Obazart

Windows to the Past

2012-02-05T16:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I've always had such a fascination with picture frames. My current work is cued by the frame as much as the other way around. I haunt antique malls, junk shops and flea markets looking for them now. It is becoming an almost sacred ritual to find them, bring them home and begin to clean them up. I love sitting quietly looking at the wood, whatever detailing they have, the weathered finish. I grab my pliers to pull out rusty nails, old wire and eye hooks, and wipe out the dirt and dust. I wonder about them. I wonder whose home they were in, what pictures they held, who walked by them day after day. I wonder what I will put in them. I get ideas just by looking at the shapes. I have a mirror right now that has beautiful beveled detailing at the top-I think I'll put my work right over the top of the mirror and work the beveled decoration right into what I'm doing.

I remember so clearly as a child going to art museums and wondering about the people and pictures I saw, like all of the frames were windows to the past, and the painted portraits would just probably come alive if you tickled their noses, or all the patrons left for the day. I knew they were looking down at me and if I turned fast enough, I'd see them smiling and waving. Or shaking their fingers at me because I got too close to something pretty and wanted to touch. When I went to antique shops with my grandmother, or auctions or house sales, I remember having the same feeling, brought on by the smells and the look of old things. She taught us kids what was of value, and being with her was like being on a treasure hunt. I dreamed I'd find a famous painting in a dusty box, or a special piece of glass she was looking for. She would shush us if we picked something up special and loudly called her attention to our good fortune. There was this incredible understanding that the history of these objects was worth revering. That they were almost living. I quickly learned to enjoy finding something that was special to myself and also of marketable value. I wanted to find something in need of repair, or paint and a little special touch. I vastly preferred unusual old things to new toys.

I find now that this same love is being resurrected in the need to use old frames with character and history. The frames compliment and pull together the work that I do. I find myself looking at old finished drawings and feeling the need to rework, add to and add those qualities that I used to be enamored by as a child-incorporating stained glass, pattern, a Victorian sensibility or at least a nod to design movements of the past...art nouveau, art deco, crazy quilts, jewels and found objects. I guess we now say "vintage". But to me it is more than that. It is a window to my own past and the wonder I used to have. It is vital to the creative process.

A word fitly spoken

2012-01-28T14:03:00.000-08:00

Admittedly, the human race is hard for me. I would truly be a wealthy woman if I had a dollar for every time someone told me I'm quiet, I'm reserved, I don't talk, I'm artsy fartsy and therefore possess the aforementioned qualities. Sigh. Ok. Now that you know this, understand that I like people. I really do. I just don't have a lot of patience with them. As one movie idol (Tarzan) stated it so eloquently after Jane described European mating rituals to him, "Too much talk". I love to write, but I do not love to talk unless I'm sincerely interested in the person or the subject at the other end of the conversation. I hate, bloody, hate, being misjudged. Or dismissed. Or blown off. I'm sure no one loves that, but I can't stand it. That fuels the no talking.

I do love to read. I just got home from a very interesting trip to the library. I needed a break from my art stuff, wanted to walk, wanted to get some books, so I took a stroll to the local book establishment. I took my time choosing what I wanted. I'm a long time patron. I went to check out my books, and was told to my astonishment, that I owed a $25 fine. I do frequent the library, but it had been about four months since my last trip. I was told by a very disinterested high school girl with a lisp that the book had "beverage stains" on it when it was returned. For a $25 fine it sounds like I spilled a gallon of Koolaid on it. I was speechless. I asked the young lady why I wasn't informed...such a large fine. She said the books were returned in the outside box and I therefore could not have been presented with the fine for the violated tome. I felt like a criminal, like I threw a dripping wet, sugary drink engorged copy of a first edition (I don't remember what I read four months ago) into the book drop from a moving car, laughing evilly as I sped off. They'll never know it was me!!!!!!!!! Ha Ha!!!!!! as pages disintegrated out of the airborne volume and it landed in the book drop with a soggy thunk. I paid $5 to rescue my momentarily soiled library patron-in-good-standing reputation and walked away hating the disinterested girl who received my last crumpled dollar bills in the world meant for the vending machine at work. I did see a non-high school age woman in an office through an open door behind the counter, apparently not paying attention-did she hear this?

I got home pacing the kitchen, heating up a cup of coffee, going over the conversation in my head repeatedly. Which book, what beverage, girl with a lisp, $25 freakin' dollars worth of damage, ahhhhhh! And then the phone rang. It was the woman in the library office calling, saying the $5 was payment enough and the remaining $20 was waived. I told her I'd gladly pay if it were that bad-I simply could not imagine how it could be? She smartly pulled the book from the shelf to check it. I thought of that after the fact. Still, I wondered to myself, why...I was grateful, but still disturbed. I had already decided to pay the fine. It wasn't worth not doing it.

I am trying to learn to be graceful with people, to see better, to hear better, to understand the context of a high school girl with a lisp doing her Saturday job, not really worried about an old lady in her eyes with a $25 fine. It's ok. There is a time for confrontation and a time to hold the peace. Or the tongue.

Broken Template

2012-01-21T17:45:00.000-08:00

The pictured mess is what is left of a soldered glass template that cracked on a finished piece of work I was papering and wiring the back of, preparing it for shipping. Suffice it to say observing the cracked glass was not a happy moment. Discouraging words left my mouth. When I noticed the crack, my immediate response was to think, screw this. I'm not fixing it. BUT, the piece is for a charity auction that I already committed myself to, sent the paperwork in regarding, and couldn't not send it. Then I thought, I can just tease out the cracked section and add new glass. I used the thinnest framing glass I could buy and had for this larger piece. When I started teasing, the section nearest the broken part snapped. Sigh. Ok, not going to be an easy fix. I left for work and decided I'll try again later, still hoping at least part of it was salvageable.

Fast forward to Saturday. I decided I try to heat the solder joints-that might assist with the dissembling of the cracked parts and maybe still, I could use some of it. I also found and cleaned a heavier piece of glass that I thought I'd use if I couldn't fix the sections that broke. More parts cracked as I heated the glass and tried again to slowly wiggle them out of place like a loose tooth. I had to take five and face the rubber gloves. That meant, the weak glass had to be yanked apart no matter how much of it broke, and the stronger stained glass pieces which were already cut saved out of the mess. I couldn't save any of the thinner glass. The thicker, tougher stained glass wiggled right out of the copper foil, so the end result of it all is pictured. It took all day to recut, grind, foil and solder new glass to the already cut stained glass. I had to make a completely new, stronger template.

I finally made myself realize that if the crack had happened in shipping, there would have been no recovering. It would have been total disaster. The organization I'm sending the piece to is an online art site that services businesses, designers, architects and folks looking for art to use in the workplace or home decoration. This venue would allow me to send a piece no strings really and see if it sells. My work has to have integrity in creativity and structure. If I want to maintain a good reputation, the work has to precede it. Short cuts and wrong materials do not cut the mustard.

