Tuesday, 8 May 2018

When Words Fail

The internet is well populated with introverts making them extroverts of a sort in this particular environment, extending themselves, expressing themselves and generally seeking out other introverts with whom to commiserate over the challenges of introversion.  Many of them feel misunderstood or a misfit and I can attest to also often feeling like this.  I suspect it's a bit of an illusion though and that a large number of people have that 'I just don't fit' feeling and we are all deluded.  It isn't something I worry about but feeling like I don't fit most groups I encounter is so normal for me it probably does define me in some ways.  Still, it means I am going to have regular experiences where I just can't seem to make myself understood and thus experience some sort of friction due to misunderstandings, which for me is a very stressful thing.

For reasons that can only be due to my not expressing myself very well online, I seem to either give the impression that I am flounderingly clueless and need advice, which is usually quite unlikely to be true, or that I am overly endowed with confidence to the point of arrogance, which I am also fairly sure is not true.  How odd that I can't seem to hit the more realistic middle ground but swing between those two extremes.  

When one of those situations arises I get a bit rattled.  It distresses me to be misunderstood and it also distresses me that I am ineffectively communicating.  Too much distress overall ensues.

I wonder if I like to paint because it's a different form of communication. I can't fail to use the right words because there are no words.

Thinking out loud, or thinking in text because I am online, is an unavoidable process for me though it's an odd one for an introvert.  For those of you who know about the Myers Briggs personality types I will claim it is because my thinking function is extroverted ( we all have introverted and extroverted functions and the world sees our dominant extroverted one ).  I think out loud, share my process, essentially cannot progress through my own thinking without putting bits of it outside of myself.  That is where I can more clearly see.   This seems to cause me some trouble though, and makes me want to retreat from the world often.  It's a bit of a dance where I am compelled to share my raw thoughts and then regret doing so not long after.  Often I step on toes.  It's a bit painful at times.  

Painting is a refuge from that, though in my attempts to share my work, to put it out there publicly, I am online and talking. Oh dear.  Honestly, there are days when I wonder why it is so hard to be me.

Then I think, get over yourself woman.  Go paint something.  How about carrots?



Thursday, 26 April 2018

Trends in Art



There are trends in all areas of life, I suppose.  Some of them endure and are eventually considered classic.  Somewhere in between they are mainstream although quite likely someone will have declared them 'overdone'.  I often struggle with trends in that it is in my nature to avoid something once I am aware that it is a trend.  I simply do not like doing what everyone else is doing and while I know that sounds a bit snobbish, it's a response I have that comes without thinking.  The very fact that it is popular takes something away from it, the specialness is diminished and that can actually be a bit annoying if I actually like the trend.

A sometime experience for me is 'damn it, I like that but everyone is doing it.'  The best advice I've read about trends in clothing or home decor is to pass on them most of the time but if you love the trend just embrace it.  The challenge is what to do when the trend is over and you are left with something you love that has now been over-done and looks tired.  There is just too much thinking and second-guessing going on!  I rarely like whatever is the trend in fashion or home decor, often really dislike it, but something that happens to most of us is that our eye gets accustomed to things we were initially horrified by.  What looked odd or even ugly at first can come to look good or at least acceptable with persistent exposure.  When this happens to me it results in my liking a trend right around the point when it is or should be over.

There are trends in art too, in styles and mediums, and techniques.  Right now acrylic pouring, intuitive painting, acrylic pouring, scribbles, drips and blotting out large parts of the painting with white are very popular.   When I first saw these techniques I was intrigued but soon saw it everywhere.  Now I have reached a point where for about two minutes a day I think, maybe I should do it too.  After all, adopting a certain style has historically just identified an artist with a certain period and thus people say 'she is of the Such and Such group or the So and So style of painting which emerged in the 20XX period in response to Y'.

All art is a response.  It's a response to what we see around us, either aiming to represent it or say something about it,  to embrace or reject what is around us.  If we make art we must be true to who we are, in all the various ways there are of making art.  We cannot help but be influenced in some way by our environment, our peers and also those who came before us.  Often it seems like everything has been done and there is nothing new.  This may be true and I think it is, and even our own way of doing things may be similar to the way of someone else.  Is anything original and unique?  Does that even matter?

