Working (WIP), processing... processing

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.