Finishing Work on the Last Pastel Paintings of the Year

“After the Storm,” 9 ½ x 16 on black Art Spectrum Colourfix paper

Original photo courtesy: Wanda Santii

December 24: I haven’t been motivated much lately. I’ve gone in the studio a couple times and did some sky work … and I know I’m overworking it, but I just can’t get it like I want it. Time is slipping by and I’m not sure I’ll get this done for 2020.

Today, I was working on another and to take a break from that, I did a little more on this. The area around the sun continues to show the texture of the paper. I can’t get it smooth, so I gave up and worked downward. I laid in some fog in the mountains with a peach color, then, using a very dark green, started the trees.

Here is another example where doing some of the lower work helps pull the sky together. It doesn’t look bad from a distance. 

December 25: I worked more on the sky again. I’m not satisfied with the texture and color around the sun. I added highlights with more tree definition. It doesn’t look bad from a distance, but there’s something that isn’t feeling quite right to me. 

December 26: In looking at the progress photo, I made notes on what to improve. Wanda’s original photo is more orangey, which I like a lot.

December 27: Making headway. The color, muddiness, and paper texture showing through on the sky is aggravating. I can’t get the smoothness I love.

I was disappointed, but as I moved farther down and worked the trees and fog, it started pulling together. I like when that happens, and, of course, once I really get into the foreground, the entire painting really takes shape.  

But as happens so often, I don’t seem to have the exact colors as in the photograph. (And I have lots of colors!) As long as I look at the painting as its own work of art and don’t compare it to the photo, it’s not bad.

December 29: Meant to get in the studio yesterday but had company in the afternoon. So, it was the next morning when I spent half an hour at the easel. I smoothed out the sky a little. I’m wondering if the pastel is just too thick.

I continued the tree work adding other colors and hints of sunlight/lifting fog. I used a lot of Sennelier black which disintegrates as I work with it.

I added color to the grassy hill and started the left-hand foreground trees. I like it, but I think I need to smooth out the sky.

I’m excited to do more. It is possible I could finish this in the next day or so.

Pastel Painting: A Year in Review 2020

As the year 2020 comes to a close, I think about the accomplishments with my paintings. It’s been a year of wondrous highs, extreme challenges, and despairing lows, but my creativity continues to evolve which makes me happy.

Photo: "On the Coneflower"

 Creativity itself is the high and when the muses are present, my emotions soar with flaming excitement. However, every painting has its challenges and it’s frustrating when I think I’ve overcome one issue only to face it again on another painting. Then there are the times when my emotional state is at rock bottom and I can’t get out of my own way and the creative fire is doused with cold water.

The year started out on a high with two people wanting the last painting I did for 2019. So, I did another. It was kind of cool to end one year and begin the next using the same photo. Of course, I made changes so the two paintings are not exactly the same. 

Early on I was challenged with doing more paintings this year than last year and I’ve been able to pull that off in spite of the horrendous events of the year. It’s certainly been a challenge with pandemics, country in political chaos, and lack of easily accessible art shows. 

 

I began using other people’s photos I’d see on Facebook (always with their permission and giving them photo credits) because I don’t go out much anymore.  I’ve still used photos of florals taken in my yard and old photos, but when I see a photo on Facebook that really calls to me, I have to ask permission. Everyone has been so gracious.

Photo: "Foggy Winter Morn." Original photo courtesy Wanda Santti.

In late summer, a hard decision was made not to mat and frame any more paintings. Oh, the paintings look amazing when double matted and framed, but as I’m not participating in any shows, there are no sales, therefore the expense of framing is not wise.

Roadblocks and challenges

Questions run rampant in my brain and easily drive me crazy. There are many possibilities and when I can’t make decisions, my mind just spins around until I collapse in depression. These issues have repeated throughout the year.

Sometimes the painting goes OK, and other times, it’s such a struggle. I just can’t seem to get it… I don’t want to say “right” because it isn’t about right or wrong, but whether I’m satisfied. Then I’ll let time pass before I dare tackle the painting again, but eventually, I finish – whether I deem it good enough or not – it’s time to move on. (And from a distance, they all look good.)

Another challenge is with the difference between the inspiration photo printed on regular copy paper, which I take in the studio to work from, and how the original photo looks on the computer. I’m missing crispness, darkness, contrast, and proper vibrancy an original photo has.

Yet, in a way, the painting is OK as it is. I’m not trying to make it exact to the original, except I love that vibrancy in the original photos which I’m not able to attain in the painting. Then, too, if I’m not comparing the original photo to the painting, the painting usually looks pretty darn good.

The lesson here is to not compare the original photo to the painting. After all, I’m not a photo realist. The photo is only for inspiration. Yes, a goal for 2021 is to figure out how to create more vibrancy in pastel, but it’s really not important, for now anyway.

What’s been challenging me mostly lately is why can I do some fog scenes well and in the next one, the scene ends up looking muddy? Why do I do some awesome skies and water, and in other paintings, the darker horizon and foreground pastel dust muddies the sky and water?

Should I sit to work?

This is a question that’s been on my mind for a while. Much of my work, writing and editing, is done sitting by the computer, so I need standing up time. I’ve been standing up at easels for years to do charcoal drawings and pastel paintings. Now I’m doubting how I’m seeing the scene. I stand up painting, however, when I look at the progress photos, I’m sitting which not only puts me at a slightly different angle to the scene, but closer, and I see areas I want to “fix.” This means repeated trips to the painting which means it takes me longer to do a painting than some others.

Photo: "Mirrored Autumn" is in its final stages, still not quite done. Will I finish it by Dec. 31? 

I have to recognize, too, is my style of painting means I need more time to finesse to make me happy with the picture. My artist friend, Nan, keeps saying I’ve chosen harder scenes this year.

I’m happy with what I accomplished this year. I’m considering reorganizing my studio again. I revamped it twice already.

