"Happy Trails" - mixed media on aquabord, 11" x 14". Ready to frame.
BEDEMIR: And that, my liege, is how we know the Earth to be banana-shaped. ARTHUR: This new learning amazes me, Sir Bedemir. Explain again how sheeps' bladders may be employed to prevent earthquakes. - from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Scene 6 I've never given much thought to snails. Love their shells, of course, but not a fan of the slime trails and their featureless faces. But art is all about challenging ourselves, right? So when I heard the prompt "paint something ugly" in an art group I belong to, I just had to give it a try. Observing snail trails on the driveway isn't my go-to way to invite the muse, but this challenge actually ended up being fun. Like Arthur, I try to keep my mind open to "new learning", especially in art. Because everything we know now will be mocked by someone later on, when the world knows better and things are more advanced. And "paint something ugly" might be the next generation of highly revered art, filling museums and galleries when we are all gone to greener pastures. If there ARE museums and galleries then...we might have digital walls in our homes, changing themes to match our moods and furniture, streaming Monets and Van Goghs and...Walls? A girl has got to have a dream. While we are on the subject of new things, let's try this: is this piece calling you? Well, it could be yours! Leave a comment with the thing you believe our generation will most likely be made fun of 100 years from now. Using a completely unscientific method, (i.e. - whichever comment is the most entertaining) I will choose one of those commenters as the winner of this piece. Ready? Set? Brainstorm!
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"Mr. Chesterfield", mixed media on aquabord, 11" x 14". Ready to frame. Available on Artfinder.
BEDEMIR: How do you know she is a witch? VILLAGER #2: She looks like one. from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Scene 5 Hurricane Irma is boiling out in the Atlantic, swirling and twirling her way toward the continent. Is she a danger to Florida? Well, she LOOKS dangerous! How much of my need to stockpile water, pantry goods, cash and gas the car is due to the recent Harvey catastrophe? Is Irma a good witch, or a bad witch? Looks can be deceiving. Take my bitchy resting face. It's just my FACE! I'm not really that annoyed with you. :) Inside, I am sunshine and cookies. Art can be deceiving, too. Sometimes I cannot truly appreciate a piece of art until I understand what's behind it, not just what it looks like on its surface. I happen to fall in love with artists' processes and/or personalities, and then I want to own their art because it then begins to resonate with me. Take a recent piece I was fortunate enough to acquire from the artist Lillie Morris (check her out here). I met Lillie in Ireland eighteen months ago. She was leaving the Olive Stack Gallery residency just as I was arriving. But we had about 24 hours together before she left. And in that brief amount of time, I fell head over heels for her spritely charm, her fiddling (oh yes, she is also an accomplished musician, collaborating in Irish pubs with other instrumentalists) and her Irish dancing (yep, she does that, too). And she once sent me a photo of a donkey to paint, knowing how much I fell in love with another donkey in Ireland. Donkey photos are truly the way to my heart. I have literally not spent more then one day with this artist, but seeing her art, and how it fits in with her rich creative life (note her collage pieces and collage abstractions, fitting together perfectly like all the different pieces of who she is), I knew I wanted a piece of that lovely energy and enthusiasm hanging in my house. Now Mr. Chesterfield, on the other hand, is quite a mystery. He is the only one in my studio who is the silent, brooding type. While all the other characters are jumping about, calling each other names and stealing my snacks, he sits quietly watching. I can't tell if he is pondering highfalutin theorems or plotting to eat the tweety birds. "We Float" - ink on aquabord, 6" x 6". Ready to frame. Available on Artfinder.
WOMAN: Well, 'ow did you become king then? ARTHUR: The Lady of the Lake, [angels sing] her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. [singing stops] That is why I am your king! DENNIS: Listen -- strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony - from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", Scene 3 Perspective. Quite different depending what side of it you're standing on. I happen to like the idea of "strange women lying in ponds" and their potential impact on governmental systems. But only the idea of it. The reality would be something else entirely, I imagine. Art is about perspective. Not just the process of composing a painting and its viewpoint, but the perspective of the art viewer as well. I recently spoke to a group of college students in a gallery setting. It was fascinating to watch them watching the art, and to see which pieces spoke to them. As you might imagine, it was completely different for everyone. Even the gallery curator most appreciated a piece different from those that others liked. It was unpredictable and widely disparate. I love this about art. When it comes to your perspective as a viewer, you can't get it wrong. It just matters what you like - what calls to you and what makes you want to look again. Even for me. I can view a hundred pieces of art and feel nothing for 99 of them. But there will be at least one that whispers to me and stays with me after I've walked away. Whether I like it because the Lady of the Lake told me to or because of the logical balance and composition of the piece doesn't matter. It just matters that I like it. Recently I began building a small collection of pieces that make my heart sing. One here, one there, completely unrelated pieces from a variety of artists. I'm looking for the common thread running through them. I'll let you know when I find it. In the meantime, I'll just float along in the pond looking for swords. "Tweetness" - mixed media on reclaimed wood, 7" x 17", ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
GUARD #1: Where'd you get the coconuts? ARTHUR: We found them. GUARD #1: Found them? In Mercea? The coconut's tropical! ARTHUR: What do you mean? GUARD #1: Well, this is a temperate zone. ARTHUR: The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plumber may seek warmer climes in winter yet these are not strangers to our land. GUARD #1: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate? ARTHUR: Not at all, they could be carried. GUARD #1: What -- a swallow carrying a coconut? - from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Scene One I'm still in the 30 in 30 bullpen, warming up my arm before I head out to the mound. Throwing coconuts, of course. This piece, "Tweetness" is the result of a full-on major malarkey episode and a brief desire to paint something folksy. Now that THAT'S out of my system, I can get back to serious business (maybe). There are no less than eleven supports in various stages of being painted on my studio floor. Everyone has to tip-toe to get through. Serves them right! They shouldn't be in here anyway. Another scene (above) in which Arthur engages in a serious contemplation of what is obvious bull-hockey. And he even phrases his response in elegant prose. Which is what we have to do sometimes...take ourselves seriously, even if no one else does. In fact, especially when no one else does. Imagine if we dedicated ourselves with super seriousness to the thing we most wanted in the world (assuming of course, you know what that is). Anything could happen. Sometimes my husband asks me what I'm up to here - clacking away on my laptop with paint-smeared hands. "Expanding the vast realm of my art empire," I reply. "I am dreaming of world domination." He thinks I jest. I think not. What is it you seek from your creative pursuits? What is it you want in your heart of hearts? What does your secret heart treasure? What if you could actually go get that? Let's form a tribe of people in pursuit of dreams. I'll provide the imaginary trusty steeds, you bring the snacks.
And isn't that just exactly what we need to do as humans? Believe in ourselves and the magic that can happen even if it is just coconuts banging together. Which means ignoring the people who say "you can't" and those who say "it will never happen" and pushing forward relentlessly toward your goal. It helps to have a trusty servant (and if his name is "Patsy", even better, right?) but a supportive friend or two will do.
This is my sixth 30 in 30 challenge. SIXTH! I feel like one of those crazy ironman marathoners who pits themselves against the elements over and over again, defying all odds (cue large wooden rabbit catapulting toward my studio) and who simply can't resist one more go at it. Thank you, dear reader, for coming along for the ride this month on our trusty imaginary steeds. I hope you'll find it both motivating and entertaining - and if not, blame the coconuts. "Amabella" was inspired by a dear lady who is about to become an auntie. Her niece-to-be is going to have the most marvelous adventures and forever support no matter what quest she sets out on in her lifetime. |
AuthorLola Jovan |