Round Two (or more)

Creative types can be brimming over with ideas…so many that they don’t know which to choose next. Or…they can run dry. Hit a brick wall. Throw up their hands in despair over their inability to come up with even one inspiring idea. We’ve all been there – in both scenarios.  Sometimes, we are so enamored of our creation that we just must do it again, and again. I’m not talking about a series, which is a group of individual works with the same theme. I mean a do-over of something we’ve already created. Perhaps you didn’t care for the way it turned out the first time and you want to get it right this time, or maybe you just can’t get it out of your mind, and you want to see where else you can take it. Or it can take you.

Whether you are an artist, a photographer, a writer, a musician or a craftsman, there is a lure in revisiting, revising, renewing. This has been the case for me on more than one occasion. For instance, an early work of mine was based on a dream I had at a time in my life when I was pondering my life and choices I had made – one of which was to become a painter.  In that dream, I flew – high in the air with my arms outstretched, soaring happily, high above. Below me were areas of chaos and confusion that transitioned to areas that felt peaceful and embodied with clarity. I awoke feeling hopeful, happy, and inspired.  I knew I had to somehow convey all of this on canvas. I was painting exclusively in oils back then and experimenting with colored pencil strokes in my oil paintings. I frequently incorporated circular shapes in my works, sometimes just for their form but also because they are powerful symbols.  Inspired by my dream, I created a 24” x 30” mixed media work on canvas, incorporating oil, colored pencil and circles created with gesso/modeling paste relief. The circular shapes, some intact, some broken, as well as the colors I used, served as metaphors for transitions in my thinking and in my growth as both an artist and a human being. I named this piece “Thoughts in Transition / I Dreamed I Was A Bird”.

The original - “Thoughts in Transition / I Dreamed I Was A Bird” 30” x 24” oil & colored pencil on canvas

This painting (and the dream it was based on) marked a turning point in my artistic direction, sending me off into the realms of abstract painting and helping me find pure abandon where color and form is concerned.  This facilitated my innate intuitive nature which I turned to more and more while painting.  It was my first real abstract artwork, and it was validated (in my eyes) by acceptance in two national juried art exhibitions soon after.

I soon began to paint with acrylics on a large scale, preferring 4’ by 4’ Masonite panels to work on. I found myself thinking again and again about doing a larger version of the painting from my dream. This time some of the circles took a more organic form. The colors were completely different. A square format replaced the rectangular shape of the original canvas. Always in the experimenting mode, I embedded pieces of copper wire screen into the paint. I guess you could say that this painting was inspired by the painting that was inspired by the dream…and so it goes.  I rendered it once more many years later in a smaller form. That dream and those paintings are once more on my mind, and I fully anticipate revisiting that inspiration again soon.

“Thoughts in Transition / I Dreamed I Was a Bird II” 4’ x 4’ Acrylic & copper wire screen on board panel

NEW Vessel Painting Teaser

Hello, everyone. I hope this New Year has begun as a productive, creative and happy one for all of you!

I am about to complete a new Vessel Painting so be looking for it to show up soon on my Recent Works Page! Until then, I have a few photos of it in progress, to share with you.

Now here is the teaser part…what you see here may, or may not look the same in the finished painting. Since my paintings are multi-layered, you never know what may get partially buried between layers. The colors could be completely different, or maybe the section you see now will be completely gone…altered or painted over as if it were never there! It’s such a fascinating journey, creatively, emotionally, and even spiritually as you travel through the process from “seed” to realization.

