Oxen and Oysters
March 20, 2009 by Janice · 6 Comments
We have a first here. Sometimes I surprise even myself and sometimes I get surprised out of the blue. For the first time ever there are oxen in one of my paintings. Oxen. See those little grey shapes in front of the bulto of San Isidro the Laborer. Those are oxen, not sheep as I thought. He has a little angel too, a small one that will go into a spot nearby him. But here is the real surprise for me. I just this minute found out that San Isidro the Laborer, married another saint, Maria Torriba. So? She’s actually known as María de la Cabeza in Spain because her head (cabeza in Spanish) is often carried in procession, especially during droughts. They saved their son from his fall into a well, by making the water RISE so he would rise too. They are known for bringing the water in dry lands and for fertile fields.
I did not know this. Not a clue, or was there?
And just out of sight in the lower left corner, there are the beginnings of an oyster. Not the crab I thought it might be. The folds of the foothills seem enough like crab legs so this oyster asked to be there. Like some insistent character in a book.
I am no longer totally in charge of this piece. Or am I ?
Paths of inquiry brought me oxen and oysters and the patron saint of farming whose wife cures drought. Cactus blooms and sage brush, free flowing forms and puddles. Random what if’s. What if I just do this or that. Hm, let me toss this in. Does it have to go there, how about over here?
I was thinking it was getting to be one hot mess, but now I am kind of stunned.
Letting go. Just putting the questions out there. Feeling my way in the paint. And this so far is what I am getting? And now there is some purple-y grey wash that insists on joining these pebbles and pink swells together. Paths. Connectors. Wetness. In a desert. And that blue. Just clear, pure, blue.
The blue of possibilities.
I am shaking my head. These kinds of things used to happen in small parts of my large paintings, a cat shape would appear under a leaf, a masque near a cypress knee. Scott ( a mentor) told me I should explore these places in between even more. “Always go toward what you don’t know. That’s where the going gets good.” That’s how you keep it alive. That’s how you grow.
Hm, oxen and oysters. Who knew?
Does this happen to you in your work? Have you set out and arrived at surprise that just made you pause ? Now did you pursue it, or shuffle right back to familiar?
I think that I am going to push it. Go paint a slightly Naughty angel who plowed San Isidro’s fields while he practiced his faith. Cause I have no answers at the moment. Just questions.
Say Hallelujah!
March 4, 2009 by Janice · 5 Comments
Yes! I am painting again. (I even ate whole food last night!) And look, oh my, a bulto in the far left corner. This one happens to be Nuestra Señora de Dolores. Just up the hill from me in Santa Fe was the Colonial Museum ( housed in a John Meem structure like the one I was in) and in the museum were lots of these wooden talisman. Simple carved statues of the saints. Bultos they are called. I would walk up that hill and down, around the curves and through the dappled light, amid the adobe, taking in the big blue skies. Walking by all the coyote fences. Listening for birds, or just the sounds of the wind.
No magnolias, just cactus mostly and things I could not name.
But beautiful. Beautiful and high up in the mountains with a history all its own. Not too far a way, the old Santa Fe trail. In the Plaza central, Indians sat selling silver and handmade storyteller dolls of clay. My favorite dish became tapas, or of course a nice SHRIMP taco. And I swear I could practically hear the Taos hum from my front door.
There is an unmistakable spirit to the place. Expansive. Dry, but nurturing all the same.
In the far right of the painting you’ll see a bit of a A Very Large Array. Tuners pointed to the heavens, just in case there is something to be heard. Something to be gleaned from the ethers. It is a place just made for that.
Sometimes a bluebird would come and sit for just a minute outside the kitchen window. Splash in the water at the well. Or a coyote would yowl at night, or cross the road in broad daylight. And yes, one morning there was a snake, (euww and huge scream) just outside the door in the garden, sunning himself. He didn’t budge until the sun shifted to another rock. I spent that morning INSIDE sketching.
So somebody definitely moved my magnolia. But to a magical kind of place.
Say Hallelujah.
Have you a favorite place in the world that just hums, resonates with you? Or ever go somewhere and felt an immediate kinship from the first moment?
