Song of Color

What do you do for a living, what is my job? Lifting spirits, bringing peace to people, that is how I see myself with my art. Watching a dancer perform takes away the pressures of the day for some. For others, it's watching an athlete that lets the pressure of the day slide away.

Looking back, which I often do, I find myself with the task of lifting a spirit. Mom, cooking over a hot stove, smiles seeing my drawing of a grasshopper. Yesterday, it was a painting of cows on a hillside. I know there is someone out there waiting for the smile I have for them. Ann, down the hall, has a pastel bouquet of flowers waiting for someone. Typing away on the computer, a worker pauses to wonder about the abstract hanging in the office. A calmness is the gift we give. 

The world around me and how I see it is my gift to people. The flatness of the midwest needs my hand. The vast blue sky and cotton cloud, I shout about them with paint. Roadside weeds with tiny white flowers are waiting for my canvas. Painting is my voice as I sing silently in my studio. Each stroke, every color is a note heard in my work. I rise each day composing a song of color to give to people. 

Adding To My Soul

Facing that blank canvas, Dad always questioned why I wasn't working. After my answer, he would pull the lawn mower from under the porch and tell me to use it while I was deciding what to paint. It wasn't always our lawn that needed mowing, and I usually found inspiration pushing that mower. Dad believed in a full day's work, not painting. Sometimes cleaning out the garage brought out the inspiration. Staring at Mom's flowers was my preferred path though…

These days I find doing one painting leads to another. Seldom do I put down the brush for more than a day. A model with her hair up may create a shape that I spend days on capturing. A dying geranium leaf may interrupt a nude, which interrupted a landscape. Colors laid out for one subject may make another subject more exciting. No set palette for me. I like trying new colors. That orange dying geranium called for a brighter red which was perfect for the nude's pink toenails.

It’s very hard for me to teach simply because I don't know how I get a painting done. A conversation with a model may come into play, allowing my hand to move freely, touching colors I normally would question putting into a figure. Like a violin giving rhythm, to me models add to the way I see and feel. Painting, the creation of art, has taken on so many dimensions for me. Collectors, models, and other artists have added to my soul, and how I see the world.