Hipstamatic Inspiration

Sometimes you find new inspiration in unexpected places. Bored with the same old style of my art, last Fall I found bold new colors and the freedom to enhance what is seen thanks to a text message joke from my sister. As children, we had this joke (which will probably sound lame, but we thought it a hilarious trick). We took lots of road trips back then and whenever we saw a hay bale, we'd say "Hay, (insert name)." If the chosen trick-victim said "what?" the trickster would giggle and giggle and point at the hay bale, exclaiming "I got you!" I told you...a little lame, an inside joke, but it was funny to us. As adults, let's just say it may or may not still happen...

Now bringing my ramblings to a point: on the way back from a family beach trip, my sister texted me the picture below with "Hay (omitting funny childhood nickname) Mary Liz!" She had snapped the photo out of the window with the Hipstamatic App on her iPhone.

Hay Bales, 12x16 soft pastel

Her little joke set me on a new course full of turquoise and golden skies, darkening edges, simple photos from our region of the world. Since that day, I have taken a whole collection of pictures from rural Alabama and love finding inspiration in alternative colors thanks to Hipstamatic. If you are unfamiliar with this camera app, it is a program you can purchase very inexpensively on smart phones that allows you to change combinations of lens and film to get different colors and effects. My favorites are the John S lens and the Bettie XL lens. I love experimenting with it...you never know when you'll get something new and fabulous! It is a great asset to my artwork. Below is another example of a different lens/film combination.

Easter Reflection

"Resurrection. The reversal of what was thought to be absolute. The turning of midnight into dawn, hatred into love, dying into living anew.

If we look more closely into life, we will find that resurrection is more than hope, it is our experience. The return to life from death is something we understand at our innermost depths, something we feel on the surface of our tender skin. We have come back to life, not only when we start to shake off a shroud of sorrow that has bound us, but when we begin to believe in all that is still, endlessly possible.

We give thanks for all those times we have arisen from the depths or simply taken a tiny step toward something new. May we be empowered by extraordinary second chances. And as we enter the world anew, let us turn the tides of despair into endless waves of hope."

-Molly Fumia

Thistle

About a week ago, while running errands with my family, on a persistent whim I decided I wanted one of the several thistles scattered along the shoulder of the road. As with most "whims," there was not much reason for it...I just saw a tall, spiky, blooming thistle and became briefly obsessed with pulling one out of the ground. Partly driven by nostalgia, remembering a trip from my youth when my parents pulled over and showed my sister and I a thistle, partly driven by an "educational opportunity" for my own children (and humor at hearing my daughter say "thithle" with her slight lisp), and partly driven by an artistic impetus, I cajoled my husband into making two loops on a busy road so I could pop out of the car and pull up my coveted thistle.

It was one of my finer moments: dressed in nice clothes, climbing out of a little mini van, carrying a brightly striped child's pullover (for spike-protection), dashing down a weed covered hill, watched by a whole intersection of onlookers merging off and onto the interstate, I quickly yanked up a thistle before scurrying back to the car with my strange prize. I'm sure I looked totally normal...

When I got close to my chosen thistle, which was much larger than I expected, I had a moment of panic that after all this trouble, in front of all these anonymous commuters, I wouldn't be able to pull it up, and there I would be tugging in vain before retreating to the car in shameful surrender. To my relief, it came up with a quick snap.

My thistle has been blooming steadily all week in it's little jar of water and giving me lots of opportunity to draw it, observe it, and reflect upon why I am fascinated by this odd plant.

At once both soft and jagged, with downy coverings and serrated thorns; both beautiful and dangerous, with soft red tufts of flower tempting the touch, while fingers must weave cautiously through the plentiful thorns. Strikingly harsh with it's stiff, sharp leaves, and artistically intriguing with it's curving, striated stems and colorful urns of flower. An unlikely place to find beauty, grace found among thorns.

Here are my impressions/studies of the thistle; I plan on trying it again soon with some different techniques.

3 Studies of a Thistle, 5x7 soft pastel on card coated with pastelground

A Re-Do with Bob Ross and Michelangelo

When teaching art classes, especially to children, I like to encourage them not to use an eraser. As Bob Ross said so often, "happy accidents" happen a lot in art and "mistakes" can be turned into something else, often improving a picture beyond the original conception. We could talk about the beauty of unplanned discoveries, the surprises found in the creative process...

