Drawing What I See

The Only Way Out is Down 

acrylic ink, mixed media on Carte d'Art, 9x12

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see a painting......an image......a tv screen......a slide show.  I can recall the image(s) by closing my eyes again (I've done this my whole life).  These images appear with no accompanying thoughts.  I do think about them afterwards.  This one appeared several days ago and I decided to copy it onto paper (an aerial view).  I don't feel stuck; I'm not depressed; I don't think I'm seeing the future, or the past, or the now.

Does anyone else get this channel?

Meet-the-artists Reception October 9, 2010

6:55--We're ready.  Me, my brother Bob, my sister-in-law Mary

Margie and Terry McHose (sculptor)

Food and Wine

Carolyn and one of her arrangements

People showed up.

Some of us played.

My across-the-street neighbor, Larry, thinks his house should have been included in this painting.  Is it under the mat?

The bouncer kept everything in check.  (Watcher Woman is standing in the front yard of his childhood home.)

Thanks to everyone who came out and made this a great evening--even the weather was perfect.  My brother Bob and my sister-in-law Mary (former owners of a gallery in Pasadena) brought a bit of California to SOVA--a great combination. Yall should have been here.

Showtime at MacCallum More Museum & Gardens

These photos were taken Wednesday when hanging was almost, but not quite, finished.   My sister-in-law helped me hang the show--she has a great eye and we work well together.  The exhibit opened yesterday--I didn't need a straight shot of Jack Daniels.  I celebrated with an old people's happy hour--a nap.  When I looked at my fifteen paintings hanging on the walls, I thought, "It looks like a group show!"   The wonderful wood pieces are by sculptor Terry McHose. 

I sold several paintings before the show opened and the meet-the-artists reception is next Saturday, the 9th.

The guest books from the last two shows were used as a mailing list (along with the museum's list).  Unfortunately, lots of guests didn't leave their addresses--just their names--and many people have P.O. boxes, so I'm taking a cue from the book, Freakonomics, and its discussion of incentives.  I framed the small watercolor "What Chicken?," and it will be a giveaway--place name & address in a vase; I will mail the work to the winner of the drawing.  I'll let you know how that works.

I included the painting below, "1963," in the exhibit only after she had a purpose.  She was propped against the wall for several months while I wondered why I had spent time on it.  I added a plastic cape--she's being groomed for all the careers open to women in the early 60s.  It will give viewers something to discuss (after they've discussed "He Beat His Mules"  which was retitled "The Spell").

Peopling Catalogs

I have been working hard getting ready for the exhibit but I get distracted--and tiredness begets silliness (which I love).  Along with frames, I ordered some acrylic inks.  I really wanted to play with the ink in those cute bottles--there was a Pottery Barn catalog nearby, and an ashtray with butts.  These are pages from the catalog, the blue ink, used cigarette filters, and an ink pen.  Recycling?  Yes.  And no clean-up!

These are some of the pages--I omitted the pole-dancing (actually, beam-dancing) woman.  I'm not sure using a catalog in this way is okay but it has my name on it (and I like their products).  I'll call this "The Blue  Women of (my town)" or "While You were Away."  DWR, Frontgate--I get all the catalogs.

Hmmm...........homemade recycled Holiday gifts for friends; everyone gets a catalog with surprise pages.

I don't know which I like best; I feel like the woman at the top.  Now it's back to work, playtime is over.

If I Disappear for a While.........

Workshop/Studio--September 2010

If I disappear for a while, I can probably be found in the chaos of my workshop. I'm doing that last ten percent of work on several paintings because I will be exhibiting new works at MacCallum More Museum & Gardens beginning October 1. The exhibit will include works by sculptor Terry O'Hose; meet-the-artists reception will be Saturday October 9, 7 to 9 p.m.

Some pieces are out being matted and framed; some pieces need varnish (that's done on the back porch of the workshop); some pieces will be framed by me when the frames arrive on Tuesday (that's done on the guest house floor).

Also, workers will arrive Monday to paint our tin roof and power wash our house, guest house, and workshop. I'll need to be careful walking in and out of doors.

I was invited to exhibit paintings at the Arnold Library in South Hill VA; older works have hung there since September 1.

On October 2--after the Library exhibit is dismantled and the MacCallum More exhibit is hung--I might have a straight shot of Jack Daniels or Maker's Mark.

I no longer dream of being organized; the last-minute method somehow works for me.

Watch

Watcher Woman 1, acrylic, 24x18

In early July I was re-reading The Celestine Prophecy, a book that pretty much says there's no such thing as a coincidence and that memories pop into your head for a reason.

A memory had popped into my head--I recalled a woman in a park in D.C. My children and I had visited Whistler's Butterfly Room exhibit and were taking a people-watch break, sitting on a bench in a small park. An older woman, using her hands as binoculars, constantly turned in a circle. Each time the "binoculars" landed on me I was very uncomfortable; we left the park.

