Love Abides...

For the past forty years, people have been at the center of my professional life in a number of ways.  I have learned to listen beyond the words people use to express themselves, and to hear the variety of messages they convey.  Most of these messages are rarely spoken, per se.  When recruiting, I strive to really understand the attributes, skills, experience and education a person needs to successfully fulfill the job requirements.  In this setting, I sit back and take things in.  As an observer, my intuitive skills have been honed to an art form.  This is very helpful in making a hiring decision, and it's really no different in my personal life when I go about making friends.  If anything, I become even more discerning in picking companions for friendship along my life journey.  I have little time for pastimes, so in order to spend my time more productively, I am very selective about what I do and with whom I do it. I do not mind spending time alone.  In fact, I need some quiet time every day.  Maybe because my day's activities are so public, filled with a lot of people and drama, quiet time alone is precious.  Some people meditate...I think when alone.  I examine many things:  people, situations, theories...and the list goes on and on.  I turn them over in my mind's eye to examine and ponder from various points of view.  This is a very satisfying pastime for me, as it allows me to see beneath the surface.

So many people reveal their core values and the goodness held within by the numerous gifts given to others of their time, talent and selves.  This is even more amazing when the individual doesn't encourage close relationships, yet constantly gives.  This type of behaviour reveals a caring and generous heart.  'By his deeds shall he be known' is an old saying that rings true here.  I heard this growing up, and it remains alive and applicable today.  Contemplating such thoughts as these led me to create this next painting.  This work began as a random watercolor with radiant hues, splashed, dripped and painted on a 22" X 30" piece of Arches CP 140-lb rag paper.  Bright, cool colors were interspersed with marks of a watercolor crayon in old gold green.  There was no particular pattern, no form reminiscent of any particular object, just splashes and patterns of color throughout the picture plane.  When this was dry, black gesso was brayered randomly over the surface to set up a visual tension between extreme light brights and darker darks.  This application was allowed to dry thoroughly before an acrylic gloss varnish glaze was applied over the whole painting.  This is a very important step, as it allows the colors to separate and 'snap' to the attention of the viewer, often defining random shapes and forms that heretofore were hidden within the painting's landscape.

After this step, I photographed the piece and called it Fire and Smoke, as it reminded me of ashes.

I began to see a heart form within the picture plane.  Not totally satisfied, I continued to apply my 'edit-eye' for several days.  I decided to pursue the heart shape, and to give it greater definition.  I chose a translucent metallic brown paint to apply over the negative space surrounding the heart.  The heart form is off-center and turned slightly, as if trying to escape the attention of the viewer.  The brown was applied in thin layers, with some overlapping to form additional texture within the flat negative space.  This created some visual interest away from the heart shape.  The heart holds the viewer's eye as the focal point of this painting.  I then added a bit of copper to warm up the sweetness of the pink within the heart.  While the brown was drying, I drew into the surface of the negative space, making marks signifying the licks and kicks that life provides us on our worldly journey.  Some of those licks cut deep and leave scars...heavy marks that teach us lessons along the way.  These lessons are depicted in the painting by the black marks overlaid with red.  The red here is symbolic of lessons learned.  It is so important as we experience life, even though it may batter us a bit, that we never miss the lesson.

February is a month of celebrating hearts in all the various ways we experience love, friendship and caring.  I call this painting I See the Goodness Within Your Heart.

This painting celebrates those friends who may never be able to say the words 'I love you', but tell us by their kind and generous deeds that spring from that vast reservoir held within...their heart of hearts.

Raise your glasses, folks, one more time...to February, before she slips away.  Look around and see...love abides...here's to the goodness held within the heart.

Farewell to the Dragon

Today is the last day of the Chinese Year of the Dragon, and it seemed appropriate to pay homage to its fearsome, feisty nature.  Ever since I discovered the red and gold Chinese dragon puppet at the Art Institute of Chicago in December of 2011, I have been captured by its undulating form.

Using the whole surface of my latest linoleum cut, I printed it black-on-white on a quarter-sheet (approximately 11 X 15) of Arches Cold-Press 140 lb paper.  The shapes lend themselves readily to the dragons depicted in ancient Asian silkscreens, paintings and panels.  Oftentimes in Western culture the dragon is construed as evil and destructive, but in Eastern traditions it is a fierce protector and a benevolent force that keeps evil and misfortune at bay.