But sometimes, you just want to start over. Sometimes you need some major changes.

When you spend so much on a high-quality, archival surface, it hurts to waste it, but you can't make a whole new picture on top of an old one in pastel, right? I mean, of course you can paint over a painting in acrylic or oil, but surely not pastel...it would smear and blend! Or would it? My answer: it depends upon your surface and the thickness of the pastel already applied.

On paper, if the pastel has been applied lightly, you can have a "re-do" without too much trouble, depending on how well the new subject meshes with the old. On papers, the pastel blends and smears a bit more and new layers to not adhere as easily, which can be frustrating. Since paper is more inexpensive than other textured surfaces, it may be your best bet just to start a new piece.

If you use a sanded paper, such as Sennelier La Carte Pastel Card, the textured surface allows you to add a heavier amount of pastel on top of pastel due to the gritty surface that grips the color and prevents as much unwanted smearing/blending. Wallis Paper allows you to gently wash off some of the pastel, and also has a sandy surface to hold more pastel, but you have to be gentle and let it dry thoroughly since it is a type of paper/card.

If you use a sturdy, textured Ampersand Pastelbord, you have several options. You can a) wash it off in the sink and let it dry, b)use a kneaded eraser and pull up a lot of the pastel (a good technique for any of the above surfaces), or c) just draw right on top of it, which is what I did with the picture below. I was drawing some sheep on a gray Pastelbord, and just wasn't "feeling it." I didn't want to draw sheep on it anymore, so I "buried" them under a Celtic stone. I had already applied several layers of mostly white and black for the sheep, and had even redrawn the sheep in some different positions, before I began the cross. But, as you can see by the detail picture below, it did not hurt the texture or amount of pastel I applied later.

Celtic Stone, 8x10 Soft Pastel on board

Detail of Celtic Stone

The other night, my husband and I were watching a PBS show "Secrets of the Dead: Michelangelo Revealed." In the show, they showed how Michelangelo made great alterations to finished marble sculptures, such as the Moses found at the tomb of Pope Julius II. Michelangelo recarved Moses to turn his head in a whole different direction. In stone! If Michelangelo can have a re-do with stone, surely we can in pastel!

Spot the difference! A lesson in pastel corrections

Many times, especially at art shows, I am asked about the fragility of pastels. True, if you wipe your hand across an unframed picture, you will smear it. True, if it rains on a picture, it will mess it up. BUT...you can fix it! There have been several big "accidents" in my 3 years of pastel-painting:

1) when spraying a fixative on a 4x4 portrait with a can of spray that was clearly running out, I gave it a test and decided to go for it and ignore the omen of splatters. I gave it a quick spray...um, make that a big splatter. After chunking the can across the yard and kicking a newspaper (to my neighbors' amusement, I am sure), I took my darkened and spotty picture inside and touched it right up with some light layers of flesh tones and any needed details. Frustrating, yes; big deal to correct, not so much.

2) After delivering a finished pastel to a client, the piece fell victim to a big drip of rain water off of her porch. She brought it by and it was quite a drip-- a big, dark circle right in the center of the subject. I took it in the art room while she waited, and in a matter of minutes it was repaired. I just covered the dried spot right up with the same color blue.

3) One of my "precious" (note sarcasm here) cats decided it would be a fabulous idea to jump on my art table, walk on a very large pastel painting, put black footprints in the sky, scratch down the middle as the picture slid, and slide right down off the side. Awesome. I found the culprit by inspecting dirty, furry feet. In this case, I blew off the excess dust outside, then went to work layering the appropriate color pastel to cover up the paw-prints and smears. Good as new (but maybe not my mood)!

I've gotten a bit more careful, especially when spraying. I steer clear of rainy days and keep my pastels inside or covered; I make sure to seal them up to keep fingers (and cats) off of them.

Recently, I have used this comfortable knowledge of pastel's ability to cover mistakes to make some alterations to a commissioned piece. Before I began the Spanish Steps (30x30 pastel), the decision over whether or not to include flowers on the steps was not firm. I told my clients that I could add them later if they wanted, after they saw the finished piece. We did decide to add some red flowers, and while doing so I made a few other corrections. Below is the piece with alterations, and the piece before the additions. Pastel covers well, and is not as fragile as you may think! How many differences can you spot?