Discovery and Magnolias
February 20, 2009 by Janice · 17 Comments
On my way to a magnolia leaf I find I am painting pottery. I’ve painted plenty of leaves before. Let washes glide over heavy arches paper and sift , settle, move into place until they form just the right shape, modulated tones, a leaf. Or the illusion of one. This paper is different. Gliding, sifting, flow…not so much. If you see flow here, it is because I worked at it.
It’s always a balance anyway, just the right amount of pigment carried in the water. Teased and coaxed into position. A whisper here , a firm stroke there. Just a little more, just a little less. A puddle. A puddle that becomes something. Or the suggestion of it.
Flow and its opposition.
There’s tension in a watercolor painting. The good kind of resistance. It becomes your partner. Oh yes. You thought painting was a solitary thing? Silly. You’re just the conductor. It’s a negotiation.
Take this leaf. It’s not what I expected.
Although the way I approached it, I set myself up for surprise. I am trying to remember… did the brown come first or the green? The yellow was insistent. No, I set out to do this in a feeling kind of way . The paper said, “No, no flow here. Look, look, the marks are more important.” And when I had finished this passage, I paused. It looked like a window had opened onto something else.
I had discovered another impression essential to the piece.
Santa Fe Is dry. Arid. Oh, there is plenty of flow there, major flow, but not always of water. The lushness is found elsewhere. Hm. But there is lots of pottery. I drew it, painted it, loved it for the flowers and herbs it held for my enjoyment. I hinted at the pottery patterns elsewhere in the painting. And now here it is on this plane. The plane in the painting that will read leaf.
And I like it.
Discovery is one of the truly good things about process. I don’t want everything to be a surprise, but I like that my paper and paint sometimes give them to me.
Now, if they would just hand over some naughty and a margarita, my Friday would be complete.
What about you, do like surprises in your work?
Room To Play
February 18, 2009 by Janice · 13 Comments
Issac Stern once said that people don’t come to see him play the violin, people come to see him enjoying playing the violin. His pleasure, his immersion with it. Play is very important. In my experience it is those places in between that are sometimes the most playful the most possibly intimidating , and the most rewarding. Or they can be , if you let them. They can lead to some really juicy stuff.
Take that splat of green on the lower right corner barely in the picture in the painting up above. See the larger one right at the edge. Kind of a half circle. Yep. Oops. I overloaded the brush and ker-plop. It’s not on that leaf where it was headed. Hm, but it’s a really nice circle of green… what if…I put a few more, scatter them…maybe like this… cause they are exactly the shape of the scrubby bushes scattered all over New Mexico.
Oooh, nice pattern.. and what if…I make some blips in blue that go up up just above them? What for? I don’t know. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. What was there was calling for that. Go with me on this.
And what if I scooch over here to the left, just out of the frame ( hah, you’ll have to wait ) and put that thing I have never put in a painting before. Oh yeah… and here… starry , starry night… step back … pause… consider…Those white petals will go just here and here, but what is next to them? What is not them, but essential to them ? Hm… some green here… some of my orange connectors…Yes.
This might just be the map.
And there’s some room to wiggle. Some places to explore. This painting is dancing in my head to a lovely lovely tune. My eyes skim over the paper. I know enough now, but not too much. And there is room to play. Places where the painting can tell me what it is going to be.
I like where this is going. And I am eager to get back to it … so…
While I am rinsing my brush and getting some fresh water, tell me, is there a part of your work that is just sheer fun? A little part that you just love to do?
Beauty And The Buck
February 16, 2009 by Janice · 16 Comments
I willfully, knowingly manipulate color , line, texture, value and form to create art and allure. To draw you in. To make a statement. To point something out that has captured my notice. And to make sure that you see it too. I work at it. I train for it, I practice it. I constantly refine the skills. I study my place in context of all those who came before me. I make sure it is meaningful to me, so it will be meaningful to you. I belong to an ancestry of creative souls.
I do it for money.
No, not JUST for money, but in order to have the results of what I do, money exchanges hands. You pay me. I am a professional. Does money taint that beauty or that art?
Does art plus money equal something else?
It’s Organizing Monday here and I am organizing my week, I hope you are too. But it was an interesting weekend. I witnessed one very heated discussion on money, intent, desire and trust. It began as a simple discussion of a simple idea. But wow, torches were lit, the villagers were storming the gates. And then the paper was full of artists and the economy articles, money and creativity, money, power, sex, freedom, money…historical context. Oh, and there was Opera ( It’s adapting to the changing times.) Hm, strange , money is a hot button when mixed with certain things.
