Sundays in Southern Virginia

After Church, created in "Paper" on iPad

This has been on my list of things to paint for about ten years.  I thought I'd try a simple sketch using pencils in this app; it's done from memory or imagination--and it took days to finish.  It was done, I thought; then I spotted Dad's Bible on my book shelf.  It wasn't black like I'd drawn but a deep red.  I had given it to him--that got changed; then the color of the chair cushion had to be changed.  The made-up chairs (the one on the left looks like the type we had in our store) are in the grass because I thought a baseboard, floor and rug under them would be too many horizontal lines.  Mom probably wouldn't like this because her shoes and pocketbook absolutely had to match.

Even before my dad studied for the ministry, Sundays were busy.  Mom fried the chicken (one of us kids stole the liver) and we went off to church for Sunday School and preaching.  We came home to "dinner" of fried chicken with gravy and biscuits, of course, lots of fresh vegetables and dessert.  Afternoons were spent napping, pitching horseshoes (I'm still a champ), or visiting relatives.  After a light "supper," we went back to Church.

April Delayed til June



April in SoVA, acrylic in progress, 30x24

 April weather in southern Virginia was beautiful; we sat on our front porches as the irises bloomed.  That's the month I started this painting and expected to be finished in a few days.  I really wanted her feet to be included but there was that voice as I began painting the head:  "Make her larger, make her larger."

Maybe I spent too much time sitting on the porch or, maybe I spent too much time "arting around" with this.  April is running a bit behind schedule.


Early sketch--I think I know her.

 


I don't know this person;
I was thinking of Picasso exhibit.

 

Drawn on running-out-of-ink print; she looks familiar.



Don't recognize this one--really low on ink.
I think of Frances Bacon's cross-legged self portrait.



Don't know her but I like this one....
she might actually have a pet rooster.

 Company is arriving for the Memorial Day weekend; I won't be back at the easel until June.  I have no idea what the final April will look like--now I'm thinking about an August painting.

I have begun putting my name on works posted here because I've seen some in Google images--and not always attributed to my blog.

A Leftover Chicken

What Chicken? w/c on arches paper, 6x6

It was raining today so I played with my new watercolor sticks--they came with brushes but no directions. I pulled out a faded b&w Goodwill photo, turned it upside down, and painted the face, leaving two blank spaces for the eyes. Then I worked right-side up.

Here's what I think I learned. 1. I should probably sketch first. 2. With acrylics, I begin with the background--watercolors might require planning and I should probably begin with the nose or foreground (a bit like sculpting). 3. Dipping the brush in water and swiping it across the end of the stick is no way to control color.

I can't decide whether she resembles me when I was younger or Prince Charles.

This was fun but the beribboned hat was boring. I had leftover chickens from my 2009 painting of Miss Lulu. Why paint feathers when you can paint the whole chicken?

I pronounce Miss Lulu finished

Miss Lulu, acrylic 36x24, has been signed--that means she's finished. I hope. This image will be used for the Holly Springs NC invitations/announcements, a project which needs to be done this week. I'm not sure I like Miss Lulu looking at me with those scissors in her hand. Luckily, I don't have a beak.

She was a nice lady but the story got stuck in my head.

Miss Lulu--she cut off their beaks with rusty scissors

I cleared a path to my easel and am working on a new painting.

"Miss Lulu" (36x24) began with charcoal-drawn chickens and many layers of acrylic gels and paints. I added Miss Lulu Thursday and she has the correct attitude; much remains to be done, including darkening the bottom with burnt sienna, and Miss Lulu will be seen through broken chicken wire. As a child I knew her--she dipped snuff, wore men's shirts, hats and sweaters (maybe that's where I got my sense of style), and her husband Charlie always opened the truck door for her. My mother told me that she had cut off her chickens' beaks with scissors so they wouldn't peck at her garden seeds. Despite the story, I liked her.