Good Creation

In our family, we read a short passage before our meals from A Grateful Heart: Daily Blessings for the Evening Meal from Buddha to the Beatles. This morning during breakfast, my daughter asked if we could read one, and this was the next "blessing" on the page...very fitting thoughts for an art blog, and for all those who create some form of art, which, to me, is anyone and everyone.

Holy Creator,
thank you for artists:
visual, verbal,
musical, kinesthetic,
spiritual...
Within their creative process
may we recognize
the divine in all creation
and be moved to awe
and wonder and worship.
-Chris Glaser

Bees!

In preparation for the Mountain Brook Art Association's Spring Show at the Crestline Elementary field in Mountain Brook, I have been drawing some little bees. I usually don't photograph my art after framing, but the bees, which are about 3x3 inches, look so cute in their frames! The bees are a fun subject, especially when drawn while enjoying a beautiful Spring day!

The Little Bird Hope

The Little Bird Hope, 8x10 Pastel on Card

Hope is the Thing with Feathers
by Emily Dickinson:

"Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land
and on the strangest sea;
yet, never, in extremity,
it asked a crumb of me."

Sometimes the little bird hope seems very small, almost hidden in the branches of my heart. On those days when hope is difficult to find, when I feel deflated and situations seem so very hard to bear, if I listen carefully in a quiet moment I can hear hope's tiny song in the hazy parts of my mind. It's quiet song sustains me and tells me to be patient, to breathe slowly and wait for peace to come in whatever form. Sometimes it is hard to lean on this little bird's uncommon and unlikely strength, but I have found if I just stop and cling to the small part of me that remains strong, I will weather any storm. Hope is ever-present and even a small bit can warm our hearts on the darkest and coldest of days.

On those brighter days when all the world seems charmed and full, the little bird hope steps out with a flourish of feathers, encouraging me with it's bright song that life is full of beauty and grace. No matter the circumstance, hope's presence is felt in large and small ways...never abashed, always supporting, ever aware.

Waterlilies

In a departure from my usual livestock and landscapes, I spent an especially artistically-energetic evening drawing a series of waterlilies, obviously inspired by Monet and my affinity for Impressionism. The pieces range in size from 4x4 to 8x10, and these are two examples.

To me the simple floating flowers seem almost meditative...tranquil, pleasant and serene. Like a lingering hug or a lazy overcast morning, an invitation to pause and breathe slowly and deeply. A quiet moment of stillness when all the world seems good, safe, happy and wrapped in peace, soothing worries and calming the spirit. I enjoyed drawing the waterlilies so much, I had to force myself to stop before I had a dozen!

Some new barns...

Rust, 8x10 soft pastel on card

In preparation for upcoming art shows, I am adding to my "Southern Exposure" pastel series with some new pictures from the rural south. Even though I live in "the city," rural Alabama is very much a part of my life, from road trips and extended family, to our produce bought through the Eastlake Farmer's Market and our dairy picked up from Wright Dairy in Alexandria. I love the beauty of our rural landscape, the thick trees, the rolling fields, the lazy cows, and the old barns in so many conditions, shapes and colors.

Wood, 4x6 soft pastel on card

The hard days...

Sometimes art comes out almost effortlessly. You can sit down, full of energy, and pop out a piece of art quickly and without struggle. Last week felt that way to me. I was able to create several pieces in an afternoon, a quick piece at the kitchen table in the morning, another while my kids played in the yard.

Then the pollen came. For years I have made it through the Spring without any allergic downfalls...but this year, I have not escaped! My energy curbed by a heavy head, cue "the hard days": those times when art is a wrestling match, a struggle to create, when nothing comes easy.

A few years ago (well, probably more years ago than I care to admit), a man told me during a one-time conversation, in criticism of a statement I had made about waiting for the "right mood" to do art, that the mark of a "real" artist is if he or she creates art in any mood, even on bad days, similar to an athlete who pushes through the sport even when it is a fight. I remember being insulted, and thinking he was rather rude and pompous, but, as much as I hate to admit it, there is some truth in it. I reject his choice of words, because anyone who creates art is a "real" artist, whether they paint all the time or only when the mood strikes them. I also find it hard to compare an artist's process to basketball practice. BUT... I can get behind the idea that a "professional" artist, or someone trying to make a living out of art must learn to create art in any mood.

