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Van Gogh In The Closet

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The last time I discussed Mr. Van Gogh he was appearing in my coffee cup, not tonight. To begin with it is only (hold on to your hats!) seven in the evening and I am posting. A full three hours earlier than usual. This morning I was searching through my photographs for pictures for my daughter, for our joint label design. The client wants some changes, and I was looking through old work and photos for inspiration. She had mentioned that she might like a sunflower and I knew I had a few shots. Well, actually more than a few. By the time I was done sending I think Jessica received seven emails from me, and all before ten a.m., poor girl! I don’t usually know what I want to paint or draw until much later in the day, it’s actually a very last-minute decision most of the time. But as I looked through my photos the sunflowers started to call to me. I have a painting I did a few years ago that I hate. It’s not a horrible painting, but very ordinary, something I referred to as Kirkland’s art. If you don’t know about them, they are a chain of home decor stores. They have those paintings that are reproduced by the hundreds and sold inexpensively. I felt like this one fit the bill, that is until I decided to get a closer look at  my work by cropping the top off. You know what? It really is better than I remember. The sunflowers are beautiful, what I hate is the blue vase I painted them in, and the arranged fruit and napkin at the base (which I won’t be showing you!), to quote Lili Von Shtupp (Blazing Saddles), “Oh, how ordinawy”. I don’t want to create the kind of art that is sold for cheap, now if Christie’s or Sotheby’s came calling that would be a different matter. OK, now that I have gone on and on for far too long, I decided that today I would paint a sunflower.

 

 

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Cropped portion of the top of my older sunflower painting.

New train of thought…this is where Mr. Van Gogh comes in. Do you think that every artist feels the need to paint their “sunflower”, or their “waterlily”? Do we all as artists aspire to be Monet or Van Gogh? Do we all have a sunflower lurking in the corner? These are questions that keep me up at night. Not really. So here on this early Friday evening my new “Sunflower”, oil on canvas, inspired by annoying my daughter before her coffee. Love you Jessica, and I love working with you.

 

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Alias Grandma Moses

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For years I jokingly told Dan I was going to be the next Grandma Moses. I didn’t actually think it would take me this long to get back to painting. I am of course not in my seventies, and based on the photo I saw of Grandma Moses on Sunday at the San Diego Museum of Art, Arnold Newman exhibit, I don’t look anything like her either. (Thank God and good nutrition) I am however in my fifties, an age where, at least in this country, many women are written off. I feel like I am just beginning. I actually look decent for my age, but more importantly, by this point in my life I understand that it isn’t an egotistical thing to say that I am good at something. It’s simply a fact. I find that I have gained a certain amount of self-confidence, it actually sort of crept up on me. We have a friend (thank you Wayne), who said there was something about turning fifty that gave him the right to say what was on his mind. (I’m paraphrasing here.) I am feeling the same way, and I’m definitely feeling it in my work these days. Expression is coming easier, it’s almost as if the paint is flowing easier. After yesterday’s breakthrough I had a moment earlier today, a momentary panic actually, that today’s work would pale in comparison to what I had achieved with the breakthrough. And then my fifty something brain kicked in, it said loud and clear, “who cares?” This is a no regrets project, I’ve said it before, warts and all, everything gets posted. But you know what? I have the beginnings of something really nice. No it isn’t garnering my astonished “Oh My God, I did that”, response of yesterday. And that’s OK. Breakthroughs don’t happen every day, if they did they wouldn’t be so spectacular. What I do have tonight is something that I entered into with fearlessness, and that is a great thing for me and my future as the next Grandma Moses, with of course much better hair and makeup.

Tonight, oil on canvas, orchids from a photo I took on Sunday in San Diego. My favorite color combination, green and purple. Not exactly where I want it to be yet, drying time frustrating me yet again, before I can finish what I want, but I’ve got a good start.

 

