The Painting Spectrum - Let's "Process" Art

   It was a disappointing week for me. First off, I wasn't able to paint. For those of you who read my post from last week, may remember that I mentioned this future prediction; I mentioned Thanksgiving week was going to be a stretch to get any painting done. So, if I realized this fact almost a week ago, why am I still disappointed? I'm disappointed because I didn't paint - even though I realized in advanced there was a strong possibility of it not happening. Thus, is the cycle of the artist mindset.

   My second disappointment was the fact that my two pumpkin pies I baked for Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be disasters. It turned out I didn't follow the baking directions properly and I was missing one or two ingredients. Why? I thought it wouldn't matter in the end. What does this have to do with art? Read on.

   A good friend of mine reminded me that like art, many things have a certain process that needs to be followed, or the finished work will not be our best. Time tested procedures and directions must be followed. Shortcuts cannot be taken. If we do that, the finished work may even look somewhat decent, but under closer scrutiny, will show a great deal of flaws. My good friend also got together with me to help bake additional pies. We followed the process to the letter and all of them came out (and tasted) flawless.

   After our pie-making excursion, I invited her to my studio to view my latest paintings. She is not fellow artist, nor an avid art lover. However, I was still surprised at what she had to say about my latest abstract paintings. At one point, she twisted her head sideways to get another view of them.

   "This painting looks like a large bird," she pointed out to me. Then I held up the painting with one of the new frames my husband and I purchased recently. "Wow - it looks great in a frame. The colors really stand out."  I put the frame and canvas down. She walked over to the painting and continued critiquing in her own way; "It looks like energy is coming in from outer space - and in this sky looking area - it looks like the energy is flowing to the ground." 

   This is one of the beautiful aspects about art. We don't always have to try and figure what the painting is about. We don't have to know what each line and/or object is. My friend looked at a painting and identified what she liked about it and what drew her to the painting. That equals why she can enjoy it. Consider it the process of viewing art. Just like there is a creative process to actually paint the painting, the same could be said for viewing it. Ditto for making great pies!

   When I paint, I don't think in the logical sense. As crazy as that sounds, it works. I dance with my paint across the surface of the canvas. It's what I do naturally. This is part of my creative process and it comes to me easily.

   We all have gifts and talents. This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my husband, family, friends, and the talents we all have. By the way - here's a picture of my "perfect" pie. And it tasted just as good as it looks. Amazing what happens when you follow a process that works...

Until next time,
The Thankful Painter,
Jill

  

The Painting Spectrum - Painting And Protests

   I honestly thought I would not be using this phrase yet; "The Holiday Season". But we can't blink the fact that it's now right around the corner starting, in my book, on November 25th. With this fact on the table and space already being at a premium in my studio, I knew these past seven days would be a key week to paint daily as much as possible. I almost hit my mark - I was able to paint Monday through Thursday to just that goal. Those of you who follow my blog, know I rarely paint on weekends, so 4 outta 5 ain't bad. Each day, I painted for however long it took me to complete a painting. There were some evenings my arms and shoulders were more sore than others. However, the colors flowed onto the canvas easily and intuitively.

   My emotions have been running high over the past 10 days or so; everything from the political scene, to the Super-moon last Monday, to a friend being on the receiving end of a racial incident. Another example of mans inhumanity to man. As corny as it may sound in these modern times, I keep hoping and praying there will be harmony and peace on this planet.

   There are still blessings to be found in everyday life, regardless of how chaotic. For example, my husband and I had a chance to spend some time with our oldest grandkids this weekend, while our oldest daughter attended a peaceful protest march in her hometown. The sign she held during the march stated "Tolerance is Humanity". That slogan was good food for thought - what if, in the art world, we did not tolerate works that were "different than ours" or "that we don't understand", or works "we don't agree with". Zero tolerance for new art make a very dull world.

   When my daughter came to pick up her kids, she found our first round of frames that had been delivered to our door for both mine and my husbands art shows that will be taking place next summer and autumn. We were pleased with the quality and how the frames looked. I also liked how the black frame looked against the bright colors of some of my latest oil-spill inspired abstract paintings. The works looked very dramatic, or as my husband and daughter mentioned, "it was so... me". I can't wait for the gallery to display these works. It also made me thankful that this gallery decided to display mine and my husbands works. They are very different than what's being displayed now. I'm glad they took a chance. While others may "protest" in some small way because the works being displayed are not a floral, or landscapes, or still life's (in which there is nothing wrong with these genres), the gallery wanted a change; to shake things up. For this, we're all for it.

   Until next time,
   The Protesting Painter,
   Jill

The Painting Spectrum - Clean Slate, Clean Palette

   It was another whirlwind week filled with voting (and that whole tense situation), making a trip to see my dentist, and a road trip to Massachusetts for a Veterans Day ceremony - and somewhere in all that I managed to finish another oil spill inspired painting. Part of my painting process is to maintain, to the best of my ability, an even emotional keel. My mantra is a desire to paint beauty. Beauty comes in many shapes, forms, and colors. My palette is a rainbow - one mindset I embrace is, if I can begin with happiness, I shall end with happiness.

    This is one reason why for this campaign season (marathon?), I shut off the television and blocked all political posts from my Facebook feed. I stayed informed enough for my comfort level, but that was my personal boundary. This past week however, a heaviness still weighed the atmosphere. By Wednesday morning, it seemed almost all of America had a massive political hangover. I had to strictly regiment my time this past week to avoid negativity at all costs. This meant no media at all; radio, newspaper, TV, and the Internet. My husband burned a massive stack of new CD's, so that is what played almost all week. This is part of my creative process. I need a "clean slate and clean palette" emotionally and mentally in order to paint or I won't be able to focus on my work.

