Portugal Through My Eyes: Évora #2

Y'know how I always claim that I'm gonna do a series of paintings whenever something captures me? And then I move on to the next exciting image?

Well, not this time. Apparently, this image did captivate me. Not quite sure why - maybe it's the fact I loved Évora so much, maybe these two men and their curious stroll appealed to me, or maybe the fact that my second attempt at buildings since I've started to paint turned out to be so much fun. Add to it the fact that I wasn't overly happy with the composition and format of the previous version - - - I decided to give it another try, and do it bigger.

Took out a half sheet of watercolor paper, changed the composition to be horizontal, being cautious with perspective and all that, and had tons of fun. I changed the men a bit, as they came out a bit too cartoonish in the previous version, and I wanted it to be more of a painting than a sketch. So, I gave the pot-belly guy a quick tummy tuck, changed the clothes for the sake of color consideration, and treated the building a bit differently, going for an even more weathered and peeling look.

At a certain stage, it was a nice watercolor. Fresh colors, hardly any texture, clean washes - like a watercolor should be. The JohnnyB liked it a lot, but I lost all interest in it. To me, it seemed boring; it lacked a story or emotion whatsoever. The JohnnyB said "I've seen paintings with less of a story to them in shows and museums". Well yeah, so have I. Thing is, I did not want to produce this kind of painting.

Which started an interesting discussion: who do we paint for? Are we trying to please our spouses/friends/teaches/critique groups? And if we do produce a painting that makes others happy but we are not satisfied with it, what's the point of creating? Do I want to leave it at the safe stage where it might get compliments but won't make me proud of it, or do I dare taking it a step or two forward?

Frustrated, I took out the white gesso and tried to give some character, breaking the overly-straight lines, adding texture and pretty much molesting the pureness of the colors. Ahhh - that was more like it! As LimaB put it "This is so much more alive!".

I like it much more now. Not sure if there will be a third version of this one, though, as I have other Portugal images that sit in my head and demand to be portrayed.

Plus, I cannot guarantee the man on the right will keep his pose for long... poor guy, he's been waiting waaaaay too long for his friend to move aside and have a peek at that door, I can't help feeling he's just about to explode.

"Évora Stroll #2", Watercolor on W/N CP paper, 21"x14"

Taking the Scenic Road

Do you ever feel that force majeure is getting in the way of settling on a planned route?

You go on the freeway with a destination in mind, and suddenly you see an exit that calls for you, and you take it, surrendering to your gut feeling?

I have quite a few paintings in my queue. I'm still working on the untitled acrylics guy; I have another version of my grandfather in mind; I really need to start that commission; I already did the drawing for a new painting that's been marinating in my head for a while; I . . .

. . . and out of the blue, my sister has emailed me this incredible photo of our father (who died just over a decade ago). It's a photo I've been dying to have, a very unique capture of him a couple of years before he died.

OK, you know what's that means - I tossed everything aside, cleared a little space on my overloaded desk in my insanely messy studio, grabbed some watercolor paper, dipped my brush in some paint and just followed my overflowing heart. Two hours later, I was done, and exhausted.

And to think painting my grandfather seemed like an emotional journey... well, Einstein's theory of relativity was proven, yet again.

The painting got quite a few constructive comments at our critique group, which I agree with in the sense of design and composition. However, I realized it may have been a mistake to bring this kind of painting for critique. To me, it was all about the courage it took me to paint him, the feeling I had when I was caressing his face with my brush, and my success in capturing exactly what I was going for. The elements of design were not at the top of my priority list with this one.

So, that was quite a detour from the "appropriate" way to paint. And it made me realize that taking the scenic road from time to time - even if it doesn't lead to a preplanned and well defined destination - is OK. It's more than OK.

We'll be taking a lot of scenic roads in the coming couple of weeks. The JohnnyB is in dire need of a vacation, and due to the restricted time-window dictated by his work, we found ourselves on a spontaneity spree in a very fast-forward mode of pondering-considering-discussing-deciding-arguing-deciding-doubting-deciding-stressing-deciding-booking-planning a 2-week timeout.

To contrast the hectic pace of the Bay Area, we chose one of the more laid-back countries in Europe, that seems to be beautiful and charming and welcoming and different, with a language neither of us speaks.

Portugal, here we come!!

Acrylics Alert!

Haven't disappeared. Just took a break, turned 46, and - actually been painting.

The kind of painting that takes forever.

No, it's not the procrastinated commission (the deadline is June-ish, so of course I am doing everything I can to not do it yet...). Been working on a new painting that was marinating in my mind for a while; a new style, new medium, new support - and it's having countless iterations.

When I brought it to the two critique groups I belong to, there was a multi-shock effect by me working in acrylics (Nava? Acrylics?) on a relatively nice-sized (Nava?? Big??) canvas (Nava??? Canvas???) with relatively cheery colors (OK, you get the idea...).

