A Painter's Musings on the Visual World

“I can still sing in my brain.” The young singer we once knew is still recognizable inside the 72-year-old woman who spoke about her former life.  Linda Ronstadt has Parkinson’s Disease, did her last performance 10 years ago before she was even diagnosed and spoke with acceptance about the decision to end her career when her voice began to deteriorate. “I did not want to charge people for that.” 

She spoke about her love of performing and about being a perfectionist. The decision to end her career when that still perfect (to us) voice faltered was understandable. It is the nightmare of every artist – musical or otherwise – to lose that one thing we love doing more than anything else. Ronstadt had pretty much achieved everything there was to achieve in the music business and leaves behind volumes that people will listen to for a very long time. But it never was about achievements and she was not ready to be finished. It was simply the act of singing that she loved. She was asked if other people could hear the problem with her voice. “I could hear it. It wasn't any fun anymore …”

 Jane Chapin  "Pecos Pueblo Study"  9 x 12

I went back to the Pecos Pueblo to paint this week. I was not on any particular mission. It was simply a good day to be painting with a friend and I wanted to improve on my last attempt. This time I wanted the warm notes in the foreground to harmonize with the earth tones in the adobe. In my last effort there was a winter storm coming, I rushed to finish a 6 x 8 and the composition was wrong. And no matter if someone said I had nailed it, I knew I had not. I liked this one better but I could still go back and do it many times more hitting different notes each time. Plein air is the uncertainty of a live performance compared to the controlled environment of the studio and with each live performance you get to know the material a little better. Most of my plein air "performances" are not intended for an audience unless I am using them to make a point on an art blog like this. 

Jane Chapin,   Pecos Pueblo Study 2,   6 x 8

Ronstadt talked about the song “Blue Bayou”, how difficult it was to sing, how many times she performed it and yet was often not happy with the result.  Boy, did that sound familiar. How many times we can paint a challenging subject and inject a new note – looking for just the right one to make it work. 

Recently I have heard from many of my artist friends about the nagging thought that tells us to give up what we love. Fatigue, the changing market and its demands all take their toll. We make concessions, change our habits and schedules or paint in shorter sessions.  If sales dip and our studio inventory piles up, we question our goals and whether it “makes sense” to continue. But despite our occasional threats, we know we will not quit as long as we are still able. After painting the pueblo, my friend Rita and I were walking a two-mile path through the historical park – a moderate hilly trail that would have been effortless a few years earlier. What is great about painting is that while our physical ability may change our painting skills can still sharpen. It just does not seem right to quit. Rita said “We talk about quitting painting but we know we are not going to do it.”. We continue to search for the perfect voice in our work and it is the act of painting that we love. 

Rita Cirillo, Pecos Pueblo, 9 x 12 (Used with Permission)

Years ago I was a singer and I often missed performing once I chose to pursue painting. There is a rush to singing that cannot be denied. But those who are talented and driven enough to succeed in the music business are few and far between. Even with talent and drive, success can be fleeting unless your gift is as undeniable as Linda Ronstadt's.  Painters have perhaps the kindest discipline of the arts. There are many of us and we tend to help each other on the way up the ladder as well as support each other.  As we age we can still work as long as we have eyesight and analytical ability to interpret what we see.  Unlike writers, we only have to find one person who wants to buy a painting. It does not depend largely on strength or looks as much as the other arts that seem to favor youth. We do not have to stand on point or worry about wrinkles typecasting us or necessarily do any of it in front of an audience. We have long careers and our voice does not automatically thin with age. Time and repetition are our friends. Even if we have to accept some adjustments, we can continue to move forward.  

I see finished paintings in my brain each time I start a new one even if they do not materialize according to the initial vision. But when “Blue Bayou” plays in my head it is perfect. I hope the voice Linda Ronstadt can still hear in her brain sounds as good.

For more information on Parkinson's disease contact http://www.parkinson.org