Man & Lure



Man & Lure, oil, 12x12 canvas panel

This is alla prima (about two hours) and first time trying water-soluble oils.

I don't know this person--if he were younger, he might be the guy who waxed my car last year. This was pure play. My son's fishing gear is stored in my workshop--instead of a shirt, this guy got a fishing pole and a fluffy yellow lure.  I managed to avoid the hooks.

I may add hair and eyebrows later--maybe not.  Maybe a hat!

Reading and Breathing and Drawing



Hmm, pencil sketch on cheap paper, 12x9



I've been reading.  I get lost in the books; while reading, my only other activities are breathing and drawing (which are the same thing--I can't do one without the other).

First, I read Color and Light by James Gurney--an excellent book--so good that I made notes.  Now I realize that I'll never find those notes when I'm painting; hopefully, I'll be able to locate the book.  I also read Oil Painting Step-by-Step, a 1953 book by A. L. Guptill.



pencil, 5x4





pencil, 5x4

 I tried to discard a February 2009 issue of Vanity Fair but there were some great full-page closely-cropped photos of the previous administration and a 25-page article titled "Farewell to All That."  I had to re-read the article and drew (No. 2 pencil) a couple of the photos by Philippe Sands--I skipped the President, the Vice President and Rove.  These two were enough.

pencil, 12x9

From the magazine George I copied the arm from the photograph "Redhead" by Paul Outerbridge, and re-read the article.  (No. 2 pencil)

3-Legged Woman, ink on yupo, 10x8

Then I tried Yupo for the first time, using walnut ink and the end of a crochet hook (couldn't find the bamboo stick).  The paper is very slippery and the ink runny--thus a 3-legged woman.

Web Removal

Spiderbelle?  pastel on Wallis sanded paper, 16x10

A germ of an idea from last month.  When I was clearing my workshop of spiderwebs I realized I always open my mouth when I look up.  My mother called this posture "catching flies."  I thought of painting it but there are many paintings of people looking up screaming--scrap that one.   From that idea to this painting:

1: A woman looking up, open-mouthed, holding a broom.   2:  Add the fan and a spider web.  3:  Which fan?  We have 3-blade fans w/lights, 5-blade w/o lights, and 4-blade w/o lights--make one up.   4:  Draw it with pastels on Wallis sanded paper (a new experience).  5.  Decide that one of the fan blades should mirror the angle of the lifted arm.  Erase the whole drawing with triangular sponge makeup thingys.  6.  Find a lifted arm--found one in a 1946 book, The Dance--right arm of Isadora Duncan.  Close the book and imagine the arm.  8.  Remember the beginning of the TV show "Zorro."   Can I get a "Z" in here--from the fan blade/broom/arm?   8.  Tape the paper to a foam board, find some rubbing alcohol, get the Holbein pastels out of the workshop and go to the YMCA for Thursday (today) art.  9.  Use the Holbein pastels for wall and ceiling; realize they're OIL pastels--retrieve the soft pastels from the car.  Carry on with alcohol and pastels.

I like it.  Now I'm deciding--

Add clothes?  Facial features?  Hands?  Spider webs hanging from fan?   Or, just work on the broom handle and call it finished?  

FYI:  I paint like I sculpt--build a nude, then add clothes.  No, this is definitely not a self-portrait--it's not even my arm. 

The Fisherman that Got Away

Fisherman Unknown, inktense pencils & pen on hot press w/c paper, 10 x 14

I live on 50,000-acre Buggs Island Lake here in Southern Virginia (called Kerr Lake in NC).  Fishing and fishing tournaments are popular.  Five years ago I saw two photos on a local site, printed them out, and naively thought I'd run into this fisherman and ask permission to do a painting of the other photo--one of him and his friend in a boat near a tree-lined shore--holding a 50/60-pound catfish.  No such luck so no such painting.  Most of the photos on the site are of gigantic fish (I think this one was posted as a joke).

Who's the Fairest?, pencil & ink on hot press w/c paper,  12 x 10

I wonder which came first in Holland--windmills or tulips?  I find aging tulips more interesting than those in their prime (this photo was taken by my son).  Age has been on my mind this week.  I was at President Kennedy's inaugural parade fifty years ago; I was eighteen and remember being on Pennsylvania Avenue climbing on piles of snow--wearing high heels, no hat, and no gloves.  As a Southerner I was not prepared for DC's sometimes harsh winters--I learned.

I recently finished reading Egon Schiele, a book discussed on RHCarpenter's blog.  I'm still looking at his drawings, watercolors, and oils; I especially liked his line drawings.  However, I still draw the same way I've been drawing since elementary school--use whatever's handy and add a black outline if I'm so inclined.