This is something I am struggling with a little bit.  I want to be original and unique in my art and yet I am not.  I look around me and see someone else doing what I want to be doing and perhaps doing what I am already doing but doing it better.  It will always be like this.  The only answer is to keep going, to keep doing.  Everything I do will always be at least subtly my own style even if I imitate another, just like handwriting or singing voices.  Besides, stopping and giving up would be more miserable than the endless frustration of striving and never reaching.  I must strive.  That is part of who I am and in some areas of life it is not a blessing to be that way.  In art making it probably is.

Sunday, 22 April 2018

Personal Branding and Writing an Artist's Statement

                                    Self Portrait: My modelling services are free

I have been painting prolifically lately which I have to admit is exhausting but some forms of exhaustion are at least enjoyable and painting is much better than washing the car.  Life is a bit stressful at the moment, so painting makes a form of escape.  Stress can make me cranky and excessively judgemental and lately it seems that everywhere I turn there are annoying things, crappy things, eye-roll inducing things.  It’s a good idea for me to just stay home and often an even better idea for me to stay off the internet.

Home may be where I am but the internet is usually too tempting.  I've been reading about personal branding, something I've always found rather horrifying.  I cannot conceive of myself as a brand, but then I've never had anything to sell before.  Now I have to worry about my personality and my online presence and just how it all might be a giant mistake.


Lately I am mulling over writing an artist’s bio and as I ponder this I have read many examples of what other artists write about themselves and in the process learning things about myself.  So much of what other people say or write often seems like a big old load of bullshit to me.  Embellishment, exaggeration, hyperbole, nonsense, word-salad.  Rather like they handed over the job of writing the statement to Deepak Chopra.

Let’s play with some examples I have invented based on the types of things I read.  The first one is just worthy of a great big coffee spew and it’s really just a spoof.  But the second one is absolutely the kind of thing I see and probably the person who would write this really does think this way.  I cannot relate to this person.  I do not trust this person.  I view this person as a bullshitter.

“I paint the dreams of unborn beings manifested by the karma of my essence.”

“My paintings allow inner truth to unfold in waves of colour and texture as I explore the growth of my spirit.”







                                                   In progress, nearly finished

The Mona Lisa after the Zombie Attack
 

I know that the second statement (way back there before I randomly inserted the paintings) is the type people seem to like.  I wonder how it is that I am an artist, moved by line and colour and texture and driven to play with it when I cannot tolerate the words that would describe this.  My words would be more direct and pragmatic.   My artist statement would be like this:

“I paint because I feel driven to and I enjoy it.  I love colour, texture and line.  Make of it what you will.”

It sounds a bit passive aggressive though and this is why I am stuck.  I can’t seem to reconcile my personality with this concept of artist statements.  Who am I, why do I paint and what do I paint?  I don’t really want to have to tell anyone this.  I don’t like the words I might have to use.

Let me try again:

Painting is something I’ve done most of my life but never allowed myself as much time to focus on as I have in the past five years.  I am self-taught and my favourite medium is acrylic though I also enjoy charcoal and pastel drawing, dabble in collage and am sometimes tempted by mixed media.  Figuratives, still-life florals and landscapes all feature in my work, often painted from my imagination or memory, with lively colour and noticeable brush or knife strokes.  My work is usually abstract though representational.  While I always have an intention when I paint, once I put that work out there it becomes more or less than I intended depending on the reactions to it. 

No, I don’t think this is quite what I am supposed to do.  It should be more like this:

I am a Vancouver Island artist, using acrylic as my main medium, exploring the representation of the world around me, usually in floral still life, abstract landscape and figurative work.  There is always an aspect of the abstract and modern expressionism to some degree and a liberal use of colour because I paint what I feel as well as what I see.

That might be better.

Already I am exhausted and this artist statement making effort is very uncomfortable, like I am competing in the Miss Artist Pageant.   “I would like my art to create world peace...”

All experiences are useful, most processes just as important as the outcome.  I need to sell my art to afford to keep painting and in order to sell I have to make a website and I have to sell myself.  It’s not something I enjoy or am good at but I am diving into the process.  Maybe it’s more like dipping my toe in but either way, in I go.



                                Playing Freely with paint today-this was my warm up



Friday, 20 April 2018

Dress Like an Artist



There is more than one way to dress like an artist.  For some it means being a walking, talking piece of art yourself but for me it means simple clothing and streaks of paint on my arms.  Gesso as an accessory.  

