Acting On Inspiration

 

I spoke the other day of not quite understanding inspiration, what makes one idea or subject stand out more than another, why one photo calls to me more than another. That isn’t the case today. A friend of mine posted a photograph of his son and a friend on his Facebook page. From the moment I saw the photograph I wanted to paint it. I actually had turned to Dan and said, “You know what this is? It’s a painting, a watercolor painting.”  My friend labeled it, “Best buds on the bench.” I love the photograph, and I love the label. There is a nostalgia that emanates from this photo, an innocence that these days is too easily lost. As I said, I know why I wanted to paint this one. Mike, thanks for permission to paint your wonderful photo, for giving me inspiration, and I hope Ryan and his “Best Bud”, remain that way for a very long time. 9 22

 

A Plethora Of Pen

As a testament to how much I am enjoying the process of pen and ink, I did not one, but three sketches today, and all in I day where I wondered where I might find the time. I was cooking dinner for Brian’s birthday tonight, and as always it is the choice of the birthday boy/girl to decide what it is I will be cooking. Pastitsio, for those of you who are unfamiliar it is Greek lasagna. It can be complicated, and definitely time-consuming, but well worth the effort. Brian also doesn’t love cake and requested a French Silk Pie. Also a little complicated and time-consuming. Between the two I wondered where I might find time for art, but I did. First in the form of a homemade gift certificate, the second sketch while I waited for the base of my Pastitsio cream sauce to cool, and finally at the end of the evening when all was said and done, and everyone was groaning from the amount of food consumed (did I mention that I also made potato ravioli, with a brown butter Alfredo, crispy sage, and a little crumbled bacon?) We were sitting around the kitchen table talking, and I started to doodle. Sketch number three. So this is the part where I tell you all that this will be a very short blog tonight. I was on my feet all day, I ate too much, and I’m tired. This is one of those days when I forget just how old I really am. Lots of energy first thing in the morning, not so much energy by nine at night. Goodnight, I hope you like the work as much as I enjoyed creating it. And just to make you hungry, a photo of my pie.IMG_1465

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The Written Word

I have mentioned in the last several weeks that Dan and I are planning a business. The sales of books will be part of that business. We are both readers and book lovers, and we are proud to say our children are as well. In this day of electronics we still enjoy the feel of the book in our hand. I purchased an electronic reader for Dan a few years ago. He had insisted that he didn’t want one, but then on a business trip had found himself stranded at an airport that didn’t have a book store. He used the device quite a bit in traveling, and a little bit here at home, but eventually it gave way to the next device, on which he has very few if any books. I inherited the old one about two years ago, and as of yet have not put a book on it. I actually gave it to our son, and I believe it is somewhere in the pit of despair that he calls a bedroom. I have a favorite book, Jane Eyre. It was assigned to me by Sister Charlotte in my freshman year of high school, I dreaded reading it as I am not fond of the old English style of writing. Then I read the book, and read it again, and again. I believe I am somewhere past thirty times at this point. I even treated myself to a very early edition a few years back. Last year when the new Jane Eyre film came out I waited anxiously to see if for once someone would get it right. I’ve seen several versions and the casting has been way off. This was no exception, Mia Wasikowska was perfect as Jane, but Michael Fassbender is far too handsome for Mr. Rochester. I need to cast the next version, and by the way, I was the one screaming out in the middle of the movie, “That never happened!” Anyway….my point is that I love the written word, I love poetry and song lyrics, books of all kinds, and quotes, love, love quotes! Books were the escape for a lonely girl with no friends (I believe I’ve made reference to my dear Nancy Drew in the past), and the extraordinary Diary Of Anne Frank. I could go on and on, there are so many books that have meant so much to me, and given me great joy as well as great sadness. When I hear that a book has been banned I can only wonder what everyone is so afraid of. The written word is a gift, sharing a favorite book, or story connects us all. Our hope is to share our passion with others. I somehow can’t imagine that when I am blessed with a grandchild that I would want to give them an electronic device as a keepsake for their first birthday. The Velveteen Rabbit looks much better on paper. I didn’t have a lot of time for art today, something much more pressing took precedence (explanation below). I did exactly what I hoped to tonight, which was more pen and ink. Not as much as I wanted to do, but I believe something I will be using in my new endeavor, a book-plate. Pen and ink and colorized in Photoshop, with text added. Post of original sketch and finished book-plate.

