Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Christmas Card
Saturday, December 1, 2012
From Small to Large
Here's the latest. Its unfortunate shadow at the top is due to a) it is a watercolor sadly in need of a frame, so I have it pinned to my wall but b) I ran out of pins so c) because I stole some from the picture above, d) the picture above is casting a shadow.
I did a lot (17) of sketches the last time I was in NM, but this is the first I have tried to enlarge. It is outside of the town of Abiqu, along the Chama River, not far from the Christ in the Desert Benedictine Monastery which I was fortunate enough to visit for the first time. This is Georgia's country all the way. I think it is the best kept secret in the United States, because the cliffs are colorful, moody and grand, the silence palpable, and the sky incredibly, unblinkingly New Mexico blue. And the painting itself is technically much better, not overworked, not saved from the grave like my last offing.
From time to time, I start wondering why I do this--paint, I mean--and why I am so passionate about it. After all, I am not going to be making millions in the wild New York (yes, I read the WSJ) art market.
And I am not sure my paintings say anything anyone else's don't.
The anwer is simple: freedom to express what I see, as one of G-d's creatures. And I am blessed by G-d to have the option. As a notebook I have says, "Pretending to be a Normal Person day after day is Exhausting". Hmmm, and what IS normal, anyway??
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Finally
I should call this Much Ado About Nothing. It has taken me about two hours to get this picture downloaded only to find I could do it much more easily. Ah, technology, where we "save" time. I accept this as something I needed to know. *sigh*
Enough grousing. I decided to share the painting of my flower garden--the reworked and re-reworked version (who says you can' t rework watercolor?--and the result is not bad, at least in my estimation, considering where this piece came from. (as in trash heap). I am tempted to try again, maybe in different colors, just to see what will happen.
More later. Must get to work.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Not Quite There
I just read my last post and realized that I had given my art her head and she had galovanted (is that a word?) down a different path. Flowers, however are key. As I looked again at Georgia's "Black Holly hock" I was again taken by the stark richness of it all.
My adventure into flowers has been quite different (and I can see right now that I am going to have to learn to get some pictures up!)
1. First, I had had NO, repeat NO intention of doing flowers at all. It just came to me after an attempt to do an abstraction of a sky the other day. How I love Winsor Blue (red)!.
Unfortunately, as a sky, it just didn't work. I did my usual thing of getting everything nice and medium with no contrast. Fail. I took out the charcoal to see if adding contrast in a redo would work. Double fail.
2. Impressionistic. I had looked at the sky...and saw....flowers everywhere. Everywhere! I put on Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23, second movement (a slow, mournful Mozart, if you can imagine), and began to paint in details; the results were, well, mixed.
A couple of great tulips, roses (white with Winsor blue shadows) and poppies, and a garden path, but that charcoal did absolutely nothing for the piece. I am faced with:
3.Redoing. This is OK. If Georgia could repaint a mesa three hundred (300) times, I can repaint this once.
Problem: I am scared to try because how will I get that constellation of shapes again? It IS, I must remind myself an EXPERIMENT, not Van Gogh I am ruining. Just a piece of paper...Just a piece of paper....just a piece of paper....Unfortunately, in my real other life, people are being somewhat critical of everything (not YOU dearest), and times are, shall we say, stormy. (Ha! Does that make me an Artist now?). I can see them all--ghosts standing in my studio, looking over my shoulder, making snide comments. Need to leave the criticism where it belongs--a very big trash barrel outside the Solar System.
4. Editing. Yup, get out the scissor and judiciously cut out the worst of the charcoal offense. Not sure this will work, but may give it a go. Anyone need artistic bookmarks????
I will probably do all of these.
And my ideas? Not even sure what they were, but right now, have a desert piece on the board, and am working on People with the idea of going Icons. In this case, it is a matter of using a pile of very small frames a friend is donating to me. Form follows function. ;p
My adventure into flowers has been quite different (and I can see right now that I am going to have to learn to get some pictures up!)
1. First, I had had NO, repeat NO intention of doing flowers at all. It just came to me after an attempt to do an abstraction of a sky the other day. How I love Winsor Blue (red)!.
Unfortunately, as a sky, it just didn't work. I did my usual thing of getting everything nice and medium with no contrast. Fail. I took out the charcoal to see if adding contrast in a redo would work. Double fail.
2. Impressionistic. I had looked at the sky...and saw....flowers everywhere. Everywhere! I put on Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23, second movement (a slow, mournful Mozart, if you can imagine), and began to paint in details; the results were, well, mixed.
A couple of great tulips, roses (white with Winsor blue shadows) and poppies, and a garden path, but that charcoal did absolutely nothing for the piece. I am faced with:
3.Redoing. This is OK. If Georgia could repaint a mesa three hundred (300) times, I can repaint this once.
Problem: I am scared to try because how will I get that constellation of shapes again? It IS, I must remind myself an EXPERIMENT, not Van Gogh I am ruining. Just a piece of paper...Just a piece of paper....just a piece of paper....Unfortunately, in my real other life, people are being somewhat critical of everything (not YOU dearest), and times are, shall we say, stormy. (Ha! Does that make me an Artist now?). I can see them all--ghosts standing in my studio, looking over my shoulder, making snide comments. Need to leave the criticism where it belongs--a very big trash barrel outside the Solar System.
4. Editing. Yup, get out the scissor and judiciously cut out the worst of the charcoal offense. Not sure this will work, but may give it a go. Anyone need artistic bookmarks????
I will probably do all of these.
And my ideas? Not even sure what they were, but right now, have a desert piece on the board, and am working on People with the idea of going Icons. In this case, it is a matter of using a pile of very small frames a friend is donating to me. Form follows function. ;p
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
She's BAACK! from New Mexico
Yes, yes, YES! I am back--camera full of pictures, head full of more and heart full of Georgia O'Keeffe. This trip I finally got to see her work. The real deal. The textures, the colors, the life.
I say that my heart is full of Georgia O'Keeffe, which is a bit, I guess, off the wall. I would have said so too until I saw the Black Hollyhock with Blue Larkspur, a work that no photography or print process seems to copy true to color.
