Mother's Day

Where Should I Put My Head?, oil pastel, 16x12

My mother suffered from Alzheimer's, which began in her late seventies. I brought her to live with us in our small, then vacation, house. (Since remodeling it's now our permanent home.) After Dad's death, Mom never slept in a bed but was comfortable on a sofa. Each night I'd set up the sofa with sheets and pillows; she'd ask, "Where should I put my head?" I'd pat the pillow; she'd lie down the opposite way and complain about the light in her eyes. Then she'd switch ends. She tried so hard to do things the right way--even laid sheets of typing paper down to mark a path to the bathroom; yet she couldn't find it without help. There were times, though, when her humor returned and there was laughter in the house. Restaurants were fun, too, but she insisted that we be in the house when darkness arrived--nighttime porch-sitting was not allowed. No one in the house got much sleep.

This was my first oil pastel (drugstore variety) on drawing paper; done after Mom moved to an assisted living facility--it was completed in one all-night session; it still makes me cry. I tried to make a large painting of this--it was a failure; all the feeling went into this one.

My mother died in a nursing home seven years ago at age 82. I think of her almost every day, not just on Mother's Day.

 

Woman in a Rain Bonnet

Woman in a Rain Bonnet, acrylic, 14x11

I found a rain bonnet, wore it, and looked in the mirror while completing this painting. My hair now seems to be permanently pleated.

See previous blog entry for background on this painting.

To Bonnet or Not to Bonnet

Woman in a Rain Bonnet?, acrylic, 14x11

At Easter time I thought not of Easter bonnets, but of the rain bonnets my mother wore to preserve her hairstyle. There are few photographs of my parents from the 50's and 60's so I just began with a face. My mother always held her chin high, I added her (& my) nose with a bump and our thin lips. I chose reddish brown hair instead of Mom's light brown (more contrast with the background) and no real style because it would be covered, and eliminated her glasses. I thought she should be standing on my porch-- not in the rain--but I didn't like the jigsaw cornice of my porch. I rode around town; each Queen Anne has its own hand-jigsaw work. I found the right shape, asked for permission to photograph it--then decided the cornice should match the scarf and not be so intricate. Thank you, nice family on 8th Street.

Now the rain bonnet is a problem--I haven't been successful at finding the cheap plastic folded type. I did find an image on Google--Queen Elizabeth wearing one. I like the painting as is but without the rain bonnet my concept disappears. Who would have thought that Dollar General would have $1-rain ponchos but no rain bonnets.

I felt the suit should be a primary color and Mom didn't wear yellow, and little red. I realized today that this blue suit is actually what I wore to court in D.C. 47 years ago when my husband and I were married at 9 a.m. on a payday. If I give this woman bright red hair teased into a French twist and freckles, this could pass for my wedding portrait.

With a rain bonnet it will be my mother saying, "Robert, I am not going out in this rain." Maybe I should add that five-dead-mink scarf (we lifted the tails and made rude noises in church).

Brain Birds

Brain Birds, walnut ink on w/c paper, 24x18

I arted around at the YMCA with my group today (one other person) using my new walnut ink and walnut stick--no reference photos or planning. After finishing the large bird I walked outside and looked for a bird in flight; instead, I saw wires and utility poles. Making things up and drawing like a first-grader are spirit-lifting--I do it often but don't always share.

Ruffle Crow and I wish you a Happy Easter or Happy Passover.

A Quiet Street

Home, w/c on hot press paper, 24x18

Looks like a Normal Rockwell setting, right? This quiet street in a small town labeled Paradise by realtors will be active for the next six weeks. Town Council elections are coming up--four candidates for three seats. Local elections can be exciting--letters to the editor will fill the two newspapers and porch conversations will be lively.

Home is where the art is, too. I won a contest by coming up with a title for a signed serigraphy monoprint by Don Michael, Jr. My title? Sylvester got Tweety--I saw yellow feathers and blood. Don't worry, Don--the art will look great inside this 1890's house. The interior was gutted and rebuilt in 2004--totally modern inside. Yin & Yang--outside, a cottage; inside, a loft.

About the painting--the Dali-esque tree (this is about half the trunk) is at the top of my street. I have always loved it but it's dying; tree men have pruned, and huge branches have fallen. I will miss seeing it from my kitchen window; I watch crows sitting on it and, sometimes, vultures check out the neighborhood. I had taken this early Spring photo about five years ago--I set up the shot to block all my neighbors' houses. In the painting I eliminated mail boxes, utility poles, and some driveways. I'm still playing with the watercolor sticks. I had bought hot press paper for drawing and thought "Why not just do a large painting?" Here's why. I'm not a neat painter--I spatter, don't follow any of the lines I sketch, and I need more practice at "lifting."
I say "Whoops" often.

(I actually like this painting better cropped and upside-down.)

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.