A Long Time Comin'

16" x 20" Acrylic on board [Click to enlarge]

Well..I tried a practice portrait before this.  It went through the mannequin stage, the zombie stage and finally, the space alien stage, before I chucked it in the corner.

So much for that.

But the idea of a portrait nagged at me.  My sister-in-law had been bugging me about doing a portrait of her literally for decades.  And finally I felt capable of painting it.

Did it look like her?  It did to me.  I did the small child test. Casually, showing little interest and yawning slightly, I pointed to the picture and asked a small child, "Who's that?"

I am pleased to say I passed the test.

My sister-in-law's reaction?  "Now you paint me - when I'm not young anymore?!"

Aw well.  She took it home anyway.

----

A book in my library that I've spent hours perusing over the years is "A Painterly Approach" by Mary Beth McKenzie.  I just love the way she paints.  But all that time reading her advice and viewing her wonderful paintings showed me nothing at all compared to a demonstration by the artist I found online at the Youtube channel of the Art Students League of New York.  There is just something about watching an artist work.  At the same channel, I found a demonstration by Sharon Sprung that was just as informative and inspiring.  I hope you find them as rewarding:

Mary Beth McKenzie:

 Sharon Sprung:

Thank you Art Students League, for providing this resource to we country folks (because everywhere outside of NYC is the country, right?)

A Special Mother's Day

Watercolor on 8" x 10" Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper
Beneath the Bamboo with Dragonflies (Click to Enlarge)

Motherhood.  The word often brings to mind the comfort, joy and security of our own mothers.  And this is wonderful.  But it is more than that.

There are mothers that must face the loss of a child.  This is a loss that does not end.  There are mothers that must cope on a daily basis with extraordinary physical, mental, or behavioral needs of their child.

In both instances, there is a loss of expectations, of hopes and of dreams, but still these moms persevere and provide as they can.

This post is for them, and for my wife, among them, on Mother's Day.

So for you special mothers, for all of you, is a poem. And I hope you'll forgive me, but it was written by a man.  It is not peaceful, not even optimistic really, but defiant.  Because you must think of yourself too.

And whether or not you are a mother, or a parent, you must cope with life's challenges, and this poem can be for you too.



the laughing heart
by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life.
don't let it be clubbed into dank
submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the
darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you
chances.
know them, take them.
you can't beat death but
you can beat death
in life,
sometimes.
and the more often you
learn to do it,
the more light there will
be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have
it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in
you.


[Note:  I painted this watercolor at Fairchild Tropical Gardens, as a gift for my wife on Mother's Day.  She loves bamboo and dragonflies, as well she should.   Happy Mother's Day!]

At First Glance #5

5" x 7" ink and watercolor on Fabriano Artistico rough paper
(Click to view a larger image)

I love bus stops and cross walks because of the variety of people you find there.  But it's rare that I am lucky enough to have the traffic light stop my car just to the side of a person to paint.  So when I saw the woman above I just kinda casually stared straight ahead while waiting at the light, held my cell phone sideways, and -snap- I had the picture.  I never looked that way once and when the light turned green I drove on.  When I checked the photo later I was delighted!

This is my fifth "At First Glance" picture, a series where I try to capture the essence of folks I find in Miami. 

But I've been thinking, maybe what I'm portraying is something more.

The other day I met a friend for lunch that I hadn't seen in maybe ten years.  (This is a different friend, by the way, than the one recounted in the last post.)  I had no idea it had been so long.  I'd spoken to him every year in the interim - he's my accountant.  We'd have lively telephone conversations, catching up, and he'd sounded exactly the same.  But I'd mail him the papers for my return and wouldn't see him. 

So when we saw one another there was this surreal minute or two as we conversed when we were reconciling our memories of one another to the persons before us. Time had given us both more .. character.

So I realize that what I'm capturing in this series is not only the essence, but the moment.

The "At First Glance"figures are in a field of white.  I could ground the figures in the white field, say with a shadow.  But I do not.  This is appropriate, I think.  This is their essence suspended in the moment; then the moment is gone.


***

If you'd like descriptions of the series and to see prior "At First Glance" folks, you can go here, here, here and here.  [What will I do when there are 100?  Leave 99 links at the end of the post?!  I think not!]

After All These Years

Watercolor on 14" x 11-3/4" Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper
"Life As a River"  (Click to enlarge)

Here's a tale:  Burger Chef was a chain that pre-dated the biggies, Burger King and McDonalds.  At our local Burger Chef, on A-1-A in the city of Satellite Beach on the Space Coast of Florida, the manager Bill M. didn't really know how to control the place.  The assistant manager would be running to the grocery store once or twice a week to buy something he forgot to order, like hamburger buns or meat, for example.  And the place wasn't doing well.

When McDonald's finally came to our small town, it stood only a block away from Burger Chef.  That was when Bill M. decided that it would be a good idea to buy the Burger Chef and turn it into his own place.  Now if Burger Chef wasn't doing well then, let me tell you, Bill's Big Burger wasn't going to do any better.  It failed within months.

But while Burger Chef and then Bill's Big Burger existed, my best friend Jeff and I worked there in high school.  Great fun.  We were good kids, but had our moments.  Once we showed up together drunk and sang "Cheeseburger in Paradise" throughout our shift.  Everyone stayed out of our way.  Another time we were closing the place together and started randomly throwing cleaning fluids into the mop water.  When a white poison gas wafted out of the bucket we fled the place in stitches.  Then there was the time that Jeff and I challenged two ladies that worked there to a tennis match.  We were good, but not at tennis, and we bought them their steak dinner.

I have a terrible memory.  Big chunks of my childhood, and of my life through high school and beyond is absent from my mind. So if you measure the days that I remember from my life then I am really 19 years old.

