art

Coffee Girls: Confession #10

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I made a mistake. A big one. I know better. I really do. It never should have happened. I don’t blame anyone but me. I’m the one who caused it. I recently had a birthday and prior to it, my husband asked me what I wanted and I said two words that never should have been uttered aloud. “Surprise me!”

What was I thinking?!! I love my husband, but with him… direction is always the best course of action. I guess in a moment of weakness I figured he knew me well enough that he would get me a day at my favorite spa, or a couple of two-hour massages at Elements, or gift cards to my favorite stores. Nope… he didn’t.

I now have a year long subscription to Doctor Mushrooms Exotic Magical Mystery Coffees… sent monthly. What the F*@k? Oh well. Happy Birthday to me and lesson learned.

My Meandering Way IS My Voice

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The Meandering Way

I recently had a solo art show and the theme was “The Meandering Way”. This particular show was presented so that people could see that my art and my art journey (like many other artists) is not confined to a certain style, color palette, medium, nor subject matter.

In other words, I don’t have one artistic “voice”.

I like to meander from time to time. To play, to mix it up. To get off the usual, expected, path (oils) and “chase squirrels”. (Which I actually do sometimes, when they are raiding the birdfeeders.) My show surprised people. People who know me, didn’t recognize this was all “my voice”. It wasn’t all oils. It wasn’t all landscapes, moonscapes, florals, or what I have displayed at the gallery. People thought the show was more than one artist. “Surprise! It’s just me!”

To Meander or Not To Meander: That is the question.

So… as an artist, is it necessary to have a specific “voice”? Do you have to have an art style or color palette that says it’s YOU? Many will say yes. To be immediately recognized or even a “that looks like so and so” is to have reached a high level of success. For those who have achieved that, I wholeheartedly applaud you. I think that’s fabulous.

Do I care to achieve this level? Am I striving for a specific “voice”? Heck no! I’d be bored out of my skull. I’m retired. I’m not trying to make a living from this. I just want to make enough money to keep doing it… with a little left over. (I have no desire to pay the taxman any more than I already do.)

So far, the game plan (or lack thereof) is working. To paraphrase (and slightly change) a literary line.. “all who meander are not lost”, we’re just having a good time.

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Empty Bowls: I Love This Event

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Empty Bowls is one of my favorite local charities to be involved with. If you don’t know, it is part of a national event, put on at various times across the country, and has a long history with the end goal to fight food insecurity. If you’re interested in how it came into being and how it has developed… look it up. I don’t need to type all that here.

Anyway… local potters create large bowls for the “collectors club” and the auction event (which are the large dollars portion of the fund raiser) and local artists are invited to paint these bowls with underglazes that turn out beautifully when fired. At least the ones that make it through the firing, not all do. (May they rest in peace, or should I say pieces.)

The community also gets involved by creating and painting smaller bowls at local pottery studios. The fish photo is an unfired bowl from last year painted on a community soup sized bowl. Nothing serious about this one! I didn’t get to see it fired which was such a bummer. I used some really bright colors which don’t show until fired. (I was hoping I could snag it, but someone beat me to it.)

This year, I’m working in the bowl room. We’ll see who gets there first!

Anyhow… as one of the many local artists here in McKinney, I’ve been painting bowls for the collectors club portion as well as the general admission portion for six years now. Thank you, thank you very much. I appreciate that you appreciate all we do, and how much we appreciate the people who turn out to support this. When it comes to the Empty Bowls event, it’s for sure a mutual appreciation thing.

Ok, this is getting too long. As you can see, for the Empty Bowls event this year, I created and painted a cow skull inside the bowl. It would have been a “longhorn” but it’s a bowl… I could only spread those beautiful bovine horns so far. Anyway, I think it is perfect for North Texas and all the longhorns (and shorthorns) in the area. When I took the photo, it hadn’t been fired yet so the colors are really dull. Sorry.

This Saturday is the big reveal reception. This is when the potters, artists, and potential buyers (i.e. the public) get to see all the finished collectors club and auction bowls. I can hardly wait! I wish you could be there. It’s always fabulous! I’ll have photos on my Facebook page next week, if you’re curious how it turned out.

Flying Brushes

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Hearing (or reading) the words “flying brushes” might make you think that I am referring to an artist with a really fast approach to putting paint on a canvas. You know… paint and brushes flying through the air with each stroke. The artist intent on letting an explosion of movement and color combine because of an idea or emotion that just had to be let out. A fanatic flurry of determined artistic genius in action.

Or an insane desire to get a lot of views on social media by attacking a canvas like a toddler who sees an unattended piece of cake within reach. Smear that frosting everywhere as fast as you can! You know what I mean.

Am I going to write about that? Of course not.

