What's in a name?

Who says, that every poem one pens, every story one writes, and every picture one paints needs to have a "name"!   Who says, that a picture cannot call forth one term to express my thoughts about it and an entirely different term to express your thoughts! Would naming this painting something like, "Profuse" or "Bountiful" or "Red Bouquet" or "Gift" cause you to look at it differently?

I get frustrated trying to name every painting - you may have noticed that my Rhubarb paintings are now simply numbered!  Can you look at the three Rhubarb paintings on my previous post of November 7 and come up with something better?  

Well, here is what could be called, "Flower still life" - boring.   But, would this, in some way, determine how you view the painting? What is the first word that springs to your mind when you look at it?

Another thought I've had is, "It's time to use a bit less paint and put my palette knife away for awhile."  This painting had so much texture on it from a previous application of paper and rag that it was difficult to do anything but use lots of paint and the palette knife for much of it!  Below are a few closeups in which you can see that the paint got quite thick.  I also simply poured paint on in some places - several colours together - which caused some interesting effects….  the photo really doesn't say enough.  If you are able, you might like to view it up close at the "Big Sky Artists 2014 Show and Sale" April 11 - 13, Grace Westminster Church Auditorium, Saskatoon.

"spring blossoms"

I'm not so sure about leaping over fences and trying something new, although it does appeal to me sometimes… often on evenings such as this, when I have just finished a painting which seems to have taken "forever"and I'm left with a result accompanied by the thought, "Why on earth did I paint this!"

At least I think I am finished!  I do not want to add one more brushstroke, indeed, I don't even want to look at it.  I think that something less 'realistic' might be appealing.  Perhaps, my next endeavour will be a 'semi'- abstract - because at this point, realism is exhausting and somewhat dissatisfying.

Anyway - for the record, this is "Spring Blossoms" and is from a photo taken last spring on an early morning stop at the Patterson Gardens…

Started reading a book today, Nita Engle's, How to Make a Watercolor Paint Itself.  Somehow I find the title inspiring yet at the same time totally incomprehensible!  But I do like her first point - "The one question you must ask yourself is this: "What is my underlying, guiding principle?""

While, I think it would be a good for me to process this question,  one goal that does guide me in painting realism is the idea of 'inviting the viewer into the painting' [as Engle also states her's to be, interestingly] - it would be good if there was a point of entrance for the viewer to be 'there' - a sense of being at home within what is portrayed…. lofty idea, I know…. but as I just said, I really must consider this more thoroughly.

All this being said, if you are reading this, and would like to comment on what it is about a painting, that 'grabs' - or makes you look at it a second time - please feel free to comment:)

Palette Knife Paintings

Palette Knife Paintings

"Creativity is a way of living life - no matter what our vocation, or how we earn our living.  The creator is not afraid to leap over the 'accidental fences' and to plunge into the deep waters of creation.  There, once again, and in yet another way, we lose ourselves to find ourselves…"
Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water

Sometimes we take the plunge and try something new.  Recently, when an acrylic painting just didn't have the life in it I wanted, and following an encaustic workshop, [note several posts back], I wondered if I could get some of the interesting effects of encaustic by using palette knives with acrylic.  Well, you can, to a degree.  Along with a narrow palette knife, I purchased a stainless steel cookie lifter which provides a 2 inch spread - it was a bit thicker than the palette knives so not as 'bendable' - but it has its uses.  And then I got busy.

All three of these paintings are done primarily with palette knives and very limited brushwork.  They are distinctly different in colours and range from quite a smooth to a fairly thick use of paint.  Actually, I like them and am thrilled to have leaped over an "accidental fence" and found a few new tools to paint with and styles to incorporate into my painting.

Winter Scene  10x8" - quite a bit of build up on the snow.

Winter Scene.2  10x8"
In this one I used a lot of paint with a variety of swirling motions
in the background, and scraping and setting down motions
in the foreground. 

"Cedar"  12x24"
For this painting I laid on and scraped the paint
with palette knives.  I love how this action
blends the colours.

Red Shoes

Encaustic adventure…..

Encaustic - meaning "to burn into"- is an art form I thought I would leave on the 'back burner,' so to speak for a good while yet.  However, an adventurous artist from our Big Sky Artists' group, who is also a fantastic teacher, agreed to give us a class and these are my results.

lower part of picture below

Encaustic applications date back to ancient Greece when it was used to highlight statues. Egyptians used it to decorate vases and tombs and later, it was used for icon paintings.  This is an art form which uses hot waxes and paints and at times must have been rather dangerous and toxic.  It became less popular once oil paints made the application of colour much easier.  Now, with the development of new products, coloured beeswaxes, special irons and heat resistant papers and materials, this art form is becoming more common.

Some artists use a thicker form of the wax on canvas and use it in conjunction with acrylics/oils.  In the class, we simply used a special type of 'waxy' paper, specially made coloured wax blocks, and small hot irons. A stylizing tool was also available but I didn't get to it.

I was intrigued by the variety of marks one can make simply with the iron! Anyway, here are my results with a few 'close ups' as well.