This thumbnail does NOT give the full affect of the actual painting which is actually quite large, full of the rich colors and textures of oils, and well, a stroke (pardon) of genius. But there was something else there-- a spiritual quality that made me feel as if I was looking into the Heart of the Creator. And although this is not something readily admitted, I admit it now--inexplicably, my eyes brimmed with tears. It was one of those few moments in life where an overwhelming sense of awe had left me motionless and speechless.
I can only hope for a reaction like that to one of mine. If it ever happens, it will be by G-d's good grace.
More later. I have to catch up ALL that I learned--and talk about some new projects!
I say that my heart is full of Georgia O'Keeffe, which is a bit, I guess, off the wall. I would have said so too until I saw the Black Hollyhock with Blue Larkspur, a work that no photography or print process seems to copy true to color.
This thumbnail does NOT give the full affect of the actual painting which is actually quite large, full of the rich colors and textures of oils, and well, a stroke (pardon) of genius. But there was something else there-- a spiritual quality that made me feel as if I was looking into the Heart of the Creator. And although this is not something readily admitted, I admit it now--inexplicably, my eyes brimmed with tears. It was one of those few moments in life where an overwhelming sense of awe had left me motionless and speechless.
I can only hope for a reaction like that to one of mine. If it ever happens, it will be by G-d's good grace.
More later. I have to catch up ALL that I learned--and talk about some new projects!
Friday, November 2, 2012
This week's tips
So I spent what I would call an almost gluttonous day of painting on Tuesday. Did four demos and only one really didn' t turn out that well, which made it a very, very good day.
So this morning before I go to the studio, I thought I would share my discovery notes here.
1. Simply, simplicity rules. Did a demo in Paynes' gray and burnt sienna of a ghostly moonlit lake. Graded wash on either side. Later, I expanded it to a larger piece of just Payne's gray and the biggest (2 inch) flat brush I possess. Wow, does that brush do good foliage! Loaded with the gray, dark on the edges getting lighter in the center, and felt good about that.
2. A primary wash of yellow cad dried by blow dryer (I always was impatient!) really did a nice job of adding interest to the sky and brightening the piece. Though I didn' t completely like the picture (read Fail!) I liked the effect.
3. A mountain lake scene with wind and aspens turning. The original demo was in oil and the waves didn' t look quite right. I consulted memory (I have been studying water for about five months now) and other pictures and made the shadow of the wave and enlongated triangle instead of the little u-shaped dip. That was much better. Also, my mountains and lake were too flat so used an exacto knife to create highlights and aspen tree trunks on the dry paper. That worked well.
4.Final demo an autumn scene with backlighting from the sun. Sky was yellow except where the sun peered through the trees where I left it white. Not enough contrast in the pic as a whole, but the backlit effect worked well.
So, off to the studio. I just hope I can remember all this.
So this morning before I go to the studio, I thought I would share my discovery notes here.
1. Simply, simplicity rules. Did a demo in Paynes' gray and burnt sienna of a ghostly moonlit lake. Graded wash on either side. Later, I expanded it to a larger piece of just Payne's gray and the biggest (2 inch) flat brush I possess. Wow, does that brush do good foliage! Loaded with the gray, dark on the edges getting lighter in the center, and felt good about that.
2. A primary wash of yellow cad dried by blow dryer (I always was impatient!) really did a nice job of adding interest to the sky and brightening the piece. Though I didn' t completely like the picture (read Fail!) I liked the effect.
3. A mountain lake scene with wind and aspens turning. The original demo was in oil and the waves didn' t look quite right. I consulted memory (I have been studying water for about five months now) and other pictures and made the shadow of the wave and enlongated triangle instead of the little u-shaped dip. That was much better. Also, my mountains and lake were too flat so used an exacto knife to create highlights and aspen tree trunks on the dry paper. That worked well.
4.Final demo an autumn scene with backlighting from the sun. Sky was yellow except where the sun peered through the trees where I left it white. Not enough contrast in the pic as a whole, but the backlit effect worked well.
So, off to the studio. I just hope I can remember all this.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
After weddings..there is....ART!
Well, between weddings and guests and grownup children (bless you guys!), I have been absent from this blog for a good while. Since my last posts I have completed (and had expensively framed since I don' t trust myself) a large New Mexico watercolor: Mountains and sky, sky and Mountains. Ah, home.
I am putting it above the fireplace. The previous work over the fireplace was a Herd, which went to my son and his new wife as a wedding gift. They have enshrined it about their own fireplace, and it is a beauty. While I was waiting for my own work to be framed, it smuggly gazed down on me as if to say, "Top this!" which, of course, I can' t. But never mind. It is at its new home and my work, now magnificently framed, is ready to take its place. And I don' t think it looks half bad.
Since that painting, I have framed another myself, and done a few sketches down in the Hill Country around Llano and Mason. And read a bit here and there. My next painting trip is a week in NM, which I am looking forward to. My husband will fish (of course) and I will paint (of course).
Still, the books with their demonstrations seem to be doing some good, and I am also acquiring skills as a drawer, even though I haven' t done a detailed drawing for its own sake in eons, until this morning. I think I am finally getting so I can "see" and simplify.
The main thing is, through all the craziness, not to give up even when time and failure loom, but to go at it again later or start all over again.
For whatever it is worth.
I am putting it above the fireplace. The previous work over the fireplace was a Herd, which went to my son and his new wife as a wedding gift. They have enshrined it about their own fireplace, and it is a beauty. While I was waiting for my own work to be framed, it smuggly gazed down on me as if to say, "Top this!" which, of course, I can' t. But never mind. It is at its new home and my work, now magnificently framed, is ready to take its place. And I don' t think it looks half bad.
Since that painting, I have framed another myself, and done a few sketches down in the Hill Country around Llano and Mason. And read a bit here and there. My next painting trip is a week in NM, which I am looking forward to. My husband will fish (of course) and I will paint (of course).
Still, the books with their demonstrations seem to be doing some good, and I am also acquiring skills as a drawer, even though I haven' t done a detailed drawing for its own sake in eons, until this morning. I think I am finally getting so I can "see" and simplify.
The main thing is, through all the craziness, not to give up even when time and failure loom, but to go at it again later or start all over again.