It did become an object lesson to me, as I yanked and snapped on purpose in my rubber gloves, pulling apart the broken unusable sections to get to the good parts that could be saved and reused. It feels like the story of my life lately. Weak, bad parts in the template are being broken and thrown aside. The good things are being restructured and reworked into a stronger piece. I have to let God do the breaking. The end result is worth the time and pain. If weak parts don't break now, they will down the road, often at the most inconvenient moment. It will happen. The break was unavoidable and I should have known it. The whole point is, don't structure with weak materials. I just read the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount in the book of Matthew. Jesus does say something about building a house on sand vs on a rock. People that use good teaching and wisdom as a foundation will have a structure that stands up to use. People that do not will snap one day. I have to get this lesson.

The Big 5-0

2012-01-18T05:01:00.000-08:00

My life as a woman of a certain age seems to be filling up with other such women, and they are wonderful. There is something very special about getting near, past or around the half century mark and beyond. Seems like old fears and insecurities die, and what is left is so real and truthful, spending time with women in this category is a special blessing. I'm privileged to work with six such wise women, have four sisters plus one honorary sister/friend in this group, and two friends I meet with on Saturday. I can add to that now a pastor who felt God's call at 53, and is serving in her first pastorate here in Northeast PA. I was so impressed by that!! Shoot, when I was ten, being 50 seemed like you were ready to crawl into the desert and experience ceremonial dessication and blow into dust with the sand.

I work at a local dental distribution company in the tooth department. We stock, order, send and received denture teeth (seems rather appropriate). We seven women are actually our own little company within a company. The room we work in is closed off from the rest of the building, windowless and can only be entered with a special swipe card code. So, we are pretty much there by ourselves all day, and as it is famously stated in other context, "what happens in the tooth department, stays in the tooth department". But I have to share a little, which is like an episode of the Golden Girls. A tiny sound bite on a given day...first, you have to know, we get daily hot flash reports, timed fiber consumption reports, and frequent medical and bathroom habits are discussed. Nothing is really sacred. At this point in life, what is the point?

Ok, so here goes-the conversation was about black kohash helping hot flashes, so one of our number was asking about that, but called it "black hummus". Another voice was heard from a desk shouting out, "I thought that was what you put on your feet". (She was thinking, pumice). Yes, the deafness, the total lack of propriety...Hummus, pumice, kohash-a female conversation in the day in the life of the half century club. I love it.

jars of clay

2012-01-13T05:51:00.000-08:00

The painting pictured is a Cezanne, lovely vase of flowers. Something I have learned over the course of the year...be content to be the vase. If a vase thinks it is fulfilling its purpose to sit there and look good, it will never find happiness. The only thing that makes a vase beautiful is flowers and water. And the vase must be empty to hold those.

Fear Factor 2

2012-01-08T04:03:00.001-08:00

Well, I made the drive to the Mission, see previous post, and first of all, it is on a major connecting street to the Wyoming Valley Mall and a Walmart Superstore, and the street is under construction, so there were no signs and it was dark. I drove all the way down the street and back up, made the correct turn, only to see about three cars in the mission lot. It looked like a nice building, though there was a liquor store at the turn off and the neighborhood is a little sketchy. No matter. It wasn't that. I couldn't deal with three cars. That meant like 5 people in church. Ughhh...can't do it.

So I drove home, got a huge pile of soldered earrings done while watching Fred Astaire on my tiny, tiny CD-DVD player in "Royal Wedding". Then I watched Shirley Temple in "The Little Princess". I love, love, love the dream sequence in that movie, never tire of it. "I know my rights, I know the law!!" How can you beat a totally tall, hot young Caeser Romero as the Indian servant, and Arthur Treacher paired with Shirley in great comedy and dance sketches. Too fun.

I did decide to try a local Lutheran church with an 8am service. I'm up before God cracks the sun yolk and so I wanted early. Also, they have a second service soon after, so it's sort of in and out quickly I hope. Sincerely, I'm hoping to find a creative faith community-how or where I don't know, but I want to serve in my gifting capacity. I know it isn't impossible. Nothing's impossible with God. Don't get me started! He took a no talent housewife in the middle of NEPA nowheresville and built something I still can't believe. But that's the trick-believe.

Fear Factor

2012-01-07T11:43:00.000-08:00

I've been away from church for probably over a year. The year was hard. I wasn't away from God necessarily, as I think about Him daily, but I was away from other people. Many things contributed to the absence. Honest questions, about myself and my faith, about the world, what is sin, what is good...hard things I couldn't necessarily answer. I couldn't endure being in a formula environment, as church sometimes feels like-we do this, then we do that, and we sing like this or that and we smile and nod during the sermon or look appropriately thoughtful. Nothing prepared me for the gut-wrench of the year, where I don't think I could smile or nod even if I wanted to. And I really didn't want to, so I'm a holy refugee.

But I feel like I have an invitation from the only Person who matters, and He needs me to come back. I have made a commitment to the one thing I believe comes directly from the Father, as all good and perfect gifts do, and that is my creativity. I work an 8-5 or thereabouts, so what precious little time I have outside the office is devoted to the arts and my family. And it isn't much. The pressure of endless Sunday morning music, "fellowship" and sermo-gasms, is too much for me. I need baby food again and the quiet of the post sickroom. Too much excitement and noise doesn't suit me on the best of days, and certainly not now. I'm not trying to be irreverent. In fact the opposite. I need to behold the One person in my life who holds out the invitation. Anyone who ever looked at the Man from Galilee with expectation was not disappointed. But the fear of trying to make it through the crowds when you feel like a spiritual leper is tough. I know I'm accepted, but I still have to get in the car and drive to a place I've never been to go into the most personal of times with strangers. Maybe it is better. There is a Rescue Mission that has a 6pm Saturday service. That is where I'm going. Seems appropriate.

Daily doubts-the art process

2012-01-03T00:28:00.000-08:00

This is my daughter, Becky, my muse and model for many years, graciously submitting herself to my less than professional photography methods (easel set up in our tiny kitchen with a piece of black fabric draped over cardboard behind her). She makes it easy to get great shots, a natural model. She is wearing one of my necklaces. With any sort of art venture, if an artist wants to sell work, they must wear a couple of hats. Being the marketing department is one. I was dreading setting up an Etsy store for my necklaces and just this past weekend FINALLY started in. Etsy is a fantastic art lister's site that pretty much does the hard work for you as far as setting up a web store-you as the artist just "decorate" your shop and list product.

Still, there are a few issues...photography is one. It takes me forever to photograph product. The shots can't just be ok. They have to be great. They are the only link between your unique product and the buying public, very important people for an artist. I wanted to do this and was so proud of myself for even getting a profile done. I also had to develop a banner for the site. In Illustrator-so add to photographer, graphic designer. And set up PayPal. Add to graphic designer, savvy financier. Ok, setting up PayPal doesn't really qualify one as savvy. But for someone who knows NOTHING at all, I'd say, throw me a bone.