Paint What You Know…

Born in rural Louisiana, to parents who encouraged ingenuity and resourcefulness in their children, I found myself immersed in color and design from an early age. My father, a house painter and building contractor, brought home color sample books provided to tradespeople by the major paint companies, such as Sherwin Williams Paint Co. These books had a fan-shaped cutout like a splayed peacock’s tail, that allowed you to see several colors juxtaposed against each other, the combination changing with every page you turned. As a child, I spent hours leafing through the color sample books, studying the colors and how they looked next to one another. I liked to watch my dad mixing oil pigments in his paint splattered white painter’s overalls and I remember how he meticulously cleaned his paintbrushes every day after work. Sometimes he brought home blueprints of homes he was building or remodeling and allowed me (if I were very careful) to look through them. I liked to trace my way through the rooms, delineated by white lines on the blue paper. I felt drawn to the texture of the paper and it’s rich blue color. The white grid-like lines in the blueprints would one day find their way into my paintings, as would the circular shape of the paint can lids, lying about as my Dad mixed paint colors.

My Dad was not the only influence on my future artistic self. My mother, quite creative herself, and an expert seamstress, taught me to sew at the young age of nine. Throughout my teenage years, I honed this skill and learned to alter and combine store bought dress patterns to create my own design which I had sketched on a sheet of my mother’s typing paper. I practiced my drawing skills by copying the illustrations of the models on the store bought paper patterns and then putting my own design creations on them. I begin to develop a unique style and fashion sense that did not go unnoticed at the high school I attended. By the time I was 14, I was literally designing and sewing all of my clothing. One of my best memories is accompanying my mother to fabric stores, and particularly the fabric department at Sears. Back in those days our Sears store had a large fabric department with row after row of bolts of fabric. When all of the yardage had been sold off the bolt, except for small pieces - usually one third of a yard to three yard pieces, they were rolled up and tied into little bundles and dropped into a couple of big wooden bins. Remnants were discounted and so were a great value! Mother and I would gleefully dig through the bins, stacking up the remnants we wanted. It was exciting to see all the colors and textures and my mind would race with creative ideas as we made our choices. Returning home with large bags stuffed with fabric bundles, we would talk about our ideas for using and combining the materials. These discussions produced a very energizing and exciting feeling, which I now recognize as “creative flow”. My mother encouraged my experimentation with design and fabric and supported my unconventional pairing of colors and textures, which I believe further strengthened my developing color and design aesthetic.

Years later, as the young mother of two, I attended my first oil painting workshop and felt an immediate affinity for both the medium and the process. Throughout my twenties and early thirties, and the birth of my third child, I continued to take both studio and plein air painting workshops and drawing classes. After a few years, I began to study privately under internationally known artist, Don Cincone.

Cincone, a brilliant painter and master colorist, had a profound effect on the way I viewed and experienced art. I considered him an artistic mentor, as well as a spiritual mentor. He introduced me to acrylic paint and the technique of using glazes to produce multi-layered paintings with depth and richness. His advice to me - “Paint what you know”- became my mantra. “What do I know?” I thought. Color. I know color. It is as familiar to me as breathing. It is an old friend. I see color as an expression, as an emotion, as a living, breathing thing. Color can take over, it can expand, it can transport, it can transform, it can lift you up and it can calm you down. Color, I know.

I began to draw inspiration from my dreams, my memories, my experiences and what I call “fragments of inner knowing”. This “inner knowing” would lead to the inception of my “Vessel Paintings”, incorporating large pots or urns - often with roots and vines growing beneath them, around them or coming out of them. Graceful, intertwined, faceless beings, appear around them and below them. Certain symbols are repeated over and over. It is for the viewer to discern what the symbols mean to them, individually. I believe that once a painting is completed, it renews itself time and time again, through the eyes, emotions and experiences of the current viewer, and takes on a different meaning each time.

from thoughts to things, continued

In my last post, I discussed recording an idea for a painting by sketching on paper, but you can also sketch directly onto the canvas, with either a pencil or a thin wash of color, or both. An acrylic wash is made by thinning acrylic paint with water to create a transparent layer of paint. I like to add a small amount of acrylic gel medium to my wash to make sure it adheres well to the canvas or paper. I usually use yellow ochre or burnt sienna for my wash, but the choice of color is really up to you.