Yep, a bit of drama this weekend.
I wonder, does anyone have the notion that to be a REAL artist , one must always be poor? Is beauty less beautiful if there are bucks involved? Or is beauty perceived as more beautiful because there is a price on it? It’s about desire and money and art. Just asking. I’d love to know your thoughts.
The Dragon Room, Naked Models, And Mad Magazine
February 13, 2009 by Janice · 8 Comments
In Santa Fe, if it was Friday, somebody in the room was naked . All day long. That the nearest warm body next to me was a Mad Magazine cartoonist still makes me smile. And after a long hard day at it, some of us would head over to the Dragon Room at the Pink Adobe for margaritas and a gorgeous sunset. Ahh, good times. Some golden moments. Skin time.
Gathering and group activity can be refreshing. Rejuvenating. A little bit of cross pollination. When you take a magnolia out west, it is exposed to all sorts of things that may have been available before but maybe not so abundantly.
I spent abundant quality time with nakedness out west.
Yep. It is very important to stay fluid and fluent, hone essential skills. But doing it with a group of respected peers and friends, well that just brings everyone up a level. And levels are important. Every one wants to master levels.
So we practiced with naked.
Yep. Lines and rhythms and touch points. Looking for the core of what makes this different from that. How to get from here to there. We spent time increasing our sensitivity. Strength. Agility. Form.
Oh, we joked and kidded, gave each other pointers or praise. Critique when asked for that. Because we are generous like that. So this painting needed some gold in it. For this treasured time. And some hints of skin. Friends with warm hearts. Fridays well spent. So here right at the heart of it, some pink, some brown, some gold amid the petals of blue skies.
You know we’re talking about drawing here, right? Drawing naked models and drinking margaritas and laughing at the madness of cartoons with friends. All the while improving our skills. Doesn’t everybody’s work entail that? ….Maybe it should.
Smiling here. Fridays in Santa Fe… golden. I’m thinking of them as I type… golden moments with some friends warming my heart. Happy Valentines everybody.
Manly Men, Hearts, and Wide Open Spaces
February 11, 2009 by Janice · 5 Comments
I spent a bit of last night in a central closet here with Texas Tornado sirens blaring. And here I was intending to talk about expanding hearts and poetic things central to my painting. Tie them in with love, perhaps. That’s all well and good, but here’s the truth. Last night, I wanted to stand in the big front window and watch the storm come. I like wide open spaces. Cozy is fine, but give me some coast to look out on, or a mountain range that pierces clouds as they scud over it on their way to drop some snow, but don’t make me hide in a closet waiting. Because I know all about hunkering down. Intimately familiar with that.
Oh, I respect the power of those big things I cannot control. I know how to take precautions, and I do. But I have a secret love of storms. Of weather changed skies and the power of thunder, lightening darts, and forms of precipitation tapping out their rhythms on my soul. Someone told me once it is those charged ions like we get at the beach, that electrify me so. I don’t know about that, but I do know they speak to that wild part of me. You know that part, we ( I think) all have one, or use to, unless we’ve let it get tromped and tucked away.
A secret love of storms? Is she nuts?
Note I said storms, not the aftermath of them. That’s entirely different.
In Santa Fe storms are quick. Some are massively replete with snow. But they are welcomed for what they are. Nourishment for dry lands. The possibility of growth. After the storm in New Orleans, magnolias went into immediate fruition, to replenish, to rejuvenate. They bloomed by necessity wherever they were. Because they are just wild like that.
That’s why I chose this bloom. This piece. This juxtaposition.
The manly men in the title? Well, I wanted to keep them in mind so I wouldn’t get too mushy. I love hearts and flowers, am a romantic at heart, but give me a safe cozy spot with a view to a storm, take me out in a boat and return me to safe harbor, show me something wild and appreciate it too… tuck the chocolates on board and chill the champagne. I am there.
What would you give your wild self for Valentine’s Day? What would suit you down to the bone?
