends of making messes and feeling like a clueless wannabe, a few things started to click.
Firstly, that dismissive "my kid could do that" line? Total garbage. Sure, a kid can make marks, but the intent, the control (even in apparent chaos), the understanding of materials, the sheer bloody-mindedness to develop a unique style – that’s different. These artists spent years honing their craft, their vision. It wasn't an accident.
Secondly, abstract art, or at least the stuff by these famous dudes, isn't always about painting a thing. It's about an idea, an emotion, a sensation. Rothko wanted you to be enveloped by color. Pollock was apparently all about the process, the energy. It’s a different language. And like any language, you gotta learn the grammar before you can speak it, let alone write poetry.
I also realized that trying to replicate their specific style was less important than understanding the principles behind it. Things like:
- How colors interact and create mood.
- The importance of texture (or lack thereof).
- Composition, even when it looks like there isn't one.
- The physical act of painting itself.
I’m not saying I suddenly became an abstract art convert who loves everything. Some of it still leaves me cold. But I have a newfound respect for the process and the artists. It’s not just random marks on a canvas. There’s usually a whole lot more going on beneath the surface.
And you know what? Mucking about with abstract ideas, even if my results were mostly destined for the bin, actually did shake up my own creative thinking a bit. It forced me to think beyond the literal, which was the whole point of the exercise for me. So, yeah, it was a worthwhile mess to make.
