Ok, so I am having some trouble with blogger right now and it is not letting me upload any more photos. This is Soren playing at the window in the fabulous studio space so graciously given by my loving Auntie Vick and Uncle Jeff! It is wonderful! Loads of light, a window that I can open to let in the fresh air, and its ok if I poke holes in the walls to hang stuff from because someone else has already done it.
The space came with a welcoming committee- a tiny stripey-tailed gecko. He was so cute- I took a picture of him and would live to share it with you, but I can't... as I mentioned earlier.
Oh! Another wonderful thing about this space is that my cousin's business and my Aunt and Uncle's business are all in the same building so I get to see people I like more often! How wonderful is that?
This is what I am working on right now. I have to admit, I have been struggling with it. Panic. I've been feeling panic. I've been working from that odd place of "will they like this." That doesn't work. I keep second guessing myself with every brushstroke, and I know- I KNOW that if I would just relax and do it the way I would like it, the piece would paint itself. No stress. No fussing. No questioning myself. I feel like I have moved a little too far away from my intuition and need to ground myself again.
I took a break this afternoon and did a headstand to try to see the piece from a different angle... and just to see if I could still do it. It felt great (just in case any of you get into a similar situation and are looking for an outlet, or a fresh view point). Oddly enough, I think it helped a little with the grounding situation... Maybe it was all the blood rushing to my head.
I have been thoroughly distracted lately. Pleasantly so, but it leaves my head spinning and sometimes I wonder if I will ever find a routine again. This past week has been a bitter sweet return to some familiar daily activities, but with any luck, Saturday will bring back the tummy twisting excitement of my oh-so-enjoyable distraction.
Back to business, I made a lot of progress on this painting today and aim to post another pic tomorrow. I hope to finish it very soon... we shall see.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
I am working on another French piece (dreaming on canvas) at the moment. I'll be finished with this one shortly, and will be starting my large cloud paintings and the first pieces for Whistle Pik. Did I tell you? I have been offered some wall space in the gallery of my dreams! They want much larger pieces than I have been making, so every time a painting sells, I am to replace it with a larger one. Yee-haw!!! I have so been wanting to work large!
So moving on to what I have been mulling over this morning...
I've been thinking about the transitional relationship between highlights and shadows, human behavior, and addiction. Odd combo, yes?
There is something of a warm shock in the shift between light and shadows. Its like those tantalizing wisps of electricity that pass between two people with great chemistry. Its a deep, sometimes clear heat that is obvious to the parties involved, but not as noticeable to indifferent onlookers. It is fleeting and delicate, but powerful. I think THAT transition between the shades can make a spectacular painting out of an OK one.
But its not just about the transition.
A good painting has the lure of beautiful form, clear and sound values, and luscious textures for that fabulous little spark of chemistry to turn it into something amazing.
Transitions are exciting. The problem arises when that lovely bit of chemistry is taken too far. In the excitement of noticing those wonderful little explosions of heat between cool and warm colors, it is easy to over emphasized that transition and lose the impact.
All things in moderation, right?
Aloof, baby. Aloof!
Or is it passion, baby, passion?
Every once in a while we artists sail through a piece, totally in The Zone, fascinated, in love with the process, and the finished piece is bathed in heavenly light as a chorus of angels sing its glory. Those times are fleeting, but so incredibly sensual that they keep us coming back for more. There is a secret hope that the next painting process will be magic. That hope is what keeps us working through the monotonous, "I've lost my muse" times.
Its an addiction.
Hello, my name is Sara and I am an addict.