It was a long weekend and I have to go back to my day job today. It is three in the morning and I can't sleep. I didn't do any actual artwork over my break. By the time evening rolled around, even after getting all this work done, I was melting down. I posted myself by the boob tube with bag of cookies, watching re-runs of Project Runway. It was the season of Santino, so I got to see a designer diva having tantrums or just being a butt. And doing great impersonations of Tim Gunn. What I also had to watch was these people killing themselves for their art and never being sure if they got the job done. Those awful questions, "Why am I doing this?", "Is my designing something that will endure?", "I hate myself", lol, (only because after doing the absolute best you can, you can still feel like a no talent amateur in a second-I totally understand, sitting there, munching cookies I don't need, feeling like crap after the most productive weekend I've had in forever).

Well, I finally quit the sugar blues and moved on to classic movie land. And TCM was playing "Portrait of Jenny" starring Joseph Cotten and Jennifer Jones. A strange, otherworldly offering based on an American short story about a girl who keeps appearing to a struggling artist, and every time she does she's older and he begins to find success in his life because she inspires him so much. The musical score is taken from The Girl with the Flaxen Hair by Debussy, haunting and so beautiful. One of my favorite pieces. And we see Mr. Cotten as a creative person questioning his work, feeling his life has no purpose only to have the one thing he needs appear out of time and space. Jenny keeps telling him, "you have to have faith". Well, yes, that what you need will appear out of time and space, that it is worth it after all, that art has its own reasons, and you cannot give up. Got it.

I have to say, thinking about where I've been and where I am, people and opportunities do appear-I've had some things happen, and I know we could all as human beings and artists share stories-things that seem to be aligned by the stars, acts of God, never expected, totally amazing. I need those things, and little things, like receiving email responses and blog comments, knowing a few people are out there who care, just a little reassurance for today to be lifted over those waves of doubt that keep ebbing and flowing. The boat does still float but some days I just have a struggle with the oars.

It Only Takes A Moment

2011-12-31T04:26:00.000-08:00

I love all of the arts, particularly musical theater and movie musicals. If I had my dream job and a do-over, I'd be born into the Hollywood heydey of the 30's, 40's and 50's, as a gofer, set designer, costume maven or poster artist, just to be around such talent and exciting performances of the time. As I grew up I was a weird kid going to Catholic school singing the Buffalo Bills rendition of "Lida Rose" from The Music Man and countless other movie musical scores I'd watched on tv or heard over and over from my parents vinyl record collection. In my teenage years, the musical as an art from was changing as society changed in the turbulent 60's, uncertain 70's and then the 80's, and my friends and I were now singing songs from Jesus Christ Superstar as the musical resurged on stage with Andrew Lloyd Webber and co. Julie Andrews, Barbara Streisand, Liza Minnelli-great actors with great voices, who filled in the gap, but movie audiences lost interest.

Still I loved Barbara Streisand in Hello Dolly!. That, too, had a subtle undercurrent of feminist viewpoint. No matter-and mixed in with all of these memories, is the memory of an actor whose face stuck in my head, but his performances were so magic and quicksilver alongside these heavyweights of the theater you'd hardly remember except that he made other actors look really good in comparison. My all time favorite love song in a musical is "It Only Takes a Moment" (used to such great effect in Pixar's Wall-e) sung by this skinny gangly dance man with a goofy face and tenderly shy voice. The actor's name-Michael Crawford. Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom...I knew the actor's name who was chosen to play the original role, but the voice that sang my favorite love song doing Music of the Night-I would never, ever have made that connection had I not seen the film clips in a program on the making of the stage musical. I can still remember Michael Crawford running around in a toga in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and here he is, the robust, passionate, serious, sexually charged Phantom with a voice that a body can never forget.

I think I just sat there and took in the information-then I checked it online. I recognized the face as soon as they flashed the old film clips of his performances in movies and on TV pre-phantom. But I thought, no, it can't be...not THAT guy. I'm probably the only person on the face of the planet who didn't know this. Then I giggled and I loved the thought of it. Imagine-an already successful actor in comedy doing a total about-face literally, snagging the role of a lifetime in a Victorian stage melodrama. WOW!! Kudos to Andrew Lloyd Webber for picking the only actor who could have done the part with such powerful expression his name is now synonymous with the role. How did he see the potential in the man? And how did Michael Crawford transform himself? One thing he did upon learning that he was a major contender for such a role was practice six hours a day for two months singing Music of the Night. He already had the acting and stage experience-what most folks did not know, but he did. He knew he could do it. He made himself into the Phantom.

I thought about this, and co-incidentally had been reading about another person who was an unlikely candidate for the fame she achieved in life, writer Erma Bombeck. People tell me I have a gift for writing, so I researched writers I admire and would like to emulate. She is first on my list, and upon taking literature classes in college, failed assignments repeatedly. She re-enrolled in a Catholic college and was finally told by a priest she had a tremendous gift to share in her writing. She married, raised a family, lived the life of a suburban housewife, and created an entire syndicated world in her newspaper column "At Wit's End".

Other people come to mind as I consider this concept...Moses. A baby marked for death, Prince of Egypt, outcast sheepherder and savior of Israel. Huh? Seems God doesn't waste any experience. I look at my life and think-how now? What do I do with what I have learned in my life and my experiences? Erma Bombeck's great prayer to God was that she used every bit of everything He'd given her and not die until it was all gone. I like that prayer. There was another person whose early life was probably very forgettable except that in one incident her life was transformed. She was cast to the ground by an angry mob holding stones, ready to take her life for a sin she'd committed. Then suddenly someone began to write things in the dirt. After a time the crowd seemed to leave. She looked up to see the person writing and He asked her, "Who condemns you?". She replied, "No one, my Lord". He told her, "Neither do I. Now go your way and don't sin any more". I know this is the end of the written story, but I'd like to think this woman went home, scrubbed the streaked make-up off her face like a bad dream, burnt her clothes and walked into a new life. The old just a memory of that moment and Someone who believed in her and gave her a new start. It only takes a moment.

To Everything

2011-12-22T18:09:00.000-08:00

One concept that I'm continually, and right now powerfully reminded of, is the seasonal changes of life. We accept the change of seasons in nature. It doesn't seem unnatural that trees in part of the year have leaves, and then they lose them. It doesn't seem totally wrong that flowers appear and then die and there are none. We know they will come again, bloom again, buds and leaves will appear again one day. The change isn't permanent, but it is very real and it is in its proper time. The winter and Advent signify the coming of certain things. It is not time to harvest, it is time to wait and reflect. The harvest has ended, light and warmth die, barrenness happens and signs of life will not appear again until spring.

I feel the inevitability of the change of seasons in my own life. I'm not young any longer. I may have another 30 years upon the earth, but I know they lead to a certain end. Time grows short and every moment seems to possess more and more weight and significance. It is not time to waste precious minutes that can never be returned. The longing to make right decisions, see events and circumstances in the light of the coming eternity and know I've picked the correct path hangs over my days. I can't go back, I can't change anything-I can only make better choices in the future and use the time more wisely, being grateful I continue to have opportunity. And I see a greater Hand in this, even as my decisions perhaps are not the best, but I continue to strive to grow and change for the better. I continue to seek and hope to find fulfillment.