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A Breakthrough

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OK, so last night I was bemoaning my self-assigned fate, struggling under the weight of my self-imposed sentence, a year of fine art. I have to admit I was really struggling, I felt like I was in an artistic rut. I have definitely posted a few pieces as of late that I wasn’t proud of, material of the “last-minute homework” style of art. Last night I gave myself an out. I wrote myself a blank check of excuses so that if I didn’t feel like doing what I set out to do, I could get away with it. I believe that my inner “not good enough” voice has gotten very clever. I haven’t been hearing it too much lately, so it devised a way to mask itself and get into my head. Well, not so fast. I had a good day today, actually a great day. I finished about 95% of last night’s painting. There are things I want to add and to change in minor ways, but I need to let it dry for a bit first. I had planned on finishing a few other half-done projects but then I had an epiphany in my garden. We have a wood burning pizza oven. The guy who built it didn’t put any doors on it so we added our own. We made them out of wood, and then lined the inside with copper sheeting. It looked totally cool when we finished it, but then we attempted to make pizza and the door started to go on fire. Lesson learned. We haven’t changed the doors out yet. Today when I was watering the garden I opened the oven door. It’s beautiful. The copper has taken on a variety of colors. I saw those colors and knew I had to paint them. Not an exact replica of the door, but a piece inspired by it. I will admit here and now that I am not a fan of most abstract art. There is actually quite a bit that I dislike immensely. I guess I never understood it, even though in many cases the name is implication enough of what it is about. When I saw the door it made me think of the earth’s creation, of chaos in the heavens, of the earth’s elements coming together. I Never, Ever thought that I would paint abstract. It goes against every perfectionist molecule in my body. Not today, I couldn’t wait to get that brush on the canvas. It came pouring out of me and into my painting. I felt exhilarated because I finally feel like I’m free of so much of the weight of my own self-doubt. Like I found the keys to the kingdom. And all before dinner. That’s right, two paintings (well, one and a half, since one was started last night), in one day, and on a day where I gave myself the time to work. I couldn’t be happier.

 

8 6 (3)Yesterday’s piece inspired by a visit to Balboa Park…

 

 

 

 

…and today’s piece, “Chaos”

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A Change Is Coming

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My last two posts were basically a write off. As I mentioned in previous blogs, when I committed to this project I didn’t take into account things like birthdays, anniversaries and illness. I failed to mention that I might get sick of the project, actually sick of myself. I am well aware that I did this to myself, and also aware that there are no blog police coming to crack down on me. I wanted to commit to doing something for myself mostly I guess to see if I would actually follow through. I rarely do things that are just for me. I am very maternal, a nurturer to the core…for everyone but me. When you lack self-confidence it is easy to direct all of the attention outward, that way you don’t have to look in. I can also say in absolute truth that I really don’t have a selfish bone in my body. Writing a blog daily is very me, me, me. Narcissism run amok. That’s not who I am, so I find myself being just a little bored of myself. Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed, and sometimes I actually have other stuff to do. This weekend I felt tremendous pressure to produce, and all that did was provide half-ass, half-finished work, that I quite frankly am not proud of. So here we go again, my blog, my rules.  When I have a guest staying overnight I might just post a photograph. Photography is as much a passion for me as painting, as is cooking. I have posted a few photos of food which people seem to love. I guess I’m saying that as I head further into this project it may expand just a little. I promise no toilet paper cover projects, just a little more variety so that I can look at my posted projects and not feel bad about myself. That unfortunately comes way too easy.

We had a lovely afternoon on Sunday, part of which was spent at Balboa Park in San Diego. There is a beautiful pond with Koi fish and waterlilies, and a few plants that I quite frankly don’t know the names of. I took a lot of photos, and today I decided to paint one of them. It’s oil, and you can see it isn’t finished, but it is ten o’clock and I’m tired. No “Misha” here, (see last week’s blog) I promise to finish tomorrow. I actually have a few projects to get to, and I will.

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Oils, I Have Missed You So

Of course my plan to get out first thing this morning to do a little oil painting never happened. This despite my gushing over how happy I was to have them back. As always I had things to do in the house. I think maybe what I need is a set of horse blinders, you know so I can’t see dirty dishes, dust, or the cat hair tumbleweeds that have been known to travel through my house. By the time I sat down to work it was no longer daytime, but actually about 8:15. I’m just about a third of the way through my project and time management remains an issue for me. That is, I manage to find time for everything else but my art. I will again attempt to make a promise to myself that my art will become a priority, but I think we all know that it still falls under the ” I’ll start my diet Monday” category. I’m beginning to think that it won’t happen until it is supposed to. By that I mean that we all make promises to ourselves and others, and despite our sincerity when we make them, the promises go unmet until the planets align, or the earth spins the other direction, or our brain just kicks in. I’m hoping that one of them happens soon. I find myself so tired by the time I start that sometimes I don’t feel like working. I can’t keep letting that happen.

I did eventually work tonight, in oils, indoors (don’t tell Dan). I had a small square canvas I painted black some time ago. I grabbed it, not sure of what I would paint, but as I walked out of the studio I noticed one of the boutonnieres from my daughter’s wedding sitting near the door. It’s been nearly four months since the wedding and I somehow have ended up in possession of two or three bridesmaids bouquets, three or four boutonnieres and the bride’s bouquet. Actually, I am keeping Jessica’s bouquet because otherwise her pug, Otis the mini-terror, will have his way with it. (He is very cute, but oh so naughty!) I love the look of the dried roses and hydrangea, so I decided to paint those. My canvas is only about four by four, and I really did only a quick study, but I do like it very much, and I LOVE having my oils back! Oils, tomorrow we shall meet again!

