Taryn Day

Beginning in January of 2008, I began a new process of completing several small paintings in one week, most of them completed in one day. I'd become intrigued with the new and popular "daily painting" movement as recorded on countless artist's blogs, and decided to begin to work in a similar way.

I was attracted to the idea of being forced to work quickly and without much time for backtracking and correction. �I thought that limiting the time spent on one painting to a single session, whether lasting two hours or seven, would cause my work to become more fresh, spontaneous, and- most importantly- imbued with emotion.

For the past twenty five years, I've typically spent weeks or even months on my oil paintings. I would usually begin them with large brushes and lots of broad enthusiasm, but end up using the tiniest brushes available, intent on capturing the most delicate play of light on various surfaces. At the same time I've always had an envy of artists who work more impulsively, but thought I didn't have the right sort of temperament. Yet here I am, having the time of my life painting only those aspects of a scene that really grab me, while leaving the rest behind.

I work with the most intensity while painting outdoors, since the changing light forces me to finish up in a little over two hours. I have a fondness for sweeping views, and find the challenge of focusing on only the essential elements to be exhilarating but also a little maddening. Days later, after the memory of the details of the scene have faded, I will often begin to appreciate the forcefulness of my interpretation.

In working quickly I've learned to work with more intensity and stronger feeling, while letting go of the need to impress by a painstaking- sometimes even painful- rendering of reality. I'm drawn to unexpected juxtapositions in my compositions, and no longer let myself work so long on a piece that I lose that feeling of a strange and surprising, yet honest reality.

I still feel as though I'm on a quest for the perfect small painting. I'm using the word perfection wryly, since aiming for perfection has not always been beneficial for my work. I've begun to realize that painting is not about the absence of flaws. Painting is about being fully awake, and fully aware of a larger world outside yourself. At best it is an act of spiritual renewal.