What are the springs of art?

I have been prompted to ask myself this question by the examples of their recent work which some of my friends have put up on their facebook pages. One of them has changed his style of work completely, and has begun producing pictures which have a very sombre feel to them. As his painting is always completely abstract it is not possible to identify any obvious narrative intention, but I could not help but be struck by an obvious change of mood. The natural question to ask is whether his art now reflects a personal and a common response to our current crisis.

Another friend has been working a seam of inspiration for some time now that is probably best described as “Pennine weather” studies. Stormy skies loom over what is evidently the landscape of West Yorkshire. There is always a sense, however, that brightness is breaking through the turbulent clouds. (Perhaps that is why he sells so well!)

It is temp[ting to resort to some fairly crude psychology is both of these cases. The first friend has had a hard time of it, taking to painting after the loss of his job, and this is perhaps reflected in a general tendency towards depression. The other is relishing both his retirement from his former occupation and a recent remarriage. I think of him as a naturally buoyant character.

It is fun, of course, playing the amateur psychologist, but I was compelled to ask how questionable this approach might be when I spent a little time today looking at some of my own work. I have to admit that I recognise the fact that a fair bit of what I do might be characterised by a certain detached intellectualism. You could describe a good deal of it as “symbolist”. It isn’t hard to find a link between this interpretation and my former occupation as an academic. Nevertheless, I was surprised to look at my latest piece this afternoon, still sitting on the easel, which is far more emotional, with a “light at the end of the tunnel” feel about it. Now, where does that come from?

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