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Up To My Old Tricks

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When I began this blog I wrote about how shy I was as a child. There is still a lot of that inside me. I think it is why I enjoy solitude so much, and that more often than not my paintings, and photography reflect that. People who know me now are often surprised when I claim to be shy. I work really hard at being friendly. When you are a shy child, and particularly one who is the brunt of all the grade school jokes, you learn compassion. Dan knows that if we go to a party I will find the loner in the corner and stay there for the night. I cannot stand to see anyone lonely, or to sense that someone else is struggling, I need to help them. When I was in high school I was forced to take a speech class. I dreaded it. Speaking in front of a single person can be difficult enough, put me in front of a crowd and I’m terrified. At the end of the semester we were required to stand on the stage in the school auditorium and make a speech. The subject matter could be anything we wanted, the only restriction was the amount of time. For weeks leading up to it my stomach was in knots. I didn’t know how I was going to get through it. I came up with a plan. The first thing to do was to pick a subject for my speech that I was familiar with. I chose Wicca. It was an interesting choice, considering that I was at an all girl Catholic high school run by Benedictine nuns. I  had an interest in witchcraft, nothing to speak of, I think for the most part it had to do with my childhood fascination with Bewitched, and my all-time favorite movie, “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. Fortunately, the speech teacher was a lay teacher, a man, and he didn’t seem all that upset with my choice. I knew we would be required to look up as we spoke and not check our notes too often. That part was easy, I knew my subject well. I talked off the top of my head for the entire speech. The hardest part was facing the crowd, well a crowd of about twenty-four. On the few previous occasion when I spoke in class, my classmates had to critique me. Every single time they pointed out that as I stood there choking out words the podium was shaking. The night before the speech I was really nervous, and of course like most kids, trying to figure out what disease I could possibly come up with on a moments notice so that I wouldn’t have to go to school the next day. Nothing worked and the moment was at hand. Then a brainstorm. I’ve been wearing glasses since I was thirteen. Blind as a bat. All I had to do was to take off my glasses, from the auditorium stage I couldn’t see my audience. I big blob of color. I was still nervous, and I did shake a little. The speech went well. My teacher said it was good, just a little unorganized. Not bad since I didn’t really write one.

That brings me to today’s painting. I have mentioned before that I love Impressionism. Strangely enough since I have the perfection issue. The thought occurred to me that all I need to do is to take my glasses off. Trust me, the world at large is one giant Impressionistic scene when my glasses are off, and as long as I’m going down this road I am doing my own waterlilies. A photo taken in Giverny in 2009. I have to admit I’m struggling as I look at it. I do believe I may be revisiting this one. Image Do you think it’s possible that there would have been no Impressionism if eye care were better in Monet’s day?

What I Do For Love

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I began tonight’s blog far from my usual spot. Most nights I am sitting in front of my home computer while my dear husband is falling asleep on the couch waiting for me. Tonight I began writing at a local bar/restaurant. Actually, I did my little sketch for tonight’s post sitting on a bar stool. We hadn’t planned to go out this evening, and I hadn’t even begun to think about what I wanted to create for today. We went for a nice long walk this morning, came home to finish a marathon viewing of Top Chef season five, and then I made an attempt to straighten up my studio which thanks to my productivity as of late is a disaster. Top Chef inspired our cooking a lovely New Orleans inspired dinner together. I figured that as usual I would sit after dinner and decide what I would do. However, the Chicago Blackhawks are in the NHL Finals, and though I may have mentioned it, I’m from Chicago. I’ve lived in California long enough to begin to consider myself a Californian (10 years), however, you can take a sports fan out of Chicago, but…No! not me, but Dan. I grew up going to Wrigley Field, I lived in the neighborhood. I have a mild interest in how the Cubs are doing. Dan on the other hand is a fan of Chicago teams, mostly the Bears, but also the Hawks and Bulls. When we realized that tonight’s game wasn’t available on our television I suggested we find it elsewhere. I knew I hadn’t done my project yet, but I can honestly say I have the most wonderful, supportive husband a woman can ask for, so going in search of a game is the least I can do.

So I sit here looking around this very noisy place for inspiration, and quite frankly it isn’t coming. I personally cannot get enough quiet, particularly when I am working. I, in a desperate attempt to find something, began looking through our phones at our photos, and then it hit me. Why not just create the place I’d like to be? I had only a pencil and a small sketch pad so I did a little drawing of a quiet meadow in the countryside. Just a quick post, and quick sketch, gotta get back to the game and my date. In case you are curious, Hawks win!