I paint.  All I really want to do is paint though sometimes I also want to write.  When I need down time I read.  Preferably in bed or the bath.  You will note that these are not activities for which one dresses up or leaves home.  Almost all activity, especially the home leaving kind, is simply something that keeps me from painting so I aim to keep it short.  I leave home a few times a week for no more than a couple of hours, usually less.  Likely it is either to go to the grocery store, a cafe or Jim and I make a trip to the beach or park with cameras and coffee.  For such situations my favourite simple outfit formulas work well and when I get home I change into my old jeans and tee shirt which I wear for painting.  This works fine though I recently contemplated a brightly coloured dress as a painting outfit.  

Looking ahead to warm weather ( or at least dreaming about it ) and experiencing my own personal middle-aged summers ( aka hot flashes ) has me thinking I might like to spend my days at home in colourful cotton sundresses, the kind sold for ridiculous prices in tourist traps all over Vancouver Island.  Tie-dye, batik, that overall west-coast hippie look which appeals to me although I am embarrassed to say so because it's a bit of a cliche and as I mentioned it tends to be over-priced, it all makes me almost wish I sewed.  Almost.  I'd rather be painting.  On a recent day trip to a popular tourist destination an hour away from our home, I wandered in and out of the shops, fingering the dresses, hoping to see one I loved so much that I didn't mind paying seventy dollars for something probably worth about twenty.  The problem is that while I love the concept I rarely love an individual dress so much that I would choose that particular one and pay that particular amount.  If I had five of them, if it was all I wore, maybe it would be different.  But I approach it looking for one I love, in the perfect colours and style, and rarely do I actually find that.....


.....oops I am digressing as usual.  I was attempting to write about dressing like an artist.  My art and my appearance don't necessarily match.  My art is more colourful and expressive, my personal style more subdued and simplified.  If you only saw one you would not likely predict the other.  I prefer my art to speak for itself and I do not want to be a personality or a character, though if I had an event to attend I would likely dress for it.  It's just that isn't my life.  The event I regularly attend is painting and there is no better outfit for that than an old pair of comfortable baggy jeans and a tee shirt.  The point is that I dress for the life I have.  If I lived in a city, attended events, hobnobbed with other arty people at swanky establishments, well then I would need a suitable wardrobe.  As it is, I change from my baggy old jeans and tee shirt into clean, well fitting jeans and tee shirt, add a scarf and some stylish shoes and voilá I'm ready for grocery shopping! Some new clothing would be fun for awhile but in the end, when I have to make choices about how to spend money, art supplies win out over clothing. 



Sunday, 15 April 2018

Spring Growth: That Time When Art was Just Like Life


This picture sums up my life right now.  I paint as much as possible, which is at least three or four hours a day and often there is a glass of wine involved. 





There is a practice in selfishness going on here.  Painting is my passion and blogging is definitely taking a back seat.  Reading blogs is just not happening at the moment and I do miss my favourite bloggers.  I feel guilt for not visiting them and seeing how they are doing, cheering them on in life.  Of course I feel guilt about many things, just reading my blog will tell you that.  

I also feel some degree of nervousness, worry, or anxiety most of the time.   Lately it's a fear that after each painting I complete successfully I will never be able to do it again.  I will always look at a painting and see something that could be fixed just a little, would look better in a different colour and sometimes I see things that show up in photos which don't appear obvious in real life. 


Of course, success is subjective and I tend not to even view them as successes for very long.  I can't tell you how often I re-paint, touch up and even completely change paintings I've done in the past.  Any painting not sold and still in my home is fair game because they are never perfect and I am always viewing them critically.  In some ways this is good.  It's a way to grow.  Old paintings exhibiting less skill or less confidence mock me.  Asserting on this blog that they are 'finished' doesn't actually solve this problem.  

How does one know when to leave well enough alone?  Perhaps one doesn't.  Perhaps it's always a gamble, a risk, a chance to learn from mistakes.  Growth.  It's necessary to life and a persistent theme in Spring.



I am not always the best judge of which paintings are successful.  Or perhaps that is better phrased as 'people see and value different things'.  Sometimes a painting I am not crazy about is well liked by others. Probably when one is so intimately involved it's harder to judge the impact of the image.  I see my paintings as a product of how difficult or easy they were for me, how much effort and materials went into it.  I see the brushstrokes that were accidental, the ones that didn't quite give the effect I was aiming for as well as the ones that did.  I see images I painted with little thought and don't feel moved by but whether or not they move someone else is out of my control.