Color Beneath Color and Partnership with the Muse

I spend a couple minutes looking out the window giving my brain a break from trying to put words to the topic of color beneath color. My mind usually takes in the scope of what I’m seeing, the full picture, so to speak. However, if I pull my focus down to, say, a small group of leaves hanging on a branch, I start seeing individual details. The longer I look, the more detail I see lines, shapes, shadowing, and light areas.

My eyes drop lower to the brook. This morning there are dollops of foam around each rock; marshmallow fluff, looking good enough to lick. I’m taken in. I want photos, but it’s so cold out there this morn, just barely over 20 degrees. I’m so intrigued, though.

I bundle up, take out a little bird seed and a suet feeder. I also clean the bird bath and put in fresh water. The deicer keeps the water from freezing allowing Leo-kitty and the birds access to drinking water. 

I’m at the railing taking a few photos when I feel something soft and warm brushing against my legs. Ah, Leo’s here for his morning visit. He jumps up on the bench, stretches his front paws to the bird bath and has a little drink. He’s at the door ready to come inside with me when I’m done with picture-taking and ready to return to my writing. After finishing off Pele’s breakfast, he asks to go back out. Silly kitty. 

My topic for the day is something I’ve been reading about recently and something I don’t quite get. (Just as I still struggle understanding values.) I don’t strive to be like other artists. I enjoy finding my own way, but I am curious and want to understand how others work.

I’m still not sure how to see what other artists are talking about in a contrasting color under the main color. For instance, I’ve read to put dark purple down before painting in dark greens, lighter purples with lighter shades of green. One artist said to put rust colors under lighter greens. 

I don’t get it. How do they see that? Is this something taught in art schools, a part of technical training I’m missing? 

"Into the Fog" work in progress

Nan talked again about my intuitiveness with painting. I need to trust that. After all, don’t I ask the muses for help? I can’t deny when I pick up the first pastel, my hand starts moving on its own accord putting color onto the paper. Every time I step up to the easel, something guides me during the initial working. It’s like the Muse does the session’s first part and I’m just along for the ride. Then I take over doing touch ups, fixing areas not quite right. 

It does feel like a partnership with the muses. We work together. I’m not aware of an individual muse or muses per se, just a sense of something all-encompassing kind of taking over for a bit. It’s like a wordless conversation, in a way.

Then some days, like yesterday and today, the writing muses visit.

Making my Own Path

  

Pretty color has seeped away, except the purple I see on my deck and the turquoise of the birdbath. There’s pale white-gray of sky, white of house and garage across the brook, dark green of hemlock, gray of tree trunks and rocks, and many shades of browns layered on the ground, in the brook and tucked into crevices.

Shapes, lines and contours stand out against the ground cover. The moss-covered “whale” rock is my favorite in the brook. I call it that because it reminds me of the whale once near the entrance to Salisbury Beach, Mass., and the one once at Yoken’s Restaurant in Portsmouth – except my rock is tailless.

Downed limbs lie in angles over other rocks, and the squiggly lines of exposed tree roots along the far banking get me into doing one of those “Find the___” games as my eyes keep looking to see what else I can notice.

I realize the need for conversation and discussion. For years now I’ve been OK with my solitude. I like being alone most of the time, however, lately I’ve been craving people interaction. And why so much now during these times of social distancing?

Perhaps it’s that – whatever it is within me – that has always made me not tread the exact same path as everyone else. I’ve always strived to do things my way – even in my artwork. And now, being told I have to follow certain protocols and all, I’m feeling rebellious. 

Oh, I understand. I know we have to be careful these days, but I’m so tired of having the pandemic (or plandemic, as I really believe) shoved down our throats constantly. It’s driving me crazy. I feel I want to punch the next person who mentions it.

But, again, I understand. People do need to be reminded to be careful, but how much of it is really necessary and how much of it is fearmongering to control the masses? I see multiple sides and reasonings, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be telling people what to do or not do.

So, back to my following my own paths which is kind of funny because there are certain things like games and law where I want to follow the rules to the letter. That said, there are times when bending the rules seems appropriate. What works for some, doesn’t always work well for others, but as a society, rules and guidelines are necessary.

Have I always had this rebel aspect in me? I did, only I never saw myself as a rebel because I wasn’t like other rebellious people. (Think James Dean of the ‘50s, the hippies of the ‘60s, etc. Not me.)

Here are a few things I remember as I child: Being told I had to color a horse white and I refused because I wanted my horse to have color. If I didn’t think something was fair, I wanted to change it. Back then, girls were supposed to like red for their favorite color, and boys, blue. I didn’t want to like red, so I chose blue as my favorite color. (Years later, I realized I liked yellow better … and purple.) I chose 13 for my favorite number mostly because it was supposed to be a bad luck number and I wanted to prove it wrong.

I didn’t want to play with dolls and I never cared for girl talk. I wanted to be out doing the fun stuff like the boys: climbing trees, exploring the woods, building huts, etc. (When I was an adult, I learned to love women’s gatherings.) I didn’t go ga-ga over Elvis or the Beatles because everyone else did. (I can’t see why people go crazy over any celebrity. Yes, there are many good ones, but for fans to carry on like they do … I just don’t get it. They’re just people doing a job they love and providing entertainment.)

As an adult, even though I fell under some women’s roles and such, I still found ways to carve my own path. It wasn’t always easy. I had few friends. Going against the norm didn’t invite others. There were years when I was miserable, feeling I was doing everything wrong in others’ eyes. But I couldn’t be like them, I just couldn’t. Something within me always drove me onto other paths. Yes, I made mistakes, but I also survived and did the best I could.

Today I am proud at how far I’ve come. I continue to live wholeheartedly as best I can. I have my set of rules I live by. They are not set in stone and I may stray off the path from time to time. Mostly, I push for honesty, integrity, being a good person, mindful of others, respecting others also trying to be good people. (I’ll admit I have no tolerance for those wanting a free ride through life, criminals, and those bent on destruction and hurting other people.)  

 

 

 

Created Equal

Last night’s meditation brought questions and thoughts. Words come to me, and last night, “All men are created equal,” was at the forefront. (Of course, I’ve always taken that as including all people.)  