There is something very freeing in trying somethign new. Plus, after almost 2 years of intentionally avoiding the use of purely line (I was forcing myself to learn more about shapes), it feels sooooooooooooo good to be back in my comfort zone and play with line like there's no tomorrow.

So - here it is, acrylic on canvas, 24"x24" (hey, stop snickering! To me, that IS big!). Not yet titled, still unfinished, yet to be reworked and metamorphose until I'm happy with it. You are more than likely to see it again in its next stage.

It seems to stir up some serious emotional responses - I wonder what's yours.

Acrylics (yes, me!) on Canvas (yes!!)

There's a Fine Line between Critique and Criticism...

...and today it was crossed.

Today was the last session of our figure class.

No models, no drawing, no mess - it was critique time!

Now, I've been through a lot of critique sessions since I dipped my little cotton socks (yeah, that's for you, Val!) in the deep water of art. Most classes and workshops involve critique, and I am very used to having my work reviewed by a critique group for the past 3 years (wow, has it really been 3 years already???).

And, I can take critique. I do not belong to those who seek the "WOW that is so amazing" response on each and every thing I do, as I don't believe in this kind of reaction. It's false, it's phony, and when you've done something that actually deserves it, how can you tell the difference?

But today - whew!

The teacher overdid himself. He made sure to give positive critique on at least one piece that everyone put on the wall, but then he went on a bloody merciless quest, aimed at helping us move forward, as he saw it.

Oh, so it's examples you want?

OK, here's one: "The eyes in this face look like he is blind. Or like someone poked it."

Or, "The drawing is very good, but the color... you know, it reminds me of the time we were kids and we were painting by numbers."

Or, "Looking at these two drawings, you can really see the contrast - because this one is so good... and the other one, well (chuckle), the good one just makes me not want to go back to the other one".

Or, "You overstated the creases in the dress. It's enough if you say something one time, you don't need to say it over and over again three hundred times".

Or, "This is supposed to be a self-portrait... well, I didn't know your mother, but I bet you she looked like that".

Or, "OK, you've shown us what you can do. Now - move on! show us what you cannot do."

And on.

- - - And on.

And, mind you, I didn't even get the harshest critique! My share was the highly ecouraging comment about saying something 300 times... and it was said about the little sketch of the crossed legs I did here , which I happen to like quite a bit. Some of the students looked at me with anticipation, but I remained calm. Well, except my eyes that were shooting arrows.

At some point, at he was roasting Al's work, he said "Mind you, everyone has an opinion, so even if I say something about a certain drawing, it doesn't necessarily mean that I am the gospel".

"No, you are not", said a little voice.

And soon enough, I ouched with pain as MembieM kicked my leg and frantically shushed me. "Oh, did I actually say that out loud?" I asked her, and her uncontrolled laughter proved to me that indeed, that little voice was mine.

But then, oh sweet revenge... MembieM wanted to share an incredible monoprint she did at a new exciting class she is taking. A wonderful portrait, truly impressive, absolutely expressive. She showed it to the appreciative class, and the teacher said "Oh, a monoprint. Let me tell you about monoprint... it's this process in which you smear ink on glass - "

"Actually, it's Plexiglas", said MembieM.

"OK, whatever - Plexiglas, and then you take some of the ink off, and transfer it to paper using a brayer - - "

"Um, we use a press", corrected MembieM.

"A what!?", grunted the teacher (he does not like to be interrupted nor contradicted - yeah, he's a man!).

"A press", replied MembieM with her sweetest smile.

"Yeah... anyhow", he proceeded to educate us, "then you make the print. Technically, it's not really a print, as you can only get one print out of it, so - - - "

"As a matter of fact, you can get two!", cheered MembieM and - like a magician pulling a bunny out of the hat - presented us with a second print of that very same image, or what's called 'the ghost'.

At that point, the teacher seemed quite miffed, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Sure, it may be small and petty, but looking around, I wasn't the only one giggling.

"Oh well, I guess so...", he surrendered. But, having to have the last word, he added "...and as you can all see, the ghost print is better!".

"Hmm... I disagree. The original print is MUCH better! it's got more mood!!!" - that was Val, who's just had enough.

"No, it's scary", snickered the teacher.

"Yeah, well, I did say mood", insisted Val.

While all that was going on, I kept myself from bursting out by delving into sketching. I captured Al and CrystieG as they were watching in disbelief the teacher slaughtering yet another painting.

So, that was a good exercise in ego-survival, and more than that: it showed me that I've become pretty immune to criticizing. Judging art is so subjective, different people will always have different opinions about different paintings, and nobody is the gospel when it comes to art. Some people can give their opinion in a nice way, and some, well... I won't share The JohnnyB's definition, as this blog is rated PG (at least it was, the last time I checked).

I just can't help pondering: what's the reason for this tendency of the teacher to put everything and everyone down, and antagonize the class? Is that what he considers to be tough love?

And you know what's the funniest thing? I'm gonna take this class again next semester.

I can see your jaw dropping with sheer astonishment: why in the world would I wanna do that!?