…Back at home…While unloading my camera I came across some photos from the other day. I’m a good photographer and love to take photos. My son called me out into the garden to see a dragonfly. It was a particularly friendly dragonfly that seems to like our garden. I took quite a few shots and from very close up. So, here is tonight’s sketch, and a few shots of a very cooperative dragonfly.6 6IMG_9747IMG_9797IMG_9717

Tearing Down Road Blocks

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Still on the mend, but very happy with myself this evening. Three months ago, six months ago, or a year ago, actually for the last twenty years I have been putting myself off. Finding every excuse in the book to not work, putting up self-built road blocks, telling myself that I wasn’t good enough, or focusing on the “can’t” instead of the “can”. Putting myself in the position of having to answer to others, some I know, obviously some I don’t know, and most importantly to myself, has forced my hand literally. I didn’t feel like working again tonight. Still have an earache and a headache. I gave a fleeting thought to hanging a shingle up here on the blog declaring, “Blog closed due to illness”, but I am so committed to this project that I couldn’t do it. Not only did I work, but I confronted my biggest artistic hurdle head on. Perspective, it’s a dirty word for me. I pull out the ruler, I study the angles, it just doesn’t work for me! It isn’t perfect, which is OK, (because we all know I am leaving perfect behind) but I do love the finished piece.

A little about the subject matter. I have boxes of paper in my studio. Photos that I tore from magazines over the years because I liked a color, or a shape, or a face, something that appealed to me about each and every one. Then there are the computer files of the thousands of photos that I have taken, all with the intention of drawing or painting them some day, or using them for inspiration, but never actually doing anything but collecting them. I did attempt something from time to time, but as I have mentioned before when it wasn’t fitting into my idea of what it was supposed to be, I walked away from it, leaving many, many orphaned, half-finished works of art hidden away in my studio. In the last fifty four days since I began this project I haven’t abandoned anything. I do have a few works in progress, and I fully intend to finish them. I also intend at some point to go in to my studio and free the orphans. Take a good look at what I have that is already started and decide what needs to be finished. As for tonight, I made a decision. I will be recycling a great deal of paper. I don’t want to look to anyone else for inspiration. That doesn’t mean I won’t be moved or inspired by a painting, or a photo, but I want to rely on myself for a while. Tonight I looked through my photos. I took this photo in San Diego a few years ago. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why I loved it so much, but I think Dan hit it on the head tonight. It has a certain nostalgia to it.This photo certainly gave me what I’m looking for, it is my photo, and it is certainly a perspective challenge. It is done in watercolor, ink and pencil. I will say again that I am really pleased with the piece, and myself for not giving in to the temptation of throwing up a road block, despite how I’m feeling.Image

Art Of A Different Sort

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Tonight I have a strange one. Jessica’s portrait is still too wet to touch, so I decided to begin work on another project. When I began the 365 project I had planned on focusing on finer art. Today’s project is more of a craft, but there are some crafts that are truly artistic. Earlier in the week I posted a photo of some fairy wings, and mentioned the fairies that I have sold so many of in the last several years. I have for some time wanted to take that project a little further. The fairies I create are painstaking, I spend so much time on the details of them with the exception of one thing. Their heads are wooden beads with a dot of an eye painted on them. They are truly beautiful, and people love them, but I want to make them more individual. Today I sculpted some heads out of clay for the fairies. Sounds simple, but it was a pain in my….Anyway, I made them with Sculpy, baked them in my oven and then painted them. The paint needs some fine-tuning, I painted them in the dark in my garden (because I want to go blind), but they took me a couple of hours to create, and I am quite happy with their faces. I made two, one meant to be an elf, the other a fairy. The object is to make a mold of the faces so that I can reproduce them. It wouldn’t be cost-effective to individually make each face. I would use a flesh-colored clay, and only have to add lip and eye color. If it works out as I hope, then I will possibly do a few different expressions. I may try to finish a fairy by tomorrow and post photos of old and new for comparison.