I’m always thinking about life and humanity. I consider myself fortunate I’m able to see more than one side in situations. (Doesn’t mean I believe in the “other” side, just that I can see how some believe that way.) For instance, at the time of the writing, the men writing believed strongly, but I believe they meant “created equal” only were for men like themselves … white, formerly British, etc.

The statement was on the right track, however, some of their behaviors didn’t live up to what they preached – just like today’s leaders, politicians, and big business people making huge promises to what will never come to good fruition. But I still believe in the Constitution and Bill of Rights. We can't change history and much good came from it.

And so, I wondered, where does “created equal” come from? Think about it. Is it just man impregnating woman and her giving birth? After all, we are not all born into the same types of situations. So how is that equal? How is it even possible to be totally equal? Life itself doesn't allow that, and the government certainly can't give it to us or make it so. (Hell, some of them are so high and mighty, they have no clue really what regular people go through. All they care about is getting votes to keep themselves in power. And history has proved this over and over.)

Is equal supposed to be because we have the opportunity to work for a better life? And here, I can’t even say “same opportunity” because everyone’s circumstances are different. I was born into a poorer side of middle class, but others were born worse off than I or better than I. Some people have an easier go at life, while others struggle. Some are restrained by the family and religious beliefs they grew up with.  Others find the courage to make their own way in the world.

I think this would be an interesting discussion. Not about proving someone else wrong or accusing them about being wrong. It’s not about taking sides. It’s not about cutting someone down who shares a different belief.

It’s about sharing thoughts and allowing one another to voice an opinion. It’s about thinking things over and being courteous.

After a Good Day of Rain

A rainy Saturday morning and at 8:30 a.m., it’s still dark and dreary. I can see glimpses of the brook between the spindles of the deck railing. Two days ago, I had to go out on the deck to see any water as there were only a few puddles pooled between small rocks. Now, with a second day of rain, the water gushes over bigger rocks, its whitewater mesmerizing as it rushes downward on its way to the lake.

Just before moving beyond my sight, at a more level area, the water is a highlighted silvery blue-gray moving over darkness.

Yellowed leaves of the deciduous trees across the brook are now taking on a more orange hue, while the leaves on this side are just now turning yellow creating a mottled look. (These closer trees are surrounded more by bigger hemlock and pine and get less sun.)

I love this view. When I first moved here, I was asked why I didn’t use one of the spare bedrooms for my office/work area. Why would I want to be in a smaller room when I can sit here and have this view? This is my comfort spot, my oasis. When I get stressed, I can take a few minutes and just look out at this beauty breathing in… and breathing out… Ahhh… sigh… so nice.

My attention pulls in as an acorn hits the deck and bounces against the glass slider with a loud crack making me jump. Acorns, small oak branches, and pine needles have been dropping for days and are now joined by pinecones. I hear them hitting the roof before rolling off. Sometimes those acorns hit so hard! Goodness, it’d hurt to get clobbered by one, and I think about that when I’m putting up and taking down the bird feeders.

The purple deck floor makes a contrasting canvas for nature’s work of art. The patterns, textures, and autumn colors grab my attention. I’m intrigued by the randomness of where and how they all land. Some pieces are off by themselves, some are stuck together in small groups, while others clump together in a bigger pile.  I go out with the camera and take a dozen photos. Each photo could be its own framed piece if I so desired.

I took 54 photos, deleted 24. Then when I went to post this, friends from other towns were posting snow pictures. Yikes! Not ready for that.

Sometimes I Just Have to Walk Away and Call It Done

"In Foggy Sunlight," 10 1/2 x 14 inches pastel painting on BFK Rives paper.

Off and on for an hour in the studio. First, I wiped off the lower half to do all the shadows over. Ugh, I hate wasting so much pastel! Then I laid in the grass color with a yellow green and yellow. I added purple to the distant mountains and under the shadows.

The sunlight streaks were such a challenge! I love doing fog, but this one got the better of me. I washed my hands a few times… every time I tried to work with the sunlight streaks. But I continued to struggle with this painting.

I worked and worked and went over and over it. I’m at a loss on how to make it better, and I’m fighting off orneriness. I so wanted to like this, do a good job. It’s just OK. In the end, I went over the sky with white, then defined the tops of the of the trees to lay in front of the sky.

I’m giving up. I have to move on to other paintings. I’m sorry, Toni. I so wanted to honor the photo she gave me permission to use as inspiration.

Caught in Limbo or is it Fear of Failure

 

Rain beats on the roof and deck. The dark morning hasn’t gotten much lighter since I came out of the bedroom at 6 a.m. Across the brook, yellow leaves create a brighter palette behind the dark of hemlock branches, tree trunks, and paler, still-green other leaves. Not as bright as yesterday, though, as it’s a dreary day.

The scene looks so pretty, but photographs of this view come out blah. Not enough contrast, I guess. I like it, though, it helps create a wall around my property, my nest of safety, my little oasis, my place where I can try to shut out the world. Looking out the back, with the trees reaching high, I feel snuggled down deep in a nest.

 The other side of the nest, looking out the front windows, is across the street with the trees reaching tall behind the neighbors’ field and house. Tall trees on both sides of the house make the nest complete.

This reminds me of how I felt as a child. I could stand in the road in front of my house, and the tops of the trees surrounding our five-house neighborhood always made me feel like we lived in a nest. Going beyond the nest walls was stepping away from my comfort zone. (But that was only partly true because I always felt safe going out in the woods down back of my house, and back then, there were acres and acres of woods. There still is.)

Today’s home, I can also consider a nest within a nest. The house sits on a rise with the area on all four sides at a lower level. The back slopes off to the brook. The two sides of the house slope to a depression/water run-off from the road to the brook (during wet times), and the front yard slopes down to the road. Nest within a nest. I feel safe here and have great neighbors.

Morning pages done, Tuesday trash out by the curb, a few photos taken in the rain, and I am in limbo until it’s time for grocery shopping. That means I don’t want to get involved in a project.

