At the end of a workshop— “Contemporary Art Gallery Issues”—conducted by gallerist Linda Durham at Santa Fe Community College, artist Laura Scandrett submitted her final paper. Durham found the writing to be articulate and intelligent, and felt that Scandrett was deeply committed to the art she made. Durham visited Scandrett’s studio and was so impressed by a large graphite drawing that she had the piece framed, and included it in a group show at the gallery. The drawing sold, and Durham decided to take Scandrett on as one of her gallery artists. Scandrett’s work can be viewed at Linda Durham Contemporary Art, 1101 Paseo de Peralta, Santa Fe.
The Value of the Sketch
I do often sketch—on scraps, napkins, anything—when traveling. Sketching for me is a way to stay engaged; it keeps me connected to the process even when far away from my studio. My sketches always feel like plans for bigger drawings, but none have materialized. So, I guess I do make preparatory sketches; I just never use them for my drawings. One of my favorite things about the process is that every single decision leaves a trace, no matter how faint. It’s important to me that the entire experience is recorded; that I know it’s there even if the viewer doesn’t. Each step has played a role in arriving at the moment of finality. My drawings aren’t planned compositions, but records of time and thought and action. As a result, they sometimes fail.
The Dialogue Between Gesture and Structure
Gesture and structure are important—they accentuate each other, argue with each other, and hopefully coexist with each other either peacefully or with tension. I’m always searching for new and old ways to make marks on a page. Ultimately, the marks or material are only as effective as what they evoke or convey. A gestural line depicting a tree limb next to the rigid edge of a structural form comes alive, as if human. Once I’m deep into a drawing and feel physically as if I’m part of that space on the page, I feel like a conductor who is pulling some sounds forward, louder, while quieting others until a powerful note of harmony or discord is hit.
Ideas as Visceral Things
Right now I’m working from reference materials—old encyclopedias—harvesting images and ideas, but also getting lost and reading a lot. I come from a family of bookworms; I read the least… by far. But I think books are proof that ideas are visceral things. Things are recorded and shared across time and are as alive as when someone else first thought them. Art is a visual record of experience. I think anyone who loves art has had that feeling at some time in a museum when you’re the only one in the room and you almost sense breathing, like something else is alive in the room. You want to whisper to a painting, “I know. I know.”
The Importance of Stripping Away All Visual Influences, or Not
I don’t think it can be done, and if so, I have no interest in doing it. Everything comes from something else, somebody else. I’m interested in the connections between things, ideas, and people, so I’m not consciously trying to strip influences away. Also, I hope for moments of transcendence so I can understand and engage daily in the struggle between what is proof and what is still only possibility. I think with every drawing I’m hoping to arrive finally at a moment that is pure.
Fear of the Blank Page or the Blank Canvas
I conquered this fear a few years ago. When I start a new piece, I already know that I want to get to that place deep in the drawing where things are really happening. So what happens at the beginning is not precious; it may or may not end up visible. The process can’t be rushed, of course, but at this point I have faith that if I keep going, I’ll reach that place. I also have a system now of starting, a series of steps, which dissuades fear—a technique I learned from the artist James Drake. I usually work large, so first I unfurl a blanket of warm white paper, attach it to the wall from a ladder, painstakingly measure and mask off the edges, and by this point I’ve touched the entire surface, so it’s familiar. And the pristine edges of the paper are preserved, which, I think, gives me the confidence to attack the rest.
