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When I finished this angel yesterday I thought; "Even an angel can have a bad hair day."
I'm thinking of changing the wing shape on this one. And I don't know how it happened, but her eyes follow you even if you view her from a different angle. I'm not sure I like that. What do you think?
On Monday I went to the flea market for the last day of the season. It is just too hot here to set up during the summer. Of course, there are a few sturdy folks who go all year, but this wimp just can't take the heat. But since Monday was a holiday most of us vendors had a last hurrah. When the dealer next to my booth drove away we noticed the fairies had been having a party under his car. There had been rain early before we arrived. These mushrooms sprang up in the few hours we were there.
This week I have also picked up a fascination from many years ago; folk art angels. I used to make angel dolls from vintage linens. But now, I want to paint their faces on canvases.
I'll be posting more of these. What goes around comes around, they say.
It is still raining here so it was a good day to be in the studio. This is painting No. 3 in the experiment. This one was in the book, but I tried something different that wasn't in the book. Before starting the painting, I first covered the board with a coat of Burnt Sienna paint, then rubbed it away in some areas. I like the extra bit of depth and interest it added to the final picture.
I read the best quote today in the magazine Where Women Create. The author is listed as unknown, but I sure wish we knew who deserves the credit for it.
"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming WOO HOO, what a ride!"
This was the perfect day to curl up on the sofa with a novel. It was one of those slow, soaking rainy days and we needed it so much here.
I could harly believe it when I looked out the patio door and saw this pair of ducks in the neighbor's yard. We live in the center of a subdivision in what must have been constructed as a "spec" house after all the outlying desirable lots were taken. Our yard is so tiny we hate to put up a fence as do the neighbors behind us. How many times have I lamented the lack of wildlife in this place? I have so longed for a country life and to be close to nature.
There is a small lake about two blocks away from our house, but why would these ducks leave that and come to our back yard. I had to say, "Okay, God, I guess you are answering my prayer about being close to nature. You do have a sense of humor."
Right then, as if on cue, a beautiful white Egret flew in and joined the ducks in their puddle. It was nice to start the day by sharing a chuckle with Him.
As tempting as it was, I only read two chapters in a novel today. I was anxious to get back to the studio to an experiment I'm working on.
Last week I read in a biography about VanGogh that he taught himself to paint by copying the work of other artists. That gave me an idea; if it was good enough for VanGogh, I can do that too.
I have a book about landscape painting by Bob Rohm titled, The Painterly Approach, which is wonderful. So I decided to copy some of the paintings in the book in order to learn how to do it. And I'm working small to be able to do more, hopefully one a day for awhile. The painting in my last blog post was the first one.
And the idea is working. I am learning so much. This painting was finished on Saturday, but I was not very pleased with it. The colors are dull and the group of trees looks like a bunch of broccoli. So today I tried it again.
Better; at least the trees don't look like broccoli. Wonder what a third try would do?
This morning while pulling open the patio drape, I noticed a bird in our little tree. Then there was a flutter of wings and I saw another bird, and another and another. Four puffy little birds right there in our own skinny winny little dead tree in the back yard. I watched for a moment trying to figure out what kind of birds they were. They looked like Mockingbirds, but were too small and fat to be that species. The way they were just sitting there was puzzling also. Then I saw one fly just a short distance. Suddenly I realized they were adolescent Mockingbirds. Of course, by the time I ran back with a camera only one of them was left. I stood transfixed thinking about what a gift it was to see them, and right there in our dead little tree that I have wished John would cut down. Such a perfect gift held in an imperfect vessel.
The last little bird finally flew to join the others in a neighbor's tree, His perfect lush tree with all the foliage hid them well. I donned a hat and stepped outside for a morning walk. Just a half block from home I noticed a spider web hanging over the sidewalk. Then I saw it, really saw it.
Madam spider was resting there in her perfect web. The fibers were so delicate I could hardly see them, but yes, they were anchored between the lowest limb of the tree and the sidewalk. Usually spiders creep me out, but this was such perfection I couldn't help but marvel.
Farther along the block I saw a Magnolia tree with one huge, perfect bloom.
I saw the sunrise, not red as I had wished, but perfect in shades of silver and gold.
And I had the courage to paint a landscape today, knowing it might not turn out the way I wanted it to, but that it would be perfect in its own way, the way it should be.
And I wondered at how something imperfect can hold perfection.
On Saturday we went to the May-Faire on the Lake art show in Lakeland, FL. The artist tents were set up around a small lake.
It was SUCH a hot day. There were two fans like this one. Needless to say, they were a very popular stopping spot along the walk.
Another popular spot was this one under a tree where a pair of swans were nesting.
Mrs. Swan was watching over four big green eggs.
We bought wonderful Greek food for lunch and ate it under a big tree on the lawn of the Methodist church. The boyscouts were camping out there and helping with the show.
We got home early enough to catch a matinee of the movie, Star Trek. If you haven't seen it, you must. It was a fantastic movie from the first screen to the last. We ate popcorn and coke bought with a free movie-goers coupon, we had left-overs for dinner, and watched a mushy movie on TV that evening.
Could a day get any better than this?
I'm having some problems with the Typepad site tonight, but here are a few pages from an altered book I have been working on this week. Words still need to be added. But that will come later.
Altered children's board book using acrylic paints, ink, and gel transfers.
How do you know when to stop working on a piece of art? Sometimes that is the hardest part. I thought about that while working on this little 5x7 painting. As I stood there pondering the problem, it seemed as though another voice began helping me. Was it the Muse? The conversation went something like this:
"I like that bit of yellow gold in the background."
"It's too sweet. It needs some dark color for contrast."
So I added some dark paint on the left side.
"That's not enough. Add more. Make it darker."
"That looks better. But it needs something else. Try some black ink."
"That's better. But it's still not enough. Add more ink."
I started outlining with ink...and outlining...and outlining...
Then I heard that little voice say,
"Stop! If you add any more ink, you're gonna mess it up!"
So I stopped. And that's how I learned when to quit working on a piece of art.