It's a combination of wanting to paint from life, liking the atmosphere in class and the fact that there are no Prima Donnas in it (which is very refreshing). Plus, there's also that simple primeval instinct to survive, as LimaB is taking it next semester, and I promised her that I would too...

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman?

These days, my sister is going through our parents apartment in Jerusalem. (No, not New Jerusalem, OH... the original Jerusalem. Like, the real one).

A long process of sorting through everything, keeping what needs to be cherished and saying goodbye to the rest.

It's highly emotional, and a big part of letting go.

Being here, I only participate over the phone and emails.

She tells me of things she found, making my memory work overtime trying to remember what they are and what they look like; the smell inside that gorgeous commode(*) where all the snow-white linen sheets were stored; that huge purple crystal bowl that was used only once. The dancing doll (whom I used to call Wilhelmina, for some peculiar reason) with the key in her back; that black and orange dress of my mom; the square bottle of ma'zahr (essence of orange blossom) that my father used when he made his incredible desserts . . . oh yes, nostalgia rules.

From time to time, my sister scans something she found and surprises me with it: old photos that suddenly bring everyone back, alive and well; a letter from my high school informing my parents that I have miserably failed the Chemistry test (that one gave her so much joy I was concerned for her health!).

And today, this awaited in my Inbox: a drawing by moi, from 37 years ago.

I was in third grade, and apparently very proud of this work, as I clearly state the date (Gregorian and Hebrew, and in mom's handwriting, the Roman way of writing it), the grade I was in and the fact that it was done at the lighting of the eighth candle of Hanukkah, at our neighbors place.

Oh yeah, and I have signed it.

Not sure whether it's a self-portrait, and who I am in this masterpiece: the beheaded curly one at the bottom-left? the one with the cute dimples at the top right? or perhaps the cheery hobbit next to my signature?? whatever the answer may be, it's quite apparent that I was into figurative art even as a budding artist. Mostly faces. With a big emphasis on eyelashes.

A note to (my 8.5-year-old) self: good combination of text and images, decent balance achieved by filling up the space. Nice edge variety, and intriguing cropping of the poor torso-less figure up above. Also, interesting overlap of the dimpled diva whose legs become the features of the face underneath. Need to pay more attention to design (I'm guessing it's grid composition here?), try some lost edges here and there, and consider a wider spectrum of expressions.

Bids, anyone?


(*) The JohnnyB insists that 'commode' in American English means toilet(!???). Well, here it's meant as a chest of drawers. I go with the British on this one!

More Gazing

This is becoming frightfully repetitive, those models who pierce the classroom space with their bored eyes.

I am not complaining. Not really. Not sure what I'd do if I had to sit in the same pose for 3 hours, but for us class takers it kills inspiration, again and again.

Or does it?

Last week, at figure class, it was portrait time again. This time we had Paul, a guy with quite an ordinary face and a beret-like hat. Nothing exciting.

And yes, he just sat there. Gazing, as you'd expect.

We had 3 hours, and I was bored out of my mind to begin with, so I started off with just rendering his features, slouching in my chair and waiting for the time to pass. I just did them nonchalantly, holding my eyes wide open with my fingers in a desperate attempt to not fall asleep. What I felt towards this model was also reflected in the colors I chose. Did I mention sheer lack of excitement?

Another look at the clock - but I could swear someone has used Superglue on its hands. Time froze, the earth thawed, glaciers melted, penguins gently simmered in the hot-tub-like water - and Paul sat there, gazing.

To add to it all, he looked so much like someone I really, Really, REALLY loathe. I mentioned it to MembieM and CrystieG and they nodded in pity.

After I'd done 4 portraits of this guy, and as always happens when you paint the same subject several times and get to a point when you just wonder why - - - madness took place. I got angry. I got tired of this fancy faced model who sat there basking in the light of the lamp, looking so, so... beige.

My patience came to an end. I pulled out a set of vibrant watercolor brush pens that are probably non-archival and unprofessional - but I couldn't care less at that stage.

I lost all control, and started to have fun for the first time in that session.

Those who sat next to me got all excited at the fun colors (yeah, by now you may have guessed that everyone was reaching for the browns, not just me).

The teacher was doing his walks amongst us, complimenting everybody and raving about their work in extreme superlatives. When he saw mine - he came to a screeching halt, and then proceeded to the others. He was horrified, to say the least, which amused me a lot.

And then, after that got out of my system, I could move on to a more peaceful piece. After all, it wasn't the model's fault that he resembles someone I dislike, right?

This last one was sheer joy. Using one of those fun multicolored pencils, I let it do its own thing, used line to define shapes and kept restating rather than fixing or erasing, which added a sense of energy. The teacher? Ah, he was almost in tears... finally I came up with something that he absolutely loved. He couldn't take his eyes (and hands) off the drawing, and declared "This is your best drawing in this class".

I am not sure I agree with him, but I do like it.

OK, My Turn Now...