For whatever it is worth.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Autumn Thoughts
I just returned from all my painting getaways of the summer--one to Montana which was somewhat successful and one to New Mexico which was better, largely because I am starting to get a better grip on watercolors for sketch and also some compositional things I have been reading about but need to be practiced.
1. First, paint sketches SMALL. I have been taking a big sheet (15x11) and ruling it into six smaller rectangle which does away with the problem of "what to put there" in that vast space. For a beginner, it makes things easier to control because the space is easily filled and also lends itself to sketches of small things, like flowers much better. And more control means less frustration.
2. I have found high quality half pans to be better than the tubes of paint which, when you are on the go and must move quickly, are more convenient and more easily transported since they are less messy. There are problems with the little blocks: they can get dirty easier and it is a bit harder to get concentrated color. But the contamination can be taken care of by paper towels and care and the color by using less water and layering colors.
3.Use much less water. Water can be used to great affect, especially when trying to make a mist or a cloud in a hazy, for example, but should be used with care. Having a paper towel handy to help with excess BEFORE putting brush to paper really helps with control. Again, this also controls FRUSTRATION!
4.Don't necessarily use the colors that are in front of you. Simplify the palette, intensify the shadows. I was doing this solely on value until my last trip, when I discovered the value of complimentary colors. After all, when it is on the wall of my studio, no one is going to say, "But the colors of that sunset were gray and purple not orange and blue!" It is a fallicy to be hemmed in by people who judge your work primarily on how well you copied what you saw. Form is most important in illusion and contrast is what gives form. Go for CONTRAST.
5. Remember that things in the back are smaller and less well defined than things in the front.
6. Make your focal points in sharply defined relief as well as highlighted by color. In other words, SHARPEN the focus of the points you want the eye to travel on. The rest can be fuzzy and not as detailed, but the best composition can be ruined by not showing the viewer what it is he is supposed to be looking at.
7. Finally, Simplify!!!! You really don' t need all those leaves on that tree to get the idea across.
I'd say that's a pretty good list for a summer. If I am sharing this with anyone out there, may your days be filled with light, and your mind be lost in color!
1. First, paint sketches SMALL. I have been taking a big sheet (15x11) and ruling it into six smaller rectangle which does away with the problem of "what to put there" in that vast space. For a beginner, it makes things easier to control because the space is easily filled and also lends itself to sketches of small things, like flowers much better. And more control means less frustration.
2. I have found high quality half pans to be better than the tubes of paint which, when you are on the go and must move quickly, are more convenient and more easily transported since they are less messy. There are problems with the little blocks: they can get dirty easier and it is a bit harder to get concentrated color. But the contamination can be taken care of by paper towels and care and the color by using less water and layering colors.
3.Use much less water. Water can be used to great affect, especially when trying to make a mist or a cloud in a hazy, for example, but should be used with care. Having a paper towel handy to help with excess BEFORE putting brush to paper really helps with control. Again, this also controls FRUSTRATION!
4.Don't necessarily use the colors that are in front of you. Simplify the palette, intensify the shadows. I was doing this solely on value until my last trip, when I discovered the value of complimentary colors. After all, when it is on the wall of my studio, no one is going to say, "But the colors of that sunset were gray and purple not orange and blue!" It is a fallicy to be hemmed in by people who judge your work primarily on how well you copied what you saw. Form is most important in illusion and contrast is what gives form. Go for CONTRAST.
5. Remember that things in the back are smaller and less well defined than things in the front.
6. Make your focal points in sharply defined relief as well as highlighted by color. In other words, SHARPEN the focus of the points you want the eye to travel on. The rest can be fuzzy and not as detailed, but the best composition can be ruined by not showing the viewer what it is he is supposed to be looking at.
7. Finally, Simplify!!!! You really don' t need all those leaves on that tree to get the idea across.
I'd say that's a pretty good list for a summer. If I am sharing this with anyone out there, may your days be filled with light, and your mind be lost in color!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Have Paint, Will Travel
I am leaving for an overdue and much looked forward to vacation in Montana soon which is going to give me the opportunity to see family and (secondarily, of course) do some plein aire sketching that I have been reluctant to do as the summer grinds into its hottest time and the grass (along with all else green) shrivels into a drab brown.
This means I need to take my paints with me (along with brushes, canvas, garbage bags, box for wet canvas, paint clothes, hat, sketch book, pencils, erasers, etc, etc.). Needless to say, I either need a gigantic suitcase (which I have) or I need to scale back.This is always a difficult choice for me because this problem, especially of taking so much equipment would be much less if I took watercolors or acrylic. I have not ventured into watercolors that much, but when I have, I found them, at least for my beginning level, not as fast nor as free as oils. They are thoughtful paints, where the placement of color must be more deliberate (at least that is what I am gathering) and planned. Of course, it also plays to a strength of mine which is drawing. I don' t seem to struggle as much with that, and of course, that could just be that there is an emphasis on values rather than color which simplifies my choices emmensely ( and I DO need to keep it simple!).
I found this website for watercolorists that might just be on my level, since I have no pretense that I am any good at this. Most books glide over and make watercoloring complex; in my experience, the books I have seen are more galleries of what I could do if I were experienced enough (which I am not) I have found them frustrating. This website, however, starts very simply, in a sort of kindergarten, A B C manner.
http://www.watercolorpaintingandprojects.com/basics/basics.html
I don't really know much about the person running the website and haven't ordered any of the projects, so can' t vouch for them. But I am enjoying the simple explanations, and post it with the idea that it will help another struggling beginning watercolorist.
This means I need to take my paints with me (along with brushes, canvas, garbage bags, box for wet canvas, paint clothes, hat, sketch book, pencils, erasers, etc, etc.). Needless to say, I either need a gigantic suitcase (which I have) or I need to scale back.This is always a difficult choice for me because this problem, especially of taking so much equipment would be much less if I took watercolors or acrylic. I have not ventured into watercolors that much, but when I have, I found them, at least for my beginning level, not as fast nor as free as oils. They are thoughtful paints, where the placement of color must be more deliberate (at least that is what I am gathering) and planned. Of course, it also plays to a strength of mine which is drawing. I don' t seem to struggle as much with that, and of course, that could just be that there is an emphasis on values rather than color which simplifies my choices emmensely ( and I DO need to keep it simple!).