I’ve been avoiding the studio. About the only time I went in there this week was when I brought the pots of lantana in from summering outside (and then I refused to look at the easels.) I’m scared to tackle painting again although I think about it all the time. I go through this occasionally after I have a … disappointing … session with painting.

When I go in the studio, I just automatically go to one of the three easels. Sometimes I intend to work on one painting but will find myself standing in front of another. Easel one holds my oldest in-process painting. Lately, I seem to drift to the other paintings. The painting on easel three is finished and I could take that off and set up for a new one.

But it’s the painting on easel two that’s causing me the heartache. It needs a delicate touch dealing with layers fog, sunlight, and shadow. There’s fog behind and around and sunlight streaking through and over. The last time I worked on it, I was so disappointed in myself, but when I did a quick peek the next day, I know I can salvage it.

However, there’s a fear inside me. Yes, I need this painting to be done as I have new ones waiting to be born. But there’s another issue, too, holding me back. The studio needs a good reorganizing. I have pastels, pencils, and photos all over the three workspaces and more.

It’s not just putting the supplies away and cleaning up, so I can start new. I purchased more pastel colors over the summer and still haven’t made room in the pastel trays. It seems I never have enough blues and greens – both of those colors are at two drawers each and now I need another drawer to expand both colors. (It’s a little aggravating because I did a total re-vamp last winter.)

Am I making excuses? Sounds like it. Why? Because I’m afraid I’ll fail, that I’ll not do a good enough job on this current problem-child painting. There! I admitted it. I’m afraid of failing.

There’s always the chance a painting won’t work out. There’s a few I let sit too long, lost interest, and didn’t finish. It’s one thing if the inspiration has come from one of my photos, but when I’ve received permission to use someone else’s photo, I feel obligated to do a good job and finish. Not that it really matters – but it matters to me!

So, I’m trying to summon up courage to face the fear and finish the job. Of course, right now, I have to go grocery shopping. Wish my luck – on both projects, ha-ha.

Finishing 'Shasta Days'

Shasta Days

Pastel painting, 9 x 12 on Art Spectrum Colourfix, $90 unframed

With more photos showing up for inspiration, I have to get in-process paintings off the easel, so this morning I was determined to finish this. I started by adding some light and dark gray to define petals and add more shadowing, but I mostly used a tortillon to smooth the edges of each petal. It was a lot of intricate work.

Sometimes I angle whatever tool I’m using too much and my middle fingernail scratches on the paper. Oops. I readjust. Then I took the little triangular sponge tool and worked the background in around some of the petals which helped sharpen the outer petal lines more. But that goes against all I ever heard about painting in that you do the background first, then layer on the rest working closer to the viewer.

Another issue is the pastel doesn’t always cover the original sketched pencil lines of the petals. No matter how many layers I added, some of the lines show.

In the end, I used bright white to highlight petals and create curves to the petals. I finally signed it. I’m happy.

 

Give Your Mother Attention

 

This morning, I was thinking about my mum. I don’t remember her ever complaining about pain. Her issue was struggling to breathe as her COPD worsened. I always heard her comments on how she felt as complaints. She’d get frustrated with me and say, “Wait ‘til you’re my age, you’ll see.”

Well, now I am up there in age, and while I don’t have the issues she did, I am in pain a lot of the time. I can’t move about like I used to. Almost every day, I look to heaven and say, “I understand, Mum. You were right. I love you.”

Maybe this has led me to have a better understanding. It’s easy when we’re younger, and have never experienced chronic health issues, to brush old people off, to not want to listen to their problems.

Even though I knew she just needed to talk about it, it made me uncomfortable and unhappy to hear and witness her decline. I found ways to avoid it, pretend I didn’t see, wouldn’t listen.

All mum ever wanted, really, was someone to pay attention to her, to listen to her … but as her daughter, who loved her more than anything, I didn’t want to hear, couldn’t listen. Mum – my rock, my everything – to watch her become frail, see her struggle to breathe, become more miserable, more dependent, and eventually give up trying – my heart was breaking.

I admit I didn’t handle it as well as I could have. If I tried to talk about it, I’d either break down in tears or the frustration would come out as anger. Then it’d make her feel bad for upsetting me. And then I’d feel even worse that I upset her. Back and forth, ‘round and ‘round. All I can say is I did the best I could.

Of course, I could go on and list regrets and wished-I-hads, but I can’t change the past. And now that I am “up there,” I realize how important it is to be able to talk to someone and have them listen openly without trying to change or fix me. It’s not about having to do something for me or take care of me. It’s only about listening and sharing story.

Lesson: Take time to give a little attention and listen. Sometimes, talking to another person helps you feel better. It’s not about “fixing” someone or solving their problems. It’s taking a few minutes to witness a small portion of their life. It’s letting them know you see them, hear them. And sometimes that’s enough to raise their spirits.

So, to all of you who still have your mothers, don’t abandon or ignore them. She’s your mother! Call, visit, check in with them often. Let them tell you a story. Commiserate with them and be understanding of what they’ve gone through and are going through. Tell them you love them.

Food for Thought

The maple trees across the brook are yellowing creating brightness through dark of the oaks and hemlocks. Titmice, chickadees, nuthatches, and a lone one-legged cardinal swoop down to the deck to grab seeds. Pele-kitty gets excited and chatters at them.

It was cold out there earlier in my bare feet as I put up the feeders and took a couple photos. The brook, speckled with spots of sunlight, shows the water still very low in spite of the recent rain.

Once more I am fascinated by history and how, as many things (such as technology) changes, many other aspects remain the same. With reading, listening, conversations, and TV, I am seeing more and more the repetition.

The powerful make false promises, the masses believe in those promises, then the ax falls. Freedom of speech is not allowed (it’s “politically incorrect”), dissenters of what is happening “disappear,” unemployment rises as small businesses close, the rest (besides the hugely rich) become more impoverished as taxes are raised to pay for more government funding.

This has been happening throughout the world since the beginning. Names change, but the actions of one people taking over another remains the same.

