The Art of Compassion
Spoken to a group of mathematicians and scientists, I presented “The Art of Compassion.” This is the full transcribed speech.
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Hello my name is Katie Melzer, and my project is titled “The Art of Compassion”
Through this project, I focused on the deconstruction of the artistic process and how the physical act of layering contributes to the meaning of the work as a whole. Art is reflective of life, and this is analyzed through the process of building skills, making sketches, translating ideas, all culminating in layers of paint.
This past year- I was mortified to start college. I realize that’s not exactly an original experience, but it was one that truly freaked me out. As I was packing up my belongings in a nostalgic fit of rage- I came across a giant stack of my old notes from school. I flipped through them and noticed this strange pattern- that from elementary school to my senior year of high school- at the top of every page… there would be a doodle. Nothing extravagant- nothing too original either- but there was always something there…
Do you remember sitting in class, and filling in every “O” in the title of your paper? I’m not sure why almost every kid did it- but I do know that it froze a moment in time. A scribble tells a whole story if you think about it, one where you were so bored or sleepy while sitting around a group of classmates, you put your head in your hands, and with droopy eyes, colored in an “O”.
Imagine you’re an artist, and you have the skill to draw well- to doodle well. You’re sitting in a math class and you finish a problem early. What do you doodle on your notes? See, in my case, I doodled my reaction to every problem that I was given. Documenting my emotions throughout every class, through every problem. I don’t even remember doing any of this- but I find it pretty hilarious in retrospect. This girl really does not like math. I suppose we still have that in common- me and little me.
Now where am I going with all this doodle talk? I find them interesting, a bit goofy, yes we’ve clarified that. But now I want you to take a hard left and think about cave paintings. Our history as ancient human beings was depicted by doodles on dark cave walls. These are stick figures. See, cave paintings are a direct example of something bridging the gap between science and art. These paintings are being scientifically studied, while also containing humor and stories through art, that humanize people from so long ago. Suddenly the caveman is a father, and the kids are playing with a rock they found outside. Let’s turn right now, what about classic literature? We’re talking about Dostoevsky, Wilde, Dickens, and Salinger- I read them for their philosophy and discoveries but I also found humor. These highly intelligent authors saw humor as something important- so why do we brush it off now so quickly? Jokes and sarcasm served a purpose that humanized them, to encourage a break from the seriousness. To me, humor might be the most serious-unserious thing in the world. So, even in my most serious work as an artist, I’ll always leave room for a doodle, and in my writing, I'll always leave room for a joke.
My painting process starts with a million silly doodles (typically done in class but you didn’t hear that from me). I don’t take them too seriously, I do them because I like to. Sometimes one will stick in my head, so I’ll go back and refine it. At this point, I build compositions, which aim to direct the eye in a specific pattern. Think of Degas with ballerinas and the way they point their toes and arms toward each other, spinning your eyes around in circles. Compositions give an artist temporary control over the viewer, they're important to get right. Then I color swatch with complementaries in mind- which are colors opposite from one another (best described with sports teams like the Bears or the Lakers). When starting the painting, I coat the canvas in a diluted acrylic wash- covering every fiber of the blank canvas. And I drip, splatter, and scratch at the paint to add a bit of chaos, or energy under the painting-because I think it would feel dull if I didn’t. With this painting, you can see some of these scratches if you look really close, and I painted over a few as well. The chaos throws me off balance and forces me to adapt to the changes. So I make a new plan, with a new composition relying purely on my own impulsive judgment.
This process I have is not efficient. It’s long and more difficult than it should be. Yet, I find It’s the only way I can consistently take risks in my work and abandon my plans. If things go wrong or I make a choice I regret… I paint over and I adapt to my new situation. There will always be an art in trusting your gut.
These doodles are so incredibly personal to me, as ridiculous as they may be. I thought the references would be too niche and people wouldn’t be able to connect with the work- but the opposite happened. Through these ridiculously specific references- people were connecting with these doodles and everything became personal by default. Humanity finds ways to connect us all together and I’m glad to have been a part of remembering other people's nostalgia.
When I was a realistic artist, I would paint a sad face and get a sad reaction. I was used to appealing to a common audience and receiving common reactions. It felt insincere to me, my own work, and people's reactions to it. Yet, through this set of pieces I started putting more of myself into these paintings. I got reactions where people would tell me about their dogs. They would tell me about playing video games in their basement, or their first school prom. When I started to paint more for myself, I found that I could learn more about people all around me. I was painting for everyone without knowing anything about them. I found that their interpretations, although different from my own, were just as valid as mine when finding a meaning for the painting itself.
For most of my oil painting career, I specialized in portraiture, and I have painted… a lot of faces. It’s something I always loved. I was a spectator drawn to people, I just liked learning about other people's lives- but I also started to miss the chaos of painting without structure. Every human head is made with the same bones and anatomy and I found my sketchbook pages getting crammed- more chaotic- more colorful. Faces started to grow distorted all because I was bored of something I still loved with all my heart. I just wanted to find a different way of expressing human nature.
Going into college- I didn’t know what kind of painter I was. I got trapped in this allusion of what I thought I was- (a portrait artist) and that directly fought against what I really wanted to do- which was not based so much on skill. In all this confusion, I stepped back from painting and started writing more. Most artists tell you to never stop drawing, but I was digging myself into a hole and needed to express myself somewhere else. And I learned the silliest thing, I learned that in writing, just as in art- people have styles, they have certain noticeable ways of saying things in their own voice. So, I looked at the first page in my sketchbook- which hadn’t ever even seen the light of day- and I committed to it. It was my voice, and I wanted people to hear it. That was “The Art of Compassion” I made.
As for the meaning of the piece, I’ve always put a lot of thought into the creative process. I reference it here in a way that’s quite meta. The artistic process can easily be applied to real life. They both encourage you to trust your gut, and force you to make choices. Some choices required me to destroy my favorite parts of the painting. But in the end It was for the better of the painting in its entirety. I got thinking about choices and the choices I or you make every day. Like returning a loose grocery cart roaming around in a parking lot. We might not know what we’re doing- but we can trust that some of our choices are doing some good in the grand scheme of things. Because finding empathy in the nooks of life is its own art form. Expressing compassion is a result of recognizing these spaces, and then choosing to act kindly within them. I doodle with care in the corners of my homework, books, and sketches- and I hope to find the same blank spaces to fill with kindness in the corners of my life.
People are defined by their choices, whether they are driven by spirituality, fear, or selfishness. Choices are what define us as our own person. When I see an “O” filled in on a random page of notes I can’t help but crack a smile. I could choose to stay at home because I'm afraid of nukes and monsters standing outside my door, or choose to wear red because it’s my favorite color although I'm not sure how I feel about it making me stand out in a classroom.
So, with all the sincerity of a middle school doodle, I choose to continue to create because it makes me happy, and I hope people will continue to tell me all the stories that make them human.