I've re-painted this bowl of fruit many times and shown it on this blog a few times as well.  It seems to be perpetually unfinished even when I try to declare it complete.  I am working on it again, having changed the background ( wall ) colour several times this week not happy with any of them,  I have explored how much shadow I want, or whether I want to go more expressionist in style and forget about shadows.  I have found that subtle effects I've painted don't show in photos and worried about how important ( or not ) that is.  Sometimes I think it's mainly about the subject-I am not moved by an image of a bowl of fruit so this painting is a playground for me.  I just keep dabbing at it whenever I get a new idea but I never feel good about it.  It sits there, mocking me, saying "I am boring and it's your fault."

Maybe I should walk away from it.  Maybe I should re-do it forever.  I see wrong things in everything I paint.  Probably I need to spend more time looking at the right things.

Probably I will never know what I 'should' do.  I will just keep doing what I do and hopefully keep growing.



Tuesday, 10 April 2018

A Change is as Good as a Rest

      


Excitedly exploring palette knives in my art and abstract creations are bursting forth.


I was pondering this while I made breakfast...

It was once thought that a mid-life crisis was something only men experienced.  Only men, it was believed, had a life that was serious enough, hard enough, and possibly unfulfilling because of their duties as providers.  Only men had the stress of serious careers or the risks of hard physical labour.  Perhaps these things are true for many men, but women were typically thought to naturally love the life of domesticity, housework and raising children and if one wants to elevate the task-family management, which turned out to not be true.   A woman who was unhappy in this domestic life was once considered not properly female or perhaps even mentally ill.  Enter valium.

Thankfully we are past those days, but still it is difficult to shake the idea that the woman is the one responsible for the home and the modern complaint is that while women can have careers or pursue their non-familial dreams, they are also tending to take on the majority of the family and household responsibility in addition to this.  Of course this is a generalisation and it’s also possible that times are changing and what I experience is not what younger women are experiencing.  It is astonishing to me to even write the phrase ‘younger women’ as I am arriving in middle age with my head spinning.  How did this happen so fast?  I had my own mid-life crisis of sorts, as women have always been quite able to do and with hindsight it seems not so difficult to live forty or fifty years and not discover that things have gone terribly wrong.  Or even mildly wrong.

It was an awkward, painful, difficult time but the pain didn’t last too long, thankfully.  Mostly it was simultaneously uncomfortable and exciting.  Changes came, both quickly and slowly.  I would never say that my former life was full of things wrong for me, because it wasn’t.  In fact there is definitely a part of me that enjoys domesticity, managing a home and raising a child because I love my son more than life itself so all things related to him always felt important.  And I love an orderly and smoothly running home.  The thing is, for a woman of my generation and life experiences, it is rare (although not impossible nor unheard of) to live a life completely dedicated to her own sort of work while someone else manages the details of life.  I mean, it never would have occurred to me that I could or should make my life’s work art and have someone else do the cooking and cleaning or that I could simply neglect it.  #notmyjob or #notmyproblem now come to mind.  It would never have crossed my mind to pursue a life of creativity and not be responsible for the state of the home, the care and feeding of the family.  I suspect that I had internalised from an early age that this is what it meant to be a woman. 

I ponder that now, as I am enjoying what I call mid-life ecstasy.  It’s what is on the other side of the mid-life crisis. No, my life is not perfect or easy or magical, I am much too practical a person to see it that way.  But having raised my child successfully into a wonderful adult human being I can now call a friend, and having found a partner for this second stage of my life who expects nothing of me in the way of domesticity and yet is appreciative and thankful for anything I do, I am mostly free to create my art as much as I wish to.  I say mostly because I still place expectations on myself.  It’s a difficult habit to break. 

Often I apologise if there is no dinner planned or if the laundry has piled up because I was immersed in creating, but he sweetly reminds me that he does not view these things as my job.  I have a partner, not a domestic slave, so while he takes on many of the jobs I am neglecting, he also sometimes neglects them too and I think this is preferable to a partner who is acting the role of housekeeper and caretaker because that would come with guilt for me.  It creates a sort of inequality I cannot live with.  If I had lots of money I am sure I could see myself living as a male artist might, either in a mess and going without meals or with a hired housekeeper to sort out such things.  Nobody viewed a man who could not or did not tend to such mundane chores as inadequate in any way but a woman who cannot or does not is still an oddity at best.

