Naranjo-Morse influenced my thoughts about my own painting when I came across her poem. This coyote? He's a slick city guy. Hanging out with house cats, wary of cars and security lights. Does he read the New York Times? Maybe? I'd love to hear what relationship words have with art in your world. Do words make art come alive? Or does art describe something words cannot? Leave a comment!
6 Comments
I am personally celebrating each and every one of you. Brave souls who follow their hearts, even if there is no path, no guidebook or map and no instruction manual. We don't need to know the way back. We can just take another step forward with glee. About the art: beginning with a gesso'd piece of Yupo and a color palette in my mind, I grabbed a wide brush and just ran with this one. I wanted to veer away from preciousness, from tiny details, from tightness and over-control. A wide brush and big strokes makes that easy! I drew a basic series of horizon lines with neutral paint, then began blocking in chunks of color. A wash of pale glow and the suggestion of a sun and its reflection. I worked all around those lights, ignoring them until the very end when I could cut in with the paint and reduce them to the most impactful size. I'm pretty stoked about this one.
I spent many years staying in my lane, not wandering, not adventuring, stifling my curiosity because of outside pressures and inside fears. The anxiety of the unknown can be crippling! But not now, not here. I want to have the most incredible tale to tell when all is said and done. About the art: beginning with a piece of Yupo covered in white gesso, I lightly drew the figure with a small brush and thinned oil paint. I painting a light wash on the background to isolate the figure in the space, then some drying time. Coming in with darks I delineated the helmet, neck area and the basic figure shape. I used a small rubber wedge to carve back through the paint on the neck to expose the white underlayer and create "wires". A wash of golden yellow for the helmet and body, then blues and teals for the "glass" of the helmet faceplate. After more drying, small crushes and all of the tiny details over many, many layers. Finally, more washes of color to create and atmospheric background, then one more go with the small wedge to carve more "wires" around the helmet. This curious bot makes me smile. There is hope in that architectural visage. :)
About the art: the march of the murdered paintings continues! They are lined up in the studio, ready for their transformations. When I got the idea for this abstract, I was so excited I forgot to take any process pics. Oy! Beginning a brush laden with thinned dark paint, I deliniated the basic structure - horizon line, rolling hills and a falling tumble below. Many washes of color to amp up the brilliance, then a long drying time. A small brush with more darks to re-sculpt the "rocks" and "cliff", then more washes of color over top of the dried sections. A chopstick dragged through the layers to create texture and movement. A small brush splayed and twisted in a circle for the blue moon. A final coat of varnish and a deep, satisfied sigh.
Now, mind you, this is not a reason to procrastinate or stop creating. Quite the opposite! Begin something else instead. Prep canvases. Make word lists. Read poetry. Make weird sketches. Afterward, re-approach the other thing and smile, because it's going to let you in now.
About the art: my design mind is wandering from sleeping birds to fairytales to storybooks to robots and back again. So I sat down, grabbed two concept sketches, a small graphic art pen and some Yupo. They key with using ink and the Yupo is to work from right to left (I am predominantly left-handed, though I paint with both hands) to avoid dragging your hand through the wet ink. It took me a while to get into this habit. So many times I just begin on the left and make a smudgy mess of things. Oy! These two seemed effortless, however. Watching the tin man come to life in this piece brought a big smile to my face, as he is my favorite character in the book.
For each of you looking at that new beginning, be it in life or in art, I salute you. You got this. You are the strongest person I have ever met.
It feels unfair. Unfair to the people forced into bomb bunkers. Unfair to the detained and deported. Unfair to the marginalized, to those stripped of identity and rights, to those who are hungry or houseless or ill. What have I to personally be unsettled about? Is it fair for me to feel this? Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we. About the art: a piece of gesso'd canvas paper; and artist with paint and a palette knife - what now? Ready? Set? GO! Draw a high horizon line. Begin laying in rectangles of color. See the light on the water. See the necessary dark, hidden troughs. Move the knife on its flat side with big arm strokes in a sky of mottled paint - moving upward and diagonally for movement. There. Walk away. Stop fiddling with it. It is done.
It is hard for me to sit and listen without leaping in to offer advice, solutions, opinions, consolation. But sometimes people just want to be seen and heard. So I listened, occasionally reflecting back her own resiliance, her big-heartedness, her long period of suffering, her loneliness, her pain. And I waited, solutions and advice in my pocket, ready to rescue. In the end, when she was no longer crying and was calm, she said she had pills in her bag and had been ready to take drastic measures. Oh. My heart. Instead, she thanked me for listening, asked me for a hug (which I willingly gave) and decided to go meet a friend and try life again. She just needed someone to listen. Once again, I learned not everyone wants money, not everyone wants a heroic rescue. People want to be seen and heard. I can do that. I also re-learned a lesson from long ago: the bystander has power. The power to do harm by walking by and the power to help by engaging. This is true in a small neighborhood, in a city, in a country and in the wide world. I leave you with this quote from a big-hearted human being who happens to be a dear, wise friend: It's part of our work as artists and writers to walk with others who make us uncomfortable, who we want to help who we can't help, who we can't help. - THEA FIORE-BLOOM
|
AuthorLola Jovan 
Categories
All
|