Yeah.

But I remember this:  Jeff and I hung out together, listened to music together, did side jobs together, went to each other's houses constantly, yearned for the company of the Scorpionettes (the objects of desire of all healthy young male citizens of Satellite High School), worshipped the Muppet Movie, and spent hours talking about life and everything else.  And so much more.

We grew to respect one another, and I knew him as a soul with a heart of gold.

So what happened?  What often happens.  We grew apart.  He went his way, I went mine.  Life got in the way.  It's only natural.

So it was a surprise when Jeff contacted me and said that he had been following my blog.  He said that he liked the two abstract pieces that I had done, which you can see here and here.  The first, "Organic/Inorganic" was my response to the news that a close family member had cancer.  It dealt with invasion, injustice, and vulnerability.  The second, "Mortality" was my response to the death of my employer of eleven years.  It portrayed the passage of life.

I considered them a series of two.

Now there is a third.

Jeff asked me to continue the series with a piece that would portray the "fragility of friendship,"

This was different for me, and quite difficult.  Whereas the others had sprung unbidden (one was actually from a dream), I had never attempted to intentionally portray a concept abstractly before.

This is a semi-abstract piece, I suppose, as I've used the analogy of a river for the lifeline.  This is consistent with the nature references in the other pieces, and it has the flowing and directional qualities of the others as well.

Each tributary represents the encounter with a new person (they with their own lifelines as well), and each adds a pattern which the main lifeline carries with it.  So by the time this life reaches a ripe old age, the pattern is very complex.  The person carries the vestige of all of the experiences and encounters he or she has had to some degree or the other.  The person is far more sophisticated by reason of these encounters than at the beginning.  These encounters have impacted the person.

I like the analogy of the river (and I toyed with many visual concepts), although it is not the most original, because it so easily illustrates this concept but also because I could visually represent by the land between, that the individual's environment (whether physical or through major life stages events) changes over time as well.

So thank you Jeff, for stretching your old friend just a little bit further after all these years.

At First Glance #4

5" x 7" ink and watercolor on Fabriano Artistico rough paper
(Click to view a larger image)

This is the fourth At First Glance picture.  In this series I try to capture the essence of people that I see in Miami.  A more comprehensive description of the series is here.

It's funny about an image like this one.  I feel like I can tell you nine or ten things about this gentleman, without actually knowing a thing about him.

Part of the constraints I set for myself in the series is to draw in pen, with no advance pencil sketch.  The idea is to keep the "sketchiness", just as though I am out and about sketching from life.

Is that crazy, or what?   The first time I draw any of these folks, it is in variably too big.  Then I overcompensate and draw too small.  I am finding it takes four or five drawings to get it right.  And then comes the watercolor, which, thus far - knock on wood - I have had no problem with.

Conclusion:  This series is a form a self-torture that is just about better than anything.   When I am done with the series, I will just cut off my ear and be done with it.  

**

Note:  I have made a subtle revision to the original watercolor and have replaced the image in this post.  I apologize if any offense was caused by the earlier version.  Please know that I had not noticed the feature in the earlier version, and that it was unintentional.  If, like me, you didn't notice and have no clue what I am talking about then I am relieved.  Ah, the vagaries of watercolor..

An Idyllic Scene

Ink and watercolor on 8" x 8" Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper

I call this "An Idyllic Scene."  Is it?
What do you think?  (Feel free to enlarge the image by clicking on it.)


ARTIST'S THOUGHTS (Consider the picture.  Then and only then, read this):

I have an aversion to cliche' images, and  I was thinking about mortality and the swiftness of a life span when I drew and colored this.  So I included what I hoped would be unsettling elements:

1. There is a doll in the tree. If you look carefully, the doll's hair could also be read as a dark bird.

2. There is a discarded boy's toy as well, in the foreground. The wheel could be read as the tail of the squirrel. The squirrel is collecting a nut, an activity which is performed at the threshold of winter.

3. There is something watching the children from the tree on the right.

4. When I was done, I thought I spotted a ghost. Do you see it?  My most valuable critic thinks I am crazy on this one.  She is probably right.  So what else is new?


WHO IS RIGHT?  (Besides my wife)

So, what did you think when you studied the image?  Was there a scenario that came to mind?  Did that change when I told you what my ideas where?  Am I just nuts (like my wife says)?

I almost didn't tell you what my concept was - this was going to be a two line post.  But I think it is fun for you to know what I thought, and I'd love to know what you thought (if anything).  The picture is no longer mine when I publish it, it is yours.  So at this stage, your thoughts are more valid than mine.  Or are they?  Maybe in an idyllic world..

Improv

East Meets West, 10" x 8", 140 ' Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper

Improv.  Hey Man, that's where it's at.

Yeah.

I've had many interests - music, art and writing among them.  But an aspect common to all that I have admired is improv.

Bluegrass and jazz, even classical, for example.  They have this in common.  They start with a theme, then the touch of the individual musicians are brought to bear.  The theme is squeezed and stretched and twisted and turned.

I painted this watercolor in just that way.  I perched in front of a building that, by the way, looks nothing like this, and outlined a few of its parts.  Then I began to improvise.  I drew lines that just felt right [yeah] in that they were visually pleasing to me geometrically.  And then I started to paint.  Aside from the awnings that really were pink (I think), everything else was improv.

So this painting is semi-abstract.

Take it away Allen, your stroll is different than mine, but oh so beautifully described..

[Note:  This is not read by Allen Ginsberg.  It is read by a gentleman named Tom O'Bedlam, who goes by the handle "spoken verse" on You Tube.  You can find other readings by this fellow, who probably comes from the North Midlands of England, here.]