This is a season of celebration for many faiths. It marks the end of an age for Christianity and the fulfillment of an ancient promise. A King for all people was to be born on the earth, and many people waited for the advent of His coming. Christians celebrate the birth of Christ. There is not another time of the year that has the same burst of hope and quite the same feeling of joyful celebration. Christmas carols play in every manner of store and business, filling the air with a very old message-the message that God came to earth as a man. It is a spectacular story that is remembered in song in every style, but the message never goes out of style. It is embellished with myth, but the truth is so unbelievable the same lyrics ring out year after year the same message basically unchanged for a thousand years.

And the same thing happens year after year...people do not believe in a King that would come to them just for them. The message is obscured and lost in the shuffle of daily living. We just don't accept, like so many people of old, what God truly is. One Christmas carol says of the new born King, "Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail the Incarnate Diety, Pleased as man with men to dwell, Jesus our Immanuel...". That is a lot of really big words that say basically, He's one of us. He's here. Earth is home to this King. The word Immanuel literally means, "God with us". Just think of it! God-with-us. His final promise to people after a short life on this Earth is, "I am with you always". He's still here with us. That hasn't changed in a thousand years.

As the seasons of my life play out, this truth reforms itself and God reveals Himself as Immanuel to me with every change. Some years are pure joy. Some are a great struggle. This past year I was sure that He was not there, or I was so far away from any real relationship that may as well have been the case. But the thing is, the promise remains the same. The truth never changes, not from God's perspective. And especially in the years of struggle, the Lord who is takes my hand has more scars on His. His countenance bears the weight of this life in my spiritual eyes. And the advent of His appearing is completely unpredictable...I see His appearing in a sketch given to a friend, in a simple line typed on the computer, in a backyard on a summer day-in people and places that I frequent daily. So often not in church or not when I'm ship shape inside and out. He was born in a place people of his day were used to. It didn't smell good and it wasn't warm. It wasn't a good day for a King to come into this world. And He left it in pretty bad shape as well. But that wasn't the end of the story or the end of time. When time is no more, He will still be our Immanuel, still here, still with us.

Have a blessed Christmas!

Guild Shots

2011-12-17T05:04:00.000-08:00

If an artist or artisan has any hope of competing in the real world marketplace, self-promotion is essential. For those fortunate enough to have this job farmed out to a gallery, shop, etc, it is a huge time saver. But even in those circumstances, self promotion is critical in absolutely every avenue that viewers will be directed to your work and become potential customers. This entails the artist learning to be business person, photographer, saleperson, social media expert...sigh, the time it takes takes away from the actual creative process, but it just cannot be ignored.

These photographs are of my necklaces, shot for the purpose of being juried in to the PA Guild vendor circuit. Every type of art has its own market. I really don't know of any other field where a person must wear at least three hats continually without the expectations of continual public approval and then necessary sales. You cannot quit. I've done maybe one or two jobs fairly well at times and had a few sales, but have realized in order to have more, I have to be better. It took me probably four hours to get the photographs that I thought might be clear enough and interesting enough to submit to the Guild. I know artists who shoot roll after roll, or now as the case may be, digital image after image, to get exactly what they need, and this is even before the real work begins.

You have to love this profession. It is a must. There has to be directed passion or there will not be recognition, much less any quantifiable success. I know you have to be in it to understand it.
People always tell me how lucky I am to be so creative and talented. I know I am, but the responsibility to the craft is enormous. That is the only way I can explain going to work after work and trying repeatedly for the exposure needed to be seen by the public. And I'm not a public person by any means. My hat is off to the many artists, writers, actors I can call friends who do not give up in a creative endeavor.

There's a reason...

2011-12-11T07:48:00.000-08:00

I'm still here, still busy doing mirrors and jewelry, and working on collage type art with glass, mirror, fabric and drawn elements. I love the challenge. But interwoven with those pursuits come the jobs it seems I was made to do-portraiture is still a love. And some stories should be recorded and shared.

This has been a hard year in certain ways. My marriage didn't prove as resilient as I'd hoped, my faith teetering on the brink, at least outward expression of it-I became reclusive, not going to church, not really praying, not really doing things I'd done for the last hundred years of my life. A reformulation of priorities, who I am as a person and an artist and other things were going on inside that simply couldn't be denied. Still are. But in the midst of all of this, news came that a friend I'd known through recovery ministry had passed away. Bonnie was young, but had struggled most of her adult life with addiction, and the struggle finally took her. It is so hard to put into words what her life story meant to me and how the threads of her existence wove themselves into my life at the time when someone who could understand the violent side of life, the unpredictable nature of addiction, the pain it causes and the hope that might be found in the midst of the struggle seemed to come along at just the right moment. I met her mother, Juanita, first of all, and learned from mom Bonnie's story of how she had the choice of jail or rehab, chose Teen Challenge (a Christian based program) and apparently beat all sorts of arrest warrents in various states, not trying to get out of a sentence, but because of the mercy of the court. God's hand seemed so evident, or something beyond herself, in all of these circumstances. She got out of rehab and I met her in person. Her personality was so charismatic and dynamic she was impossible to ignore. Bonnie's laughter, her way of bedeviling me and always finding ways to embarrass me teasingly-she was absolutely unique and just that type of person who could go into the tender spots left by my son's imprisonment without damage, always encouraging-she was so real. You knew she'd seen some hard, hard places and still managed to survive.

When I got the phone call from a mutual friend that she was gone, I was enraged. I just couldn't keep the tears back, couldn't keep myself from feeling how much of a waste it all was...I was angry with the pain of life, at God maybe for not pulling one more miracle out of the basket for this woman who fought so valiantly...she died choking on a cheese sandwich. I offered to do a portrait for Juanita and Bonnie's daughter, Stephanie. My friend Lisa went to Steph and had her pick out the pictures of her mother and herself that she wanted done. Lisa brought them to me and I let them sit for days. Usually I'm on a project immediately, but this one brought nothing but grey to my mind and recurring rage. It tore at my heart and I couldn't look at her picture without weeping. Finally I thought to stretch paper and dye it, a technique I used to frequently use in portrait drawings but hadn't in years. I chose light, heavenly, sky type hues of bright pink, blue and purple. The paper dried like an evening sky. It was really lovely. But I laid it down and didn't do anything for more days.

I began to try to compose the double portrait in my head, and at work, in a random moment, the anger left me and I could hear Bonnie's laughter in my mind clear as a bell. The portrait took shape as I looked at the pictures and started drawing. I spoke to her in my mind and told her I needed help getting her smile, which had to be right! I finished finally, using a mixture of charcoal and colored chalks. Steph's portrait was so easy once Bonnie's was done. I had a frame already put together of a dark grey metal that fit perfectly-I dropped the picture in the frame and let it sit more days facing the wall. I couldn't look at it.

I called my friend Lisa and asked her to come with me to drop off the picture. I was afraid I'd break down honestly, so she gladly agreed and we went the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend. I'd never met Steph, who lives with her grandparents. She shared a little upstairs apartment with her mom until Juanita finally asked Bonnie to move out. She started using again. Steph gave us a little tour of her digs, and the tv room she had just redecorated. I looked around the room and could not believe my eyes. It had grey walls, black and white accents and hot pink curtains and pillows. I knew before she unwrapped the picture that it matched the room as if it were made to be hung there. I started tearing up and we were all crying and laughing when she finally realized that it was perfect.