Myrna and David have become famous overnight, having one of their incredible pieces in a museum. Always learning from the best, I decided to follow that path of fame.

Looking good, I dare say. I only wish people would stop taking photos of artwork in museums. It's truly and absolutely annoying, especially when one of them is facing the wrong way...

Wanna get your painting in a museum too? It's as easy as can be! Just go to this fun site, and you're in. No nasty jurors, no competition - you get the limelight all to yourself and bask in the glow. Nothing cures a wounded ego like self delusion.

Why wounded?

Oh, this painting of mine is hanging in our Annual Show (which is an incredible show this year!). It's one in a series, and some of you may recall its older brother, "Dust to Dust". But, this one is titled ""Lost Edges". Also, this one did not get an award.

What I did get is many, many encouraging comments from visitors to the show, fellow artists and - ah, tears are choking my throat - The JohnnyB voted for it as his favorite piece in the show! By now you know very well that The JohnnyB is never ever lying about this kind of stuff. In fact, he is the first to tell me when he does not appreciate an artwork of mine, no matter how proud I am of it.

Oh, and . . . one person, apparently, liked it so much that she kept going to the show to look at it.

She went and looked.

- - - And went and looked.

- - - - - - And went and looked.

- - - - - - - - - And went and looked.

And at the reception (held on Sunday), she bought it. She is a fellow artist, CookieA, a fun person, a wonderful artist (and - needless to say - has an exquisite taste in art ;-) and it is a huge compliment to know that my painting has touched her enough to want to have it in her house.

I am still thrilled.

I have entered this painting (together with two others) to the 2008 Statewide Watercolor Competition and Exhibition at the Triton Museum of Art. And, based on the good karma this visualization thingy seems to have brought Myrna, I decided to give it a try.

You never know...

Marveling at Marbling

In between preparations for our next upcoming watercolor show (opens this Saturday!), I went to a demo on Monday, at the other organization I belong to. Not the watercolor-only, but one that's open for all media (and whose shows have been quite good to me :-)

They hold a montlhy meeting with a demonstrator (usually) or a speaker (rarely, as the attention span of artists is a bit... um... hey, look! blue car!).

This month, it was a talented and truly sweet artist, named Yoju . She was showing us the art of Suminagashi, translates to 'Spilled Ink', and is a Japanese the Italian marbling technique. Her English wasn't the best - but it didn't matter. At all. She started creating some cool patterns by dripping ink into water mixed with a gelling agent, played the inks with brushes and tooth picks and then laid a sheet of rice paper on top of the water, cleaned around the edges, pulled it up - and we all WOWed appreciatively at the result. The outcome was incredibly beautiful: a flowing pattern of blacks and white, sensuous lines, curvaceous shapes - we all chanted harmoniously with the known "Ohh, if I could do that!".

And as we were standing around with sheer admiration, she took that stuning masterpiece, crumpled the paper and tossed it to the garbage can, as nonchalant as can be.

A gasp passed across the room.

"Ah, this? this no good enough. This just demo" she said joyously and proceeded to create another not-good-enough pattern. Only this time, well prepared protests from a couple of women have prevented her from destroying that second piece. She gave us a "whatever" look and agreed to put it on the table rather that get rid of it.

And then came the best part of the evening!

See, Yoju didn't just show us what she can do. She came bearing a lot materials for us to play with, set four little bathtubs filled with the magic solution, and motioned that it's time for us to have a go at it. Inks, brushes, rice paper - it was all ours to experiment with.

And experiment we did! Ever seen a bunch of kindergarten kids doing finger painting?

Well, that's not as half the fun that went on there...

I did one piece, then waited garciouly for the lines to dwindle and went for a second. VallieM just kept going - I think she stopped at three just because Yoju had to go home... "It's fun!" she announced to LimaB and me who were thoroughly enjoying watching her.

I returned home extatic, burst through the door and showed The JohnnyB my breathtakingly straight-to-The-New-York-MOMA pieces of art.

"Amazing, no?", I hinted the need for feedback.

"Nope", was the answer.

Did I mention the Minnesotan ultra-honest breed he's coming from?

Auctioning off Some F Artwork

Art critique, anyone?

Beware - this is smothered with the F word, and yet I couldn't resist posting it . If you wanna read more about this comedian and whom he is mocking - it's right here.

All That Jazz

We had our second clothed figure drawing class session yesterday.

Being a class with a model, it's a hit or miss, at least for me. I personally find it tricky to draw or paint a model who doesn't make me respond with a desire to render them.

Last week we had a young pretty model (not a good start) who was wearing a black dress (not very inspiring) with long slits along the legs (OK, maybe there's hope) with some scarlet fabric showing through (getting better!) and a straw hat (Yay!!).

However - despite the wonderful possibilities her outfit had to offer, the teacher asked her to just sit in a chair. One single boring pose for the whole time. He also made her take off the hat, as it covers her face. The black dress made her look like a pile of dark, and the sitting pose was so uninspiring that it started a domino effect of people sneaking out. I managed to paint a bit with watercolors, but after two additional attempts I left. There was still more than an hour till the end of class.