   By midweek, I made my dentist appointment for a routine cleaning. In the hygienist's office, there was a cute stuffed purple dragon in the corner. He had green horns, a purple body, and big red dots on his face. He also had a set of false teeth and was holding an oversized toothbrush.  
"The kids call him Fuzzy," Alice told me as she scraped my teeth. I felt great after I left the dentist and went home to paint.

   One of the first order of operations was to remove the old palette sheet as the last remaining oil paint had dried up and replace it with a new one. On went the rainbow of new color - yellow, orange, red, green, blue and purple. Beginning with yellow, I laid in the design of the oil drip / spill I was going to paint. The other colors followed and their placement was wherever they felt "right" to me. After a few hours, I was satisfied with the finished work and called it done. I set it aside to let the paint start its drying process. As I stepped back, I could have sworn I saw Fuzzy, that happy purple dragon, in my painting... minus the false teeth and toothbrush of course.

   Friday morning came early, but I was blessed with a beautiful sunrise. A short while later, my husband and I embarked on the 3 1/2 hour trek to central Massachusetts. One positive aspect about our trip through Maine and New Hampshire, were no school buses and the road construction workers had the day off. Not so in Massachusetts - we were held up twice by construction (read: huge traffic jams) and arrived with only a 20 minute window to spare before the ceremony started. We were greeted by other family members and made decisions on who was doing what and where we were all sitting. As humans, I guess we all need some sort of "process" regardless of the situation.

   The ceremony was solemn but beautiful. There were the presentations of colors, veterans marching in, speeches (very short ones, thank God) made by local, state, and national (senate) officials. Afterward, there was the presentation of medals, certificates of appreciation, and a commemoration letter written by the President of the United States to over 120 Vietnam veterans. My brother and I accepted the honors in behalf of my deceased father. The ceremony closed with the singing of a few military favorites, the presentation of wreaths, and the playing of taps for all deceased soldiers.

   Even with the massive crowd of almost 1,000 people, we manged to snap some family photos and were interviewed by two local newspaper reporters. One of the questions asked of my mother was how her late husband handled his return home. She told them he didn't talk about it much. The Vietnam war was filled with controversy. There were years of protests and many veterans did not receive a warm welcome home nor the recognition they deserved. My father and my family just did the best they could. It's possible that my father didn't talk about the conflict that much because he wanted to start over with a "clean slate and clean palette" with his young family. It's a shame that it's taken this country 50 years to honor these veterans in some formal way. However, even though it took a half a century, I'm grateful.

   Most of my extended family joined us for a late lunch after the ceremony commenced. While waiting for our table at the restaurant we went to, there was another veteran who struck up a conversation with us. He thanked my father for his service. He didn't know me, my mother, or anyone else. However, there is a common thread of being human. We can all get along despite our opinions and differences. Because of this conversation with this stranger, I came away with a sense of pride, hope, and faith... in all of us. Maybe this is another example of a "clean slate" we all need to move forward in our lives.

Until next time,
The Happy Painter,
Jill

The Painting Spectrum - Flights Of Fancy

   This past week have been seven days of "priming the pump". This historical term came from a time when people used to have manual wells where they would have to pour a certain amount of water into the well first before it would operate properly. Once water was poured into the system, the well would pump more out to be gotten.

   My "priming the pump" task was when I put the gesso to six canvases this week. The entire process took just over an hour and then drying time used up a few more. Ironically, this process used to fill me with fear. The thought of "...what do I paint?" used to encompass my mind. The process of letting that fear go was even easier this time as I know it will be another form of oil spill inspired abstract. I do still wonder, however, where my process will take me though...

   I'll use the following as an example; I saw a young boy who was approximately 2-3 years old with his mother out at our local boardwalk one afternoon. As I walked, prior to meeting them, I noticed milkweed pods opened and seeds were everywhere. There was also a gentle breeze. As I came around the corner, I saw the boy stomping around, doing an odd dance - then stopping, smiling, and laughing - and then began doing the same ritual all over again. When I got closer, I saw other milkweed pods that had been opened and little seeds floating near him. He was totally enthralled in their flight. I smiled. It was good.

   There's so much that I've come to "know" as an adult. But how often do I just stop and wonder about life? Or about the simple things like floating milkweed seeds? I'm currently reading a spiritual book entitled, "One Day My Soul Just Opened Up". There is one essay on creativity that blew my mind. It stated that a power greater than ourselves (whom I choose to call God), "... infuses us with the power to conceive, express, and enjoy our creative power. We create through thought, word, and deed."

   Our expectations are self-fulfilling. Start each day by seeing it the way you would want it to be. See yourself moving through the day with a smile on your face and joy in your heart. I can do the same with my painting and creative process. I start this self-fulfillment with "priming my pump". I have to continue this process, via painting, as I want to see my finished work. Usually, I have just a concept, not an exact detailed vision, so my painting can go with the flow. I can paint without fear.

   Another example came from my husband. He shared a story with me of a couple in their 90's who are regular customers at the auto repair shop where he works. They got back about a week or two ago from a 2400 mile round trip to Nova Scotia. They were good health (as far as 90+ year old's go) and have zero fear of traveling. I can take this same creativity process beyond my painting and into my everyday life. I can imagine a larger studio to solve my current space problem. I can imagine more gallery or even museum exhibits and my works selling for more money. And why not?

   My goal is this, and while it does include being an artist, it goes beyond that. That all my fears of people, places, and things would dissolve as I courageously move through life conquering one fear after another. Life (and painting) is meant to be lived and enjoyed! May I be like that couple in their 90's and still filled with the wonder of a 2-3 year old.

   Until next time,
   The creative painter,
   Jill