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.