The Twin Dragons is my whimsical effort to capture the mystical spirit of these mythological creatures.  As we enter into the Year of the Snake, may it be one of good fortune.

Hearts, hearts and more hearts...!

It's February already, and Groundhog Day has now passed.  The groundhog saw his shadow, so we are due an early spring.  Before I get to spring and all the promise that the season holds, I must celebrate the season of hearts...and Valentine's Day.  I must admit it is one of my favorite holidays, and I truly love it's symbol:  the heart.  With rounded edges and a sharp point, it's shape is pleasing to me, as well as all it represents.  A romantic at heart, I relish making art 'for heart's sake'...!    This February is no different, as I began to think about making Valentines a few weeks ago.

Using my newly carved linoleum block, I printed several 3 X 5 watercolor cards with images in a black gesso medium mixture on white.

linoleum block...



After they were completely dry, I added gold and a few reddish highlights.  This was done randomly, as design elements, with no real outcome in mind.  Truly an experimental exploration of the printed shapes and lines, it was more about how the blocks looked once printed.  After doing several, I set them aside.  When a few weeks had passed, I decided it was the season of hearts, so I retrieved them from the pile and looked at them once again.  The old childhood riddle came to mind:  'What's black and white and red all over?'  Where the old answer was 'a newspaper', I mentally added 'my Valentines'.  So with that silly riddle in my head, I began my current quest to make a few Valentine cards.  Instead of a true red, I mixed Scarlet Lake watercolor with copper and gold metallic fluid acrylic paint to make a red-orange color.  I used this red-orange on some, and on others I used a true red handmade paper.  Both served as the base paper color for hand-cut hearts.

After ten or so printed and collaged little works of art, I branched out to try a similar technique on mounted Ampersand boards fitted with specially treated paintable surfaced grounds for all water media.

These are the results of my experimental play...

The cards...

The blocks are larger.  The first two are 6 X 6, the third is 5 X 5...

If you haven't made a Valentine since you were a kid, there is no time like now to do it.  Your favorite sweetheart will appreciate seeing your hand in the card's creation.  For you, the creator, get ready to feel a tremendous sense of satisfaction. For the recipient of your handiwork...well, get ready to see their delight!

Happy Valentine's Day...!  May you find a real sweet heart...!

Reflections

This time of year is very demanding professionally, and I often find it difficult to make time to paint.  This year was no different, other than the fact that my job demands escalated to the tenth power.  Additionally, in the middle of the fall, I zigged when I needed to zag, and tore my left meniscus.  Learning to use a cane has not been easy, but a definite necessity for mobility.  During all of this personal and professional hullabaloo, a dear friend shared her grandson's new website.  Travis had become interested in photography as a Boy Scout, and found he had a profound talent.  Trips to Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, the Central Texas countryside, and the glaciers of Alaska offered him a plethora of photographic opportunities, with their glorious natural vistas.  His mother encouraged him to create his own website for showing and marketing his work.  My friend has long been active in the arts, running her own gallery, serving as a docent for the Austin Museum of Art, and as a keeper of art's vast history she has a keen eye.  I've learned to pay attention and take note when she recommends an artist, photographer, sculptor, metal or glass artisan.  When she told me about Travis's site (click here), I immediately checked it out, and was most impressed...so many beautiful images!

I instantly fell in love with his photo of a goat weed flower, taken at Round Top, Texas, during a family gathering.  This little flower reminded me of another flower I had painted some years before.   That little jewel was spotted during a tour of St Louis Botanical Gardens, in its climatron.  Gracing the top of a huge tropical, this little flower stalk was only about four inches high.  I used my telephoto lens to capture its tiny regal nature.  It later became Study in Green, a watercolor, 22 X 30, and now hangs in a place of honor in my daughter's living room.

I enjoyed the challenge of taking a very small flower and enlarging the image to fill the page.

I purchased the goat weed photograph from Travis in color and black and white, and sought permission to reproduce it and interpret it in watercolor.
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Again, I wanted to face the challenge of painting values of various hues of green.  Green, as it is seen in nature, can be most difficult to reproduce.

When drawing off the watercolor, I returned to a graphite line drawing.  This image may well become a series, as I can easily imagine interpreting this little flower in many ways.  In this first effort, I began to paint early in the morning and late at night.  Allowing it to dry completely between sessions, it was easier for me to see my progress and where I wanted to go next.  These are the first three steps...