 I am not an oddity, but I am living differently from how I'd ever expected to and am exceedingly happy for it.  Better late than never, as they say.


 

Sunday, 8 April 2018

Guilt, Art, and Being a Woman


                           Acrylic on paper-experiments with my new palette knives.        

Are there any females who don't live with some degree of guilt?  I often wonder.  I hope that there are and that my generation is the last to feel it, but perhaps I am fantasising too much.  Guilt comes from the pressure, real or imagined and likely both, for a woman to be all things to all people, to do everything well, and mostly to do it for others.  And she should of course look hot while doing it all. 

I am achieving the latter merely due to menopause.

This blog is in danger of becoming obsessively focused on my painting as the previous incarnation was on personal colour theory.  The uniting theme is colour, to be sure.  I imagine myself on my deathbed, commenting on colour in some way.  Probably I will dislike the colours of the hospital room.   

Morbid thoughts!  

Where was I?  Oh yes, colour and painting and guilt.  Currently I am feeling guilt because painting has taken over my life and I'm happy about it. Why the guilt?  Because it takes me away from other things and I mostly don't mind.  Although sometimes I do.  Painting obsessively ( there should be another word as this one perhaps has negative associations-I mean to say I am painting as much as possible when not sleeping, resting or making dinner and the motivation to cook is quite low. ) .....

...painting for hours a day is exhausting in a way that makes me happy, the way I suppose people experience a runner's high or the thrill of climbing a mountain.  I feel guilt over choosing to exhaust myself for something purely selfish because somewhere in my stupid brain is firmly lodged the idea that I should/must only exhaust myself in service to others.  I suspect this has kept me from so single-mindedly pursuing art for most of my life.  That and the need to work for an income.  At this point in my life I am very fortunate as I have enough to live on modestly, a supportive partner and very little in the way of shoulds or musts in my life.  There is nobody other than ME causing this guilt.

ME refers to both myself and M.E. ( myalgic encephalomyelitis ) because the latter is why the former gets so exhausted from several hours of painting a day.  The guilt I am specifically feeling is over the lack of getting out for a walk.  There is correlation involved here though perhaps it's not the cause I think it is.  I haven't conducted a truly scientific experiment.  The weather has been terrible and both Jim and I were feeling quite run down.  Our walks dwindled and we haven't been out in a couple of weeks whereas the goal of three times a week was being readily met for awhile.  It was being easily met when I wasn't painting so much.  As the rain came and the walks dwindled my desire to paint burst out and I haven't experienced this level of immersed passion since my days as an obsessed gardener.

Digression:

Ahhhh gardening.  I miss it in many ways though it too was exhausting and eventually formidably so.  When I look back on how I gardened, although I know there was pleasure in the physicality of it, of being outside, sinking my hands into soil, the fresh air, the birds, gardening for me was very significantly an art.  I was focused on arranging plant forms, shapes, textures and colours into a desired effect.  In non-gardening weather I spent hours planning, researching, looking into new plants.  I also dug up and moved plants constantly in order to improve the effect I was creating with them.  If I didn't like a certain colour combination it had to be changed!

Back on topic, sort of:

Writing doesn't induce the same level of guilt that painting does because I can write in bed.  I can write when my body is so fatigued that anything else is out of the question.  But painting needs the same level of energy I would need to do housework, exercise, take care of other people, all of those female-assigned jobs.

I don't have a solution.  I could list all of the sayings, quotes, bits of advice that I've ever heard or read but the truth would be that they only work a little bit.  We all have to deal with our own responses and my task is to try to deal with this guilt.  Perhaps it is your task too.  We can at least take comfort knowing we are on that journey together.

                                    Can't stop making these little multi-coloured women. 

Saturday, 7 April 2018

Paint Bravely

I have mainly been painting and sleeping, I think.  That's how it seems and I do have to admit to myself that painting is exhausting.  I can lose hours at it, so try to limit myself to a few hours a day though I hate to stop if I'm making good progress.  I've also gotten brave and made an Instagram account for sharing photos of my work and meeting other artists.  This is how those of us who don't leave home and don't like groups have to do it!  I know you are probably wondering why sharing on Instagram is brave and sharing here is not as much so.  I don't know that I can explain it but it has something to do with how here I just say 'hey, it's me, look at what I am playing at'.  On Instagram I said, 'hi there, I am an artist'.

A couple of posts back I shared an abstract that I'd begun, saying I didn't know where it was going.  It became this.  That's how art and life both work-you may not end up where you thought you were going to.  You may not know where you are going.