I found this website for watercolorists that might just be on my level, since I have no pretense that I am any good at this. Most books glide over and make watercoloring complex; in my experience, the books I have seen are more galleries of what I could do if I were experienced enough (which I am not) I have found them frustrating. This website, however, starts very simply, in a sort of kindergarten, A B C manner.
http://www.watercolorpaintingandprojects.com/basics/basics.html
I don't really know much about the person running the website and haven't ordered any of the projects, so can' t vouch for them. But I am enjoying the simple explanations, and post it with the idea that it will help another struggling beginning watercolorist.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Ah Ha!
Well, after reading more and drawing and painting two more sketches on my "commission" I realized that:
1. It is helpful to shut down the analytical brain functioning. I did this by putting on Gordon Lightfoot ballads which helped keep my "left brain function" busy so I was freer. I have tried classical music and contemplative music, but the effects were not as good.
2. A detailed charcoal sketch was helpful for me to grasp light and dark. This works in the studio, but I am not sure it is a good move outside, where the light quickly changes (as well as the scene).
3. The sketch, quickly done, is not tight (I would say "uptight") and fussy but full of life. There were defects, of course, but it was greatly improved.
4. Practice makes perfect! I suspect we watch PBS, then wonder why we can' t do what the artists do. Well, they probably don' t do that either, but have years of visual memory and hours of prep time involved before taping (I can' t imagine going on nationwide TV without some prepartion!). So people think it is magic, but it is nothing but lots of hard work. I plan to complete an hour's sketch each day, sort of like I practice my guitar.
All this greatly encouraged me yesterday. Nice to be painting again!
1. It is helpful to shut down the analytical brain functioning. I did this by putting on Gordon Lightfoot ballads which helped keep my "left brain function" busy so I was freer. I have tried classical music and contemplative music, but the effects were not as good.
2. A detailed charcoal sketch was helpful for me to grasp light and dark. This works in the studio, but I am not sure it is a good move outside, where the light quickly changes (as well as the scene).
3. The sketch, quickly done, is not tight (I would say "uptight") and fussy but full of life. There were defects, of course, but it was greatly improved.
4. Practice makes perfect! I suspect we watch PBS, then wonder why we can' t do what the artists do. Well, they probably don' t do that either, but have years of visual memory and hours of prep time involved before taping (I can' t imagine going on nationwide TV without some prepartion!). So people think it is magic, but it is nothing but lots of hard work. I plan to complete an hour's sketch each day, sort of like I practice my guitar.
All this greatly encouraged me yesterday. Nice to be painting again!
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Finally Getting an Idea
I have been commissioned by my son and his fiance to do a painting of the tropics. Ok, so that's no big deal. But the fact that they asked was enough encouragement for me, and I have been working on the project with considerable care.
The paint will be one of their favorite places, an idyllic albeit generic Carribean beach. I finally had a small painted sketch of what I wanted to do last week. Since, I have been playing with different types of pigments and have decided, once again, to venture another underpainting and layer the paint until I have achieved the effect I want. Part of that is that although the sketch I did was satisfactory, it lacked the luminence of the ocean there. It is a tall order they have given me. I have no idea if I will pull it off, but, armed with my new selection of transparent pigments, I am off tonight on another painting adventure.
I have a sign here at my desk which says. "Do one thing every day that scares you." This scares me.
The paint will be one of their favorite places, an idyllic albeit generic Carribean beach. I finally had a small painted sketch of what I wanted to do last week. Since, I have been playing with different types of pigments and have decided, once again, to venture another underpainting and layer the paint until I have achieved the effect I want. Part of that is that although the sketch I did was satisfactory, it lacked the luminence of the ocean there. It is a tall order they have given me. I have no idea if I will pull it off, but, armed with my new selection of transparent pigments, I am off tonight on another painting adventure.
I have a sign here at my desk which says. "Do one thing every day that scares you." This scares me.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Hoping "Artist's Block" is over
Well, I am not sure what you call it, but I call it that. No ideas; brush does the opposite of what I wanted, etc, etc. This has been going on since I tried my first showing. Since that showing was less than successful, I'd say that it is a miracle I didn't give up and go back to, say, writing, which is another dicey, block prone art.
But tonight, as I reworked a piece I started several days ago, it seemed to fall into place in a sort of surrealistic way that I am inevidably attracted to. There is something about impressionism and surrealism that I really can't shake. This picture was made 1000 times (at least) better by the use of dark and light and a disregard for the middle values. I say disregard, but the painting does have them; it is almost impossible for them not to show up when the other two are in place.
I am hoping against hope that the use of strong contrast is the answer. I have been sick of the mud I seemingly always made with paints that was glaringly absent from the charcoal drawings I have been doing.
There may be other reasons why the charcoal seems to be almost magical while with paints I am a slow plodder, but the contrast is definately one that is vital to a good picture.
But tonight, as I reworked a piece I started several days ago, it seemed to fall into place in a sort of surrealistic way that I am inevidably attracted to. There is something about impressionism and surrealism that I really can't shake. This picture was made 1000 times (at least) better by the use of dark and light and a disregard for the middle values. I say disregard, but the painting does have them; it is almost impossible for them not to show up when the other two are in place.
I am hoping against hope that the use of strong contrast is the answer. I have been sick of the mud I seemingly always made with paints that was glaringly absent from the charcoal drawings I have been doing.
There may be other reasons why the charcoal seems to be almost magical while with paints I am a slow plodder, but the contrast is definately one that is vital to a good picture.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Frustration Weekend
This has been a weekend of arrrrrgh in the studio. I had started with high hopes, since my cone-flower watercolor attempt had actually inspired me to put down my charcoal and paint.
And I did paint, but the result, though accurate in terms of light and shadow and was well drawn ended up being , in my estimation, stiff and dead. I tried another work which was adobe structures against a turquoise sea at sunset and felt so confined, rigid and therefore frustrated that I stomped off to do the dishes that had collected over the afternoon. At least I knew I could successfully complete that.