We Americans have been fortunate. (I’m not saying we’ve been perfect.) Most of us have enjoyed many freedoms... most of us working for those freedoms and opportunities! We work hard to maintain freedom to choose what to do with our lives. It now looks like the false promises will further take away those freedoms and more.  

Is that why there are some factions in this country wanting to destroy America’s history? Is it so every day people can’t recognize when history is repeating itself? Is it so people can’t recognize what didn’t work in the past so as not to repeat it?

But it’s not just about American history. Look at the history of the world. There have always been those wanting power over others. Tribes conquer other tribes, nations dominate other countries, one form of power wants to take over the world, then another power comes along. There will always be Genghis Khans, King Tuts, Mussolinis, Hitlers, Stalins… the list can go on.

Look at early exploration when European countries discovered new places, and it didn’t matter if people already lived there, that new country took control with bigger and mightier military. And, in the end, the conquered have often become slaves, or like slaves, to those who took over.

You can read past speeches made by those leaders and see almost the same thing being said today, similar promises being made. Read your history books (and not the ones given us in school). Find history programs to watch. Make your own decision as to what to believe. Don’t just listen to words. Think about if what is being promised could actually come to fruition.

And always ask, “Where’s the money from these new programs and help coming from?” Do you believe the government can just go to the treasury and say, “Print me out a billion dollars?”

Think about it! Use common sense.

Some days it’s hard to feel wholehearted when I see some of the news reports. I try to avoid them because it’s upsetting and sad to see how we’re falling. I’m getting braver in admitting how I feel and what I believe, though.

For the most part, I build my virtual moat and wall. I’m not feeling very hopeful these days and I’m trying hard to keep my spirits up. I’m glad I’m on the older side of life. Although the U.S. is not perfect, I am afraid this country will become a new fascist or communist country … and we’ve seen how that’s worked in the past.

Painting Tips and Brain Disengagement

 

Yesterday, I read a tip on dealing with foreground in a painting. The advice was not to use a lot of detail. I was surprised, but the goal of a painting is to draw the viewers eye in. Too much detail in the foreground may prevent a viewer from easily sliding into the rest of the painting.

It’s funny how many tips and suggestions I write down; some even on cards and taped around my studio as reminders. However, the minute I pick up a pastel or piece of charcoal, my hand just starts moving on the paper, my mind goes blank to all else, including all the little notes, and advice on painting fall by the wayside as I get fully involved in the moment of painting.

For those few minutes, my brain disengages as something else takes over and moves my hand. And with my mind relaxed and not picking apart every little bit I do, I’m free to allow what is happening. I still look at the inspiration photos, but my hand continues to pick up pastels and make marks on the paper. I lose myself in the color and scene and the creating.

Soon, too soon, however, my logical mind takes back control, and the minute I start thinking again, I also start questioning and self-doubting. I find mistakes. I have to re-do. Not that there’s anything really wrong with what I did, but once my brain starts comparing the photograph to the painting, and it isn’t the same, the frustration and panic sets in with my mind starting to shout, “Where’s the undo button?”

But my intent isn’t in making the painting look exactly like the photo. The photo is for inspiration only. The painting is its own work of art. Yet, once my logical brain takes control, it’s hard for me to do something my mind accepts as good. My brain keeps saying I have to do better, and unfortunately, there are times when the more I do, the more I feel I have to “fix.”

Lesson: Learn to let go and learn to know when to stop and call it finished.

Heartache and Unfinished Manuscripts

A phone call this week from yet another publishing company wanting to re-do my “Too Cold for Alligators” book from 2014 awakens the sleeping dragon in me. Yesterday, tears fell … tears of regret … and shame. Yes, shame. Shame I didn’t push harder back then. Shame I didn’t do more. Shame I haven’t finish subsequent books.

The little dragon raises her head in anguish, her eyes overflow, and the dampness shines on the scales of her cheeks as her heart shatters like the dreams she once envisioned.

I am a writer. I’ve always been a writer, but somehow, somewhere along the way, I’ve let her slip away. Other projects superseded the book writing, although I have two other travel books not finished and a poetry book which is finished and ready to be published (except for cover designs). Then, because I am an artist, too, there’s the latest books on “A Year in Pastel Painting 2019” and this year’s current one in process.

Years ago, I had two poetry chap books printed, “They Will Never Write Songs About Me” and “Dancing with Butterflies.” In 2008, I published through Lulu, “My Life Isn’t Flowers; A Journey Through Poetry and Pictures,” which I later had reprinted through Town and Country Reprographics, Inc., out of Concord, N.H. (The latter version had a much better design and printing.) Then in 2010, I published “Through the Window” through Blurb, with photographs of windows.

To physically hold in my hands a book that I wrote and chose photos for is hard to describe. The joy, the excitement, the feeling of accomplishment, the physical feel of the covers, turning the pages and seeing my work look so professionally beautiful reminds me of holding my sons when they were babies, touching their skin, and smelling that clean baby fragrance.

Having a “real” published book (“My Life Isn’t Flowers”) was the last time I remember my mum being proud of me. It was that book that made her see me as a true writer. She loved that book, even though she always said my poetry was sad (because I write about real life).

“Too Cold for Alligators” (TCfA) was a change from poetry and short stories. This was a personal travel memoir recounting one of the greatest adventures of my life – a solo driving trip to Florida and back. Doing the trip was a huge endeavor and writing about it and including many photos … a dream come true. This made me want to be a travel writer and two other driving trips, 2015 and 2016, made the dragon roar in joy.

However, life changed. The publishing of TCfA cost me a lot of money, and now I am leery about spending more. I am a writer … marketing and selling make me want to crawl in a hole and hide. I just don’t have that “gene” in me, and that’s my downfall.

Oh, I’ve done all kinds of reading and getting advice on marketing, but I just can’t bring myself to put in the effort – there are so many new projects (writing and painting) taking my time. I enjoy the creativity. I do not enjoy marketing and selling, so to publish new books and not have the energy to market, promote, and sell them myself … I just can’t do it.

Tears dry and crust in the dragon’s eyes. With heavy heart, she lays her head softly down over her curled body. The writing will continue, but something is lost when it can’t be shared.

