© Peggy Magovern
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If I had to describe myself in one sentence, it would read, "A half-deaf, self-taught, evolving, seeking, and ever-searching-for-my-personal-vision...artist." Whew. Evolving still, where I am today as an artist was not achieved by traveling a simple journey of drawing practice, practice, practice and the careful study that goes with it. In fact, if I had known what this journey would have really been like, I might have been discouraged by seeing what lay ahead. But as I look back, I can only say that I am grateful for every disappointment, for every set-back, and for all those times of utter stagnation. It was because of those less than happy times that I would come to realize one of the most important tasks of my journey - self-reflection. I would find that there's nothing like those negative emotions to kick-start some self-discovery into gear. Sure, an artist has to become familiar with the tools of the trade and hone various techniques over time. But what wasn't so easy to become familiar with, at least in my case, was discovering my personal vision, creativity, and insight into, well, my heart and soul. Without challenging some deeper vision, I remained "safe" in the familiar. I was familiar with a way of creating my art and stayed comfortable. So much so that it was like a heavy Winter-weight comforter pressing down on artistic creativity. Sure, I produced art, but the seeking-artist within me was restricted in movement. It was like being asleep for years. How in the world did I allow that to be OK? Well, some things are better explained by looking at history. As a young child, I always had a pencil in my hand because drawing was fun. But I also drew because it was my first means of positive communication. As someone born with a 50% hearing loss, I felt more at ease being a solitary, quiet child. I often misunderstood conversation or didn't hear someone call out to me in the first place. In my childhood, hearing aids were not digital - they were quite crude. I couldn't understand speech very well because my brain did not develop the skill of identifying sounds with meaning, That is, cognitive skills never materialized. Fortunately, my drawings started many conversations that I wouldn't have had the confidence to start on my own, and gradually, I became less solitary. My high school art teacher told me that I should direct my own drawing class, so while I assisted my fellow students, my own learning process continued as self-taught. Colored pencils and graphite were my tools. My singular goal was being a more skillful duplicator of the world around me and I applied a great deal of practice to that end. Nothing wrong with that, of course. I truly loved realism from the start, and still do. It's just that I didn't know anything else. After college, I worked as a commercial artist for a number of years. My job was perfect for what I already knew...duplicate the world around me as a realistic artist. I expanded my skills with colored pencils for projects primarily in fashion, product illustration, and publishing. It was lucrative and I had national projects due to artist representation in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. Again, I was hired to draw what I saw. Detail, replication, and exactness were the focus. I worked for clients that included Banana Republic, The Smithsonian, HBO, The Wall Street Journal, Newsweek, and Sports Illustrated. Again, I loved realism and I was paid to NOT do anything else. Some years later I was asked if I would consider teaching. I welcomed the idea, but realized that to teach, I needed to convey to others what I did, how I did it, what process I used, how to trouble-shoot, and how to achieve realistic results. Funny, all this time I was going through the motions of what I knew to do without ever thinking about what I actually knew! Very revealing. I had no concept of the information that was stored in my mind until I had to organize and describe it! I grew to love teaching and gradually pulled away from commercial illustration. As an extra bonus, I had time to work on fine art. Prior to that time, working 8 hours a day, 5 days a week drawing for clients left me too tired to think about drawing after hours. I found that teaching realism was a familiar and comfortable next phase in my career in that realism had always been my life-long, singular focus. I was thrilled with the advancement of my students, but knew that I had to be on-my-toes to keep them challenged. So after some years as an instructor, I had this nagging thought that would become, well, unsettling. Why was I not challenging myself? My students were being courageous when I asked them to face creative obstacles, so why haven't I ventured out of my own comfort zone? For the first time, I felt that I needed to do something different than what I've always done, and that is when I faced the most difficult, frustrating, and disappointing period as an artist. Yes, I needed to challenge myself, but how? In what way? And what did that even look like on paper? It was frustrating to think that there was something that needed to be developed, but not knowing what that "something" was. After many attempts, trials, and errors, I became flustered into utter stagnation. Finally, during one of those long stares at a blank sheet of paper, an answer came to me. I seemed to be afraid to express myself artistically to the world around me. I was afraid to create a different type of art, something that spoke for me personally, and not find approval in the public eye. When I really thought about it, it was the same thing as being afraid to speak up as a person. Well, I couldn't imagine going through life without a voice, an opinion, or a point of view, even if people didn't agree with me. So why would I allow that to be the case with my art? Isn't the living, breathing, human artist supposed to be connected with their art? Ah, the floodgates opened. I wanted to join the creative world where all perspectives, negative or not, are worthy of conversation. So today, the artist within me communicates with the work I create and I welcome viewers to add to the discussion. Expressing moods and emotions in my art was achieved by getting out of my own way. I met the challenge by relaxing, and I started to render free-form, uninhibited strokes of color for passion, and gentle glazing over detail for mystery. Finally, I stopped the urge to "finish" every detail so that the viewing public has chance to interpret the image for themselves. But I know better how hard it is for me to stay fluid, so I deliberately prevent myself from doing preliminary sketches, or look for assistance with digital tools of the trade. I don't "map" out the placements of my color layers in the background, or where creative distortions are placed on the portrait. I avoid all that because this new, more authentic art I'm creating is fairly new. So instead, I create the work by moving along as the image emerges...adding, taking away, adding again, turning the work upside-down, working in less than good lighting, and so on. The realism that I love is still there, but now it has become a part of the greater whole. In short, for me to keep challenging myself, I need to keep learning about myself. For art can be as deep and as complex as one's history, one's perspective on life, and even one's dreams. |
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