I’m referring to that incredibly ridiculous moment when, for no reason at all, your fingers let go and your paintbrush goes flying out of your hand. For years, this craziness would only happen from time to time with a hairbrush. “Oops!”

However, flying brushes, when coming from my hand are usually covered in paint.

I must admit that most often they do not fly… they drop like a rock… onto my lap, or my shoes, or the floor/rug. You’d think that I would have a tarp under my easel. I don’t. It’s much more exciting this way. You know, like an unexpected surprise! Life’s short, live on the edge! I laugh in the face danger… from paint. Ha!

I run from other dangers.

So far, I am not concerned that there might be an underlying neurological condition causing my dropped or flying brushes. I think I just get really relaxed when I’m “in the zone” or maybe I’ve been painting for hours on end (having lost track of time) and I’m just getting tired. Or, I’m trying to keep the brush in hand while I grasp something else with the same hand.

In any case, I’m not worried. I have yet to have a wine glass go flying. Until that happens, all’s good.

En Plein Aire: When Nature Calls… finale

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Ok, if you’ve been keeping up, you know that I participated in my very first outdoor painting event held at our local nature preserve. And now… the rest of the story. Or at least some of the rest of the story.

As the day progressed, the roaring from the mechanical dinosaur was soon matched by the roaring from my stomach. I was ready for a late lunch. The food truck up at the Nature Center building was calling and not just to me. It was agreed that the three of us in “our spot” were ready to eat more than the snacks we brought. So away we went to join all the others already up there.

When we got to the truck and had placed our orders, I thought it would be funny to tell the person inside that we would be “dining in”. He actually looked around the inside of his food truck to see if I knew something he didn’t. So, with no room at the inn, we headed to the nearby picnic tables. My barbequed chicken/cheese street taco was delicious, the fries soggy, the Dr. Pepper cold. I was happy for all of it. Once finished, I was eager (really eager) to get back down the trail and start my second plein aire painting. I would “make hay while the sun was shining”. Or at least, I’d paint.

However… I learned a long time ago that one should never pass up the opportunity to make use of a restroom (even if your bladder is not quite ready) … especially when you are outside and your “spot” is quite a distance away. So… I entered the side designated for females, entered the stall, and started to assume the position.

“Son of a biscuit!”

I’m not proud to say that I forgot my cell phone was in my back pocket.

I am proud to say that I have extremely good reflexes.

In a matter of seconds I had that cell phone out of the water with one hand, my jeans mostly back up with the other, followed by paper towels flying out of the holder like my life or should I say, my phone, depended on it. I thought my phone was toast… soggy toast. Never to be used again. Oh well. There would be no more photos by me to remember the day.

Anyway, with the phone drying and possibly dying, I finished a second painting. Much later, at the appointed time, I joined the group of happy, hot, tired artists for the showing and judging. I must tell you, the artwork turned in was fabulous. So many talented artists were part of this plein aire event. Did I win anything? No. I wasn’t there for that though it would have been mind blowing if it had happened.

Will I paint en plein aire again? Certainly. Maybe. We’ll see.

I’ll have to discuss it with my cell phone.

By the way… I’m happy to say that after leaving it out in the breeze for several hours (with the temperature at 90 degrees) and once at home having given it a lot of time in a bag of rice and silica packs… the phone survived.

Last Fairway of the Day

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As I mentioned in an earlier post, I never hit the golf course early in the morning. Teeing off to the sun coming up was not for me. However, playing late in the day is something I always enjoyed (except for the mosquitoes). Being on a course early and late evenings appealed to me. Especially when there was enough clouds and other particulates (great word, rolls right off the tongue) in the sky to make for a gorgeous prelude to sunset.

I often paint sunsets, I just love seeing them, and sometimes will paint them with a golf theme. This is my latest one and comes from many memories of being on the last fairway or last few fairways heading back to the clubhouse. It’s a soothing time of day. Yes, the shadows and loss of light did make it hard to see where the ball landed. But let’s be honest, we seem to have that problem even during the brightest time of the day. “Did you see where it landed? What do you mean, you weren’t watching?” Yeah, yeah.

Evenings often bring out sounds and sights you wouldn’t see during the mid-morning to mid-afternoon times. Families of deer nibbling grass on the fairways. Rabbits and (depending on where you are) foxes, coyotes, racoons. Birds are settling down for the night and singing their end of day songs. Stars are starting to light up in the darker areas of the sky. Colors are less washed out.

Even if you weren’t having your best day on the course, something about that last fairway when the sun is getting ready for bed makes it a little bit better. At least it did for me. Hopefully, for you too.

Birdie on the Back Nine

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If you’ve been reading any of my latest posts, you will know that I used to play golf. Wasn’t great, wasn’t terrible, but loved playing. At the time I was a member of the Executive Ladies Golf Association and our local chapter played a lot all over Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida. We also played in some regionals in other states to the north. Anyway, recently, for some reason, I’ve been thinking about those days.