As for what took precedence today? Twenty three years ago today I gave birth to a beautiful eight pound nine ounce boy, who has now grown into a wonderful young man. Happy Birthday Brian. Love you! (I know, its embarrassing, but that’s my job.)scan0001

The written word from me: Time knows no master, memory is our only ally, so make them good ones. You can quote me on that.015

Book Plate

 

Newfound Passion

As I travel through this artistic journey I have learned a great deal about myself. I’ve changed in ways I hadn’t imagined. As I’ve mentioned before my artistic confidence is growing. My aggravation with perspective is growing. My impatience isn’t waning. My time management is improving slightly. One thing I hadn’t expected to find is a love for a form of art that I hadn’t set out to explore. For me it has always been about oil painting. I’m not quite sure why, and I may have even mentioned it before, but it is the medium I’ve always wanted to be skilled at. I still love painting, still love oils, the fluidity, the way they blend on a canvas, but I am beginning to feel differently about my focus on them. I’ve done a lot of watercolor since I began this project. It started out as a convenience more than anything. I’ve always liked doing watercolors, but hadn’t really tried anything too complicated with them. Sometimes its just easier to pull them out along side a cup of water, cleanup is definitely less trouble, especially the brushes. Now I find that I’m really beginning to enjoy the work, but the art form that is calling to me more often these days is pen and ink. I actually think it’s a little odd, mostly because it seems awfully mathematical to me, and the devil on my shoulder…perspective…can also be an issue (as always). I spent a couple of hours working on the piece for tonight and enjoyed every minute of it, so much so that I can’t wait to do another tomorrow. We had purchased an antique frame in Chicago, from the moment I saw it I wanted it for our upcoming business. I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going to use it, but it is such a beautiful piece I knew we had to have it. The paper in one of my sketch pads is the perfect size for the frame opening, so I decided to create a pen and ink drawing that we could copy and change as needed. I’m thrilled with the results. I’m posting a photo of the original in the antique frame, and a second that I scanned and tinted the edges of. I’ve owned these pens for years and until I started this project I hadn’t paid much attention to them. Just one more reason to be grateful for starting this year-long project that I know in my heart is only the beginning.paperIMG_1444

Perspective Without Pain

As always to give credit where credit is due, “Perspective Without Pain”, is not my title, but the title of a book that I took out of the library tonight. The author is Phil Metzger. I think we all know by now that my perspective leaves something to be desired. Do I already own books on perspective? Of course I do (and there is of course that perspective DVD I mentioned two weeks ago, you know the one I actually took the wrapper off of? We won’t discuss the fact that I haven’t watched it yet), but tonight while at the library looking at the art books this title caught my eye. Despite my collection of art books, including several on perspective, I found myself buying into the title. It called to me like a late night infomercial for weight loss. You know what I’m talking about, you can’t help yourself, some impossibly perfect human being comes on-screen looking fit and toned and promises with the help of some contraption left over from Cirque De Soleil try outs you can look the same. You know in your head it is nonsense, but in your heart you really, really wish it was true, and that easy. I checked the book out hoping to crack it open and find some ancient secret from the Old Masters and solve my life long problem. With bated breath I opened the book and…practice, that’s it, practice. The author gives some wonderful advice, I actually took some, but for the most part the books suggests working on perspective as much as possible. What? No Jack In The Bean Stalk magic beans inside? Practice?  Quite frankly, I don’t want to do that. I’m looking for the fairy dust that will suddenly give me the perfect angle. Unfortunately it means homework, yuk! And this after I spent the day gloating that I no longer have to do back to school nights. Have I mentioned that I dropped out of interior design school? Why? Perspective and geometry, the two great evils of the world hand in hand, working together in drafting class, it was more than I could take. So much creativity comes to me so easily that I am a little spoiled. For tonight I did homework, a little perspective work. Just a few small drawings. My laundry list of things I need to do in order to be the artist I want to be is getting longer, but I’m happy to at least be at a point in my life where I’m giving myself enough time to make a list, and then actually attempting to work on it. IMG_1434IMG_1437IMG_1436IMG_1435