Taking this methodical and time-consuming approach allowed the color cones in my eyes to recover so that I could see all the nuances of the greens.  Once I got to phase 3, I left it hanging to apply an 'editorial eye' in order to make decisions about what was working and what was not.  I decided it was too green!  I envisioned a bright reddish-pink leaf (in the opposite position on the color wheel) to balance the painting's 'greenness'.  After looking at it for a week, I made the decision to put subtle alizarin crimson stripes on significant leaves.

When this was completed, I still felt it needed a brighter pink leaf to 'pop' and balance the amazing greens, so I intensified the redness of the stripes and painted the pink leaf.  Down to the moment I took the brush in hand, I planned the pink leaf to be slightly to the left of center and right up front.  At the last possible second, I chose the leaf behind and somewhat obscured to become pink. I also intensified the reddish-pink stripes that lead the eye to the center of the painting, along with the pinks in the heart of the flowers themselves.  I think I made the best choice, and have learned to listen to the intuitive voice and heed its direction.

No Small Wonder is the result...

Just as this painting was finished, I visited my daughter over Thanksgiving.  She and her husband had just finished redoing her office, and she was most enchanted with their new light fixture from Pottery Barn.  Once I saw it, so was I.  I could not get over the shadow patterns on the white walls, releasing shades of grey and lavender.  I took several photographs, and vowed I was going to paint it as well...time or no time...!
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After printing the photos, I drew off the spherical image in silver acrylic with a size 12 flat brush.  I placed the sphere slightly off center on the page, honoring my asymmetrical preferences.  This painting was created with a limited palette of various values of silver, white, gold, blue and purple, with subtle touches of rose and green in the negative space.  With this painting comes my personal homage to 12/21/2012, as it reminds me of a moon wrapped in the icy aura of Winter Solstice.  It also speaks to me of a mandala in Eastern spiritual traditions, a circle representing wholeness and life itself.  The mandala shows our relation to the infinite in the world that extends beyond both our bodies and our minds.  We see the circle repeated in many of life's aspects:  the celestial circles of the earth, sun and moon, as well as our circles of friends, family and community.  With my Winter Mandala, let me share with you the blessings of the season on this octave of the New Year, 2013...
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Autumn's glory

November is one of my favorite times of the year.  Growing up in Jefferson County, southeast Texas, it was a time when I enjoyed the seasonal change to cool, crisp, dry blue skies with geese flying southward, honking their way toward the horizon, and the smells of 'comfort food' that emanated from my mother's kitchen.  The aroma of hearty soups and filé gumbo, along with the fragrance of freshly-baked bread, filled the air.  It was the one time of year when I truly felt the bayou coming to life, as the colors changed to a variety of what artists call 'earth tones', with the hues of burnt sienna, yellow ochre and the umbers.  Those rich colors, combined with the robin's egg blue of the sky, made the landscape vibrate.  They drew the artist in me home to paint.  I have found home to be several favorite places in November...central Texas and the hill country, along with the high mesas of northern New Mexico.
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I realized I have never painted the golden sunlight of the southeast Texas bayou grasses, with egrets patiently fishing the cool, still waters.  This is an image that is very alive and real, and in my mind's eye I see it clearly.

Through the years I have taken time away from work in the latter weeks of November to seek quiet and to capture on paper my vision of the color released from the land before the cold and wet of winter settles in.  During this time away, I photograph and paint in the solitude and beauty of Nature's playpen.

Recently, we were asked for fall images of Texas for our holiday calendar at work.  I happily complied with photographs I took at Schumacher's Crossing on the Guadalupe River between Hunt and Ingram, in the Texas hill country.  What a delightful spot!  Tucked away on the opposite side of the highway is Schumacher Falls, with its shining, cool, clear water that forms a pond of sorts among the cypress, oak and other trees.
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Can you imagine how delighted the Native Americans were to have such a treasure in their midst?  As beautiful as the falls and pond are, my artist's eye was drawn to a stand of five cypress trees across the road.  Because of the way they're grouped, I felt a real sense of kinship among them.  I call them the Five Sisters.
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The Five Sisters at Schumacher Crossing was inspired by the magnificent color of the landscape and my joy at the privilege of just being there...
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Northern New Mexico is much colder in late November, and unpredictable with the possible whimsy of a blue norther changing the sky, the light, and the temperature in a matter of minutes.  Lone Cottonwood on the Chalma reflects the light of just such a day, when the blue sky went grey, and the temperature dropped into the teens at Abiquiu.  This is exactly what happened as I literally sat on a log in sixteen-degree weather.  I've never been so cold in my life!  Did you know that watercolor paint will freeze on the paper as it is applied?  It does!