Today’s topic? Birdies.

Birdies, for me did happen once in a while, but they were not the norm on my scorecard. However, because of where I played, I got to enjoy many birdies of the avian variety. Birds and golf courses. They go hand in hand.

One time when I was working as a volunteer for the PGA Tour when it was at English Turn in New Orleans, the foursome teeing off had to wait while a male duck chased a female duck all over the front area of the tee box. Both were quacking like crazy and everyone was laughing their heads off. Took several minutes for the crazed courtship to careen down to the wooded area next to us. The starter had some funny things to say which only prolonged the laughter and the delay.

All kinds of feathered friends live at golf courses. Ducks, geese, wild turkeys, and I kid you not… peacocks. Yes indeed! Imagine getting ready to hit your ball and a peacock lets loose with a scream. One of my foursome almost let go of her club on that swing. I believe that was on a course somewhere near Lumberton, Mississippi. Really pretty course. Have no idea if it’s still open and now wonder if the peacocks are still around.

I have to say, of all the birds found on courses, I do believe that I enjoy seeing herons the most. All kinds and sizes have patiently watched me play by. They are so stately and quite elegant when they take flight. Watching one always seemed to have a calming effect on me.

At least until I sliced my shot. Oh well. I’ll just paint them now.

Lone Star Series: #8

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This is the last one of the series. Yep, I think it’s time to put it to rest. At least for now. This one is titled The Pond. If you are a city person, you may have never had the chance to “head down to the pond” for some good times. Ponds on many farms are not just for the livestock. Many are also the family’s swimming pool (or hole if you want to get real). In addition to possibly being a place to swim, many farms have ponds stocked with fish and which makes them “multi-use” additions to the land.

Anyhow that’s what we did in the ponds on grandpa’s farm. Fish. As a verb, not a noun. Fishing for perch and catfish. Those are what was swimming in grandpa’s ponds. Not people. Just fish, along with turtles, frogs, insects, and the occasional snake. Oh, the dog too. Throw a stick in the water and in he’d go! Grandpa’s ponds were mostly surrounded by wooded and brushy areas so lots of critters (other than, of course, cows!) could be found creeping around the banks looking to drink or for something to eat. If you wanted to get in the water, you went to the creek, not the pond. (That’s a whole ‘nother story which I wrote about a long time ago.)

There were no trips to the local bait shop out at the farm. We got our bait by taking butterfly nets and running through the fields catching grasshoppers for our hooks. We also got some of the biggest and best worms ever born by digging in the piles of old dirt, hay and cow poop behind the barn. Grandpa would handle the pitchfork and turn over the mess and we would dig in with our old spoons and all ten fingers. Can’t go fishing and be afraid of getting “earthy”.

Those were some good times.

Lone Star Series: #6

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Here we go again! Number six in the series is simply The Creek. It’s in the gallery right now and I’m not sure if I need to bring it home and tweak it a bit. Like my painting, The Field, my gut is telling me it needs something. Maybe some cows! No, maybe the hint of some wildflowers. We’ll see.

The Creek (oil and cold wax)

So what inspired this? Well, when we aren’t in a low rain period, there are quite a few creeks around here. I like seeing them because I know that the wildlife will have a place to drink from. With all the dang development going on, habitat is being destroyed right and left. If you know me… you know how much I dislike seeing that.

I also like creeks because they can be a fun thing to explore. Provided you are wearing the appropriate footwear. Birds, frogs, interesting rocks, reptiles and interesting weeds or wildflowers are often found along the edges. Truthfully, I haven’t explored any for a long time. Growing up, I was an avid and eager explorer of such things. I have tons of memories of fun times exploring creeks, streams (wet and dry), rivers of all widths, and lakes. It’s what you did before cable and electronics took over a person’s childhood. If it weren’t for so many foot and ankle issues, I’d still be attempting it. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

Happy exploring!

Lone Star Series: #7

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More cows! Not much to say about this painting other than I felt the need to do another one in tribute to all the cows that have been moved (or moooved) out of the area. No, I won’t get on my soapbox this time about development. Also, cows are popular, and this one was larger than the first one for this series.

Cows II

I realize this style is not realistic. It’s not supposed to be. It’s representational. However, let me tell you, “representational painting” of bovines (or any animal) is not easy. I won’t admit to how many times I have had to scrape away a cow and try again, on a number of paintings. Anyway, it’s all about the illusion of the cow. Repeat after me… “I see cows. I see cows.” Keep saying it. You’ll see them.

This is another palette knife painting using oils and cold wax. It’s titled Cows II. Yeah… not very imaginative, but I need to reinforce the illusion. Ha!