Tall & Thin in Just Three Days

 

Painter's Salute or Oh Crap, What have I Done?  acrylic, 36 x 24

After weeks of cleaning I needed to try my new easel.  I looked through my list of paintings to be done; I looked for inspiration and found none.  Finally I headed to the workshop just to splash some paint onto the easel.  I found a 10-year-old canvas--it was the only painting support I could easily reach--and propped it up.  That's when I spotted my image in a small mirror about 10 feet away.  I had hung it when I was clearing the workshop--a 70s Danish Modern rosewood piece, 7 inches wide and 20 inches tall.  With that piece I feng sui'd the workshop--the mirror faces the lake.

I couldn't see all of me at one time so I ended up tall and thin and looking like Miss Hathaway from the Beverley Hillbillies.  I recognize some parts--the oversized Abercrombie & Fitch corduroy shirt that reaches to my knees (found at a community yard sale for $1), my magnified bad eye (my left but reversed in the painting), and my long black underwear (good for cold weather).  It's impossible to look at my hand when I'm using it to paint!  This painting was fun and is not quite finished.

I never got the counter cleared.  The empty easel box served as the perfect surface for holding my paints and palette.  One more day to finish the painting; then it's back to clearing clutter (including the box).  Mirror is upper right, next to ladder.

Loose Screws

Untitled, terra cotta, 1992

 I suspect I have a few loose screws.  While most people partied for the Holidays, I cleaned out my studio/workshop to make room for a new easel.  Seven days of manual labor--this was not the brightest idea.

 

 My Richeson easel arrived Monday afternoon. 

I decided I could handle and assemble a 98-pound easel.

 Lots of pieces--and a winch and pulley!  

Winch Warning:  Not for Humans.

 

 I had my Leatherman tool.

I couldn't resist the comfy box and the easel was perfect for rigging up the camera.  Getting into the box before the self-timer blinked wasn't easy--getting out of this box and up off the floor was even harder.  My right shoulder was aching! 

All set; everything works.  I have to clean off the counter and find my paints. Tomorrow, a trip to the dumpster.

May you soar in 2011

conte

pencil

For the past month, I've been drawing these birds again.  These are old sketches found while trying to clear out my workshop.  Maybe someone should write a song called "Yellow Bird." 

I've been cleaning my workshop (another attempt) for four days--so far, I have one clean spot.  Instead of a resolution for the New Year, I opted for an incentive.  I ordered a Santa Fe II easel last week (on sale and a rebate) which will be delivered Monday afternoon--it will require space.  I have looked at oak easels for several years and worried about the wood warping in the workshop because it's a separate building, and no heat or air conditioning unless I'm out there.  Recently I thought, What the Hell--I'll warp before the easel warps; order the thing.  As I cleaned I inventoried supplies, moved boxes of photographs into the guest house, and stacked things on the porch (to be moved to the storage shed or Good Will).

Here are some of the interesting things I found--charcoal drawings of my two kids from the 60s.

Items from my brother's run for the Virginia Senate (bags and a tire cover for my Jeep); also, a 20-foot banner from my husband's run for town council.

This photo of "my relatives" will continue to hang on the bathroom wall.
Photographer unknown.

I'm off to check my lottery tickets; I might have won $200+ million!   If so, I'll skip the cleaning and build another workshop just for the easel.
 HAPPY NEW YEAR

Christmas

First Christmas for Willie 2007

I hope Santa makes it to your house.

Happy Holidays

Escape, ink on paper

It's that time of year.  I think of leaving until mid-January--a cruise might be nice (although there have been rough waters recently).

Evidently, escape has always been on my mind.  When I was four or five, I'd borrow Mom's high heels, get her pocketbook, and wait for the Greyhound bus to take me away.  Odd, isn't it, that my parents allowed me to play beside the highway?

When I get the stance right, this will be a painting.  Okay, maybe I'll work on my size, too--I'm taller than the Amoco sign!  For the drawing, I moved the King Edward Cigar sign (great for target-practice) across the road.

Happy Holidays.  I'll be working on cards, shopping, and minimal decorating (nothing stops me from drawing, though). 

What Cleaning Ladies?

This is what the house looked like when we moved back in after remodeling five years ago.  This is what I hope the house will look like again.  The cleaning ladies never showed up--we hired them as a favor to a friend.  Was it because I said "no copper polish, no Pledge on my furniture, and no scouring of the countertop?"  Was it me?  Was the floor too much?  Too much dirt?   I think I'm more relieved than disappointed (and a bit ticked off that I got out of bed early--8 a.m.).  

Dave and I were not surprised when they didn't show; it's a common occurrence here in southern Virginia.  Contractors and workers smile and take measurements and say "yes;" many never return or call.  Later--when you meet at restaurants or parties--everyone pretends that all is well.  I pitch their cards.

I am pleased that, after my frantic prep work, there's a chance the house will be ready for the Holidays.  Tomorrow is art day at the YMCA--no cleaning.