I know, I know, some will say an artist has to adjust to whatever the circumstances are and make the most out of the model and the painting time. Well, not this artist. If no inspiration nor fun are involved, then what's the point except for getting frustrated?

But yesterday, ahhhh, yesterday we had Chuck. A male model whom - over the 6 years I've been doing art here - I came to know quite well. I did so many drawings of him in portrait class and life drawing class and quick sketching class.

He's a real pro, and - especially in the sketching classes - always brings something special. He once came with roller blades and delighted us with various skating poses, almost splitting his head open. Another time he was a cowboy, with a gun and all (NRA and Palin would've had tears of joy and pride). But, I've never actually painted him.


Yesterday, he came carrying musical instruments (as, among his other occupations, this guy is playing jazz).

He started with a standing pose, holding a flugelhorn, looking very convincing like someone who's just taking a short break from playin'.

I didn't feel like messing with charcoal that day, and so I went for watercolors - to the dismay of the teacher. He always preaches me to paint differently than I the way do, which sometimes annoys the hell out of me as I don't believe in following someone else's style of painting. I wanna paint like me, OK?

We only had three session of 15 minutes each for this pose, and when I was done, VallieM and MembieM looked at the painting and claimed they love the expression.

Me? I kinda liked what I ended up with, but to me, he seems to whine (quite justifiably) "what have I ever done to you that you gave me such tiny hands? Why oh why???". in my defense, let me say that almost everyone who tried to commemorate his hands came up with tiny squirrel-like hands like the ones I did. So there!.

The other was a sitting pose. "Oh, just sit in that chair" said the teacher.

I was just about to sigh and pack my stuff, expecting last week to déjà vu all over again, but wait - Chuck - being the professional model that he is - pulled it off beautifully, and went for a pose of someone in deep thought, holding his shiny blue saxophone in his lap (I haven't seen one before either. A blue saxophone, that is. Not a lap!), and looking very weary.

It was just the kind of scene I'd photograph if I saw it in a jazz club, so I cheerfully went for it. This time, I decided to actually draw him first, before going for the paintbrush. The teacher was overjoyed, almost in tears, when he saw me actually using a Pitt pen to render the figure with a quick line, claiming he appreciates what I am doing.

What can I say - it worked. No more deformed hand, no huge head on a tiny body, no reprimanding look from the painted model. And, since I was on a frenzy of listening to the teacher, I stopped in time before ruining the freshness of the quick brush strokes. (OK, I only ruined them a bit).

I came home very proud and showed my masterpieces to The JohnnyB.

"What do you think?" , I beamed with pride.

Being his usual honest self, he said: "I think you like these paintings much more than I do".

OK. At least when he says something good, I know he really means it.

But hey, the good news is that Chuck agreed to have his picture taken, so I went paparazzi on him. Now that I have reference photos and the on-location sketch, the sky is the limit. No?

Chihuly (or - He Who Lives in a Glass House...)

Sometimes, it's best to leave your expectations at home. Just air them out, leave them behind.

That's what I did yesterday, when I went to see the so-much-spoken-of Chihuly exhibition at the De Young museum of art in San Francisco.

Y'see, at the risk of losing all my readers at once, I'll go ahead and admit that I never really liked Chihuly's art. I know, I know - he is considered to be a highly-superlativized genius, and who am I to object, but, well, I always perceived his work as too colorful, too screaming, too showy, too - you name it.

And yet - everyone who went to this exhibit came back utterly impressed. Plus, Katherine Chang-Liu (who's workshop I took a coupe of years ago) said something that really stuck with me: "go see art that annoys you - and try figuring out why is it art and not crap. It will open and expand your horizons you more than you can imagine!". Alas, The JohnnyB does not abide by that principle, and he refused to come with me, as he shares my opinion about the work, but - do not despair: a couple of months ago, DiploK ((whom you may remember from this post, and who is also blessed with a husband who's sick and tired of going to every art show), has proposed to me to become her 'Art Wife'.

Choked with emotions, I accepted.

And so, we went to the city.

Luckily, I'm a member of the De Young, which paid off for this exhibit, as apparently this exhibit is considered to be a special one, which means you pay to see it (Aha! but not if you're a member!). Plus, it's timed! Like, you get a little sticker that entitles you to go in, and it has a time stamp that tells you you have to get in there by 1pm (in our case).

So, you go to the end of the v-e--r---y l----o-------n--------g line of anticipating people, and wait to be let in. I personally hated this, and got more agitated once got close to the entrance and realized that if we wish to have the headset that enlightens you about the exhibit, you need to take out more dollars and give them to the nice ladies there (a total rip-off, if you ask me). Sicne I did all the driivng up and back, DiploK treated me to a headset and in we went, with me muttering all kinds of things that were as far as can be from positive attitude. Yup, you betcha I was cranky by all this hype.

...until we got to the first room.