Impatient

Not my best day artistically. I think I’m still running on empty from our trip. I scraped the paint off of a canvas not once but twice today. Things were just not working for me. To be honest I gave a moments thought to taking my scraped off canvas and turning it into an abstract. Unfortunately and fortunately for me I just can’t be a sellout when it comes to my work. The one and only abstract piece I’ve posted with this blog was an inspired piece, actually the only abstract piece I’ve ever created. That one was inspired by a piece of burnt copper, no matter how long and hard I looked at that scraped canvas today it gave me nothing. I finally walked away from it. I looked through my studio and found one of my old orphaned paintings. It was flat and lifeless. I threw it on the easel and began to work with the paint muck I had created with my scrapings. It had turned a very strange sort of lavender. I just went with it, I didn’t want to waste the paint. As always I was much too impatient, the “muck” began to get muddier. I had to pull myself back, wipe off my brushes and begin again. I found what worked for me eventually was to go with a more impressionistic stroke,  in the end I feel like the painting has too much paint, but on the positive side it isn’t flat! And I didn’t give up. I have to admit that today was the first time in a while that “I’m not good enough” snuck back into my brain. It all comes down to oils and my lack of patience. I keep making the same mistakes and expecting different results. I’m going to let the scraped canvas cure and attempt something with what remained on the canvas. I hope for better results the second time around.9 17I may have had a bad artistic mojo day, but I did empty the photos from my phone. In previous blogs I have mentioned both Prairie Crossings and McDonald Woods, both north of Chicago near my Dad’s house. We had the opportunity to grab a few early morning walks before my Dad was awake last week. The McDonald Wood photos are in Dan’s  phone and I’ll have to grab them tomorrow, but for tonight a few from Prairie Crossing.IMG_1371 IMG_1376IMG_1355A little slice of heaven on the prairie.

A Little Rant

Still tired from our travels, I was shortsighted and scheduled a doctor’s appointment for 8 a.m. this morning. Even the nurse told me I was crazy. That led me to a sort of six degrees of separation topic for tonight. That would be all of the things that drive me crazy at the doctor’s office. Such as…

I was a new patient today, and being the regimented little soldier that I am I followed instructions. Be here at eight they said, so I was. Except that the reason to be there at eight was to fill out the new patient forms, the same forms they sent me in the mail a week and a half ago and told me to have filled out at my first appointment. Of course I had filled them out, they told me too, but then they also told me to be there at eight so that I could sit in their waiting room and waste a half hour of my life that I will never get back.

Can anyone tell me the reason that the new patient forms asked the date of my birth eleven times? It might be that with all the questions I had to answer I aged in the process. Or the need for my driver’s license number. Are they planning on writing me a ticket? They claim it is so that they know it is me. That’s right, I enjoy being poked and prodded so much that I assume the identity of other people so I can take their turn.

Is it me, or do the receptionists time it so that you don’t get taken back to start your exam until you get to the middle of the article in the year old magazine? That way you will never know what happened at the end of your story. One more unanswered question in your life.

Speaking of the moldy magazines. Today I was reading a magazine that is published locally, I found a piece on a new art exhibit opening. It was exactly the kind of thing I like to do. Too bad it was over more than a year ago, the magazine was the February 2012 issue.

Finally, I’m in the room. The doctor will be in “momentarily”. Dear doctor, you are very educated, much more so than me, but unless we went to really different grammar schools “moment” means, ” a very brief  period of time.” It does not mean that I sit in a freezing cold room missing a portion of my clothing, on the meat slab table for what seems like forever, because your day is running late. My day runs late sometimes, but if I show up late for my appointment you won’t see me. I think if your days starts to run late you should call me and ask me to come a little later.

As I sat there waiting today, very nervous because there was the possibility of some bad news, I thought to myself, “How do you draw fear?”  (See illustration below)Orange Dragonfly (7)

Now that I have had my rant, lets talk about the art. Lately I have found myself really interested in vintage book covers. There was a time before dust covers where the art on the cover of a book was incredibly beautiful. Inspired by that I began some pen and ink work tonight. I’m not sure where I’m going with it as of yet, just enjoying the process. Oh wait, maybe I could write a book on the difference in the time/space continuum that exists inside a doctor’s office.  photo-1

 