We visited over pumpkin pie and Steph had to leave for basketball practice. After she left Juanita told us that Stephanie had wanted to see her mother's body and the last memory she had of Bonnie was a corpse on a morgue slab. Juanita said Steph could not get that image out of her head. She said the portrait would help to erase that awful memory and couldn't thank me enough. I was simply overwhelmed by all of this and just knew that somehow, in the midst of a terrible tragedy, this gift became blessing. I realized, too, that whatever questions I have about my life and faith, I know the artist is led of God and He approves this message. Chuckle. A great feeling....! In this one area of my life, I know I can surrender my heart and my hands without qualification and they are used.

Cut and Paste

2011-04-22T16:20:00.000-07:00

This is my next mirror in progress. I am incorporating a drawing of a neighbor's lilly I started and figured I would never use for anything. The drawing already echoes the influence of stained glass. I keep wanting to cut space up in chunks, color it and mix it up. I love the richness of fabric design mixed with the colored pencil images and glass. It just works for me.

I'm resisting the urge to be philosophical about the whole thing. One co-worker told me I have to stop using big words. Some things can only be described with certain words or phrases...so let me pontificate. (No apologies). This is what my life has felt like. Shapeless scraps in piles on the floor, broken pieces of situations and desires, disparate, disjointed...things I don't understand, insignificant and without overall form and beauty. Lacking cohesion, purpose, co-existence. But something happens when I start arranging, looking for clues and harmony, fluid lines of understanding. It all begins to be something. Rich and complex, pleasing, touchable, strong. I love what I am doing now creatively and it translates into a purposeful path that pulls together everything that has happened before in its wake. And some things don't need to be explained. They just need to be in their right place.

This brings me such joy, immediate pleasure, the outworking of the cutting, moving pieces around, drawing into blank space, creating my own textured reality. The only reason it exists is because I'm here to call it into being.

A Common Thread

2011-04-16T18:03:00.001-07:00

April 16, 2011

I was asked to judge an inmate art contest at a local prison about ten years ago, before I had any experience regarding anything about prison. Somehow I had the gumption at the time to say yes, and brave the barbed wire, the maze of airlocks, the open yard as a lone female and then the task of looking at the art. I was well compensated for the time I spent, and I thought little about it until I got another call last week from the same gentleman, now at another prison, who is again doing an inmate art show and for whatever ungodly reason still had my contact information.

Life's changed dramatically since then and I have repeated first-hand experience going into jails and prisons due to my son Brandon's arrest and now 6 year sentence. As a parent, as someone who did ministry and as a friend, I've been inside often. One thing I can say is, inmates, like us on the outside, when given lots of time and nothing else to do, yearn to express themselves in some meaningful way. When everything else that makes them human seems gone, when clothing is all the same, whether brown, orange, khaki, or whatever, talents take on an immeasurably greater importance. Talents that set apart. The above illustrations are an inmate's colored pencil drawings on envelopes. They are truly unique.

I find myself in strangely a similar position. My drive to start a business caught fire mainly I think when I found myself in the work-a-day world. I'm in a department of many people who all do the same job. There is something about being in a cube, saying the same things over and over, that makes me cry out for more-another means of defining myself. When I had all the freedom in the world to do it, I didn't really distinguish myself or try as I might. Now that that freedom is so constricted and my world is so defined by one activity, I long for the release of something wholly my own.

The New Stuff

2011-04-09T18:10:00.001-07:00

I realize the departure seems radical. It was a process of trying, retrying, being inspired by different materials, thinking hard about what I was really about as an artist. I love to paint and draw, but I realized my natural affinity is for structural design and composition. I had hoped to marry the skills of craftsmanship with the esthetic of art, and still include drawing and painting in my finished pieces. I love interior design, art with function...that was the thing that always stymied me trying to be a fine artist. I know I have the skill, but I'm not sure I have the passion it takes to get behind an easel day after day. I also have the entrepreneurial streak. The jewelry and the mirrors I think are a more easily digested art product for the public. I probably will still want to find a coastal gallery that might handle my ocean minis, but for now I'm happy as a clam playing with design. My new business is CandyGlass, www.candyglass.biz, and I have changed my facebook page to include my work, show dates if I have them, and links to Etsy. I'm still working on that site (it is a megahuge art and crafters site offering subscribers an online storefront in which to advertise, show and sell work). I love being a business!

The above photos are the necklaces and my mirror experiments. The portrait of Becky was inspired by Gustav Klimt, but I know I have a LONG way to go to approach his genius of combining incredible pattern and design with realism. I also love the posters of Peter Max. They were plastered all over my bedroom as a teenager. He is another design influence.

Work Related

2011-04-09T17:44:00.000-07:00

I feel as though I have lost my audience. I started working for a dental distribution company and more or less lost focus. I am handling in my 50's what I'm sure most working folks do in their 30's-starting out at the 9-5 and seriously considering a career path. I was a stay at home mom for years, working odd jobs, parttime in my husband's business and selling some art, but not with a passionate focus on a path. Circumstances have put me there. This past probably year and a half has been one of the most intense self-searching and questioning journeys of my life. By the start of 2010 I had slowed my painting down and felt directionless. I finally asked a co-worker, whose profile fascinated me, if I could take photos and draw his portrait. That was last summer. I could feel the urge to do SOMETHING overpower me, but up until that point it was like my creative self needed rest and reflection. Another situation that occurred in the spring of 2010 was that I finally, after 15 years of purchasing a pattern and wanting to do it, I made a stained glass kitchen lampshade. Doing the lampshade spurred some new creative ideas, which I will share.

But meeting with my co-worker, George, to do photography, was one of the most unexpected afternoons I think I will ever spend with another human being. I don't know how or why, but those four hours challenged me and changed my path forever. I guess it was the fact that someone else really noticed I was in the wrong place, or at least I should be doing something else. A person with no real art experience, or even anyone who I thought would notice, let alone care, that I had any gifts at all. Up to that point we hadn't really spoken much at work, other than my needing help and reaching out to a superior. But my co-worker told me many things that day, one of which, he would be glad for the day when I left my job. I was rather shocked at that. I guess it was all so unexpected it sort of turned out to be the voice of God to me, or at least one of those "once I was blind, now I see" moments. His face was incredibly challenging to photograph-I thought it would be easy, but out of two rolls of film, only one shot was remotely useable. And that got me back to the drawing board. But it did more than that-it got me believing again, believing as I did when I first started, and even before school, that I could do this. Another thing that happened that afternoon...sharing memories of our childhood experiences and listening to very mellow oldies I hadn't heard in years took me back to the person I used to be, who had unfettered dreams and never even thought I couldn't do what I set my mind to.