One of my books said that cold press was the only way to go in watercolor. Maybe that is the problem. I would like to blame the paper instead of myself. So we will see. They say the moment one gets excessively critical of what he is doing he gives up. Hmmmmm. Well, maybe things will look better tomorrow.
And I did paint, but the result, though accurate in terms of light and shadow and was well drawn ended up being , in my estimation, stiff and dead. I tried another work which was adobe structures against a turquoise sea at sunset and felt so confined, rigid and therefore frustrated that I stomped off to do the dishes that had collected over the afternoon. At least I knew I could successfully complete that.
One of my books said that cold press was the only way to go in watercolor. Maybe that is the problem. I would like to blame the paper instead of myself. So we will see. They say the moment one gets excessively critical of what he is doing he gives up. Hmmmmm. Well, maybe things will look better tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Inks and Hope
Yesterday was a search for new pens and proper ink. The one think that has discouraged me in the past was that my artwork would actually turn green over time, like a cheap ring, destroying what I had done. So even though I liked the medium, I dropped it. This time, however, armed with the Internet and my smart phone, I went forth into my community.
Now we are talking small town here (well, maybe medium town). There are two craft stores and a host of office supply places. I had done some research and had come up with several names of pens I thought might work: Koh-I-Noor, Rapidograph and (of course!) Prismacolor. My first stop was at Staples. For a one aisle arts department, they actually had some nice drawing/drafting pens, but when I checked online, I couldn' t find anything on these particular pens (Staedtler) other than to note that they were not the top pens this manufacturer made. I made note of them and moved to Hobby Lobby, a few doors down.
There I hit the jackpot. They had two packs of Prismacolor's premier line which I had read very good reviews on, and so, with reservations (after all, who advertises their ink turns green over time?) I bought them. It occurred to me also that the greening may have been due to the paper. It was acid free, but was not what I would call "top of the line". At any rate, so warned and so armed I took my prize home.
In the evening, I got out the pens. They were smooth, responsive and easy to use. I sketched a sparrow with results that heartened me after several months of setbacks and failures. Maybe I could do this, just in a different way and using a different set of tools.
As Winston Churchill is quoted as saying: "Never, never, never give up!"
Monday, June 18, 2012
Letting Art Speak for Itself
This has been a bit of a frustrating and frustrated time as an artist, and I find myself spending more time at the piano and guitar practicing than in my studio.Concrete encouragement has been a bit thin on the ground, but I find myself back to it this week, although a bit more subdued for now, and ready to bloom where I am planted. It is a great fault of mine, I think, to overreach with any project, whether it be learning a piece of music or crafting a story or painting a picture . It can lead to interesting situations, but I think that is about all it lead to; whether something good is actually accomplished is a totally other thing.
Step in, yesterday, in the midst of failed projects, an old book about pen, ink and watercolor. It reminded me of several things I had forgotten: that small things can be beautiful and speak of G-d's beauty much better than my own high flown symbolism; that I love the medium of ink (except for the discoloration--I must get better pens!), and that I need to look at the good I can do here and now, and not worry too much about where it is going. It is like setting one's self adrift on a boat not knowing where, exactly one will end up and not caring either.
So, beginning again, duly humbled and well aware I have encountered another of my seemingly endless blind spots, I have to wonder how much good I could have done if I'd just looked around and not listened to the voice in my head, telling me I needed a label of what I "do". (In my defense, it IS usually a great icebreaker in social situations and I have used it myself.) So many pitfalls and so little time.
Off to find some pens with GOOD ink!
Step in, yesterday, in the midst of failed projects, an old book about pen, ink and watercolor. It reminded me of several things I had forgotten: that small things can be beautiful and speak of G-d's beauty much better than my own high flown symbolism; that I love the medium of ink (except for the discoloration--I must get better pens!), and that I need to look at the good I can do here and now, and not worry too much about where it is going. It is like setting one's self adrift on a boat not knowing where, exactly one will end up and not caring either.
So, beginning again, duly humbled and well aware I have encountered another of my seemingly endless blind spots, I have to wonder how much good I could have done if I'd just looked around and not listened to the voice in my head, telling me I needed a label of what I "do". (In my defense, it IS usually a great icebreaker in social situations and I have used it myself.) So many pitfalls and so little time.
Off to find some pens with GOOD ink!
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Sabbath Blues and Grays
After seeing my husband off to work this morning, I slowly got myself together to get out to the lake. The sun had been coming in and out behind the cloud banks; the green in the patches of light was brilliant from the several inches of rain last week. But I had to go out to see if there were any sailboats on the lake.
I was trying a new park this morning and drove up with my year's pass, only to discover at the gate that my pass was for day use and this was a campground. As I looked in around the gatehouse, I saw it was a very full to overflowing campground, and, this being a weekend, probably not the best place to set up anyway. I thanked the kind lady and turned around to go to my secondary location, only to find, it too was a camp ground. By the time all that transpired, the light was gone, the clouds were gone and the morning was gone.
So, I am sitting in my living room wondering why on earth I didn' t get my stuff together last night, pack up the car and just go when he did this morning. Live and learn they say, but I was also feeling the quiet peacefulness of the day, the slower and less driven rhythm. After last week, maybe I needed the relaxation more than the painting. And I did get some scouting done. Now I know where NOT to go.
I was trying a new park this morning and drove up with my year's pass, only to discover at the gate that my pass was for day use and this was a campground. As I looked in around the gatehouse, I saw it was a very full to overflowing campground, and, this being a weekend, probably not the best place to set up anyway. I thanked the kind lady and turned around to go to my secondary location, only to find, it too was a camp ground. By the time all that transpired, the light was gone, the clouds were gone and the morning was gone.
So, I am sitting in my living room wondering why on earth I didn' t get my stuff together last night, pack up the car and just go when he did this morning. Live and learn they say, but I was also feeling the quiet peacefulness of the day, the slower and less driven rhythm. After last week, maybe I needed the relaxation more than the painting. And I did get some scouting done. Now I know where NOT to go.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Plein Aire Weekend
There is rain threatening on Sunday. I keep hearing the weatherman say a "massive storm" is headed in our direciton with all of the threats that come to a springtime in Texas. I had thought to go out today, and indeed, the skyscape had many cool moments of eerie, majestic and awe-inspiring clouds billowing up in all directions. it is amazing what G-d does with a little dust, water and sunlight.
