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The Realization of Her Own Oddness

"The Realization of Her Own Oddness" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 24 x 1.75 inches.  Ready to hang.  (click on the image to purchase)

The first time I saw hundreds of fiddlehead ferns boiling in an enormous pot I realized
what an odd person I must be to hear tiny cries from the mouths of cooking vegetables.
- FROM FIDDLEHEADS BY MAUREEN SEATON


Around this time last year, a poem (Sometimes A Wild God, by Tom Hiron) inspired me to create a body of work.  (See The Wild God)

The poem informed the work, which informed my understanding of the poem.  I don't know how poetry works for you, dear reader, but for me the best way to really "get" one is to spend a little time each day with it. 

​When I first read Seaton's Fiddleheads, I had the same visceral response as I experienced with ​Sometimes A Wild God - ​Oh!  THIS!  

​So off we go, a little piece at a time. 
Seaton's opening sentences in this poem give us the opportunity to play fill in the blank in our own lives: 

what an odd person I must be to__________
  • feel the sighing melancholy in the tilt of a robot's head 
  • delight in the madness of big storms and thunder and raging wind, hail and rain
  • wonder what goes on in the minds of ants and spiders and what their eyes see
And so on.  But in asking (and answering) the question, there is a slight lift of the spirit - I am odd, but so are all people, really​.  We're connected that way.  

Embracing each other's oddness is a lovely thought for a Monday.
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About the art:  the AI bot is learning my innermost ballgown bot dreams.  It has begun layering my reference images with dripping fabric and paint, spring pastels and the soft hint of wings.  Oh oh and OH!  Beginning with a cradled wood panel gesso'd in white and drawing the form shapes with colored pencil. Working from the outside in for the base layers to keep the form edges crisp, then from the inside out to allow the oil-thinned paint at the bottom of her gown to drip and mix with the background underpainting.  Brushes, rubber wedges, fingers and a soft cloth were used in creating this piece.  Allowing the thickness of final paint layers to create texture and fabric folds.  As always, resisting the urge to perfect, walking away and looking back from a distance to see her essence.  I think she's quite content. 
8 Comments
Carl Stoveland - 2 years ago
The minute we embrace our own oddness rather than trying to blend in with the crowd is when our art can truly take flight. I so enjoyed this poem. And the painting is quirky and luscious.
lola - 2 years ago
Carl!!! Right? It does make our art soar. Thank you for the sparkly comments on the painting - so appreciated!

This poem - oh my gawd. I'll share the rest of it over the course of the April posts. It has me gobsmacked!
Dotty Seiter gmail - 2 years ago
After a few weeks of ascending the staircase—a spiral connecting three storeys—in my family's home in the Netherlands, I went all the way to the top to hang by my knees into the empty space created by the spiral. Years later, I realized what an odd person I must be to see that stairwell as no more than the cross bar on the side of a swing set frame.

Where would we be without each other's oddnesses? Nowhere, I tell you!

Embracing each other's oddness is indeed a lovely thought for a Monday.

And blessed we are to have whatever oddsome oddnesses come to life on the canvases you paint, Lola!
lola - 2 years ago
Dotty, Dotty, DOTTY! That staircase! Your view of it as a cross bar! YES! I might have seen such a thing in the same way. I can just imagine you hanging their by your knees...xo
Carol Edan - 2 years ago
Good for Mondays and any other day as well. Love how she could be facing in any and all directions and floating above us oddballs below!
lola - 2 years ago
Carol!! Indeed - good for all days. And thanks for noticing her directionfulness - everywhere at once!!! An oddball above all the oddballs. xo
Thea - 2 years ago
“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”
C.S. Lewis
Oh I love your Madlibs fill-in-the-blanks prose, especially your answer about blustery weather. I love me a good, wild storm. One of my favorite childhood memories was standing outside and watching the grey -black striated sky and feeling the air pressure drop as a tornado was passing by in a nearby town. Terrifying but awe-inspiring. All senses engaged.
Thanks so much by the way for my painting, so so excited.
lola - 2 years ago
Thea!!!! OHHHHHHH! Yes - that quote! Perfection! And here's some more kindredness - I felt that same "all senses engaged" when a tornado came through our neighborhood as a child, and again when I experienced a full hurricane in Florida. "Terrifying but awe-inspiring" - YAAAAAASSSSS!

And Wonder Mike says "you're most welcome - thanks for participating!!!) xo

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Lola Jovan

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