The exhibit is spread over 11 rooms (galleries, as they call it), each has a separate body of work, a different feel and mood. The rooms are dark and only the glasswork is lit, which adds a very impressive effect. Yes, there was a lot of the ultra-colorful stuff that I was expecting and am not crazy about, but some of the galleries have just left me speechless with awe. Like the absolutely stunning glass pieces inspired by Navajo blankets and baskets, or the snowy feel of Finland, so elegantly done with countless tall thin bluish-purple glass thingies installed on top of trees with peeling bark, looking like a Hannukia on steroids. Or the huge water-lily-like sculptures. Or the immense bowls.

I was impressed beyond words. What a misjudgment it was to think Chihuly was just about gaudy flashy art. Apparently, he has another side, perhaps less-known, and I loved his more limited-palette works, especially the Navajo-inspired ones.

For reasons I cannot fathom, it was actually allowed to take photos (I still cannot believe it!), so I can shared some of it.

WackieM mentioned to me today that if you've never tried glass-blowing, you cannot quite appreciate the mastery that Chihuly has achieved in his work. So, novices like me just look at some of his work and go "Oh, that's big. OK". But - it's not that obvious, so it seems. Thinking of it, I realized it's a bit like how you look at a painting. So many times I heard the comment "Ohhh, look at that painting - look at all those details!", which is likely to be said by most people who do not paint or draw. But those of us who do, tend to stop at their tracks at the sight of a very minimal artwork with very few details, admire it forever and sigh "Ah, if I could only do that! Just suggest rather than feed all the information to the viewer with a silver spoon".

And maybe that's why I lean more towards his clean-lined work, rather than all the spiky thorny swirly multicolored look-at-me pieces.

As DiploK and I were having lunch, trying to digest all the wonders that we've seen, we mentioned the pieces that were for sale at the gift shop. There were a couple of glorious bowls by Chihuly, for the symbolic price of several thousands dollars (well, the dollar did go down, so if you think if foreign currency, maybe it's not so pricy...). I was drooling about those, when DiploK's imagination started to get into the fast-forward mode.

"You think we could load one of those big pieces from the exhibit into your Beetle?", she pondered.

"Sure!", I joined her little fantasy game, "my Beetle has a sun-roof, we can open it. And leave the windows open too, for the spikes to stick out".

She grinned at me, about to continue, but then I stopped her thread of thought.

"There is one problem", I said sadly. "I am not sure they are microwave safe. Y'see, those huge bowls would be perfect for baking a casserole in them".

But a person like DiploK would not let such triviality stop her.

"Ah, we can go back to the exhibit hall and turn them over, check if it is microwave safe", she solved my problem.

At this point, the woman eavesdropping from the table next to ours almost choked on her food.

Some people just don't have any sense of humor.

Downhill?

Had the second session of the figure drawing class on Thursday. This time, a male model. An Asian man, who held the same pose throughout the whole 3 hours (yes, of course with 5-minute breaks!). The teacher intended that we have the opportunity to draw him from different angles, and have a sculptural comprehension of the figure.

The guy sat in the chair, very upright and calm, and took an emperor-like pose, looking very dignified and royal (save the missing teeth in his mouth). He had a great face, wonderful arms and expressive hands, his poise was so utterly perfect! everything I could wish for - - -

- - - and it made me feel so intimidated, so inadequate to capture him. The words of Alex Powers echoed in my head, yet again: "When a subject for a painting is extremely exciting... it inhibits changes and consequently curbs creativity".

Sure is.

In such a situation, one should make it easy on oneself, get acquainted with the new subject via drawing, keep it simple. Right?

Well, not when the one is yours truly..

Rather than going for charcoal, I decided on watercolor as my first attempt, introducing color to the challenge. This time, I did use my better paints, but did not get rid of the low-grade paper (I know, I know, Sandy... but hey - one step at a time).

I was loose, and daring, and colorful, and expressive - I was having a good time!

Then came the teacher.

"Too much line", he said.

"Too much information", he said.

"Less is more", he said.

"Too much going on", he said.

"It reminds me what my pappy used to say to me: 'Don't put on your plate more than you can eat'", he reminisced.

Ahhh, the hell with it!

I put the watercolor aside, abandoned my table and went to sit on the floor below the model, this time reverting to the charcoal, which gave me fame last week.

But - I was already pissed. I keep telling myself that I should not draw/paint in order to get a "wow" from the teacher, as teachers tend to wow about results that match what they like (by now I know that critique is never objective, nor is it detached from personal taste). And yet, negative feedback still gets to me, carrying a short-term impact.

I started to draw aiming at putting less details in, trying to leave a lot for the viewers to complete in their minds.

I came up with quite a decent drawing, that got a lot of appreciative looks from a fellow-drawer who was sitting next to me. Cool.

Then I started to ruin it. Don't ask me why. I was annoyed, hence I got into this vicious circle of making myself more irritated. I am good at that.

Then it was time for the last 20 minutes.

10 minutes, actually, as the end was near. (of class, that is).