But the clouds also sent me to housework (boo) and books (yes!). I had already doen a landscape on a cloudy day but was thirsting for a bit more strong light and shadow to make a more interesting landscape.
Or skyscape. Texas drama is usually more in the air than on the ground/
But the clouds also sent me to housework (boo) and books (yes!). I had already doen a landscape on a cloudy day but was thirsting for a bit more strong light and shadow to make a more interesting landscape.
Or skyscape. Texas drama is usually more in the air than on the ground/
On Reflecting on Interconnectedness
Before I begin my reflection on a homily I heard this morning, first let me say that I am one of those people whose religion was twisted hard by the past--not the distant past, but the past of my grandparents and my mother. My grandparents were Jews born outside of Kiev but ending up in the United States by way of Lithuania and Canada; my mother did not remain Jewish but converted to Christianity as a young adult. I was raised Christian, but, oddly with Jewish overtones.
This dichotomy, this pull in two directions has been with me all of my life. As a child, I could not understand why I and my family were different from my classmates; as an adult, I found my heritage impossible then irresistible to avoid. Now, I am in an uneasy, if not unsteady truce between Judaism and Chrisitanity which mostly enriches my life, but sometime causes me trouble.
That was the case of the homily this morning. I have, of late, been struggling with the idea of justice. If there is anything the present age seems to hate it is stopping evil with anything more than persuasion; I find this at best ineffectual and at worst, a sort of appeasement which leads evil to become bolder and good to uneasily look the other way as if giving silent assent. This, of course, for any Jew has reverberations of the reaction of the common German to "discovering" that his Jewish neighbors were disappearing into the ovens of Auschwitz. So, some causes now, just as then, are okay to discuss if not yell at the top of one's lungs. It is not that there was no cause either then or now; it was that some issues are the cause du jour (voter ID as racism) and others are not spoken of by anyone (firebombing of a synagogue in New Jersery a month or so ago).
Enter today's homily. It was based the verse "And you shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Father talked at length of how we were all of the same family of man. We were descended from Adam. Therefore, I am not only related to those in my family as we commonly think of it; no, I am related to those who are far away, who speak different languages and practice different cultures and religions. Some of these people may irritate me and some I irritate. "And," Father said, warming to his theme," You are even related to Hitler and Stalin. We are all part of the hunan family."
Undoubtedly,but I was still aghast. I might in some far away siense be related to them as part of the human family, but to say let's kumbya with the dictators who so were so driven to eradicate every Jew on the planet was a step too far. Exactly where does evil enter into that equation? Is there not evil for which men are truly culpable? Why are we so slow to say that anyone deserves hell?
Is it wrong to say evil is evil? Is it so bad to believe I am related to Hitler in that we both harken from Noah, but that is where the connectedness ceases? Do the children of light have anything at all to do with the children of darkness? I think not.
This dichotomy, this pull in two directions has been with me all of my life. As a child, I could not understand why I and my family were different from my classmates; as an adult, I found my heritage impossible then irresistible to avoid. Now, I am in an uneasy, if not unsteady truce between Judaism and Chrisitanity which mostly enriches my life, but sometime causes me trouble.
That was the case of the homily this morning. I have, of late, been struggling with the idea of justice. If there is anything the present age seems to hate it is stopping evil with anything more than persuasion; I find this at best ineffectual and at worst, a sort of appeasement which leads evil to become bolder and good to uneasily look the other way as if giving silent assent. This, of course, for any Jew has reverberations of the reaction of the common German to "discovering" that his Jewish neighbors were disappearing into the ovens of Auschwitz. So, some causes now, just as then, are okay to discuss if not yell at the top of one's lungs. It is not that there was no cause either then or now; it was that some issues are the cause du jour (voter ID as racism) and others are not spoken of by anyone (firebombing of a synagogue in New Jersery a month or so ago).
Enter today's homily. It was based the verse "And you shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Father talked at length of how we were all of the same family of man. We were descended from Adam. Therefore, I am not only related to those in my family as we commonly think of it; no, I am related to those who are far away, who speak different languages and practice different cultures and religions. Some of these people may irritate me and some I irritate. "And," Father said, warming to his theme," You are even related to Hitler and Stalin. We are all part of the hunan family."
Undoubtedly,but I was still aghast. I might in some far away siense be related to them as part of the human family, but to say let's kumbya with the dictators who so were so driven to eradicate every Jew on the planet was a step too far. Exactly where does evil enter into that equation? Is there not evil for which men are truly culpable? Why are we so slow to say that anyone deserves hell?
Is it wrong to say evil is evil? Is it so bad to believe I am related to Hitler in that we both harken from Noah, but that is where the connectedness ceases? Do the children of light have anything at all to do with the children of darkness? I think not.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Update on Palette Experiment
Well, after a semi-disasterous week of one majorly bad thing after another (I wasn't the only one either--was it some infrasonar storm? A full moon?), I finally got to try the idea I had read about on location.
The idea was that after the thumbnail is drawn and the values shaded in, that I should try to mix all my colors first then apply them to the canvas.
For the most part it gave me a successful piece which I think was closer to the real colors of nature than I had heretofore been able to do. And it helped me to see the colors more clearly. I had thought the small stream had a rosy tint in it from the cloudy sky, but my mind kept arguing with what I was seeing. Rose?, my mind said, incredulously. How can that be? You know that rose is only found at dawn and dusk. Nevertheless, I decided to go ahead and mix the color carefully and infuse some rose into my mix. And did you know, that water was rose and the sky, too! That taught me to believe my eyes and not what my brain was telliing me was "impossible".
The problem with this way of doing things was that I was slow and by the time I had gotten the rosy water color all done, the light was changiung. I decided not to let that bother me, though and went ahead as if the light hadn' t changed; I figured it was close, even if not right on, and I can always check and correct before applying it. Plus, I wll get faster with practice.
Then I figured out was that my brushes, especially the small flats will need to be replaced. Unfortunately.
Finally, I discovered that an underpainting can really give the picture a special glow.