While rereading what I have just written, I see that I am a little defensive about this project. I guess in a way I have a problem with the word “craft”. I have done so many of those church shows, and honestly never fit in. Not that there isn’t some good work at those shows, but I always thought I could be more than just a church show craft artist. I have had people approach me at shows to ask why I’m there, and tell me don’t belong there. I just never believed enough in myself to try for more. I’m beginning to change my opinion of myself.  I do good work, craft show or not, and believe me it isn’t easy to sculpt a face as small as these. I photographed them next to a pencil for scale. I’m actually excited to see a finished one.

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Here Comes The Bride

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Tonight I’m really happy with myself. I spent the day working on two completely different projects, one which I enjoyed, the other not so much. I read on Pinterest how to make a homemade canvas print. It didn’t work on the first try, but that was because I rushed it, the second version came out really good with one exception, I cut the photo just a hint too narrow. The sides get painted black which cures all ills as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t photograph it yet, and I’m tired so I’ll post it tomorrow.

The other project was a crafty sort of thing, which I really don’t do much of, but it still came out well.

After all of that and cooking dinner, it was as usual  late when I started my project. Once I actually got my supplies together and did the basic sketch it was after eight. I once again attempted something I haven’t done before, a watercolor portrait. Earlier in the day I was looking at the photos of my daughter’s recent wedding. I came across more than a few that I loved, but one really stood out. I loved it so much that I decided to draw it, but once I sat down tonight I thought I’d really like to paint it. Because I am the queen of instant gratification I chose watercolor. I knew I wasn’t exactly sure how to do it, but dove in. It’s funny that as often as I talk about the “not good enough” that lives in my brain, I sometimes forget that and forge ahead, and that is always a good thing. I am very happy to say that I think the results are really good. Most especially because I did the painting in about an hour and a half while watching television, in my lap, and with horrible lighting, and it was my first. I think the practice in both technique and confidence are starting to pay off. Here is my beautiful daughter, Jessica.Image

Riley

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It’s late, nine here in California, and I again find myself putting my project off until the end of my day. Today it had nothing to do with avoiding the project at hand, but because it was a hard day for us here. Issues beyond our control came to a head. It was a long emotional day, one that I will be glad to have over.

I grabbed my sketchbook tonight, as always not sure what my subject might be. I started a drawing of some flowers, but I chose the wrong paper for the pencils that I was using and couldn’t achieve the correct amount of blending. Therein  lies the biggest issue I have with not having had lessons. Materials are foreign to me. I still have a painting that I completed in my early twenties. It is large and a little abstract. I gave it to a boyfriend. His friend who also painted was curious as to why the background of my painting, which was entirely black, was painted using both matte and glossy paint. Matte? Glossy? I had no idea that paint for art came in different finishes. I was of course familiar with the terms, my dad was a house painter, but for art? I thought black was black. I know of course I could read books, and believe me I have more than a few, or I could take a class. Classes don’t work for me either, too judgmental. I did take a stab at art in college. My first fine art class was a drawing class. Within days I felt out-of-place. Remember I started drawing around the age of five. There I was at eighteen with thirteen years of bad habits that I had obtained, at least as far as the teacher was concerned. But I liked how I did things, and as I pointed out to her after she told me I had to use the oval with the lines to draw portraits, my portraits were better than hers. Mine actually looked like the people they were meant to look like. I dropped the class. (Long story to make a small point. I seem to do that a lot.) By seven-thirty or so I was gaining that familiar feeling of frustration. I decided to look on my computer to see what I had photos of to inspire me. I came across my file of photos of our cats. Spouncer (who sadly passed away, but was named after an art tool), Riley, Mia and Sophie. I decided on a photo of Riley. I used a combination of the photo and real life model, who unfortunately was more interested in swatting my pencil away. So here is Riley. I don’t  do much in the way of drawing animals, but I’m happy with these results.

OK, so I know this is getting long-winded, but it reminded me of a painting I did as a teenager. A very nice man I worked with asked me to paint a portrait of his poodle as a gift for his wife. I didn’t really want to do it but it was a job. I had just finished the painting, it was oil, when I knocked it off the easel onto the floor. My bedroom floor that was covered in carpet. There were fibers stuck to the paint everywhere. I could have cried, but just blended it into the paint. He loved the painting. In particular the “texture” I had given to his beloved dog. He paid me more than I asked.

My mother was not so happy, how could she possibly fail to see the value of sacrificing the carpet for my art?

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