I rushed to the restroom, restored the pinkness of my hands (I believe I broke a whole new record of being covered with charcoal!), and reached for the watercolor crayons and a new piece of paper. All these preparations have cost me 5 more precious minutes

"I'm just gonna have fun now!", I exclaimed to my angry self.

I chose to concentrate on the hands this time, did a quick study in 5 minutes. Wrong proportions, totally unfinished, but I kinda like it.

The good news is that the model allowed photography. ("only for reference, not for publishing", he warned me. Well, Duh!). I cannot grasp how come I was the only one who took his photos!

So, some day I might actually make a successful piece with the photos and based on these studies.

He really does have a great face!

97 Degrees In The Shade...

...That's where the temperatures were aiming at on Saturday, totally ignoring the dozens of artists who assembled on the grounds of the Triton Museum in Santa Clara to display their art.

97 degrees (36 Celsius) before the end of June - as if the weather decided to justify the name of the event "Midsummer Art Celebration".

I was showing with two organizations - watercolors with one of them, photography with the other. It took A LOT of preparation and work, from choosing what to display, to printing it (photography) or adding last-minute touches (paintings), to matting and framing and creating labels and deciding on pricing and designing myself two business cards (one for each display) - throughout the whole time, The JohnnyB provided moral support and helped me choose, price, frame, assemble, arrange, stay sane...

...After a night of troubled sleep, I woke up early Saturday. We loaded our two cars - and off we went, to the fair. A frantic email from one of the organizers has sent The JohnnyB off to buy loads of ice and bottled water, to make sure his lovely wife and her artist friends (well, at least the ones in both groups she was showing with) would not go into a domino-effect of fainting. While he was away, I hung my paintings in one place, ran to hang the photography in another, ran back to the paintings site to arrange and rearrange, back to the photography display - it was damn hot!

But at 10am, as the place opened to the public, we were a all smiling and calm, (I wish I could say 'cool', but that would be a lie - we were all flushed and sweaty by then), awaiting potential collectors.

It was my very first time to be in an art fair as one of the displaying artists. I never thought I would, as I always felt there's something sad about sitting around waiting for people to come see your art. I mean, you put your soul on the display panels, you wait for appreciative eyes, and sometimes all you meet is a bored indifferent look - - -

- - - ah, wait, but that happens anyway, even with people who come to our house and look (or don't) at the art hung on the wall with no comment.

So, I decided to go for it, with both organizations.

It was a hot, hot day. One booth (with the watercolors) was underneath some nice shady trees, the other in what seemed to be the hottest spot on the planet - no shade, save for a couple of clouds who came by to visit around noon, and then decided to pull a joke and rain on us all for 2 minutes. It was short, but enough to send some artists flying in panic to save their art from the conniving drops. I just enjoyed the much needed shower, and then it got a bit more bearable, with some breeze.

All in all, it was a fun day.

Lots of mingling with fellow artists, not so much - alas - with visitors to the event, as, well, not many have come. Lack of publicity, plus a tucked away location, topped by the heat, kept people indoors and away from our art.

As the more experienced amongst us exclaimed, it was the worst sales event ever. I wouldn't know, as it was my very first time at that. Yes, I hoped to sell something; I have never showed such a body of work at one time (6 paintings plus 6 photographs plus 5 matted pieces) - but once I saw that most people came looking for small inexpensive things, with very few exceptions, I managed to reset my expectations, and prevented myself from being disappointed. All the artists got into this sarcastic mode, in which a sale of a $4 card was celebrated with cheers and cold water. I didn't have time to print cards, so I wasn't amongst the celebrated ones.

It was a huge learning experience, an intoxicating feeling of getting very positive feedback on my photography (which was a novelty to those who know me mainly as a painter), and an initiation by fire (well, it was hot enough!) to the world of art fairs.

And now, we rest.

And Now for Something Completely Different...

Our critique group is having an exhibit at a hi-tech company. The opportunity presented itself when someone from that company was at the gym with BearGal, they got into a conversation while being bored to death on the Stairmaster - - - and so the idea was born.

At first, I wasn't very keen on painting anything for that show, to say the least. Y'see, I used to work for that company, and, well... let's not dwell upon the past.

Then, a week ago, WebbieM emailed me about her needing to paint for that show. After I replied to her with a lengthy explanation that I am NOT going to do anything special for that place, and that the maximum I am willing to do is dig some artworks and toss it at their general direction, I thought to myself... like... we are showing at a hi-tech company... The JohnnyB is working for a hi-tech company... well - wouldn't it be fun to make a homage for his stressful time and create a piece of him in that context?

It would.

Spent hours downloading all kinds of chip-design related stuff and images (Google is a wonderful thing!), spent gallons of ink printing them, and was very happy with the pile of material I had to work with.

Then I got stuck. An essential stage in the artistic process.

On Tuesday night, came the muse. at 10pm, I chose an image of The JohnnyB which I have already done for his personal calendar, drew it on a canvas (a first! I always work on paper or matboard for collages), and started to collage, using pieces from the printed material.