So, here are my two pieces wrestled out on one of my hard days. I had high hopes for the pieces when I formed them in my mind, but the execution was a struggle. I still have distaste for some aspects, but another "must" for an artist is knowing when to walk away.

Little flock, 8x10 Soft Pastel on card

Shade Tree, 8x10 Soft Pastel on card

"Art is never finished, only abandoned." -Leonardo da Vinci

the Raven

the Raven, 8x10 Soft Pastel on Card

Warning: this is not the most cheerful post, so if you want to read something peachy today, this post isn't for you. This does not mean that I am wallowing in sadness today; these are just my thoughts and expressions on a darker subject of the human experience. This piece was inspired by yet another poem by William Blake:

The Human Abstract

Pity would be no more,
If we did not make somebody Poor:
And Mercy no more could be,
If all were as happy as we;

And Mutual fear brings peace;
Till the selfish loves increase.
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.

He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears:
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.

Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of the Mystery over his head;
And the Catterpiller and Fly,
Feed on the Mystery.

And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the Raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.

The Gods of the earth and sea,
Sought thro' Nature to find this Tree
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the Human Brain

In religious communities, and especially Christian theology, one hears a lot about "the Fall," "Original Sin," "Adam and Eve," and "the fallen nature of humanity." These theologies bring a sense of unavoidable doom. While in my own spiritual journey, I choose to search for the good in humanity, the love of God, the optimism and life found in nature, I cannot deny that some form of underlying depravity (thought I hate to even use that word) exists within our beings, that it tries to grow within our minds as our bodies grow. Selfishness, greed, deceit...they are part of us whether we encourage their growth or not. We should and hopefully do resist; we can and should choose goodness, love and service. But it seems, as much as I wish to deny it, that this darker side of humanity--our ability to choose deceit and to cause pain--is inevitably present, and very hard to avoid, if at all possible. If left unchecked, these darker thoughts can grow in our lives as a tree; if indulged, a sort of darkness can roost in the shade of our mind's arbor like a Raven. This Raven, not meant to be ominous or depressing, serves as a reminder to myself that while a darker side of life exists, it does not have to triumph. This Raven can be an omen of doom, or a sign of life, depending upon our own choosing.

Charcoal Portrait

Charcoal Portrait by commission, 11x14 on Pastel Card

This is the first charcoal portrait I have done in quite a while, usually being commissioned for either full color pastel or graphite portraits. I used various pieces of compressed charcoal, some very soft, some hard, as well as some old Willow Charcoal that was my grandmother's many, many years ago. I drew the portraits on Sennelier La Carte Pastel Card in a light sienna, allowing the sandy texture to enhance the piece. I was satisfied with the result, and enjoyed the darkness and smooth application of the charcoal, as compared to the sketchy, almost shiny quality of graphite. I hope to do more charcoal portraits in the future!

(P.S. This portrait was done as a rush order, so if you are ever interested in giving a piece of art as a gift, but think the deadline is too close, think again! I am always happy to do what I can to make it happen in time!)

Ocean Cliffs

Ocean Cliffs, 14x18 Soft Pastel on Card

The works of Monet and my love for the beauty of the British Isles inspired this piece; what made it's creation even better was drawing outside on such a fabulous and warm Spring day. I love Impressionism, and this particular image seemed a perfect choice for another attempt at using bolder color and strokes. In my art room above my desk, I have a handwritten quote taped to the wall by Georges Riviere from 1877: "To treat a subject for the colors and not for the subject itself, that is what distinguishes the Impressionist from other painters." I am far from an Impressionist and am constantly pulled toward capturing minute details, but this sentence echoes through my thoughts when I am drawing, pushing me to look for color over subject, for feel over accuracy. It never fails to surprise me that when I let go of rigidity and move with the colors, I step back and see that the picture has come together...and each time I delightfully wonder how it happened.

Gray Barn

Gray Barn, 8x10 Soft Pastel on Card

I was drawn to this scene by the curved, rutted tracks in front of the tall gray barn. I loved the colors in the grass and dirt, and put in some simply drawn cows to keep the piece company.