Getting Ready for a New Painting

 

September 28

Yesterday, Megan gave me permission to use her photo for a painting. I edited the photo and this morning printed four 5 x 7s: original, black and white, color lighter so I can see more detail, and a section cropped to better see an area.

(original photo)

I divided the printed photo into quadrants to help with the layout. Once again, I have a photo with the horizon line right in the middle, so I decided to crop 1 ½ inches from the bottom to do the preliminary bottom and printed.

I got out the sketch book and did an initial sketch in pencil. There are sections I can’t see clearly even when looking at a cropped section – because that distant area is a bit blurry and cropping the photo makes it more so.

I moved the foreground tree more left and included more rocks and bushes. I made notes as to what I need to do. I printed an 8 x 10 of the original after debating whether it’s necessary, but as long as I print on regular copy paper, I’m never going to get the clarity that shows on the computer.

I finished the sketch and took a photo, but I keep touching it up as I study the original photo more. I’ve decided I like the original extra foreground, so now I’m wondering about taking an inch off the sky, so the horizon line isn’t in the middle. However, I like how the upper branches of trees kind of frames the sky. Oh, these dilemmas. 

Now the question is whether to move on to doing the initial layout on BFK Rives or should I try the new black background Colourfix paper. Or should I go in the studio and finish the ones currently on the easels?

 What makes it hard to see some of the contour of land and river are the trees and bushes in front. I need to get that contour right before putting in those trees, bushes, rocks, and grass. Because I printed the photos at 5 x 7, I’m running out of room to make notes. Now I’ve resorted to writing notes on scrap paper. So many things to consider.

 

 

History repeating itself

Andy lent me some books to read. The one I started last night was “Guernica: The Crucible of World War II” by Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan Witts © 1975.

The only thing I knew about Guernica was of Pablo Picasso’s 1937 oil painting of the event, said to be “one of the most moving and powerful anti-war paintings in history.” As I’m not a fan of Cubism/Surrealism art, I don’t care for his work, and this painting is especially disturbing/ugly. I just knew it was his depiction of what happened to Guernica, and war and destruction is ugly.

I thought it had something to do with the Spanish Civil War (which it did), but, after watching a PBS series on “The Rise of Fascism in Europe” and now beginning to read this book, I understand the painting and the reason behind it. (I still don’t want to look at it. It is disturbing. But I understand.) Now, I’m finding out it also had to do with Hitler and the rise of that man’s power in Germany and the eventual WWII.

(Hitler used Guernica as training for his air force in preparing his own world takeover.)

So, I read the first six sections – short clips from various people leading up to the bombings. The stories from both sides – or should I say multiple sides, from the Basques living in Guernica and that northern side of Spain, refugees swarming in from the south where Franco’s troops were moving in to take over the country. (I’m still confused as to who were the nationalists and who were the republicans.) Then there were the Germans Franco asked Hitler to send in to aid in his cause.

Now, this morning, as I’m working on my morning pages (journaling), my mind is on fire with thought. The main one being what I’m seeing from history is being repeated today in this country. And I can’t help but wonder, haven’t we learned anything from history?

My own remembrances of history class in school is sketchy. All I remember about history (vaguely) class was having to memorize dates. It wasn’t about politics or people. It was mostly about wars, bad guys against good guys. How much of what was taught kids in the ‘60s and ‘70s is the real truth?

Looking back now, it was about reading a (b-o-r-i-n-g) history book and having to take tests on stuff that felt meaningless. I don’t remember people stories, their personal horrors (except for “The Diary of Anne Frank). We learned the names of leaders and officers and some of the battles and names of wars and dates.

But what I was taught in school, isn’t important now. Especially knowing what we were taught back then wasn’t necessarily the truth. So, I’m wondering how history could be taught differently (I’ve also heard it isn’t taught in schools anymore).

History does repeat! All you have to do is look back through the ages and see similar things happening over and over. Times change, technology changes, but some things repeat – like one group of people wanting to take control over others. I guess it’s human nature.

Go back to the ancient Egyptians, the Romans, the Vikings, Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Japan, China, the Soviet Union. There are so many similarities. History shows us leaders look to expand, especially when resources in their own countries get low. The Vikings, Britain, France, Spain, Portugal traveled across oceans and “conquered” the indigenous peoples. African tribes warred amongst one another. All the victorious nations enslaved the losing survivors and stole their precious resources.

Whomever had the bigger military. Whichever leaders used their own charisma to set themselves up as gods and convince their people they knew what was best. Then once they had full power … their greed and egomania … and they’d start eliminating anyone who disagreed. They were/are all human.

Great leaders (and great in this context doesn’t necessarily mean good people) know how to manipulate the masses. Tell people what they want to hear and win their votes. It doesn’t matter if the leaders actually do what they promise. People believe the promises. Look at Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin – heck, consider Jim Jones, Sun Myung Moon … Charles Manson, for that matter.

If people were taught the truths (and not the propaganda), because, after all, isn’t one point of history is to learn from past mistakes? We shouldn’t be erasing history. We should be learning from it.

No one person or group ever has all the answers. Humans are humans. We all need freedom of thought, speech, and creativity. And there will always be good and evil. It’s human nature. I also don’t believe there will ever be “true” peace. Again, it’s because of human nature and there are always some who want to take what someone else has.  (I put “true” in quotes because the only way for total peace would be to take away every person’s right to think and act for themselves.)

Good versus evil. Perhaps this is part of the human condition, too. Maybe it’s part of our lessons here on earth. All I know is that, for me, I just want to be a good person and do good work. I strive to live wholeheartedly, even on days when it’s a struggle to curtail anger and frustration. When I see pictures of destruction and riots, it’s hard not to lose hope. It’s hard not to slide into hatred with what I’m seeing. 

My remedy to protect myself from depression is to look out at the brook (even though there’s very little water flow), enjoy what’s left of my gardens now the summer season is over, have great conversations with friend, snuggle with my fluffy Pele fur ball, add spots of beauty around my house, and spend time painting in the studio.

