Out the door

I used to have a difficult time of letting go my work. It seems that for the last few years I have no problem with it at all. Last week my daughter took four paintings on loan. She loves my work and would rather have the pieces with her than sitting on my much too small studio floor. Two pieces sold the last show and am grateful for it. I understand with this economy art sales maybe slow for a long time. But when it comes right down to it that is not why I paint. Someday though I hope like many artists do to paint full time which means making an income from what I love.

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El Ardor

People ask me why I title my paintings in Spanish. Am I am trying to make it more difficult for them to understand my work. I'm not sure if a painting should be easy to understand. If I could explain what I feel what I put down on canvas in words would I not be a better writer than artist? There is something in life that can only be communicated visually, musically and some only in words. Words have a way of distorting things; we are easily manipulated by words.

Rothko often didn't title his paintings, at times titled them by color, "Purple, White, Red', "White over Red" or titled them by number. When you stand in front of a Rothko and really look is it not what you feel the most vital part of the experience.
Perhaps people wonder if there is a secret underlying message that will unlock the mystery of an abstract piece. A friend suggested if my latest works might tell of the mysteries of my love life. I was a bit amused. Is all the red representative of all the past passions of my life, are the drips representative of the tears I cried, the light pinks and yellows of the joys I felt? Perhaps a bit. More likely I love the deep reds against reds and the depth that reds have. The drips of paint are drips of paint and are not representative of tears. The drips and solvents thinning the paint mixing with other pigments, allowing gravity to help create the piece I am making. My work has control only when I feel it needs it.

El Ardor, fervor, life, heat. The word in Spanish seems to mean more to me. The Spanish language is beautiful and poetic. Why should not the titles of my “Hearts” be poetic as well.

Road Trip

Considering a road trip. Usually I put work first. But lets face it, in this economy what is the point. I am tired of the doom and gloom; a change of venue is needed here. The oak trees still look dreary in their winter state, despondent in its naked state. And I'm tired of it. Besides a friend suggested a road trip and I can easily be persuaded. Cruise down to pick her up from the John Wayne Airport then drive to Palm Springs. Sunny warm Palm Springs, it is warm right now, isn't it? Lord knows I need the sun right now.
It's time to venture outside the Central Coast, check out the galleries. I always look forward to a road trip. One can be ever hopeful of something new to come. A gallery can pick me up, I can meet a intriguing person, or I can just lay in the sun sipping on a fruity and colorful drink. Yes definitely a road trip is needed.

February 6, 2010 "Hearts"

The heart has long been attributed with mystical significance, either as an organ or symbol, which manifests spiritually with divine attributes. One of the earliest appearances of the heart symbol comes from the ancient Egyptians who viewed the heart as symbolic of the soul. The feather of Ma'at (Muh-aht) was the Egyptian goddess of truth, balance, justice, law and mortality. The heart would be removed after death and be weighed to see if it was lighter than a feather.  A person of light heart was deemed deserving of the journey to paradise.

The Heart has been ascribed with the virtues of love, joy, charity, and compassion. It is the emblem of truth in Christianity, the “Sacred Heart”, the symbol of the Lord’s love. In Buddhism, the Buddha heart is also referred to as "the awakened heart of compassion" and has a very good meaning in China and Buddhism.

The classical philosophers and scientists, including Aristotle, considered the heart the seat of thought, reason and emotion often rejecting the value of the brain.
The Stoics taught that the heart was the seat of the soul.
The Roman physician Galen located the seat of the passions in the liver, the seat of reason in the brain, and considered the heart to be the seat of the emotions. While Galen's identification of the heart with emotion were proposed as a part of his theory of the circulatory system, the heart has continued to be used as a symbolic source of human emotions even after the rejection of such beliefs.

Though the symbolic Heart vaguely depicts the human heart, it more accurately depicts a bovine heart; it is still attributed as the seat of emotions. Passionate, happy, joyful, youthful, sorrowful, and heavy of Heart, the emotions central to our human existence.