Lone Cottonwood on the Chalma

Another area I love in northern New Mexico is the Galisteo Basin.  I've included my photograph of the creek running through the village of Galisteo, as well as the painting of the tack room at the Galisteo Inn.  I mentioned before that the golden light enhances the landscape, but it also creates luscious shadow patterns.  The painting of the tack room is all about the old apple tree outside the casita, with its few remaining apples and the marvelous November shadows cast upon the adobe.  Winter is truly knocking on the Basin's door, but autumn has not given away all its color, and it remains for just one last hurrah.

The Creek at Galisteo

The Tack Room at Galisteo Inn

Winter is an etching,

spring a watercolor,

summer an oil painting,

and autumn is a mosaic of them all.

Stanley Horowitz

As a colorist, the hues of the fall landscape are my favorite.  I hope you will delight, as I have so many times through my photographs and paintings, in the landscape, where the light is subtler, releasing Nature's magnificent color in all its glory and splendor.  This is one of the many things for which I am so thankful.  May we all take the time to enjoy the autumn season, and to make note in gratitude for all the beauty that surrounds us.

When was the last time you consciously appreciated the beauty of Nature?  There is no better time of the year to tramp through the woods, or to sit on a rock and drink in what lies before you. 

Be still, and the beauty will find you.

Now for something completely different...

I often paint subjects that are centered in humor -- either because I find mirth in unusual places, or because amusement comes to me with unexpected clarity.  I recently shared this story with my dearest friend, along with my impression of the creature's slow waltz across the carport roof.  I'm not a comedian...but my little act sent him into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.  The other diners in Kerbey Lane Café probably thought we had both lost our minds...!

Here's a little background...

A few years back, I was helping a friend personalize her new townhouse living room.  She knew I was creating murals at the time, and asked if I might do something with her very long and narrow room -- she literally wanted to make the back wall 'come forward'.  We collaborated on ideas, paint and background, and then I went to see the room in person. 

Her townhouse shared a vine-covered carport with that of her student neighbors, which provided a very shady canopy.  I had heard stories for some weeks regarding Benny, the neighbors' pet iguana.  I was quite intrigued by the whole idea of an iguana companion.  A pet iguana was exotic -- certainly not a predictable choice.  Having never had the experience of even seeing one (let alone 'up close and personal'), I thought I wanted to do so.  Over a period of weeks, during which I created a 'tree of life' mural for her living room, filled with many species of birds, I looked for Benny during my comings and goings.  Just a glimpse would suffice.  So every time I arrived, I checked the canopy.  No luck!

One afternoon, as I was leaving, I had the distinct and unmistakable feeling that I was being watched.  I certainly knew it wasn't the Eyes of Texas (my friend is from Oklahoma!), but nonetheless, I felt I was being watched.  I looked around...nothing!  The feeling intensified.  Something told me to look up, and I did.  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust.  There, among the green leaves, sat a giant, silver-green iguana...Benny...!  At last...!  In full 'display mode', ruby-red bloated throat puffed out for all to see, Benny just stared me down...and I stared right back!    I've often thought about that moment, and I smile.  It was a surprise of the rarest kind.  He was huge! 

I created this painting in honor of my friend's reptilian neighbor, Benny.  I call it Say mama...come over here...and I laugh all over again every time I look at it....

Sometimes, what I paint is all about having fun.

Angelfood Duels...and friendship

I return to my Women's Series: Social Observation and Comment this week with my latest edition that examines friendship between women while celebrating all the core values women of the 1950s adhered to with fierce loyalty and conviction: family, home, food and friends.

My models for such behavior and standards were my mother and her two closest friends:  Mae, who lived next door;  and Margarette, who lived across our small town.  My mother maintained a small circle of friends who had similar interests and were dedicated to making a comfortable home for their families.  My mom, Mae and Margarette also belonged to The Home Demonstration Club, or simply 'the club', as she often referred to it.  This club contained a wider circle of acquaintances, friends whose friendships she cherished, but Mae and Margarette were her true 'sisters of choice'.  They all looked forward to club day and the choice goodie they might share.  Without exception, each one of these Ladies of the Club was quite adept in the kitchen!

