Wet Paint
September 30, 2009 by Janice · 4 Comments
Gold. I decided to jump right in with a big tube of gold. Yes. But. Ahh, those two words. Yes and but. Intent and logistics vying for dominance. Hah. Okay so there’s some grey that comes in front of the gold. I happen to love greys. See I even added some lovely rose doré to the grey on the far left. There’s another bit just out of the right side of the picture. The grey that stood in front of the gold…but I wanted you to see the wet paint. There are little bits of glistening there in the grey.
Ahhh.
I love that.
Silly. But I love that point in the paint when it is still wet, almost as much as I love moving paint around. Little puddles. Still malleable if you want them to be. You can watch them in the light. And add more, or even still take away.
Everyone says how difficult watercolor is, and in some ways it really is tough.
But we get along very well.
I have always played in puddles you see.
I grew up near a creek we could wade in and find all sorts of seasonal treasures there. Go exploring with a friend. Feel the ripples and burbles going by. Exclaim when some unexpected treat met our eyes. We spent hours and days and lots of springs and summers there. Loved the breeze catching in our hair and the tadpoles or crayfish we would sometimes take home in a jar. Some of them became frogs. We saw leaves in the fall floating by, skirting the rocks we step stoned upon, sweaters tucked tightly around us. Reds and golds, some bright orange. We even saw the creek frozen over, no wading, just wonder at the patterns the ice would make. The tufts of snow on the banks…and the quiet all around, maybe just a gurgle…our breath visible, some giggles…
Simple pleasures.
Wonder.
Curiosity.
Friends.
Who love to play in puddles.
Never quite grew out of that.
So this week when I had such a nice expanse of white paper…
and some wet paint…
Not much, except some logistics,
Was going to stand in my way.
So I let the paint lead me to treasure…
Brushes and bowls full of pigment. Plenty of white space to roam…
Maybe I still look for tadpoles,
Or a stunning little fish to swim by…
Maybe I have staked my whole career on my love of wading in creeks…and tide pools and coasts?
Surely not.
Then again…
Just a little wet paint….and I am there again.
Exploring.
The artist smiles.
Yes. I am a wetlands painter.
Did it start in that little creek?
(There’s a slideshow to go with this post, I did get to the gold. And you can see the wet paint close up. )
Where to Begin?
September 25, 2009 by Janice · Leave a Comment
Where to begin on a work put aside? Especially a big work. One with lots of parts and history. And words, we are going to put words with it too. It should make some sense. Be accessible, possibly even logical.
Okay, I have to laugh at that, logical left the building way long ago.
Yes, I am still laughing. There is a logic to process of course, but it isn’t always a straight line. In fact straight lines have given me a problem since the storm. Tumbled fragmented ones seem more real. Perspectives altered into surreal are more plumb. Awkward juxtapositions the more believable paths. That’s what climbing over giant ancient oaks filling your streets like a river will do. Being tossed into a kind of war zone. Everything changes. When your reality becomes surreal, surreal becomes your reality. And you deal. You just deal the best you can. And it does not abate easily, or quickly when the alteration is so complete and so pervasive. Anyone who says so is not to be believed. It stays. Altering everything for all time.
But there is a logic to it and its own sense of time. The fragments within and the whole vie for dominance. We want Humpty Dumpty to go back together again. Fit right back on that wall where the view is so good and the food tastes wonderful and the music seeps up from the cobbled streets as sweet as the gardenias that bloom in the sun nearby.
But the cracks from the fall are there.
Do not try to fight the cracks.
Acknowledge them. Acknowledge that normal is always going to be relative for you. Logic will take up new points on your internal GPS. And the map? The map is uncharted. And your boat has to be tended to to even think of sailing again. It will not sail true if it isn’t.
So where to begin?
I think with the paint. Let the mind be clear like water and just let the paint lead us in. I want bowls of blue. Big bowls of blue. But I see to get there, I might have to start with orange and gold. The shimmering partners to blue. And I cannot wait to sink into deep piles of sepia mink. But I have those flutters of light kissed green that must come first.
And where to paint first? It’s 6 large panels. An overall expanse of, hm, 12 feet. Almost 5 feet tall each one. I started with the far right and worked left. Three panels at a time laid there on the floor in Santa Fe. The 3 left ones are still blank. Not passively blank. Waiting, anticipating blank. Flow. They want to feel the flow of paint literally poured on. They want the touch of sable that leaves color in its wake. They want the finesse that comes from deep and fine experience and appreciation. They want to glow.
So where to begin?
Paint and paper have their own sense of logic. Their own demands of time and sequence and right. They care little about everything else. Tradition, technique, all good, but only if they serve intent. Learn the rules, get those under your belt, but then be willing to break every single one if that’s what it takes. Deal. Deal the best way you can for what’s right in front of your face in that moment.
And in this moment I am thinking gold…
I think we’ll start with pure gold right out of the tube.
Yes.
That feels good.
A friend asked me two days ago if it was too early in the week for Naughty Prickly Pear Margaritas. HAH. Silly question.
How about you? Meet you at five for a beverage and a chat? It’s been a fairly big week in a quiet leap taking way. Congrats to all my friends and their big…top tens… way to go.
Big Comes Out of the Box
September 23, 2009 by Janice · 13 Comments
“Deer Tracks Nearby”, that’s what you see in the photo. Or at least 3 of 6 panels of it. The other 3 are still white paper. This is the big piece I mentioned last week that I had put away mid process. Each panel is 40″ by 60″. Yes, big. The “normal” size I like to work in. They have been tucked away for awhile now. Waiting.
Tucked and quiet.
But not really.
I always knew they were there.
Waiting patiently.
Like a few other things I had to put on hold.
It was just better that way.
For awhile.
But not now. Now I need big. Or at least bigger.
I need space. So I am claiming a bit more every day.
Paint and paper you say? It is only paint and paper.
Yes, but not exactly.
This is a piece very near and dear to my heart.
I am going to try to tell you a story.
And I emphasize try, because that’s not what I intended when I decided to pull this out this morning. I intended to just take a look.
But there it is, spread out on the floor.
Magnificent blue, brilliant orange, mink-like sepia.
Big.
I have missed it.
And it is time.
To paint my way out of this box.
That’s what I get for counting Mondays. The artist smiles.
Yes, perhaps a beautiful gift….
We’ll see, and I will try to put words to it too.