By the way, isn’t it Superman that can spin the world backwards? Does anyone know a guy with tights and a cape?

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Clean Bill Of Health

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I went to the doctor today and I am happy to say that my lungs are clear, let the oil painting begin! That means I can begin work again on my portrait of Jessica, and numerous other painting ideas that have filled my head since the pneumonia of a month ago. Dan is insisting I paint outdoors, he is still concerned about my breathing. Either way, I’m happy. I have enjoyed using watercolor, and the few acrylics that I have done, but oil is and always has been my preferred medium. I had already begun a watercolor this morning so I finished that for this evening, but I plan on getting outside first thing in the morning before it gets too hot outside to get a little oil painting in.

I was just thinking how alike we all are as humans. So often we have something at our disposal, and don’t give it a second thought until it is taken from us. It is unfortunately true with some people and relationships too. We all need to learn to appreciate the people around us, in particular the ones that we love, but also people we interact with on a daily basis. One of the things I taught my kids was that when they went to school they needed to remember that the teachers were people too. They had no idea what was happening in that teacher’s life outside of class. Maybe if the teacher wasn’t their favorite it was because she or he wasn’t happy at home, or maybe had a loved one who wasn’t well. I also told them that for me part of being a mature adult is to try to look beyond the surface of people. I have known some women who were not very nice, only to find out later that they had a horrible childhood and learned to build protective walls around themselves. Otherwise known as “bitches”. When I look at my own life I can see why I became who I am. I know why I’m so compassionate, why I can laugh at myself, etc… Everyone has a story, some of those stories are not so pleasant. For unknown reasons to all of us, some people seem to be followed by a lucky star, and others spend their lives suffering and living in abject poverty. I think we need to all give each other a break. I worked in customer service for eighteen years. I cannot tell you how many times I changed someone’s day by remembering them, complimenting them, or just treating them with respect and a smile. When you are treated well remember to say thank you, and the next time you see someone and you think they look nice, tell them, or even offer a smile, it goes a long way to changing how someone’s day goes, and maybe it will even cause them to pass along that smile.

All of that because I missed my oils, and they’re back, I’m immensely happy about that! image

Van Gogh In A Cup

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Do you ever read those stories (usually in the National Enquirer, my Mom’s bible) about the people who see Jesus in a knot hole on a tree or Mary in a grilled cheese? I had a similar experience this morning, although you might not consider mine a religious one. For those who read my blog and know me personally, they know that my wonderful husband begins each and every day making me a beautiful cappuccino. The man has a gift for making them, foam so thick you could almost bounce a quarter off of it, and just the perfect amount of cinnamon sprinkled on the top. I look forward to them every morning, but particularly on Sunday when we sit and drink coffee and read the papers together. This morning after I finished my coffee, I put my cup on the table and continued to read my paper. When I put the paper down what should appear before my eyes but a Van Gogh in my cup. A wondrous cinnamon and foam sky swirling above a lone tree on a hill. I know it’s no Mary on a potato chip, and some of you may consider it stretching the imagination, but I was very inspired by it. I believe it is a sign from the great artist studio in the sky that I need to use this cappuccino residue as the inspiration for a painting. (Well, either that or all the paint fumes have gone to my head) Did I call the Enquirer in order to make an appearance with my cup? No, I washed my one shot at fame with the breakfast dishes, although I did take a photograph to share with the unbelieving public. And since we all know that for the moment I am staying away from oils, (which might be a good idea based on this post) I did paint a quick watercolor study of my discovery. I will document my visionary find by posting the photo I took, and my quick sketch.

I also wanted something else, searching beyond my dirty dishes I simply flipped open a magazine and decided to paint whatever my finger landed on. I figured I had a shot at something half way decent since I was flipping through Romantic Homes.

Two works tonight. My quick study, watercolor of course, and a glass pitcher of roses, also watercolor. (Not at all thrilled with the results of my roses, but in all honesty I was rushing it, and watching television at the same time) I failed to mention that our dishwasher broke a few days ago, could it be that it was fated? (I don’t think Dan would agree with that) Or is it maybe a sign that I need to look before I rinse?