 This is supposed to be a fantasy landscape…  It is the largest one at 8" x 12"

 

Here I was thinking of canola fields.
6" x8"

Below, in the enlargement of part of this picture, you can see some drops of wax.  If one was to pour the wax it would be much thicker - but that would also entail a whole other work place.

 
 The ones below are 4" x 6" and were the result of trying out the 'technique' of using the iron.

 

 

on this one you can see the shape of the iron quite clearly

  

This is an enlargement of the bottom left corner of the picture above.  

There are fascinating pictures within pictures.

the Cottage Garden

In this world of white, grey, and blue - when the clouds move aside to let us see the open sky,  green is virtually nowhere to be found.  Our evergreens, where they are not covered in snow, seem almost black.

Strangely, in the stillness and bleakness of winter we still have visions of the garden.  We dream of the first green shoot to push aside the last snow crystals, we delight in planning new garden spaces, search for places to purchase new and unusual perennials, or look for a seed source for that heirloom carrot we long to taste.

Having had an English grandmother, who loved to spend time in her garden, and who took the time one spring to help me seed and then tend and harvest about 15 different herbs, I have always had an interest in the "Cottage Garden." While one might think that such gardens have been around 'forever', according to Anne Scott-James in, The Cottage Garden, while the English cottage garden has achieved the status of a legend it is not nearly as old as we like to think.  In fact it is difficult to find even the 'flimsiest record of a good cottage garden' before the second half of the eighteenth century.

Interestingly, artists did a lot to encourage people to see small places as beautiful places.  From about the 1860's water-colour painters viewed the cottage garden as a "background to family happiness. In dappled sunshine, slender young mothers hang up their snow-white washing; pretty little girls in pinafores and sun-bonnets tend geese on the green; small boys go fishing with worms and a pin; there are halcyon hours of birds' - nesting and bluebell - picking; in the gardens, fruit-trees blossom and sunflowers peep over the hedge.  Every picture tells a happy story, and the cottage garden has become an idyll."

In these days and in this place, where greenery is virtually non-existent outside for 6 - 8 months of the year, we bring the garden inside by taking myriads of photographs.  Somehow, I feel like each summer I should be outside with my paints and easel painting the garden… more often I find my camera in hand rather than a paint brush.  I have found that it is during the winter that I actually spend time painting garden plants and flowers.

As I stood by the window looking at a backyard filled with snow, a path running diagonally across it to the compost, and chickadees seeking out their particular seed from the bird dish on the gazebo deck, I loved the whiteness, the grey, and the splash of blue as the sun began to push the clouds away.  I realize that I need both - the warmth and comfort of the garden and the stark white clarity of the snow.  This is reflected in our house renovations as well.  While the main level is a place of warmth and colour, the upstairs level is fast becoming white, cool blues and greens, with a bit of colour…  In a strange way the contrasting palettes complement each other.  An interesting topic of its own to pursued another day!

This fall has resulted in two 'garden' paintings:  Rhubarb #3 and Hosta Garden - this latter is based on a photo from my sister's wonderful Cottage Garden where hostas reign supreme in a large area.  The rhubarb paintings are shown in my last blog.

Here is the just completed, Hosta Garden.

Attending to Rhubarb

"Attention"

A few thoughts from the book, Lost in Wonder by Esther de Waal:

"Time and again the writer, the artist, the poet will remind us that we are living in a transparent world, and that all we have to do is to open our eyes and to see - as they see.  Sometimes they jolt us with a shock of surprise which forces us to look anew at something which we had failed to see, whether through over familiarity, or laziness, or because of the speed with which we habitually live and work... It may mean opening our eyes to what we had not noticed, and perhaps something that hitherto we had not regarded as worthy of attention...

Something not apparently beautiful becomes beautiful as one sees afresh.  The actual place may not be so important; it does not matter in the end if it is a gentle Welsh hillside or an untidy table.  It is the eye which counts.  The eye can be entranced by a street scene as much as a scene of natural beauty."

If one looks long enough at almost anything,
looks with absolute attention at a flower,
a stone,
the bark of a tree,
grass, snow, a cloud,
something like revelation takes place.
Something is 'given',
and perhaps that something
is always a reality outside the self.  [May Sarton]

I've completed three paintings of rhubarb now, all slightly different and I feel like I have a long ways to go to have the beauty and complexity of the tangle of stalks and leaves revealed.  This time I used a different green than before and the leaves are much brighter.  Each time I complete one, I say, "Never again!" but I'm often drawn back to them... but perhaps I will try swiss chard next.

Doing these types of paintings [planned, plodding, wash after wash] are rather meditative for me - that is, I must slow down and calmly work through them, a little bit of leaf here, a bit more there, one wash of paint after another, [but only after the first is completely dry!], learning I hope not to muddy the light.  I am often confused by the curly leaves and the variation in colour of the stalks which wind around one another, vying for a spot in the light.

Paying attention, to me means, seeing the jumble of stalks and leaves, but not needing to untangle or dissect or change it in any way... simply liking and observing the tangled mess.  I do know though that I prefer rhubarb in the garden to rhubarb on my plate!