So here I am, here I am again...this time thinking as a business person, letting myself be joyful in creation and trying brand new things.

dark to light

2009-10-18T03:26:00.000-07:00

This is the last painting of Cape May in my series of five miniatures for the Cider Painter show in Wilkes-Barre. When I scanned the piece for the first time, by mistake I had my scanner set to greyscale. But when I looked at the preview, I could tell even without color that the piece had emotional impact and the water looking even more "ocean-like" than it did in the color image. I think this speaks of how well I was trained in value (seeing and representing images in light and dark alone). I don't think I'd be doing so well in color if I did not have that foundation. I believe I will continue with my seascapes and begin trying landscape paintings of our fall foilage. I think being freed of having to make these "look like something" as you do with portraiture-my approach is strictly seeing abstract forms of color and design and painting them. Also, I realized all the training I've had using filbert bristle brushes is perfectly suited to water-the "sparkle" in the water happens by dragging undiluted paint over the white surface of the bristol board with a bristle brush. The brush skips spots and lets the white show through. Likewise with the clouds, it catches and drags pure pigment over previously worked spots which looks like the edges of clouds.

One friend told me maybe because these come so easily that this may be my calling as an artist. I'd like to say I agree with that. Art isn't necessarily easy, but it should be a natural and joyful expression of who we are as people, and further (for me anyway), an act of worship, a loving gesture. Painting pure color is definitely that for me.

"May" as well

2009-10-10T14:02:00.000-07:00

Reproducing really strong colors always give me problems, even scanning them. The sand isn't black, nor is the water. It's a combination of blue, purple and burnt sienna, which you can clearly see in the original. But the overall effect is pretty good. So I thought I'd put it in. I guess I'll put in my other one as well. Not as bad as I thought I suppose! These were really fun. I love, love, LOVE the beach. I just do. I'd like to travel the globe photographing and painting beaches. What a job. Chuckle.

Number 4

2009-10-10T13:39:00.001-07:00

Still working on my "minis". This is number four. The other two I did after my last post have much stronger color and didn't scan as well as I'd have liked. Reds and oranges photograph so poorly. Cooler colors are much more apt to pick up. Don't ask me why, but I think I have another very successful painting. It is so much easier to work with abstract shapes. I wish I could see faces more this way. I like that there is a hint of footprints in the very lower front-trying to paint actual footprints looked terrible. I just sort of scumbled over what I did and it looks much better.

minis

2009-10-03T13:04:00.000-07:00

This is a little gem I just love. It's the actual size of an index card, and I think probably one of the most successful paintings I've done to date, maybe because of the size. I'm doing a series on our visit to Cape May. I love the ocean and I was up every morning around 5:30 to wait for the sunrise and take pictures. This is one subject I will never tire of, and I think I need to explore more. The series will be submitted to the Cider's Painters miniature exhibit. I'm hoping to sell them, but in a way, I hope this one stays with me.

Back to the Future

2009-09-21T12:21:00.000-07:00

Couple of good things...I got published! Strokes of Genius 2: The Best of Light and Shadow-I'll include an Amazon link. It's fantastic work, a beautiful coffee table book and a real honor. I guess I feel vindicated after being rejected for what seems a century by the Colored Pencil Society of America. The piece in Strokes of Genius is one I sent in to their annual exhibit. Go figure...I guess I'd rather be published.

Also, I feel like a creative Dr. Jeckl(ette) and Mrs. Hyde. I'm giving myself complete creative license. Someone actually gave me a piece of paper that said that. I always like the idea but never really used it. Now I need to. I'm working with white grounds and really hot colors-I've always liked the very bright hues, and so now my color is becoming creative rather than staying local. I was never a photorealist. I'm about shapes and design. So best to use what furthers those ends.

The top photo is a painting I did on Sunday, and the bottom pic is the piece in the book. They look very different, but believe it or not they are based on very similar principles creatively. Working on white with brilliant color is going to take some real practice.

owl

2009-09-07T11:42:00.000-07:00

This is the latest done on illustration board. I am continually disappointed with the color reproduction. It just isn't accurate. The original image is so much more subtle, but I guess digital photography doesn't do lots of brushstrokes. Oh well. I still want to get these things posted when I do them. This one has a lot of expression and was successful in terms of painting a subject flat and middletone basically. I used a magazine photo of an owl. I'm going to have to do a good deal more painting before I land, but I like working on white board and I like acrylics. There is a purpose for using toned backgrounds, but for painting like this, pretty much alla prima, the white board shows up color much better. I have moved far away from strict value interpretation.

Today My Roses Wept

2009-08-25T01:41:00.000-07:00

Well, this is the end result of the roses from the prior post. I kept adding things, I stopped working, I started, I tried to decide what this "should" be, and then I gave up and just let myself paint. Between calls at work I read a book I tried to read years ago and realized at the last attempt I just wasn't ready to wholeheartedly embrace the message-I am now. The book is "Art & Fear" by David Bayles and Ted Orland. I laughed at so many things this time, I read it in a few hours, whereas before I'd read a page and lay it down. Here's a quote, "A finished piece is, in effect, a test of correspondence between imagination and execution". A friend of mine shared with me about her "inner critic". Mine is the little voice that says to me, it has to be saleable, it has to have purpose, it HAS to be this, that, thus....and last night, I said, it simply has to be painted. My only goal now is paint, and let my poor soul have its own unique say independent of pleasing a public, a person, the inner Nazi, all that. And last night my roses just had to weep.

This statement is not aimed at anyone, any school of thought or method of painting, but I'm just not of the mind "every piece a masterpiece". The main point of the book is, and seems to be the lesson I'm learning in life-art is made by fallible human beings who are constantly changing. It is not some angel's offering to a few hallowed souls. It can be learned, it is a dialogue as the other quote suggests, it is living, on-going, a diary of the soul. What makes an artist an artist? This dialogue cannot be ignored and it is a person who does not stop recording it. It is a person who is lovingly, completely and wholly dedicated to their craft and who keeps working and keeps listening to what that work says to them and responds to it. This whole thought train set me free. Is it worth the doing? Only if the work is authentic response to the individual vision. Nothing else is, and I could say that for any other art form.

A parting shot that I hope may give a chuckle. This quote included in the book is from Ben Shahn, "It may be a point of great pride to have a Van Gogh on the living room wall, but the prospect of having Van Gogh himself in the living room would put a great many devoted art lovers to rout."

Practicing, having fun

2009-08-09T14:40:00.000-07:00

This is something I painted this afternoon on my illustration board, sort of taking a cue from the crazy piece I last posted. It's not nearly so colorful, but what is important to me now is that I feel comfortable painting this way. I like working on a white board, and I did this with four acrylic colors and one brush. I've always been attracted to calligraphic art, Japanese in particular-the post-impressionists borrowed heavily from Japanese postcards. So this may turn into a poster with script, more background-but I was very pleased with the flowers. I used a photo of dried roses as a reference, but made up most of the composition. I like the gestural feel of the flowers. They don't possess photographic realism, but the "pose" if you will surely denotes death. This to me is much more enjoyable than straining to capture intense realism. I can tell the years and years of painting have given me a very relaxed and natural brush style, if I let myself paint this way. So we'll see. I'm going to continue working and seeing where it all goes. I think my artistic bent is more as a designer than a painter.

