Canonized art, those indisputably the best examples of a particular style, and so deeply pleasing, still do not require obvious duplication.
Notice and emulate the human subjects of a Renoir, the blue swirls of Van Gogh, the French delicacy of Monet, and the shadows of faceless, watery Vettrianos, each nudging us to sing their sacred songs.
Know Who You Are.
I am a painter. My style ranges from abstract to impressionist, from sentient beings to the compartments of a cosmic order. Occasional minimalist black and whites, but mostly an inability to stop the pounding waves of color. I use classic brushes, but also sponges, rubber scrapers, and sprays. I rarely know how it’s going to go, even with a vision in mind.
You see, it is not about trying to be Picasso or replicate da Vinci. It is about fusing their spirits with mine, generating an eternal collective of souls, paying homage, visiting graves. We become One. Remnants glitter in ghostly specs across my mind’s museum.
Pay Close Attention, and Study the Impact.
I study the greats, their strokes, their layers, their distortions and perspectives. I study their selection of colors, the itty bitty details, the use of light and shade. I notice the size of the masterpiece and the subtle portions too, a fluttering wink in the stare. What is their resulting affect? How does it make me feel? Even my dreams and meditations bring a kaleidoscope of these fragments now.
Intuition is Your Superpower.
When, and I would argue only if we tap into our own soulful depths, and pause to breathe and listen, we can then gather metaphorical ribbons of the greats and pull them through the weaving of our own creations. In this way, we are tributes, and we alone are likewise still a noble and worthy cause.