Turbulent Times

Home at last. We flew out of Milwaukee this morning to Phoenix, and then on to San Diego. A very long week away. I love seeing my family , but I missed my life at home. I had grand plans to come home and work. I figured that since we got in at 12:20 I’d have all the time in the world to work this afternoon. We left rainy Milwaukee and ended up in beautiful, sunny San Diego. There was no other choice than to head out to one of the cafes in Little Italy, sit outside with our friend Lori, who had been kind enough to pick us up, and share a meal and a bottle of wine. We had a lovely time, talked to our waitress Tatiana, a charming girl from Italy, who happened to be working her last table before leaving for her vacation in Honduras. Between the Xanax for flying earlier in the day, and two glasses of wine, I was too tired to produce anything by the time I got home. Fortunately I had painted on the plane, unfortunately I was painting during turbulence. Watercolors and turbulence don’t always mix. Actually painting and flying don’t necessarily belong together. I used the cap off my water bottle for my water cup, and tried to balance it, my watercolors and paper all on that little tray, and then turbulence. Really? But I persevered and created a little piece that I’ll post tonight. I’m tired from my day of travel, and writing a very short blog tonight.

Sunflowers and lemons in watercolor.photo

 

One More For The Road

Headed home tomorrow and not a moment too soon. As I felt the tug of war in my heart this week between Chicago and Temecula, I was also feeling something else…unwell. I believe the scales are tipping in favor of Temecula, or Southern California in general. As much as I love Chicago, it doesn’t always love me. I had so many respiratory infections when I lived here that I could just call my doc, tell him it was that time of year again, and he would prescribe medicine via the phone. We arrived a week ago today, by Monday I wasn’t feeling great, by Thursday I thought I had dodged a bullet, but today I feel like I’m one day away from a respiratory infection once again. I actually left Chicago with Bronchitis, the first person I met when I moved to Temecula was my pharmacist, Darryl. We don’t see each other as often as we used to, and although he is a lovely person, I wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t have to see him for a while. So tonight I’ll be making it short.

While I was visiting my Dad I had the opportunity of going through old photo albums. I love old family photos. I’ve used some of them in art work, and I have a very special project in mind for my Dad using some photos I took this time. I’ve actually had a great deal of luck photographing the photos. I don’t need the originals. My phone takes great pics and I spent a day taking photos of some of the pictures I wanted. When I was thinking about what I might want to paint today, I glanced through all the photos on my phone for inspiration. I came across a photo of my cousin Gavin. It is a photo taken in Ireland, where he lives, and it is when he was a child. I loved the expression on his face in the picture. Watercolor once again.image

Mysterious Inspiration

Sometimes as an artist, for inexplicable reasons I see something that appeals to me, a cloud (don’t worry, not that again), a landscape, a face, a scene, that calls to me. Something that leaves me with the overwhelming urge to paint. There are times when even I am puzzled at the what and whys of my choices. The painting I did today falls under the mysterious inspiration category. I wrote a couple of days ago about being back in Chicago, in the heart of the city. The diversity of the people and places. As we sat at a red light I glanced out the window and saw a man sitting waiting for the bus. It was one of those moments that I felt the urge to capture. Maybe it’s the body position, or the way the light and shadow bounce off the figure. Or it could just be human curiosity. I’ve mentioned in a previous blog my sister, Colleen. I’ve also written about how funny she is. My Mom never learned how to drive. As kids we walked, rode in cabs, or most of the time, we took the bus. As we would sit on the bus, Colleen would look around the bus and choose someone to talk about. She would say things like, “See that lady, she had a fight with her husband this morning, and now she has to take the bus.” Or it might be, “That guy doesn’t like his family, he moved out of their house.” Or possibly, “That lady dyes her hair.” My poor Mother would be diving on her to try to get her to stop talking, sometimes really loud. I think what it inspired in me was a curiosity about who those people really were, and where they were going. I love Hopper’s Nighthawks, and I think it inspires that curiosity as well. I look at that painting and wonder about the patrons of that diner, who they were, and why they seem so lonely. I’ve also mentioned that I am a solitary figure myself, and maybe that’s the draw. My subject was the man at the bus stop, sitting in the rain with an empty shopping cart. I wondered about who he is, and where he was going, and what would eventually be in that cart. And as always, when I see someone who is alone, I worry for them and hope that it is only a temporary state.

Watercolor of a solitary man.image