Hugged Myself With Color

The possibility of giving a gift of wellness to a stranger carries me through each day in my studio. It's that possibility I see in each painting - something in my art to bring one to the brighter side of life. Never with anyone person in mind, I sit before my easel and think about those who will give the work before me “a look.”

Each stroke from my brush is placed with the greatest of care in hopes of a smile from a viewer. If I'm getting inspiration from a subject, others will surely be seeing what I see and feel that inspiration. They may simply turn their heads for a glance, some my stop and pause a bit more, and still others will make the connection and feel what I felt creating the piece on the wall. With this belief I work each day at my craft in hopes of lightening a person's day, if only for a split second. Art brings warmth &  comfort, and fills emptiness . A pretty girl reading warms a father’s heart and reminds him why he does what he does, a painting of a goat may bring one an unexpected smile, and an abstract brings wonder and perplex at the same time.   

Today, a landscape waits for my hand to bring it to life. Somewhere in my head it is forming from past visual experiences. The eyes of my childhood will command my hand, brighter colors are laid out, taller trees will form on my canvas, and brighter, richer greens  will invite viewers to roll in the grass, if only for a moment and only in their minds.

We artists have the power to take people places, if only it be to a memory of a place they knew as a child. Water so clear one can see minnows dart about moss covered stones… The child in me is ever present when I am at the easel, whether it be a geranium on my windowsill gathering sunlight, or a young lady posing on my models stand, there comes a child to guide my thoughts and hands as I paint. Letting the child loose is what art is about. 

Turned seventy-four yesterday

Turned six today   

Hugged myself with color

Bathed myself in memories

Accepted who I am with mistakes

Found myself in others. 

Waited for my title at the finish.

You Never Stop Learning

"You never stop learning.” Mr Van told me this on the last day of art school. I took it to mean I'd be learning more about art and how to paint, how colors not on my palette worked and whether or not I needed them. Over the fifty-plus years I have been working as an artist I've learned a lot, not all having to do with art, but all from doing my art. 

Sitting in a field of wheat in Massachusetts painting the scene before me I discovered how much life there was in the small space I occupied for the time it took me to do a little painting, like mice, so small they could climb a shaft of wheat without it bending over. Finding fun bits of nature was aways a treat painting out on the spot. A different learning came from the models I worked with in my studio. Lionel, my first model as a professional artist, was a student at Columbia College in New York City. He was an activist, a protester, a preacher. Lionel was one of the students who occupied the Dean's office in a protest over the college's involvement with the Vietnam War. Whether I wanted it or not I got a lesson in government and why President Kennedy took us into a war the French abandoned years before. Lionel took me through the history of Southeast Asia and why President Johnson was keeping us there. My reading turned from novels to Time and Newsweek and the New Yorker Magazine after a few sessions with Lionel. 

Quiet Cathy was my second model. Cathy was a ballet student who just wanted rest and the few bucks that I paid back in my early day. It was fun drawing Cathy, listening to classical music and hearing a bit about her crazy Russian dance teacher. Lizette, an exchange student, took me through her classes and, by chance, I added a bit more knowledge about my own country from this French young lady. With Lizette, I visited nursing homes and pushed wheelchairs with the elderly residents telling me who they were when young. It was agreed that I should not sing and just stick to pushing… 

I found I took greater care with painting when models took me into their worlds. Portraits of Lionel were among my best works. My Chicago gallery always asked for more drawings of Cathy, and my paintings of Lizette never hung in the gallery for long. It was more work to get a landscape done and often they were returned. My figures never came back, I think it was due to my connections to the models. 

It is the same today, picking up bit of the law from Sylvia, and teachings of Christ from Kim. Business practices from Jordan, and understanding homelessness from Chenoa. Raising autistic kids on nearly nothing. Learning line dancing from Sharon, and how to put new brakes on. Never done that and never will, but now I can stand behind a mechanic and convince him I understand what he is doing. Artist’s models are all different and all the same, and all good people.