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Nemesis thy name is Perspective

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The battle rages on, I lose yet another battle to my evil nemesis. I pull out my ruler, I measure the page, I measure my photograph, I make my sketch, and (silent scream inserted here) it doesn’t work! Let me make this clear, I am so not mathematical. In high school, after a disastrous freshman year, I begged Sister Joan, my algebra teacher, head of the math department, and cruel decider of my mathematical fate, to let me take basic geometry instead of regular geometry (the kind for people who can think logically). Her response? I quote, ” Your reading scores are those of a junior in college. A girl as smart as you does not need to be in basic math.” Really? Does the fact that she graded me with a “D” for all four quarters (I’m not complaining, I deserved those “D”s, I earned them) not have given her some clue? So what did I do? I skipped math sophomore year, put it off until junior year, delaying the agony for a while. Thank God for Ms. Von Laven, she of the single barrette, that hung without purpose from the front of her hair. First quarter, “D”, second quarter “F”, third quarter “D”, fourth quarter??? “D”. I didn’t deserve that last “D”, I deserved an “F”. A truly Christian woman, (as opposed to Sr. Joan) who saw my struggles, gave me a tutor, realized that even that wasn’t helping, took pity on me and let me go. I love Ms. Von Laven. Have you taken the ACT college entrance exam? Possible high score of 36. In all sections across the board I received 28’s through 31’s, except for…math, I got a 9. I retook the test because I was dying with the flu on the first attempt. The second time? I got a 7. I did better while delirious than I did in my right mind. Pathetic.

I have a book, (OK, ten books) on perspective, I really meant to read them, but I think that Sr. Joan has scarred me for life. No not really, but I am so frustrated, (I know, I need to read the books!) that I almost gave up tonight That however, is a big no-no where this blog is concerned. So here is my slightly off kilter watercolor of a window. Is it possible that my brain is off kilter?

I will try again! The war isn’t over yet.image

Broken Promises

Did I break the promise I made to myself last night? Of course I did. The last thing I wrote last night was a promise to myself to start my day with my work. As usual I let everything else get in the way. Cleaned my house, ran errands, you know the “anything I can put in my way” stuff. Are you like me? Do you keep your promises to everyone, everyone but yourself? Why is that so easy? When I say I’m going to do something I do it. Sometimes I don’t even feel like it but I do it anyway. Like telling someone you will call them when in fact you really don’t want to talk to them. I call. Or agree to help a friend do something, and then you are tired or lazy or just don’t feel like it? I do it. I have a sneaking suspicion that Catholic guilt plays a role, and I’m a woman. Women seem to feel bad awfully easily, at least I do. But if it’s for me, bottom of the list. I think I need to do a “Stuart Smalley”, remember Al Franken on SNL? I need to sit in front of a mirror and repeat, “I’m good enough”. But only after I clean the house, right?  I did finally sit down to do some art.  “And what time was that?” you ask. Well, if I’m going to be honest, about 7:30 this evening. By that time I was quite frankly ready for bed. Still unbelievably tired, but I was upset with myself last night. I did last-minute, under pressure homework for this blog last night, and it was crap. I really didn’t even want to post it, but I did say I would put up everything, even the crap. So as tired as I was tonight I was determined to put up something to be proud of.

When Dan and I went to Paris in 2009, I took in excess of two thousand pictures. The most beautiful, in my opinion, were the ones I took in Giverny. Every home and garden were spectacular. I looked through those photos today and pulled a few of my favorites. I believe I have mentioned my odd love of gates, windows and old doors. (If I haven’t then here’s the scoop. I take many, many photos of old doors, gates and windows. I never, ever take photos of people, except for Dan, who is of course my favorite human) I chose a photo for tonight of a gate I liked because of its color. Watercolor on paper. It was sort of last-minute, but its work I like, not something that I will feel bad about in the morning. No promises as far as a schedule for tomorrow, only the promise that I will put up work that I am proud to put my name on, and I will try really hard not to put myself last…I’m smart enough…I’m good enough…

 

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Something Old And A Little Something New

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This will be a very short post tonight, it’s Father’s Day and my attention needs to be elsewhere. I did a very, very quick sketch, and I did a little work on my wood burning project for my friend. I won’t bother to show the project tonight, not enough to show. I actually thought that I might take the day off, but I can’t. I read someplace that if you exercise for six weeks it gets in your system and you want and need to do it. (It never happened for me) I have been writing my blog for about eight weeks. I have to admit it, I’m hooked on the project. I have to keep my promise to myself. I feel incredibly good and positive about the direction this has taken me.  So here is just a little something new, and since it was so quick, a little something old, an oil inspired by the area I live in.DSC03388