Thinking for Ourselves

Thinking for Ourselves and What's Past History Got to do with Today

Yesterday started off with a great blog from Eric Rhoads saying to question everything. He talked about fear, changing beliefs, and not relying on the comfortable past.

He said, “This isn't a time for comfort, it's a time for critical thinking, for questioning everything we believe, for questioning everything others tell us and questioning who we trust to load our brains. It's also not a time to seek reinforcement of what we already believe, but a time to deeply question ourselves and what we are clinging to from our past. 

“Answers always lie in our questions.”

Then last night, I turned on a PBS show about “Ken Burns – Storyteller,” only it wasn’t about Burns, it was a Rick Steve’s segment on the rise of Fascism in Europe. (Why lately is PBS listing shows and when I go to watch, it isn’t the show listed in the guide?) Below are some basics:

Both Mussolini and Hitler used the disaster after WWI to rally the people of their countries by telling them what they wanted to hear. Both men were charismatic and good actors, putting on great shows promoting nationalism and promising better lives. They used democracy to obtain power and once they had it, became totalitarian rulers. They created fear to promote fascism.

And for a while, they did do good things. They re-built the infrastructures of their countries (which had been destroyed during the war) with roads and buildings which provided jobs and hope for the demoralized nations. They promised the expansion into other countries would provide more homes, materials, and better life.

But they further promoted fear while making all the false promises – and when people are afraid, they listen to the promises. (People tend to believe the words/promises and not what they see actually happening.) And millions of people did believe – mob mentality with both leaders holding huge rallies with speeches geared to work people into an excited frenzy of what they were being told.

Then when they had people believing and supporting those promises, the noose tightened. There were government/military induced riots with burning and looting (usually of Jewish and those as perceived as against the new regimes). Those who spoke out against them were – eliminated – either imprisoned or killed. 

Their dictates were everything was for the state. Everyone worked for the greatness of the state. There was no privacy, no individualism. Freedom of speech was banned. People were told what they could say and what they could read. Even art was relegated to a certain style. The media was government controlled, so people reading the news or listening to radio was only hearing what the leaders wanted them to hear – over and over and over. (Think brainwashing.)

The leaders capitalized on people’s fears using fear to promote their regimes. They promoted themselves as loving, caring leaders to the masses. Hitler had the Hitler Youth groups, brainwashing the young to his beliefs. He made movies showing himself in a loving, family-oriented atmosphere. And many people believed. Many people didn’t see the real horrors of what was happening (until it was too late). They believed what they were being told … that it was all for the best for the country.

Spain and Portugal were also fascist countries. Franco, Spain’s dictator, had Germany bomb Guernica, but he never joined the Axis … and remained Spain’s leader after WWII. (Pablo Picasso’s most famous painting “Guernica” is considered “one of the most moving and powerful anti-war paintings in history,” according to Wikipedia. 

The program ended with advice to not trust people who promise easy answers for complicated problems, to educate and promote independent thinking not based on the media, and to maintain critical independence. 

Maybe we should all be listening to, reading, and watching some of these history programs. What are we being told compared to what is really happening? What’s the whole picture? A snippet can be taken far out of context (and happens all the time).

Are promises being made actually able to become reality?

When do new laws and rules, combined with all the past laws and rules, become the noose on America’s freedoms?

And, my big question is always, “Where’s the money for all the so-called wonderful programs coming from?”

Yes, I believe changes need to be made, but I also believe this war between the Democrats and Republicans isn’t about the American people, or the United States, as a whole. (And it is a war! It’s no longer about American citizens. It’s about the political parties.) It’s about power and dictatorship. Imagine if the millions of dollars spent in this governmental war was used on programs to help Americans, if the money was put back into the economy? What if the millions used to promote candidates was put to better over-all use?

Just thinking about this all …

 

 

 

 

 

 

Start and Stop with the Next Painting

Two stints in the studio this morning. My intent was to work on “Pleasant Foggy Morn,” but instead, I stood in front of this one. "A View Without Guile" work in progress:

I realized earlier, when looking at the original inspiration photo on the computer, the size was more of a panoramic, not square as the printed photos, so I moved the bottom tape up removing almost 2 inches to make the painting panoramic.

My goal for the day was to get the sky done. I love doing skies, but they’re always a challenge. For one, I don’t have the exact correct colors of pinks and oranges for sunrise/sunset paintings. And, no matter how much I look at the photo, the minute I pick up a pastel, my hand starts moving. Once more it’s like something else takes over and it doesn’t matter what the photo is like. Color goes onto the paper and the painted scene takes on a life of its own.

Even though I was only focusing on the sky, I put color below the horizon to start getting the feeling of what’s to come. (Yes, I know it’s off. This is just preliminary work.) I also did some work on the horizon, the mountains/trees … just beginning.

I returned to the computer to import the progress photo. When perusing the progress photo, I can see where I need to make adjustments. It’s always interesting how looking at a progress photo gives a different perspective than in looking at the actual painting.

I noticed the progress photo is not the same color as the original photo. The overall original is darker, and the sky and water reflections are more pink than orange. I forgot that my printer doesn’t print exact color on regular copy paper. However, as it's only for inspiration, it doesn’t matter if the scene is exact … unless I choose it to be so … but I like the original colors.

I have to be wary of another challenge. If I over work the sky to keep “fixing” it, it starts getting muddy looking (because of the paper I use).

This is a lesson I need to come to terms with, and one I grumble about all the time. I need to work quicker. Get the painting done and not rework it to death!

(Please forgive the reflections, I just wanted to get some color down … still needs lots of work.)

Too many ongoing projects gets confusing

I’m cranky. I’m trying to get my head together, keep up to the creative fire raging within before it burns out, but I keep getting distracted. It’s laundry day and there are things needing to be done.

And, I’m playing catch up. The folder of inspiration photos to use for possible paintings is growing. I teased a friend about posting too many photos I fall in love with. She, and others, are so gracious about giving me permission to use their photos.  

