Copper Bowl and The Three Pears

Copper Bowl and The Three Pears, acrylic on 24x24 cradled panel

Several bloggers mentioned and recommended the book, Alla Prima, by Richard Schmid.  I bought it and read it--actually studied it.  Sometimes a little knowledge can be dangerous; sometimes ignorance is bliss.  I thought I'd whip out a painting from a pear photograph I had taken in my kitchen--I estimated it would be done in a couple of days.  I used open acrylics and set up a palette, forgoing my usual ketchup cup/paper plate method.  I was actually concerned that the painting might be so easy I'd lose interest.  Ha!

That was ten days ago.  I spent half a day looking for my copper bowl (it was hiding among other copper bowls) and I've eaten about twelve pears--I needed the real things.  I tried palette-knifing the dish towel.  It was interesting but did not look like my work; I spent half a day sanding those palette-knife marks.  Then there was a cricket-rescue from the utility sink in my studio--a major delay in cleaning brushes.  I wouldn't classify this painting as alla prima--more alla Hallie, although I resisted the urge to add a couple of bare feet in the background.  I think it's finished.

Happy Thanksgiving. 

Mockingbird

Talking to the Mockingbird, acrylic on linen, 24x18

"Listen to the Mockingbird" is a folk song from 1855 and probably the origin of my grandmother's name; then mine, and now my granddaughter's middle name. My mother sang the song often when she worked in the kitchen but she never sang the part about the mockingbird singing over Hallie's grave (she may not have known the actual lyrics). Wherever I've lived, there's been a mockingbird who shows up and waits for raisins--he/she sits on the fence and waits if there's snow--two weeks ago I stood on our walkway and showed the mockingbird that the raisins would be on the porch railing. (I wasn't walking in deep snow.)

The fence shadow has always caught my attention so a painting was in order. I thought I'd keep it simple--from the background I eliminated three houses, a 500-year old tree, a dogwood, a crepe myrtle, the street, several cars; I moved the horizontal fence boards to the back side of the fence, and brought a huge bush from the backyard to the front. (I don't know what the bush is; I took a sprig to a nursery once and was told that it's banned or illegal in VA. Luckily, the police have not noticed it, although it's at least 15' wide and 15' tall and constantly sends out shoots. It's the home to brown thrashers and cardinals, and all the birds sit on it after their baths--they bounce up and down and swing side to side.) Below is a photo of the actual scene; the sun is behind the huge tree, and my dog Willie is having a great time.


Talking to the Mockingbird is not quite finished--simple is not necessarily easy. I was really tempted to paint a first-grade round yellow sun with rays, and I'm considering mitten instead of glove!

Disaster Coverage

Coverage, acrylic on linen, 24x18

The vast darkness in Haiti
and brightly-lit reporters
drawing pictures with their hands

The black tee-shirted reporter blended into the background of tall dark trees and sky; only his head, neck, and hands were visible. The movements were jerky--like an old-time movie. I couldn't stop watching.

This is not a portrait; it is, however, the image that stayed with me. The hands are mine--the crooked little finger was broken and pinned in 1964. Building art from parts.

This is hard to photograph; the only black in the actual painting is the tee shirt. The sky is dark blue; the trees raw umber with sap green. I should probably read the book that came with the camera.

Symbols

Now Is the Time, 2004, mixed media, 24x30

Studying hieroglyphs from the back of the dictionary when I was young or looking at cave drawings--I've always loved symbols. Learning shorthand was no different; I was fascinated and sometimes created my own. And I was fast--my teacher even suggested I write a textbook. This is shorthand for Now Is the Time (at least, it's my way of writing it). I always thought it was beautiful.

This wonderful brown linen mat with a white rectangle holding a Degas print was found at an auction for $8; the frame had obviously been removed. My plan was to take it apart and use it as a template. Instead, it became part of the art--I covered the print with modeling paste and gesso; then used acrylics and copper shavings for the painting.

Some have seen a rabbit, some have seen a puppy, another saw a bong! I see a symbol--shorthand is probably a lost art.

Now is the time for me to get moving for the Holidays. So far, I've done only one thing--ordered my fruitcake from the Monastery Bakery. Yes, fruitcake with lime jello is my favorite Christmas dessert!

A Sad Painting

Entropy, acrylic, 24x18

In the early 80's, I read the book by Jeremy Rifkin--it stuck--and became the working title for this painting (partly inspired by a tank baffle I use to hold a bird bath). The painting was almost finished when ABC evening news reported on Kenya and its lack of rainfall--no rain for a year. The people, their livestock, and the elephants are dying. The report aired on the same day we discovered a major water leak under our house. Gallons of water had been wasted; the plumber said he worked in at least six inches of murky water. (We had heard what sounded like a motor running for several days and thought the problem was our new heat pump system--part of which is under the house. The noise was gushing water; our water pressure was a bit low but no other sign of a leak.)

I was upset not at paying a high water bill, but, at the unfairness of life. For a month I could not go into my workshop and face this painting without tears. I stayed in the house and worked with pastels or drew with pencils; I sent a small contribution to help Kenya. Yesterday I got back to the painting and finished today. Each night I ask that rain be sent to that area, and this painting will always remind me of thirsty people, livestock, and elephants.

I usually stick with humor--I couldn't find it this time.