The idea was that after the thumbnail is drawn and the values shaded in, that I should try to mix all my colors first then apply them to the canvas.
For the most part it gave me a successful piece which I think was closer to the real colors of nature than I had heretofore been able to do. And it helped me to see the colors more clearly. I had thought the small stream had a rosy tint in it from the cloudy sky, but my mind kept arguing with what I was seeing. Rose?, my mind said, incredulously. How can that be? You know that rose is only found at dawn and dusk. Nevertheless, I decided to go ahead and mix the color carefully and infuse some rose into my mix. And did you know, that water was rose and the sky, too! That taught me to believe my eyes and not what my brain was telliing me was "impossible".
The problem with this way of doing things was that I was slow and by the time I had gotten the rosy water color all done, the light was changiung. I decided not to let that bother me, though and went ahead as if the light hadn' t changed; I figured it was close, even if not right on, and I can always check and correct before applying it. Plus, I wll get faster with practice.
Then I figured out was that my brushes, especially the small flats will need to be replaced. Unfortunately.
Finally, I discovered that an underpainting can really give the picture a special glow.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Creative Process 1--organizing the palette
I have decided to start journaling through my love affair with artistic media of all kinds. I think it is helpful (though how helpful, I cannot say at this point) to write down new ideas and tips I come across from time to time, plus outlines of the creative process. As much as I would like to be a free spirit madly skipping around a snowy canvas, I find the process confining rather than exhilarating and, to my annoyance, usually wrestle the paint or charcoal around until I get the desired effect. This trial by error approach may be admirable in some respects; after all I am trying different ways of doing things. But I find that some order is necessary along with a record what I am doing wrong as well as what I am doing right.
Thus, putting this on my blog. This blog will then live up to its title.
When I took a workshop last summer out in Colorado, my teacher told me I was way too free with where I put the paint on the palette. I really didn' t didn't think it made any difference But given the short time one has to paint outside in changeing light and colors, this advice made sense. Now I am trying to think through two ideas on how to organize.
1. Putting the same paint in the same place each time and making it circular. I would start, say at 8 o'clock with my blues, then at 12 o'clock with yellows then at 4 o'clock with my reds. Between blue and yellow would be my greens and between yellow and red would be a slough of browns and neutrals. At 6 o'clock, I could put my white.
This palette would be the unmixed colors. Which brings me to idea number 2.
2. When I am plen air painting I will do a thumbnail to emphasize values, then mix the colors I will use quickly and in enough quantity. Then, the idea goes, I can concentrate the brush on canvas confident I have the right hues and can (with more abandon) paint what I am seeing before the light changes yet again.
Anyway, that 's the idea. I will let you know if it works..
Thus, putting this on my blog. This blog will then live up to its title.
When I took a workshop last summer out in Colorado, my teacher told me I was way too free with where I put the paint on the palette. I really didn' t didn't think it made any difference But given the short time one has to paint outside in changeing light and colors, this advice made sense. Now I am trying to think through two ideas on how to organize.
1. Putting the same paint in the same place each time and making it circular. I would start, say at 8 o'clock with my blues, then at 12 o'clock with yellows then at 4 o'clock with my reds. Between blue and yellow would be my greens and between yellow and red would be a slough of browns and neutrals. At 6 o'clock, I could put my white.
This palette would be the unmixed colors. Which brings me to idea number 2.
2. When I am plen air painting I will do a thumbnail to emphasize values, then mix the colors I will use quickly and in enough quantity. Then, the idea goes, I can concentrate the brush on canvas confident I have the right hues and can (with more abandon) paint what I am seeing before the light changes yet again.
Anyway, that 's the idea. I will let you know if it works..
Saturday, February 18, 2012
On consideration of writing
I am currently reading a book by Amy Welborn, called Wish You Were Here. Although it is, may I say, an uncomfortable book about the death of her husband, her descriptions of a trip to Sicily had the ability to transform me from a sofa on a rainy Saturday to the sunny, warm Mediterranean.
Writers are a funny lot, and although I consider writing no more than an avocation (Good heavens! What IS my vocation? Art student? Mom? An art student Mom?) I have all the fatal characteristics of writers everywhere.
For one, writers are the nosy observers, the amateur psychiatrists and sometime sociologists of their communities.. For me, it is hard not to be fascinated with the traits of humankind on display all around in an endless stream of combinations. Each person's story is so alike in common themes, yet so different in where and when and how they reacted to their situations. And it is in the action that we find out who they are truly. Fortunately or unfortunately for each of us, that is how everyone else finds out about us, too.
Writers take their observations, then, from the richness of life's canvas, and paint a picture with words through the lens of their own psyche and experience. It is like a pastel artist I saw last summer who, had the bluish gray slopes of the Colorado Rockies before her yet with great effectiveness, painted them pink. So for one writer, rain, for example, is a dismal and dreary experience and for another, peaceful and exhilerating. (As I listen to the rain beating against the wall of my house, I find myself in the latter category).
Yet when we pick up a good book and read what is on the canvas of the pages, we can be, in a manner of speaking, seduced into the writer's point of view. I find this to be the case when reading a writer whose philosophy of life does not agree with my own. The pull of a good story, coupled with astute observation and painted with subtlty of a point of view masterfully done has amazing power..
When I was a young adult, I took on the opinions of what I read and immediately believed them. This far along in my life, I can see behind the words better and take a look at what the writer is saying. Am I wrong here, or, after reflection, is what I believed strengthened by new Truths I am discovering? It can be a very uncomfortable feeling. I harken back, in my own case, to six years ago, when reading led me away from my childhood religion into the Catholic Church. I am still feeling the reverberations from that one. The story of another's journey to God had compelled me to look at my own and the effect, while not immediate (it took months of study), was life-changing.
So the writer pushes and pulls us, bringing us along on a trip of discovery or else helps us to stand our ground in the realm of Ideas. He is the conscience of the community as well as the recorder of the times. In the case of Amy Welborn's book, he is also a friend for the journey, to make us feel that we are not so very alone after all.
Writers are a funny lot, and although I consider writing no more than an avocation (Good heavens! What IS my vocation? Art student? Mom? An art student Mom?) I have all the fatal characteristics of writers everywhere.