(above) The preliminary sketch for Dance Of The Dragon was based on a dream I had many years ago. The first painting based on this sketch followed the sketch pretty closely. Recently, I decided to execute a second work based on that sketch.

Pencil sketch and yellow ochre wash directly on canvas for Dance Of The Dragon II

(above) This canvas was prepared with texture and multiple coats of gesso beforehand. I then used a pencil to sketch the composition directly on the canvas and then block it in with a yellow ochre wash. At this stage, it is easy to see if corrections need to be made in the preliminary composition. You can see where I corrected the arm of the figure directly over the pencil sketch.

DANCE OF THE DRAGON II, 36” x 36”, acrylic and gold leaf on gallery-wrapped canvas

(above) Dance Of The Dragon II, follows the basic idea of the original sketch , with a few revisions. It also incorporates gold-leaf and has a moodier feeling than the original painting did.

Dreams are a rich source of inspiration for artists. The dream that inspired the original version of this painting, also inspired a couple of my fellow-artists who then created their own paintings based on their interpretations of my dream!! Fellow artists are another great source of inspiration!

(Below) Close-up details of gold-leaf work.

from thoughts to things…

Thoughts…re-interpreted, Dreams…remembered, Life…re-imagined

Intuition, dreams, books, mythology, folklore, art, architecture, nature, faraway places, and nearby places…as near as my own yard. Anything, anywhere and anytime can inspire my art.

Once the seed of an idea comes to me, it helps to transfer the basic idea to a sketch. Scribbled on scratch paper, a sketch pad or a legal pad, it is not meant to be neat or artistic, as you can see below. It is meant to be a marker for the original thought and the emotion that accompanied it.

(above) Original sketch for The Seeds Of Winter. It’s messy, but the idea is intact.

SEEDS OF WINTER, 48” x 48” Acrylic on board panel

(above) As you can see, individual components of the original idea can take on a dynamic of their own. Case in point: The winter sun in the painting just seemed to grow energetically, dwarfing the tree, which is the opposite of the way they are in the sketch. Allowing is an important part of my creating process. Sometimes I just have to get out of the way, drop all of my preconceived ideas of what the piece will look like and let it evolve as it will. Although I had a certain palette in mind, as noted on the original sketch, the wintry blues evolved organically in this painting, evoking the feeling of winter.

The Moth (recent work)

The Moth is a new work, created with techniques that I have tweaked over many years as a painter. It’s a mixed-media piece, incorporating acrylic paint, gold leaf and relief work created with gesso and modeling paste. It also incorporates sgraffito, the technique of putting down a preliminary layer and scratching through subsequent layers to reveal colors or texture beneath. I will talk about the sgraffito technique. relief work and working with gold-leaf in more detail in a later post.

THE MOTH - Acrylic, gold-leaf and gesso/modeling paste relief

(above) The canvas was prepared beforehand, by building up texture with a mixture of gesso and modeling paste and allowing it to dry completely before adding several layers of thick gesso, sanding between each coat. After the canvas was prepared, I sketched the composition directly onto it with a pencil, then further defined the composition with washes of yellow ochre and burnt sienna.

things revealed…

(below) Sometimes things appear within my art that I did not place there. Such was the case of the moth in this painting. I discovered the moth early in the painting process and I knew it must stay. You can see the moth in the picture below - to the far right about mid-way down the canvas. I have defined the form further by scraping it with a razor blade.

(above) After the entire canvas was covered with a wash, I begin building layers of paint, sometimes scraping part of it off to reveal the layer of paint or texture below. Part of the original pencil drawing is still visible in the finished painting. I think of it as part of the archeology of the piece.

(above) The first under-layers of paint have been added to the sun and the sky and the red circle.

(above) Close-up view of scratched out moth

(above) The moth is now partly obscured in it’s finished form (as it appeared in it’s original form), lending a sense of mystery to the composition.