Yesterday and today, many pictures are clamoring for attention. It’s like they’re all shouting, “Paint me! Paint me!” But I’m not just a pastel painter, I’m a writer, so there are always words demanding to be written, too, and I’m frustrated because I have to keep getting up to tend to necessaries. Then, once I sit back down, it takes a few minutes to get my head back around to what I was working on.

Add caption

I planned to go in the studio yesterday, but instead, took supplies out on the deck and drew two new initial sketches in a 5 ½ x 8-inch sketch book. It was such beautiful, cool morning! The slight breeze was refreshing and the little birds – chickadees, nuthatches, titmice – were back and forth to the feeders with their chitterings, along with a pair of cardinals and their, “chip, chip, chips.” The downy and hairy woodpeckers would occasionally come to the suet. My back yard looks so wonderful now that it’s been cleaned up of overgrowth.

I finished the two new sketches, then realized I had six other drawings in the book. Two were of paintings already in-process on the easels. Another has been initially sketched out on BFK Rives paper (my favorite pastel support). The other three were of various angles of a scene of which I am doing a series of paintings.

This morning I planned to hit the studio, but first I wanted to write about all these wonderful ideas and what’s happening. I am extremely happy when the creative muses are here. However, as I worked, I found another initial drawing for a possible painting.

I’ve been so busy I haven’t taken time to eat today and it’s past noon. Sometimes the lightheadedness reminds me to eat before I feel hungry. However, when I reach this stage, my stomach starts feeling queasy and I don’t want to eat – but I have to … in a bit.

Wanting to be Done But …

I'm so trying to get this finished. I'm close. I'm having trouble with lighting in the studio and getting the photo to show the true light. 

Recently, in my last couple of paintings, I get the sky done beautifully, then when I start working down, the tree colors get up into the sky and when I try to fix, it ends up getting muddy. Usually I do pretty good with skies, so this problem is driving me crazy. Maybe I just need to get a painting done and stop hemming and hawing and “fixing” it so much! 

This one is Number 4 of the year but was actually started in December 28. I've finished numbers 5-9. It's time I finished this one before I get into Number 10.

Today I worked the reflections a lot more and I better defined lines between land and water. I also worked on the rocks and water. I’m thinking I only need to fix up the right-side reflections and sign it.

Creativity Endeavors Run Amok

Between gardening and other outside work, painting often gets put on the back burner. I pushed myself this week to finish “Angel Pose” and put “Pele and the Wind Glasses” back on the easel to touch up before bringing them to the framer.

In the meantime, I’m still picking away at “Winding through Autumn,” a painting I started in December. I worked on it here and there throughout the months and here it is July and I’m determined to finish.

I’m struggling with the lighting in the studio. Even using a daylight lamp, the light when I take the progress photos is inconsistent.

July 14 was the first day in July I work on it. 

Here’s what I wrote about the work at the time: The sky looks muddy up close. I added more blue and white. I can’t figure out why dark color gets in the sky … I should put on the fan to blow the dust downward, I guess.

I added yellow grasses, yellow greens, black penciled edges water edges. I also better defined the bare trees on the right, worked those grasses and the rocks.

July 17: Back to it again. I worked on grasses, rocks, shoreline, and started the reflections. I added a different color blue to sky and water. I’m to the point where I feel I need to sit down to do the finish work where I can get closer to better see what I’m doing.

I’m struggling where the left piece of land juts into the river, the change in the water there, and how the reflections begin.

But it’s coming along. I made a to-do list of what to “fix” and that’s not counting the muddiness of the sky. That’s driving me crazy, though standing a couple feet back, you don’t notice.

July 18: In writing about yesterday’s work in the morning pages, I pulled up the original edited photo in PhotoScape and enlarged to full screen. Oh, my goodness! I can see so much more! The question now becomes, how do I work from this … if I print an 8 x 10 on photo paper, will I see it this way?

So, I added a little saturation for printing purposes and printed an 8 x 10 on regular paper. Much better than the 4 x 6 I’m working with. It would still look better on photo paper. (photo Corey’s edited … a little more)

Now I want to get in the studio! But I have morning pages to finish and it’s an editing day. Gosh, though, can I bring this vibrance to the painting? Maybe I should wipe off the sky and re-do (it looks muddy anyway.)

I finished my writing then did a first. I brought the easel and painting outside. I’ve been saying I want to do that for a while and never made the time. 

What a difference actual daylight made on the painting! I didn’t sit, though, and I really need to do that for the more detailed work. I went back for supplies including lint free paper towel.

And so, I stepped backwards with it to go forward. I turned the board upside down and wiped off the sky, then turned it back around and wiped off the excess water. Wow, there were layers of pastel – what a waste! The amount of pastel dust floating in the air was unbelievable.

I didn’t bring out enough colors, so did the best I could for now rebuilding the sky. Then I worked the trees, bringing the tops higher into the sky, shaping them better, adding some dark. I redid lower bushes though I didn’t quite have the right shade of green.

I like it better with less clouds. 

July 20: Outside again to work while also watch tree cutters taking down leaning oak. I brought out more colors but still not quite enough.

I added more gray and blue back to the sky. Up close it still looks muddy, (think it’s because I overworked the paper itself.)

                                                                                                                                              

I’d brought out a couple deeper reds for the trees and added that. I brought the branches a little higher and made them more tree-like. I time better defining the rocks, adding more green to grasses and bushes, darks to bushes and reflections. Not bad, for now.

Tree-cutter guy said I needed to move, so I packed up. Good thing. A little while later the tip of a dead branch crashed down right on the table where I was working. Thankfully, it didn’t break the table tiles.

July 28

Time for a little studio work. I added lighter colors to trees, grasses and water. The water is getting muddy, I’ve gone over it so many times.

I used a ruler to make lines to have the reflections match the tree line, however, I found when I worked on the reflections, my trees would lean. That meant I went back in with some water blue to try to straighten the tops.

What a difference in the progress photo when I snap the picture after working outside compared to a photo taken in the studio. (The difference in color and tone between the July 20 photo and today.