The Challenge of Abstract Art

“Destination: Home” mixed media on canvas, 2021. © Sarah JL Nguyen

This week I finished a third commission for a friend of mine. I pondered a few different titles but decided on “Destination: Home.” The first two paintings I did for her were representational watercolors. One was of Campbell’s historic water tower, and the other was of her former home. This time, Jenny requested an abstract in the same vein as “Firsts and Beginnings,” a mixed-media painting I did when I returned to making art after a long break.

This one took me months to complete.

I remember “Firsts” taking long as well, but at the time I placed the blame on being out of the habit. I was rusty back in 2016 when I painted it. I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in over a decade, and while I had been studying graphic design on and off during those in-between years, I had to refresh my memory on the technical aspects of painting and on the construction of mixed-media art. I also just had to feel comfortable creating freely. There was no assignment; I was no longer in school. I only had an internal desire to represent where I came from and where I saw myself going in one painting.

“Firsts and Beginnings” mixed media, 2016. © Sarah JL Nguyen

I didn’t sketch or draw thumbnails in preparation for Firsts. I just went at it, which could have been another reason it took so long. I painted over every inch of the canvas a few times, layering and re-working until I felt the ease that only a sense of gestalt brings. 

For “Destination: Home,” I had notes from a conversation with Jenny about what she wanted. She loved the colors and abstract quality of Firsts, so I tried to keep those elements similar for her painting while integrating elements that were personal to her. As I explained in an earlier blog post, Jenny and her husband left California to purchase their dream home. Unfortunately, because of the Covid-19 pandemic, their already-late honeymoon plans to visit Greece, Venice, and London were on hold indefinitely. Suddenly their new home became their honeymoon destination.

So for this painting, there was a sort of assignment. I referenced my notes to brainstorm concepts and sketched out several different compositions in the sketchbook I reserve for planning abstract pieces. I put together a mood board full of inspiration using Adobe InDesign, including colorful photographs from the places they had wanted to visit. I tried my best to visualize the piece before starting. I tested acrylic paint colors and collected various materials like fabric, watercolor paper, magazine clippings, and twine.

All of this didn’t save me any time once the paint started going down! I still found myself layering, scraping, removing, re-gessoing, and reworking as much as I had in Firsts, if not more. Yes, there was added pressure of making something for a client and not just for myself, but beyond that, I was reminded that sometimes art just takes time. To be clear, I wasn’t actively working on the painting for months; some days and weeks I allowed other projects to take priority, although I always had it visible on my workspace. I’d walk by it every day. Some days, looking at it made me frustrated. Other days, I’d get ideas while showering. It was always on my mind in some way.

I’m still relatively new to doing art as much as I am now, and I’m certain I’ll gain at least a little production speed in the years ahead, but I truly believe there’s value in experimentation and in taking enough time to get something right. For me, slapping paint onto canvas in under an hour, even with some personalized details thrown in, would be inauthentic. This is not to say that other artists can’t create incredible abstract work quickly; there are certainly many who can, and they’re among some of my favorite artists. But for me to attempt that would feel contrary to my personal style. I think the process of iterating and letting a piece evolve will always be something I do. I live for well thought-out detail. 

As a viewer, I love discovering the little Easter eggs artists leave in their pieces. My favorite work in the history of art comes out of the Northern Renaissance, when artists like Hieronymus Bosch and Jan van Eych filled giant altarpieces with mind-blowing detail. In school, we’d spend days studying a triptych like “The Garden of Earthly Delights” to cover the overall story the work depicts as well as each tiny symbol interspersed throughout the composition. We’d learn about the current debates on the artist’s intent and purpose for creating the piece. Back then, it probably would have been quite clear to viewers what the artist was saying. Today we can be as explicit or as guarded as we like in our art.

“The Garden of Earthly Delights” oil on oak panel by Hieronymus Bosch, 1490 - 1500. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

While I’m not aspiring to include nearly as much detail and symbolism as the old masters did, I do have reasons for making Big Ben peer out at the viewer through a semi-transparent green brick. I do have reasons for making a rock pile morph into the Santorini hillside. These reasons might be completely obvious or they might take a viewer a while to realize. Or they may never be apparent at all, which is okay too. I might make a choice based purely on design reasoning. Abstract art is fun that way. When you’re finally done, it can simultaneously be exciting and terrifying to show others the finished piece. Will they see what you intended them to see? Will they see something completely different that you didn’t anticipate at all? Will they see something better than what you had in mind? These are all possibilities, and you never really know until you put it out there. 

My hope is simply to produce work that is visually appealing but that also has the potential to get people thinking, wondering, and looking closely. The next time I embrace the challenge of another mixed-media abstract, I’ll remember not to expect a quick turnaround. I’m lucky Jenny was always flexible with the timeline and let me do what I had to do. She probably doesn’t know it, but she’s definitely helped contribute to my development as an artist, and I’m very grateful for that.

Shout out to my husband Van for making a beautiful walnut float frame for this piece. Thanks Van!