January 18

Yesterday’s horoscope read that I would relinquish logic to intuition. I'm not a true believer in horoscopes, but my paintings beg to differ. There was a certain flow to the process yesterday. Both paint and wax seemed to cooperate with me yesterday as I spent hours in the studio. I don’t always have these days; some days the work is really work. But lately the paintings flow. How it should be. I used to imagine (in my young twenties) living in an artist loft, rolling out of bed miraculously with a cup of coffee in hand, and just painting straight away, only taking time out when absolutely necessary or to meet friends. Meeting friends would actually fall into the "absolutely necessary category". Life didn’t turn out that way. But I am getting closer to that day. There is this need to get into the studio, but life’s inconveniences can get in the way.
I did spend most of the day painting yesterday. I was grounded so to speak. I need to finish the pieces for February 1st. But there is a certain sanctity to my space when I paint. There is only the sound of the paint brush, and an intermediate scratch, scratch at the door from bitch kitty. But the sound is so similar to the sound of my brush it is easily dismissed, and bitch kitty finds some other diversion.
The encaustics are coming along, resolving into a fairly cohesive body of work in themselves. The imagery is more light hearted that the oils. They are more luscious, intimate, the wax thick, shiny and translucent. The encaustics pieces are small, collages of oil and wax, with some relief work. It is less immediate that oil painting and not quite as predictable as oil painting. But perhaps over time I will find my way to a more predictable way of working. But for now I like the trial and error and the experimentation.
It has been years since I took a class from Paula Roland in New Mexico. And I have dabbled with encaustics since here and there. This will be the first time I will actually show encaustic work to anyone. I am very pleased with these first results.

Nearing on the Weekend, Countdown to Valentines

The weekend creeps up sooner than I like. I am fortunate that I have most of my graphics projects completed. But I don't have anything new projects lined up. A lot of "we really want you", and then "lets wait", as I said nothing concrete and a few maybes.
On the art front, the paintings are coming along. I will include a series of some affordable small pieces, collage/encaustic work,  a “Valentines" theme. It’s been a while since I made a hand made Valentine, and the process here is more time consuming.
Personally I always had a struggle with Valentines Day and these paintings are no different. My first recollection of Valentines is of grade school, receiving those ever so mushy cards from boys I did not like. Having barely learned English before starting school I didn't quite get these acts of "like" or "love", I took the words to heart. Does not love mean love? Not quite understanding it was a class enforced egalitarian act in which no child would feel left out. Every one should have the same amount of cards, and back then my young mind believed “Be Mine” meant just that, and that was just loco. I was very careful in never giving out cards that were too "mushy" to boys (I confess sometimes I crossed out the words that might suggest that I liked them). And certainly I cringed on the receiving side if a mushy one came my way. But remember I was young, the years in single digits and I was just getting to grasp my new "home" language.
I took Valentines way too seriously. High school I dismissed it, my boyfriend at the time didn't need Valentines to tell me how he felt, I knew. It wasn't after college that I had fun with it. Throwing some very fun and creative parties. No love interests there, the emphasis was fun, oh and of coarse creativity. Most invitees were in the creative field.
I love Valentines, sweetheart or not. This year Valentines means work, enjoyable work.  I plan to make some of my smaller pieces fun, and affordable. They most certainly are not Hallmark's version of Valentine. The larger pieces are not really Valentines, but are very red, emphasis on passion here. The show should be fun, and beautiful, the wine amazing.

On a Hard Day

There are days when I really struggle to get into the studio. What makes the difference from one day to the next? My studio is over flowing with work right now, canvases from last year. I don't have enough for the next showing, in which I promised all new work. It is perhaps time to clear the studio so it resembles more a blank canvas. Or is it my mind I have to clear? How much of my personal life influences me in my work?

I spent Sunday working, not leaving the house, and giving myself enough breaks from the damar to keep my head clear. The day was not as fruitful as I would like. I ruined two canvases. Small ones, but never the less I had spent too much time on them. It seems my larger pieces are more spontaneous. Is it possible to transfer that time of work in a smaller area?

I’ll be at it again today. February is coming up, I need to get at least three more canvases completed. I haven’t worked under deadlines in years and I’m not sure I like it, the added pressure. But perhaps it will be the disciple I need to get the work completed.