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Sometimes a painting just arrives. In my head. At the strangest time. Even when I have other plans. One morning, as I was waking up, this was here. In my head. As plain as day. I knew exactly the shape she would be. And of course I didn't have any canvases that would do. Being resourceful, I recalled seeing a large moving box abandoned in the lobby. (Not to confuse you... the box was not actually "moving," it was intended for packing and moving.) You might recall my penchant for "found objects." Within minutes, the moving box had given up it's mundane career and was on its way to becoming ART. I don't usually paint on cardboard, but one must be resourceful. And the texture was perfect.Back in art classes, every teacher impressed upon me the importance of layering the paint. Now, I always questioned the need for that. If you know what you want to paint, why not just get it right the first time? I learned a lot about layering in this piece. I painted what I thought I wanted. It was wrong. So I painted the next layer... also not quite right. It took several attempts to get all the parts right. And all the under layers were an integral part of the final effect. Call it what you will... Layering just means making a few mistakes so you can get it right on the top layer. The casual observer might note that many of my mermaids have reddish hair. That's because my daughter Amanda is a mermaid, too.
I love mermaids. A lot. Okay, you might as well know, I AM a mermaid. This realization came to me in the Caribbean; St. Thomas, to be exact. I was snorkeling for the first time, floating on top of the water, gently splashing my fins, at one with the fishes. It was pure magic. So, given my natural aquatic background, it makes perfect sense that mermaids are a recurring theme in my artwork.This fiber mache piece was a class project in Whitney's Drawing (and everything else) class at CBC in 2001. It is much like paper mache, but 3 dimensional. This was also my first attempt at air brush. The piece was entered in the Juried Art Show. It didn't win any ribbons.
Sometimes inspiration just happens and sometimes it is a melange of thoughts and experiences. My computer sits in my bedroom, the open window overlooking a tall lilac bush, filled with little birds. A few weeks ago, I was in Bellingham eating breakfast with Amanda and Callie at the Old Town Cafe (Very yummy food) and they had a exhibit of paintings of birds. I was mesmerized. All that, mixed with my love of chickens (I know, kinda weird), brought me to this painting. I loved the way the paints mixed on the canvas emerged into a vibrant result. Once I sat down to paint, I was finished in less than 3 hours. I feel that my "style" is emerging.
Thank you to all my friends and family who encourage me in my creativity. I always say that "what I lack in talent, I make up for in enthusiasm." A special thank you to my mentor Whitney; he taught me so much and had such an amazing influence on my life. He died too young and I will reference him occasionally in my posts. I promise, Emily, I won't turn into one of those strange old ladies that just paints birds.
My grandson Henry turned 1 in March. His birthday party theme was rockets. So, what would any good Nana do? Build him his very own rocket. I took very sturdy cardboard and cut out the shape, forming a 4-pronged stand to keep it upright, cut 3 large holes so people could get their picture taken looking through the holes, as though they were actually IN the rocket! It was a great design challenge to create and construct. A hit at the party and it now lives at the boy's childcare center. Yes, it was a lot of aluminum foil, and NO, you can't look at the back.
Last November, after several years of inactivity, I pulled my art supplies out of storage and began painting again. This was my first foray back into the world of color and brush strokes. I chose the pear because of the organic roundness of the subject. I like the heaviness that speaks of an elderly woman settled joyfully into her life, content and welcoming. Or a younger woman, pregnant with new life. Whatever the age, the pear is very female.
The final painting hangs on my wall next to one of the framed sketches. A pair of pears.
Sometimes a painting just arrives. In my head. At the strangest time. Even when I have other plans. One morning, as I was waking up, this was here. In my head. As plain as day. I knew exactly the shape she would be. And of course I didn't have any canvases that would do. Being resourceful, I recalled seeing a large moving box abandoned in the lobby. (Not to confuse you... the box was not actually "moving," it was intended for packing and moving.) You might recall my penchant for "found objects." Within minutes, the moving box had given up it's mundane career and was on its way to becoming ART. I don't usually paint on cardboard, but one must be resourceful. And the texture was perfect.