For one, writers are the nosy observers, the amateur psychiatrists and sometime sociologists of their communities.. For me, it is hard not to be fascinated with the traits of humankind on display all around in an endless stream of combinations. Each person's story is so alike in common themes, yet so different in where and when and how they reacted to their situations. And it is in the action that we find out who they are truly. Fortunately or unfortunately for each of us, that is how everyone else finds out about us, too.
Writers take their observations, then, from the richness of life's canvas, and paint a picture with words through the lens of their own psyche and experience. It is like a pastel artist I saw last summer who, had the bluish gray slopes of the Colorado Rockies before her yet with great effectiveness, painted them pink. So for one writer, rain, for example, is a dismal and dreary experience and for another, peaceful and exhilerating. (As I listen to the rain beating against the wall of my house, I find myself in the latter category).
Yet when we pick up a good book and read what is on the canvas of the pages, we can be, in a manner of speaking, seduced into the writer's point of view. I find this to be the case when reading a writer whose philosophy of life does not agree with my own. The pull of a good story, coupled with astute observation and painted with subtlty of a point of view masterfully done has amazing power..
When I was a young adult, I took on the opinions of what I read and immediately believed them. This far along in my life, I can see behind the words better and take a look at what the writer is saying. Am I wrong here, or, after reflection, is what I believed strengthened by new Truths I am discovering? It can be a very uncomfortable feeling. I harken back, in my own case, to six years ago, when reading led me away from my childhood religion into the Catholic Church. I am still feeling the reverberations from that one. The story of another's journey to God had compelled me to look at my own and the effect, while not immediate (it took months of study), was life-changing.
So the writer pushes and pulls us, bringing us along on a trip of discovery or else helps us to stand our ground in the realm of Ideas. He is the conscience of the community as well as the recorder of the times. In the case of Amy Welborn's book, he is also a friend for the journey, to make us feel that we are not so very alone after all.
Friday, February 17, 2012
The Epitaph
I begin this with a sigh of resignation because writing appears to be an inescapable portal of discovery for me.
This all started yesterday. I was helping a friend edit a small instructional pamphlet and it occurred to me how very much I liked doing that sort of thing. Then today, I stumbled on a blog by Amy Welborn about how she dealt with the sudden death of her husband. As I read it, I could feel the pain of my own loss spilled out in her words and I remembered the remarkable power writing has had in my life.
I had placed my mother in the arms of God last year, after her surrender to cancer, and live in the house where she died. It is a little house, but there are rooms I try to keep out of because it seems to me the ghost of her suffering image rises there, Suddenly, as I dust or straighten things, I am reminded of sitting in the easy chair next to her bed as she lay in a coma, listening to her breathe, Sometimes, the breaths would pause and my own breath would pause, too, coupled with the odd arrow prayer,"Please, God. One more. Just one more." Then she would sigh, and I would relax as the gentle breath reestablished itself. She was still with me.
All that ended in mid-January last year. I had left her side to talk to my son, when I heard an awful rasping noise. I ran back to her room. She was breathing agonally and finally sighed one last time and was gone from me. There would be no more breaths. God had finally said,"No, child," to me.
I cry as I write this. I hear people say "Let it go." But how can I ever let go someone so entwined in my heart? In the last year, I have become all the more cognizant of the people I have lost: friends that have moved away or that I have moved away from; my father, now dead for over thirty years, but whom I seem to mourning for afresh; finally, Fr. Dick, the priest who had gently guided me to God five years back, succumbing a couple of years ago and also now with Him whom he loved. I look, too, at the people around me still: my husband, David, my friends and family, my parish, and Father James, my priest now. I love them all, and they, too are entwined in that same heart that is still so pained. I am told not to be too attached but the choices seem to me to be either "Do not love." or "Abandon yourself to love and pain and loss." It is a choice all of us make, I suppose. It is not often I discuss this, even with my dearest friend, Diane, but as I relish my weekly latte with her, I think of how precious each moment is and how wonderful each dear face that God given me to love. Once I heard a homily, and the priest asked, "What do you want your epitaph to say?" In spite of the pain and the tears, I think I want mine to say, "She loved.".
This all started yesterday. I was helping a friend edit a small instructional pamphlet and it occurred to me how very much I liked doing that sort of thing. Then today, I stumbled on a blog by Amy Welborn about how she dealt with the sudden death of her husband. As I read it, I could feel the pain of my own loss spilled out in her words and I remembered the remarkable power writing has had in my life.
I had placed my mother in the arms of God last year, after her surrender to cancer, and live in the house where she died. It is a little house, but there are rooms I try to keep out of because it seems to me the ghost of her suffering image rises there, Suddenly, as I dust or straighten things, I am reminded of sitting in the easy chair next to her bed as she lay in a coma, listening to her breathe, Sometimes, the breaths would pause and my own breath would pause, too, coupled with the odd arrow prayer,"Please, God. One more. Just one more." Then she would sigh, and I would relax as the gentle breath reestablished itself. She was still with me.
All that ended in mid-January last year. I had left her side to talk to my son, when I heard an awful rasping noise. I ran back to her room. She was breathing agonally and finally sighed one last time and was gone from me. There would be no more breaths. God had finally said,"No, child," to me.
I cry as I write this. I hear people say "Let it go." But how can I ever let go someone so entwined in my heart? In the last year, I have become all the more cognizant of the people I have lost: friends that have moved away or that I have moved away from; my father, now dead for over thirty years, but whom I seem to mourning for afresh; finally, Fr. Dick, the priest who had gently guided me to God five years back, succumbing a couple of years ago and also now with Him whom he loved. I look, too, at the people around me still: my husband, David, my friends and family, my parish, and Father James, my priest now. I love them all, and they, too are entwined in that same heart that is still so pained. I am told not to be too attached but the choices seem to me to be either "Do not love." or "Abandon yourself to love and pain and loss." It is a choice all of us make, I suppose. It is not often I discuss this, even with my dearest friend, Diane, but as I relish my weekly latte with her, I think of how precious each moment is and how wonderful each dear face that God given me to love. Once I heard a homily, and the priest asked, "What do you want your epitaph to say?" In spite of the pain and the tears, I think I want mine to say, "She loved.".
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