Magnolias, Gucci, and Talking to Aliens… Maybe
February 9, 2009 by Janice · 9 Comments
The new piece is about juxtaposition. About putting a magnolia blossom in high altitude New Mexico. In Santa Fe, you’re just as likely to see the highest of tech and the simplest of saints. So this magnolia piece needs surprises, but ones that somehow seem to be just right after all.
Enter the surprise of Golden Gucci on lavender from the paper yesterday. Those horse bit pieces look to me like the unfurling fingers on a magnolia pod, and that large Array, hm, there’s a spot for it too. And that Saint…how can I not put that in? But where? Is there room? Does it work?
Not knowing again. Just exploring.
Like I do out there. Where light kisses everything and hugs it all in. Lets an artist stretch, and be. Just being is very important. Being present. Being puzzled. Being entranced. Letting it all filter through.
Not knowing. Exploring. The parts that are really you in that place in that time.
Do I know yet what this piece is going to look like? Not quite. Do I know what it is going to feel like? Yes. Very much so. And now I am eager to begin. How fitting for this week: A love letter to a time and a place. I am smiling here. If it is Monday, then we are organizing. But this love letter is at the top of the list.
What if our to do’s were filled with love letters this week? I know, groan away guys. But polishing your ski boots is kind of a love letter don’t you think? What would you put on your list to do, if it was a love letter to yourself? And shouldn’t all to do lists be that anyway?
Drifts and Petals
February 6, 2009 by Janice · 9 Comments
Not knowing. Not knowing is sometimes a really good thing. It allows your beginner’s mind to respond to what’s before it. I know the feeling I want from this piece, but I do not know all the pieces yet. So not knowing, I begin to sketch. Let my hand explore. That’s how we get acquainted. How we find connections. By letting thoughts drift. And pencils move. Sometimes you find clouds and blue skies in the petals. Places where paint can flow easily unimpeded. Build anticipation for the fun of that. Will it be warm cerulean there? That high noon of blues. Hm, right here is a spot I’ll use that lavender, the one I see at dusk. How can I paint silence? The way evening felt as I watched day turn into night ? Thoughts need to drift. Need to have room to flow. Especially at this stage.
It’s the stage of becoming.
I am putting a magnolia in the land of pink dust and adobe. Light changes there, magically. Differently. It is one of my happy places. So capturing wonder is high on the list. With expansive skies and unfettered time, an artist can connect with clouds that move across skies. Chase the dance of light.
That too is a stage of becoming.
So not knowing, trying this, maybe that. Making exploratory marks on pieces of paper is a painter’s conversation. A little back and forth with my subject. A little chat with experience. I know where I want it to take me, it’s getting more solid by the minute. Even now I can almost see it fully formed. But getting there, bringing myself fully to it, is more than half of the fun.
Looking for wonder, looking for play. Thoughts drift , petals speak, of Santa Fe skies and clouds to me.
Now, who’s up for a Silver Coin Margarita? Yep, it’s Friday so we should head to the Dragon Room at the Pink Adobe by five.
What do you think? Do you give yourself time on a project, just to let it come to you?
Blue Skies
February 4, 2009 by Janice · 13 Comments
Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see
Bluebirds
Singing a song
Nothing but bluebirds
All day long
Although the words were written by Irving Berlin, I can only hear them as sung by Willie Nelson in the open air of Red Rocks in Colorado. It’s February . Some of us are still buried in snow. Some of us have heard snippets of birds chirping like they are trying out a song selection from itunes. Just a taste. Are we buying spring or no?
Hm. We are choosing blue skies here. That’s a magnolia snippet you see in the photo, but it is going west. West to the cerulean blue skies of Santa Fe and the sage greens of stoic high altitude grass. No, not that kind of grass. The scrubby, non wetlands kind that kind of threw me for a loop. Lots of pink dust out there, when it wasn’t covered in snow. Lots of howling of coyotes. But lots, endless lots, of beautiful blue skies.
So we are going to play with , “Who moved my magnolia?” a bit. And no, I only have a smidgen of an inkling what it will look like. But there’s the fun of it. So I ‘ll haul out the sketchbook, give Willie a listen to bring back that night under the stars among the giant red rocks, and we’ll get there. Under blue skies.
Because it’s February. And we need that blue of possibilities to pull us through.
So ever been to Red Rocks? Santa Fe? Do you like margaritas? Tell me while I get my boots on and pencil some ideas around.