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Sunday, Aug. 10, 2008

A swirl, then a smile

Artist Tim Anderson says the inspiration for his free-form graphite drawings comes out of nowhere in a process that continues to inspire him; his work is on display at the SLO Art Center

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During a talk to friends and fans at San Luis Obispo Art Center recently, artist Tim Anderson quoted a line from “Truckin’ ” by the Grateful Dead.

“What a long, strange trip it’s been,” mused Anderson as he gave a 35-year retrospective slide show of his art.

Out of nothing

Anderson is former curator of the Art Center, where his current work, “ex-nihilo,” (Latin for “out of nothing”) is on display in the lobby. He became the center’s curator in August of 2000.

Two years ago he moved on to head up the Cuesta College Art Gallery, so it’s no longer a conflict of interest to exhibit at the Art Center, Anderson said, then kidded that he expected to have been invited to show sooner.

Gordon Fuglie, who became the art center curator in January, welcomed Anderson, saying that his art showed “the joy of creation from spontaneity.”

The exhibit is redolent of a Rorschach inkblot test, in which the viewers can make what they will from each composition.

Forms that resemble body parts, fantasy creatures or machinery components connect, interact and whirl upon the paper.

A free-wheeling technique

The artist starts drawing with eyes shut, using his nondominant hand to lightly sketch free-flowing wiggly lines with pencil.

“I actually start with no concept as much as I can,” said Anderson, allowing for a type of free-association. Then, he continued, “I’ll go in and start looking for images.”

He fleshes out those patterns and forms, darkening, highlighting and shading, providing depth, texture and definition. As he enhances the individual forms, Anderson said he considers the adjacent shape and how the two relate.

His finished compositions’ esoteric titles could send viewers into a tailspin trying to figure out the significance. There is none. “My titles have absolutely no relationship to the drawing,” Anderson acknowledged, saying he just wants to name it something. “I don’t want to call it ‘Untitled 47.’ ”

Drawing, a salvation

His process began during a spell in Los Angeles, where Anderson and his wife, Dorothy Halic, settled in the 1980s.

“We were going to take the art world by storm,” he said.

But that plan didn’t pan out, and Anderson eventually opened up a frame shop to make a living and kept it running for three years.

After closing the shop in the ’90s and moving his framing materials into the garage that had served as his studio, Anderson no longer had a place to complete his art.

The lack of a studio sent him into a funk for six months, until he started carrying around a notebook and making his flow-of-consciousness pencil swirls. The process snapped him out of his depression and became his preferred artistic expression.

“I had no idea that this was going to go on for 17, 16 years now,” Anderson said. He no longer paints, but plans to get back into it, with oils on wood panels.

“I’m a little too aggressive for canvas,” said the self-acknowledged former hippie. “I think I’d hurt it.”

An evolving style

His early works went from pre-Raphaelite realism, full of angst and tragedy, he noted, to narratives, then to symbolic images, the meaning of which Anderson no longer recalls.

During his varied explorations, he used in his art everything from shoe polish to wax and materials at hand, including cheap house paints and even objects he found.

“I always loved just collecting trash,” Anderson said. He’d stack the cast-offs and paint over them. Other times he’d scrawl words on his art.

Keeping the audience chuckling with his self-deprecating remarks, Anderson said “They’re probably buried, and they should stay buried.”

His fans are grateful he hasn’t buried his talents, however.

Reach freelance writer Lee Sutter at