What Makes the Art My Own?

I’ve been struggling with a decision about whether to purchase blue pigment or continue using the indigo. While I can source local indigo or grow my own, it isn’t a permanent pigment. Does it matter if I use outsourced pigments? It matters to me because I like using the local colors. I don’t want to take the edge away from what makes my work unique. But what makes the art my own?

For most artists, this is a question about artistic voice. I think that is part of my question here, too. But I doubt many other painters are obsessing over why they use certain colors or resources apart from aesthetic questions. My deep, burning question has to do mostly with the identity I’ve built surrounding the source of my pigments.

When I’ve participated in shows, or talk to visitors in my gallery, it’s clear that the idea that I make my paints from the rocks I forage is intriguing to them. It makes them take a closer look. But is that the thing that compels them to buy an original or a print? Or is it just that they like the overall look of my work?

Why it Matters

At the very root of the issue, it’s value and brand identity. If someone purchases one of my original paintings, they’re paying a significant amount of money. I want to be sure that what they get is valuable to them. And I want to be sure that what I think makes the value, is the same as what they feel.

If a tradeoff in favor of longevity means outsourcing a pigment, and that doesn’t subtract from what makes the art valuable, then it simplifies my dilemma considerably.

The question gives me a sort of identity crisis, of the artsy type. I went through this while debating whether to buy a white pigment, too. And once I decided to do so, I’ve not regretted it one instant. The only other color I can’t find a good light fast, permanent source for here is blue. Asiatic dayflower makes a long-term blue stain that I can use in watercolors. But so far, indigo has been the only locally procured thing I can find that works for oils. It’s not ideal, though, because of longevity.

Basically, my concern is with the value of my art, in my collector’s eyes.

So, What ‘Makes’ the Art?

What makes my art, specifically? Is it that my pigments are locally foraged and my paints are handmade? Is it my artist’s voice, or style? Or is it the subjects? Most likely, it is a combination of all of the above. So can I modify a part of my artistly equation and still equal my desired result?

If I stick with the math/chemistry analogy, then whatever I do to one side of the equation, to keep it balanced, I’ll need to also do it to the other… and so if I decide to buy a blue pigment, then it at least needs to be one of the earth pigments, even if it’s not local. And I will still make the paint, myself, by hand. I just need the powder.

Perhaps no one really cares about the source of the pigments at all, or that the paints are handmade. This might just be me making a mountain from a molehill. Nearly all other artists are using the paints they buy from an art supply shop in tubes, and they have no problem offering value to their collectors. I suppose, though, that it matters to ME. And that’s why it’s not an easy decision.

Searching for Blue Earth Pigment

In the interest of research, I decided to see what the options are when it comes to blue earth pigment powders. I do believe the foundation for what makes the art is the earthy feel to it, at least when it comes to my own.

Apparently, I’m facing the same sourcing dilemma as artists of old faced. There aren’t many options when it comes to blue. There’s either manufactured, which began with the Egyptians, and now includes several options of modern manufactured pigments from synthetic sources.

There is vivianite, a mineral that varies from greenish to bluish. Or there is one stone in the entire world that yields a true blue: lapis lazuli.

This, of course, means that true lapis lazuli powder is an incredibly expensive pigment.

The fact that it comes from a stone made my decision to try lapis as my source of blue an easier choice. It definitely adds value in the basis when it comes to authenticity of my work because it’s a true earth pigment. Even if it’s not local. Putting it on my palette adds me to a roster of artists, mostly long dead now, who struggled with the same dilemma.

I found an art supply shop in Texas called Master Pigments who offers a range of grades of lapis powdered pigment. The one I wanted most is one made by an extraction process to get what is called Fra Angelico blue. But it was far above my budget. I settled on a lower grade, but not the lowest, at least. If the budget allows better on my next order, I’ll climb the price ladder until I can reach that heavenly blue I’d prefer.

What Makes the Art? My Approach to It.

It’s important to me to use my local pigments where I can, and we have a nice range of them here. Making my own paints is important, too. Painting Ozark scenes with Ozark pigments matters to me, but outsourcing white and blue isn’t going to significantly alter that overall goal. Well, it would if the painting were done in only blue and white, but that’s not a likely scenario. The color scheme will still be predominantly Ozark in nature.

Whenever I can get around to painting the other things from other places, I have rocks collected from those locations that will give them the same balance.

Using authentic and quality materials in the foundation of my art matters. And I think I am serving my customers better by using a pigment that won’t fade or turn over the years. With lapis lazuli, it is a pigment that honors the origins of my passion – the colors of the earth and how it can be used to create art. This is what makes the art my own, and gives the value to my collectors.

The Land Inspires

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My Own Experience with Making Lapis Lazuli Pigment

My husband brought me a couple of chunks of low-grade lapis from an Afghanistan market while he was working out there years ago. It was the hardest stone I’ve ever crushed, and there’s no way I’d want to make much of this one from scratch again. I’d need different equipment to do it.

However, the blue it creates is INCREDIBLE, and I understand why it is so costly to buy. There is nothing else like it in the world, although the synthetic colors might look close in the end, it’s nothing compared to going from rock to paint beneath the muller on my plate.

I made a tiny bit so I could paint a pelican’s blue eye. When my pigment arrives from Master Pigments, I’ll make a post about making the paint so you can see how incredible the blue is on the mulling plate.