Zulu

2009-08-08T10:14:00.000-07:00

This is piece of art I did early in my community college days. It is mixed media, black and white acrylic paint and magic marker. I have always liked it and felt even though it was done before all of my training in realism, it has great strength, sense of design and originality. I feel as though I need to get back to designing in my work, no matter how that manifests itself. I like the freshness of the piece. I cancelled my Yellowbook website ad, and feel I need to take a year to not be pressured by "having" to do things. After a while what used to be a joy becomes a chore. So I bought some illustration board and magic markers, and decided to see what I can still do, now that I have the training.

Pennsylvania landscape

2009-06-29T17:29:00.000-07:00

This is a wedding gift I painting for the daughter of good friends who is to be married at the end of July. Once again my camera just couldn't graps the subtleties of color change the way I painted it, but for a small show and tell, it's ok. I'm not a landscape painter, but I like this one.

two months is too long!!!!

2009-06-27T06:09:00.000-07:00

Well, a lot of things have happened in two months. The above two pics are the more finished backyard. Everything is done except my real wish list, which includes a covered swing, a pond and a new patio set. Ok, that's the frosting.

The bulldog is my latest completed commission. The picture isn't wonderful, and I know it's time to save up for a camera or larger scanner that records work more accurately. Things tend to moosh together and pixelate out with the camera I have now, but this is Zebby, probably the most beautiful amateur photographic reference I received to work with. Lovely. And I'm so proud of his expressiveness. So I'm back in the saddle.

Oh, the other issue I've been dealing with is an 8-5 work situation. It's tricky but not impossible by any means to paint and get everything else done in the off work hours. I'm just learning a game that so many people have to deal with.

p.s. I scanned Zebby's head to see if the image would come out better. It's still smooshing, but I added it anyway.

where I've been...

2009-05-01T06:58:00.001-07:00

Backyard pretty well done....

Backyard started!!

I feel like I need to apologize for my absence and getting seriously off track with my painting a week goal. My "painting" talents have be recently used elsewhere (front steps, shingle facade on the front of our house), and my designing skills particularly used in the backyard. Well, my sister Tere and I agree...landscaping is 3-D art. And it is, so I'll include pics of the back. We had an above ground swimming pool, a little 15 footer, that finally bit the dust, and so we were left with a 15 foot circular sand pit basically which was becoming the world's largest litterbox for wild animals or visiting neighbor critters. In short, something HAD to be done. So I covered it with stone. Now the space can be used. Ialso had help ala Tom Sawyer-style, this-looks-fun as our little 11 year old neighbor saw me painting. Could he help??? Is she stupid??? We painted steps together and had a nice conversation. That is such a lovely age.

So finals are next week, certification testing is over then, too, SO!! Back to the easel! I promise-myself as much as anyone else. Well, I do want to buy a Serenity prayer stone for the backyard, a covered swing and few more plants!! I deserve some fun and pretty stuff and friends to enjoy them with.

2nd place

2009-04-18T04:07:00.000-07:00

I won a second place painting prize for my glug jug floral at the Wyoming Valley Art League spring show. That was some great encouragement! I simply have not had time to paint, but this weekend I hope to!

Joseph Raffael

2009-04-03T03:03:00.001-07:00

Well, as I am off my mark of one painting a week already, I figured I'd let someone else who is far more worthy have this tiny piece of artistic spotlight have it this week. The above images are the work of Joseph Raffael, whose work graced the cover of Artist's Magazine this month. I almost fainted dead away when I saw the cover. This is realism, but the actual works are ENORMOUS! I wish I could post a scale bit so the abstract quality of the work is visible. This is also WATERCOLOR! Once again, stunning, stunning, amazing-but the color!!!! I love it, I love it. This is what I'm trying to get. It is still realism, more beautifully done than so much out there-it is worthy to note that Mr. Raffael has spent a lifetime painting. He had has first show in 1963. So much for age being any sort of detriment. These works make mine look amateurish and yet how wonderful it is to say, "THIS is what I'm shooting for! This is what I'm hoping to accomplish." And here, someone has done it. Now I said the works are enormous-up to 80 inches, which therefore means a very small reproduction looks absolutely amazing. But these are even better in person I'm sure.

It is extremely difficult to manage clean, beautiful and natural looking color that is not local, or is heightened. There has to be something that ties it all together, but I am so sick of seeing the deaden palette on some works out there. I've seen enough toys hanging on strings, dark chiaroscuro-it has its place, but I realize over and over it isn't me. How does one develop this sort of spectacular color sense? Years of practice, obviously. But it is something to use the rest of my life to aim for.

The Process

2009-03-24T05:46:00.000-07:00

Lautrec drawing of singer Yvette Guilbert (artistic inspiration)

Reference photo for painting

Sophisticated Lady (Rebecca in Gloves)

I'm trying to document my creative process, if only for myself. But I think it is crucial for an artist to look at why certain influences are important, what is the goal of painting or drawing, using a particular process, media, subject matter, color...all of those things. I hope that as I enter information and post paintings, I'll begin to see my own work in a more objective light.

This was a fun piece, one where I began to get more uninhibited with color, less afraid of botching a portrait, and more confident about the "look" I wanted. I did not ask Rebecca to pose like this. It was a natural moment after I gave her the gloves to put on. The portrait of Yvette Guilbert is one I love because it is so dead-on candid and graphically edited to capture the singer exactly as she was. I had hoped to try to capture a similar feeling, even though as you can see from the reference photo, much interpretation was done, but the expression was very much what the drawn portrait suggested, not overtly caricature, but a with enough cheeky wink*wink*! How fun. And Becky is a born artist's model.

Glug glug

2009-03-19T05:22:00.000-07:00

Well, the last pic in the series is my latest painting. I felt it is important to look back, see where the journey used to be and where it has led me. The drawing on top (Sara, Smile) was supposedly published in "Strokes of Genius 2". I got no notice of the book's publication and have checked repeatedly on Amazon. I don't know where that went. The drawing is colored pencil, my portrait style in the past. The second piece is a still life painted with acrylic on canvas. The style is remains very sedate and quiet, low key color, more dependent on value for its structure (the lights and darks). Now the third is an extreme departure. It is acrylic on stretched, dyed paper. Even as I myself look at these, I wonder-all have good points, all are the same artist, but who is the real me? I was rejoicing that my husband saw the last painting and said, "How joyful!" That has been my aim. A dear friend and artist in her 80s, whom I have known for years, looked at the style of painting on the canvas and asked me, "Where's your joy?" She told me the most memorable thing about me is my laugh and buoyant presence in life. My work simply did not reflect it. She felt it was all that our family had suffered having a son in prison, and maybe that's in part true, but really, to be completely honest, I was trained as a traditional painter. I was hugely fortunate to have had atelier training after the style of the Old Masters. But there comes a time when one must depart...and yet I know I would not be the excellent painter and draftsman I am without that training.

The vase is a "glug jug", a traditional item found in English homes. When water is poured out of the jug, it makes a very loud, distinctive glug-glug-glug sound.

