Cold Winter

Cold Winter 2009-10, w/c on arches, 9x8

It was a long cold winter made worse with sinus infections and swine flu. His grandmother sent him a hand-knit hat.

Playing with water color sticks again, every which way--wet, dry, mixed, straight. This is from imagination--no one I know. I wish I had a hat like this but I can only knit squares & rectangles.

Playing with Watercolor Sticks

Five-petaled Flower, w/c on arches, 9x12

More painting without drawing first. This is from a photo taken by my son Steven; any credit for design belongs to him. I don't know the size of the flower or its name. My thinking: What could be easier than painting a single flower? Ha! When I decided the background should be pale blue, I stupidly thought if I did it quickly my petals would be okay--it almost worked. I learned about color slowly spreading and used that lesson for the lower left. I will now look for my book, The Joy of Painting--I believe it has instructions for every medium. Ignorance, though, is sometimes an excellent first teacher.

Mr. Muffet, w/c on arches, 12x9

Playing at my get-together with other artists on Thursday, I learned the colors of my sticks. First question: What the heck is "New Gamboge?" It's someplace between yellow and burnt sienna--I'll call it dark yellow. Mr. Muffet (who is not suffering from jaundice--just yellow-play) began with two circles which became eyes; he grew a nose; then ears and a mustache; his hair was influenced by the wind outside; then his glasses were added. He had to be looking at something--the spider dropped in.

My art group and I think we know him. Perhaps he walks around town with the sleep-walking nude dictionary lady, A, from my blog entry of February 6.

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?

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!

Not Quite a Series

A, conte on dictionary page, 9x14

Many artists work in series--a good thing. I attempted it once in 2006. I bought an old dictionary from the thrift shop. With conte pencils, I drew a woman on one of the pages--then I noticed the stitches and painstakingly dissembled the book. That's when the arm was added, then the crow. The hand is small (in palm reading, small hands mean big ideas). I sprayed the drawing with fixative; then attached it to a backing, had it matted and framed--and I bought additional mats for future drawings in the series.

In a box, there are ironed dictionary pages, waiting for four years now, to become "B."

I like the randomness of the illustrations on the page, and it's fun to read the meanings of the words and try to match them to my drawing. My neighbors and I actually noticed a resemblance to someone we know--scary.

No Time in the Workshop

SOVA Scream, digital photo

While photographing the snow earlier today, I noticed this ready-made--my hat atop a folding clothes rack. Photo OP! I removed the background and cloned the light bulb.

Looking at seven inches of snow from the upstairs' bathroom window, I realized the short walk to the workshop would require boots! (It's the second building on the left; the first is a small guest house.) Everything is white, including our red tin roof. The lake, though, is mud-colored.


Not a great week; my husband had back surgery on Monday--we left the house at 5:45 AM-- and he came home on Tuesday. I have not turned into Nurse Ratched yet; I prepared for this by ordering watercolor sticks and I've been playing in the house. I also experimented with walnut ink (matches my floor) and a walnut stick. What's the advantage of a walnut stick over a pick-up stick and a q tip?


Nice things happened, too. Our next-door neighbor brought chili, cornbread and cookies this morning and there was a sweet potato pie tied to my front door knob yesterday. Does Botero need an older zaftig model?

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.

This is Not Art

The Squirrel Jumped over the Moon

My dog Willie, a bichon, spent time alone in our fenced-in front yard yesterday. I was pleased because he won't stay out for long unless we accompany him--not fun in this unusually cold weather.

When I opened the door he came running in with what I thought was one of his toys--it wasn't. I told him to drop it--he did--on my living room floor--with a clumping sound. It was a frozen dead squirrel.

After locking Willie in the computer room, I jumped around (not high) saying "ew--ew--ew" and looked at the eyes--no blinking. The camera came out because my husband probably would not have believed it; after the photo shoot I picked the squirrel up by the tail and disposed of him.

His relatives have benefited from his demise; all my Christmas nuts have been thrown into the yard along with sunflower seeds, raisins, and pieces of apple. For a while I considered putting some old towels and socks outside to provide animal shelter--what would the neighbors think?

I had a pet squirrel named Whisko when I was young (and a pet calf named Pansy, and a bird, and a rabbit, and lots of cats & dogs). I believe all the animals (including snakes) are here for a purpose; they do much less harm than humans. Thankfully, the weather has warmed a bit.

After reading Kathy's blog "Is It Art?," this, I thought, was appropriate followup . (I suspect that inkblot is a drawing by Klimt--not a Rorschach test.)

The Poem, the Potato, Bronze Shoes, and Crocs

First, the poem--read in the eighties--it was on the upper right-hand page of a book or read in a dream (that happens). Googling the lines has not helped; hopefully someone else saw it:

Because my eyes were smiling, you didn't know I cried.
Because my feet were dancing, you didn't know I died.

So far there are two sketches; the first using a very loose armature of the rectangle; for the second I used Corel to draw the rectangle and printed it on regular copy paper (added a bit of water to the pencil--made it crinkly). I usually paint without a real plan so these may not resemble the finished painting-- if it becomes reality.

All the sweet potatoes at the grocery store have been studied, and the bronze shoes came from my plumber's yard sale seven years ago. I don't have a Saarinen side table, but I have one of his chairs.


It was almost part of a series--Me and My Chairs. Wearing just my uniform white socks and black Croc sandals, I'd hold my chairs upside-down--Saarinen, Eames, Wegner, the Siesta Chair and a Morris Chair (and borrow other moderns from my brother). Maybe one day.

Homage to Blog Friends

Abstract ponies and Cats who talk-
Fractured eggs and Patterns to walk-
Serene oval trees invite sitting under-

Expressive masks make you wonder.

These internet friends work in series style--something I've not tried; I learn from them. Thanks for the lessons!

(I missed one artist when I was on a roll--
a metalworker whose series has Stones with soul.)