Thinking Through Art

I am taking a course called Thinking Through Art at the University of Southern Maine. We have several assignments which call for us to "arrange something." I challenged myself to arrange pieces of fabric, limiting those pieces to one geometric shape (e.g., circles, squares, etc.). As I played around with various shapes in my sketchbook, I was intrigued by a group of rectangles that looked like tree trunks. I pulled out a number of “trunk-colored” fabrics and cut them into rectangles. I chose a grey/white fabric for the background, thinking of the snowy woods around me.
From there, I began moving the rectangles around the background, auditioning the various brown, tan, gray, and black fabrics. At one point in the process, the grey/white background was completely covered; I liked that look. The blacks took me deeper into the woods than the snowy fabric did. So, I cut a new background out of a black print. This worked much better.
But something was missing. There was no focal point – just a bunch of tree trunks. Then, I remembered an image that I had seen several days before. Late afternoon sun was hitting a grouping of trees. That was my next inspiration. Back to my fabric stash to find sunlight-hitting- trees fabric. The red with gold highlights was the perfect choice. I cut several rectangles of red/gold and placed them randomly on the background with the other rectangles.
The next step was one that is very important in my art process. I leave my work out on my studio table where I can see it for several days. I simply live with the raw materials, in draft form. I am not trying to ‘make it work’ during this time. I have to get out of my logical thought patterns which tell me that tree trunks must grow in such and such a particular way and that they surely are not red! I let the material speak to me, telling me how it would like to be.
Over those days, I moved the rectangles around quite a bit – first here, then there, taking some away, adding others, straightening, tilting, turning upside down – until they finally settled into place. As always, the trick is to know when it is done. For me this is much more a gut feel than an intellectual knowing. The piece simply feels right.
The final step was the technical crafting of sewing each piece into place, attaching a binding, batting, and backing. (If this assignment was other than “arrangement,” I would have added paint to the piece to darken some areas and bring out other areas.)
As I was sewing the piece, I reflected upon a title for the piece: 5:00 PM January. This brings additional meaning to my work in terms of my life. 5:00 PM is the sunset time, and I am moving into the later years of my life (I’ll be 59 this month). However, January is a time of new beginnings, and I have committed to living more fully, making more art, playing more, loving more. While the trees and the woods are mostly darkened, there is a brightness, a golden light, reflected right in front of me; and I am willing to step into that light, undaunted.
This begs the question: did the artist intend these meanings? Truly, the meaning came out of the artwork, rather than the artwork being created to express a certain meaning. This is generally my process. Even when I start with an intention, the nuances of the finished piece come out of the working with the materials. For me, this distinguishes my art from simply crafting a piece.