                                     Bedroom Curtain, acrylic on canvas

I have had successes, surprises, disappointments and failures, just like life too.  I have continued to change pieces I said were finished, sold a painting and thought up a gazillion ideas for more paintings.  No wonder I'm tired!


I love playing with charcoal, though it's messy.  It takes several drawings to get one I like, but the process is quick and fun.




I joined a 7 Day Challenge on Instagram and my focus is loosely painted women.  It's meant to be an experimental process project, creating mini paintings and the above pieces on paper are my results so far.  I like the green one the least, but there is always something to learn from what doesn't work.  My goal was not to fuss.

There is nothing like really getting messy and doing the work to bring on progress and that's what things are like for me now.  Messy, progressing, feeling good!  I am going to have to re-think my wardrobe though.  I am seriously thinking about adding coveralls to my wardrobe.

Monday, 2 April 2018

A New Perspective on Perfectionism

I'm a perfectionist and have been trying not to be one.  I'm going to stop that and here is why.



I wanted to paint with a faster and looser style but it's easier said than done, perhaps more so if one is a cautious person with perfectionist tendencies.  I know I am not alone because I know this is a goal of many artists and the tendency to begin to tighten up, to head too much in a direction of realism is something many artists say they are constantly fighting.  Habits take time to develop and are also hard to break which is common wisdom that applies to all areas of life.  Sometimes we can get to a breakthrough if we just spend enough time thinking about and imagining the change.  The mental shift comes before the physical shift.  At least that's how it often works for me.  Some people call this 'setting an intention' which is the new way of saying 'make a plan' or 'make a decision'.  It sounds a bit more magical and I think it comes from the 'ask the universe for what you want'  approach to life.  I haven't got a spiritual bone in my body, so as far as I am concerned, changing your thinking can change your actions.

Or at least it can begin to change them.  Change usually takes time, even if you are as prone to epiphanies as I am.  You didn't become who you are overnight and you will continue to gradually evolve.  Sometimes it's without trying to and other times it's with great effort.

My two greatest efforts of late are to minimise the unwanted in my life and to let my painting style go in the direction I wish it to despite what holds me back.  My best strategies for those are to know what the goal is and to just keep trying.  I purge and donate, clear out a cupboard and think I'm finished but later I discover I can let go of more.  I think that I am finished a painting, may even announce it on a blog post, but later suddenly want to make a change or an addition. 

A quotation I have stumbled upon and which really resonates with me is attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci but it seems others have paraphrased it and have also been credited with the quote....perhaps the fate of all good ideas.

"Art is never finished, merely abandoned."  

I think this applies to many projects and efforts.  We may set something aside, but later come back and often with clarity and a good solution.  Aiming for perfection means it is never finished and since perfection doesn't exist, aiming for it isn't always a good idea....

But sometimes it is.  Sometimes that streak of perfectionism can tell you that something just isn't quite there yet and if you leave it alone for awhile you will get to a better place with it eventually.  If you are in this process then you are growing, which is much better than remaining stagnant. (I think this is a mix of metaphors-plants and water?)  For me this lately means taking my paintings where I want them to go, getting there in stages with a few false stops.  (Some people make false starts but I make false stops.) It also means making lifestyle changes that take time and don't have a predetermined result. 


Here is an abstract in progress.  I don't know when it will be finished and I will probably be wrong about that a few times.  I find that I have to step back out of my art and look at for a long time to know what I want to do with it next, to wait for it to tell me what it needs.  This isn't unusual for artists; I'm not unique.  I think life can be like this too.  Step back.  Wait a bit.  See what happens and what needs to happen.  It will make sense eventually and you will know what you need to do.  Sometimes you wait, sometimes you take a step. Sometimes you learn from your mistakes, sometimes you have a leap of progress, make a big change, undo or add.  Just keep going, rest when you need to and then get going again.  This is the best way I know how to paint and how to live life.

Sunday, 25 March 2018

Painting Wildly on a Sunday Morning

                                    Mother and Daughter, acrylic on paper

                             Home From the Beauty Salon, acrylic on paper

Today I said, forget it, to realism.  There is a lot of paint here, a lot of layering and these were fun to make.  Is it a new direction?  I don't know.

When Words Fail

The internet is well populated with introverts making them extroverts of a sort in this particular environment, extending themselves, expre...