Ladies of the Club II

My mother and her two best buds have all passed from this life now, but memories keep them alive and well...and as very real to me now as they were in my life then.  Both served as my surrogate mother from time to time, filling that role as naturally as breathing whenever my mother was away, or otherwise occupied.

Mae lived next door to us on Jefferson Street.  She was the first person to reach out to my mother when she and my dad moved to Jefferson County in 1940, getting her involved in the local women's grassroots war effort.  The friendship grew, and they really bonded when my parents moved out of Atreco company housing to right next door.

In the 1950s, people 'neighbored'!  Mae's husband built a gate in the fence so the two women could easily visit.  I can still hear the melodious clank of the gate swinging shut numerous times during each day as one of them passed through to share a cup of tea.

Mae was a tall Scotswoman who wore her moon-gold hair, once red, long and coiled upon her head.  She was a very imposing figure and had a matching personality.  Her only son had been aboard a Texaco tanker that was torpedoed off the coast of South America in the early days of the war.  My mother's children helped fill the gap in her life.  When she retired from her job with the Chamber of Commerce, she took a course to become a professional caterer, and learned the fine art of cake decorating.

Always experimenting, Mae would try out her latest cake design on my birthday cake.  As a result, I had elaborately decorated cakes at my party each summer.  This tradition began when I was 7 and continued through high school.  Sometime around the age of 10, I became fascinated with doll cakes.  An angelfood cake lent itself well to create the skirt because of the pan shape.  Thus the real Angelfood Duel began.

My mother took great pride in her angelfood cake that was as light as a feather and truly tasted like 'bread of heaven'.  Mae's sole intent was a cake strong enough to hold up what seemed like pounds of frosting!  These two dear friends competed relentlessly with their angelfood cakes.  The cakes were a true study in contrasts:  one light and airy, one tough and sturdy.

My mother contended that Mae baked hers in too hot an oven, thereby ruining an otherwise good cake.  Mae told me more than once that my mother's cake was sorry because it would not hold up a thing!

These 'sisters of choice' would bicker with strong conviction over the criteria for a good angelfood cake.  Neither would give an inch, and the contest was on!  Neither ever conceded on this point.

My painting, Angelfood Duels, celebrates the love and friendship shared across the back fence in a simpler time, when real people took the time to be involved in each other's lives, and practiced the fine art of neighboring.  Their lives were filled with resolve and a competitive spirit as well as a fine sense of loyalty.  Consummate bakers each, they competed relentlessly, certain that their cake was the best!  I became the observer of this match of wills, and the beneficiary of a beautiful cake to show my friends...and a tasty one to share as well.  Lucky, lucky me!  Margarette, an equally consummate baker, chose to stay out of the fray.  Smart woman!

Times have changed.  Life is not so readily shared over the back fence any longer, nor do most women have the time to perfect their baking skills...and of course, there are present-day worries about calories, etc.  Angelfood Duels celebrates all these things and the women in my life who made it possible...Mother, Mae and, of course, Margarette.  All of these women had a significant place in my life and I am truly richer for their love and caring.

Angelfood Duels

Art is no different.  Unless you are passionate and committed to your work and to the unique path that is your journey, you won't begin to know or realize all that you still need to learn.

If we aspire to be an artist -- a greatly skilled, perceptive and enlightened, thinking artist -- it is a lifelong journey that only starts with learning and practicing the basics.  Doing that is truly just the beginning.  The journey continues from there.  Being an artist is an interdependent marriage of skill and inspiration that, coupled with a message to share, allows one, as an artist, to find his / her voice and go forth.  When we have confidence in our basic skills, the fun of painting is at hand, along with the more difficult aspect of finding and learning all the things that we don't know.

This is where the hard part starts.

Making a habit of practice, very deliberate practice, of what you have learned, going back to the white paper and putting it down with ease and confidence while reaching into the innermost core of who you are, in order to interpret what you see and feel with an artist's eye, is essential.  You are the only one who can create the work that abides within you.  The artist that lives within us must find that creative spirit, and, with a unique voice, share that artistic vision with the world.  Like the women of the Angelfood Duels, you must be loyal to the standard of producing a quality product, and convinced that your work is certainly the best and can stand the test of your audience's scrutiny, admiration and criticism.