I thought of painting the woman and drew a sketch.

Then I read Harry Kent's blog from July 25. He said "I believe the elderly, because they've seen so much, have a particularly important social role to play as reviewers and commentators."

I agree--I think we should be training our eyes on what's happening in our small towns; what's happening off our shores or on Wall Street, what's happening to our old forests.

Then I read Donna Iona Drozda's blog from July 26 that said look back to July 12; what were you thinking of during the solar eclipse? (I was thinking of watcher woman and taking photos of my local landmarks.)

And then I later followed Donna's Luna See newsletter to her "What's up?" article and it showed a triangle--the shape of the arms and head of the watching woman.

I couldn't decide whether I should jump with joy or hide under the covers--I felt I had tapped into something beyond coincidence.

With the exception of the "Celluloid Man"detour, due to wrong-sized canvas, this painting has been in the works since early July. This is the first Watcher Woman and she's looking East towards my home town. When I was six and needed a vaccination before entering first grade I screamed from this overpass to Dr. Winston's office in town (maybe two miles) and I was riding in the back of a neighbor's truck!

Watcher Woman is a tough-looking broad and I think she looks like the woman from the park 35 years ago (maybe a bit like my friends and me) and the painting is 95 percent complete. The binocular stance is fun--try it.

* * * * * *
There is sadness on my street. My next-door Summertime/weekend neighbor passed away unexpectedly last week. She sat on my porch earlier this summer and read my blog on her laptop. Bess would have enjoyed this entry and would have said "That's Jack's yard!" I see her front porch from my kitchen sink; she'd be surprised at how much she's missed.

.

Seasoned by Age or Art?

Uncle Red, H 14", terra cotta & copper wire, sold

This was actually a self-portrait. In 1985 I noticed that my face was falling--I was 43. The sculpting was completed in one day. I scooped dirt and bits of dried clay off the floor and embedded them in the wet clay. (I think of those bits now when the dermatologist burns off growths and reminds me that redheads--even old ones--should stay out of the sun).

I pierced holes in the scalp for the hair. Epoxying the copper wires after firing was a bloody and time-consuming job (probably a bit like a hair transplant).

Life Artist left a comment on my July 16th blog entry: ".....age seasons us for art." Yes. I wonder, though, if the opposite can also work--that art seasons us for age.

This a 2010 photo; 25 years have passed since Uncle Red bore the brunt of my rage against age. Now I just walk quickly by mirrors. (When I walk by my eye-level clothes dryer, though, I cringe--my face reflection in the dryer door is 3X life-size!)

Celluloid Man

Celluloid Man, acrylic, 30x24
(aka Celluloid Man Meets his Match)

I had primed this canvas but needed a different size for a planned painting. Rather than put the canvas away, I set up a palette with ultramarine, cadmium red, cadmium yellow, and white and began painting without a single thought--started with an oval.

I took a photo of the first day's work, printed it out and toyed with ideas--Self-anointed One and Candle Man. I needed a reason for the melting (other than the heat here in southern Virginia). After a couple of days, a memory surfaced. Aha!

When I was very young (4 or 5) I loved a small celluloid doll that my father bought for me during our trip into town. As I sat with my mother in the front yard under the shade of the trees, she said, "If you strike a match to the doll's feet, she will smile." I did--and was horrified as I watched her melt. I cried for days. My mother had a great sense of humor but it was missing on that particular day--this is one of the few bad memories from my childhood.

Mothers, don't let your babies grow up to be artists.

It's a Wonderful Blog

Thinking Cap, photo from Taj Mahal in Atlantic City
(It took six attempts to get my head aligned with the faucet.)

I began following Harry Kent's blog Tachisme because I loved his self-portraits. His post from today--collaborative abstract painting and the accompanying comments--made me don my "thinking cap." Great reading.

Updated Sat., July 17. Wrap-around mirrors always fascinate and confuse me.

Third Thursday in South Boston

Six painted chairs were on display; there was great music; stores were open late, and lots of people showed up--despite the hot weather.

I almost bought my own painted chair. At $60, my left brain kicked in (I use it infrequently) and said "Buy it, take a deduction, and resell it for at least double at the October art show--a better return than the stock market." Bidding picked up and it sold to the lady on the stage. (Now I can legally deduct only the cost of materials--or was that law changed?)

Before the auction I took a walk looking for a breeze and, instead, found a beautiful side street. Celeste was right when she said backs and sides of buildings can be more interesting than fronts.

There was an underlying sadness at the event. The friend who talked me into painting the chair lost her daughter today--there was a car accident last weekend--and her grandson remains in the hospital. There was a silent prayer.