"White" Vase

2009-03-09T07:35:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to keep my goal of a picture a week. This was done on Sunday. I do know if I continue posting and publishing my art, I will have to have better reproduction equipment. The colors are just not right, but at least it gives an idea. For example, the far right corner contains my signature on a red fabric stripe. You can't see it at all. But even with those limitations, this was by far the most confident attempt. I love the stripes, the strong patterns, bold colors and the way acrylic handles. I have continued studying the Post Impressionists and now The Fauves. They were the next group of painters to come along, including Henri Matisse and Andre Derain. The Fauves, or "Wild Beasts", used their own color systems. They did not necessarily, or even never, use local color. Skies were yellow, grass blue-whatever suited the pictorial harmony. Now they were representational painters, which means they painted the observed world, boats, landscapes, figures...but the color was used in a more emotional vernacular, which is what I'm trying to get at, while remaining true to realism. I was also studying Wayne Thiebaud, and I loved one quote out of his book just simply titled with his name,"The simultaneous reading of depth and flatness in paintings...reflects Thiebaud's grappling with the dilemma that faces all modern painters: how to reconcile three-dimensional space on a two-dimensional surface without adhering to the concept of pictorial space defined in the Renaissance". Yes, uh huh, that's right, Wayne! It's hard. My solution was, let color define shapes only as much as is needed for contrast and separation. The green vase is actually bronze, but the local color did not help my composition. The stripes served as a secondary dissolve into patterning that was not necessary dimensional, and the final horizon of background was my original drip and splattered imprimatura. There are planes of reality, and my thing is, let them coexist. They don't have to be formally reconciled. Isn't that true of the physical and spiritual worlds?

out of darkness

2009-03-02T13:05:00.000-08:00

Becky

"Little Dipper"

Seashells

Fruit 3 (so says my photo file!)

..Into the light! Or at least the 21st century digital camera technology age! I clearly have to practice, but because I use really saturated, intense chromas and very "hot" colors, photographing the work is extremely difficult. My little Canon Powershot is not up to the challenge of taking exhibit quality photos. But for keeping records, it's perfect and a heck of a lot smaller, easier and better than film. These are all works in their entirety, Becky at the top, "Little Dipper", my seashells and then fruit I just finished. I haven't titled the three yet. But looking at them together in a file I feel like I'm starting to have artistic consensus. My style is getting there, my color preferences consistent and obvious, and I think this will work for me! The fruit was great fun. And I do think I capture a bit of the Post Impressionist sensibility, getting back to Lautrec. I have to keep trying, keep practicing, and eventually get a digital SLR for show quality photos. I do need to do work that is that first!

I do have to say with Little Dipper I tried to get the feeling of the weight being in front to pull your eyes down like Lautrec-his large images would usually be frontally directed. It just turned out to be a classic genre painting. Every child has this moment, staring longingly at the water and someone else having fun, and wishing mommy would get up and swim, too. It didn't start out that way but I love the concept. I just need to improve and come up with them sooner.

So hopefully my photography and painting will improve together!

Little Dipper

2009-02-25T09:59:00.000-08:00

Well, that digital camera will be purchased if I have to auction off my cats. (No, I would not do that, but almost). This is a detail of piece that's pretty well done-the color is too saturated on the computer, but I absolutely love using acrylic on stained white Canson Mi Teintes paper (the rough side). This suits me beautifully. The acrylic dries fast so I can quickly glaze over spots without making mud. I can cut the paper down if the composition isn't working. It's cheap but archival and good quality, and just like everything digital, modern acrylic paint is coming into it's own with tons of types and variations of colors and thickness. I love also that I can go from watercolor thin washes to buttery thick paint on the same painting and it won't crack. I can use lines, color patches, gesture draw (the seated figure is just that).

I plan to scan the reference photo I used, or the section of it that this is worked from, to show the editing process. The painting is basically two sets of complementary colors, orange and blue, and red and green. I favor outlining in burnt sienna. I will try to have the completed painting up this weekend.

lights...camera...action

2009-02-24T07:10:00.000-08:00

In contemplating my next piece, I pay homage to Henri Toulouse Lautrec, probably one of my favorite artistic influences. I'm studying his compositions, and noticed in the beach scene reference I am working with now, the similarities in composition are evident. Lautrec was a dwarf (the photograph at the top is a mirrored image for fun-he never seemed to take himself very seriously) and it only now occurs to me his stature must have greatly influenced his viewpoint, which are generally overwhelming. His compositional strategy reminds me of someone swinging a weighted bucket on a bungee chord, which puts viewer within inches of striking distance of the framed action. They literally spill onto our present day reality. I think he must have loved the total scene enveloping him as he spent time at the Moulin Rouge.

I will wait to display the photo reference and my attempt at a finished piece, but I love being a part of "the action", watching people and letting their noisy colors and conversation invade the picture space. I have to take a break from sketching to go somewhere, and so I'm taking those few minutes waiting for my ride to study Lautrec. We'll see how good a student I can be!

details...

2009-02-23T11:34:00.000-08:00

Detail of seashells (untitled acrylic)

Well, add to my list of goals, save enough money for a decent digital camera and a larger scanner!

starting all over again

2009-02-23T09:56:00.000-08:00

Detail of Rebecca (my daughter) in acrylic

"Ode to Joy" (Detail of first attempt at acrylic)

"Cara" (most recent charcoal)

This is the art blog of Susan Obaza. I've been interested in art all of my life, been drawing and painting actively for around 12 years, and I thought it's time I create a place for myself to share my work, things I'm learning specifically related to the arts, and to ask questions of other artists or interested visitors. I do have some goals in mind. I think I've wearied friends talking about my hopes and struggles trying to make it somewhere in the art world, and they've been patient. And I need that support. I need your comments, your prayers, your encouragement and criticism, or I just need you to know what I'm doing. And I need accountability. I also need a place to visit artists out in the blog community on a regular basis, and links list is by far the easiest way to accomplish that. It's hard being alone, hard to stay focused and hard to create without the joy of sharing it. I also love to write, so this is perfect for me.

I'm in a bit of a quandry at this point. I received excellent "basic training" in traditional drawing and painting disciplines. I'm extremely grateful to my teachers and fellow artists who are brilliant and have remained friends. They're all over the world now, showing work, teaching and forging new artistic paths. I will include links to them. I have a commercial art associates degree from Luzerne County Community College. I received atelier training under Tony Waichulis. He is doing everything but writing the book on trompe l'oeil these days. But this turned out not to be my path. And that is where I am-trying to fine tune just what that is. I work in oil, charcoal, colored pencil and now acrylic, which is where I'm attempting to land. I will include two recent pieces I've done. I think keeping a record of recent work will help me be more objective. My greatest skill seems to be in portraiture. This is a joy for me, but also a problem, in that I have never really developed the discipline of thinking in terms of the whole-my composition skills are lacking, as I most usually paint or draw vignettes sans background of any kind, or just shapes or light shading if that. Or I use imprimatura, so there's a ready-made tone in the background.

So then, my goals are to achieve at least one painting a week, improve my compositional skills, improve my skills working with acrylic as that is a new media for me, and begin to jump back out in the pond. I have not exhibited work for probably a year now, and that seems like a lifetime. My ultimate hope is to land a gallery or the equivalent of that.

Thanks for visiting, thanks for sharing. Sue