My sister watched me, following the process from the start, through the stage of what-the-hell-do-I-do-now, and then went to bed.

By 2am, I was done.

Of course, it had to pass a preliminary review by The JohnnyB in the morning (as, after all, he is featured in it). He gave it a lukewarm look, filed an official complaint about his arm being too big (that's called foreshortening...) and claimed it is still unfinished. Yup, I married him for the ego boost.
I added some finishing touches with a brush, and rushed to the house of BearGal to deposit it in her trusty hands, and see if it would make it into the preview display they were about to hang that day, featuring some selected works.

And lo and behold - - - It made it in!

I guess it is finished, then.

Freddie, Art Critic

Among other activities, our watercolor organization arranges weekly paint outs (or, to be fancy, plein-air painting outings). I usually do not participate in them, as they collide with our critique group meetings, and I am not quite a landscape painter.

But today was an afternoon session. Plus it was held in a Japanese garden. Plus the organizer, PleinieJ, is a wonderful fiber artist (in addition to being a great plein air painter), so my sister - also a fiber artist - wanted to look at PleinieJ's work and show off with her own (after impressing the critique group with them this morning. Hey, one of the works had gallstones - which she incorporated into the piece after undergoing a gall bladder surgery).

So we went.

It's a lovely place, as Japanese gardens tend to be: the token wooden bridge, a pond filled with koi fish, ducks, sculpted little trees, background rocks - and I am sure somewhere in the garden was hiding the inevitable bamboo thingy with water dripping through. Y'know, the thingy that makes this noise without which a Japanese garden is just not it. Painters with their easels were spread all around the garden, rendering the beauty with their brushes; my sister was taking photos as she's never seen a Japanese garden before (well, she hasn't, actually); and I - I looked for something to sketch.

I tried drawing the ducks... the plants... almost attempted the koi - all with no success.

And suddenly - an adorable chubby little kid, accompanied by his mom and aunt approached the pond. He stood there fascinated, admiring the ducks and fish and water and little tadpoles and whatnot. The other painters frowned, as he blocked their view - but I was beaming, as I have found my subject!!

I skecthed his gesture quickly, as - being a little kid, he moved quite a bit, but I recalled what our incredible sketching teacher, Jim Smyth, used to tell us: "Little kids and athletes have a very limited repertoire of poses - if you sketch them, and they move, just wait till they get back to that pose again". As always, he was right.

So, I sketched the little guy, trying to capture his nonchalant yet curious pose. One minute - that's all I had, before he abandoned the ducks and came to see what I was doing. I showed him the sketch. He was utterly unimpressed, informed me his name was Freddie, and went back to the pond. They left, and I sat there, adding some colors and the surroundings. Then they came back. Freddie was very keen on feeding the ducks (by that time, my camera was ready!). While he was becoming popular with the ducks, his aunt approached me, and after a lot of hesitation asked if she could take a photo of my sketch.

"Sure", I replied graciously.

But then, I gave it another thought, and said "actually... let ME take a photo, and I'll give you the original".

She was quite surprised by the offer, and after I made sure she indeed likes it (and won't just toss it in the nearest garbage can), I insisted.

I took a photo, signed the sketch, and carefully tore the page out of my sketchbook. Again, Freddie came to see what the commotion is about. Again, he couldn't cares less, showed me the bag of marshmallows he took out of his mom's basket, and exclaimed "Mine!".

His mom offered me one - and he tried to hide his anxiety. I politely said "No" (you don't want to upset the model!) but she insisted, so I carefully took one piece. By the time my sister was offered a marshmallow, Freddie's wide open eyes were showing increasing signs of distress. As tempted as it was, we rejected a second piece. After all, that would have been like taking candy from a baby...

We parted as friends, and after a while, I admit had some pangs of regret that I gave the sketch away, as I liked it quite a bit. But hey - a random act of kindness. Plus, I took so many photos of Freddie, that he might become a series one day.

Obviously, Freddie's own opinion was that a piece of marshmallow was way too high a price to pay for a sketch...

The Devil's in The Details

Last week, the temperatures were peaking at 100. Then it got nice and cozy, very spring-like. And today, winter is back. Gray skies, chilly - and even rain. Feels like California got into some crazy time machine that got broken.

But yesterday, before this sudden winter, my sister and I managed to go and visit the fair Filoli Center, with its flowers and greenery and sculpted gardens and all.

The roses were in blossom, generously spreading their perfume, the lavender pitched in the aromatic festival with its usual stunning purpleness, joined by other flowers in varying shades of purple and orange (whoever designs the gardens there has an exquisite sense of color!), and many more blossoms whose names I shall never know.

It really was lovely; a nice break from the shopping sprees we got into (in my defense: I'm still sick and thus cannot really drive around; the paradox is that standing for hours in stores does not make me feel any better... on the contrary).

We strolled through the beauty, enjoying the sights, smells and the fact that we do not need to water all these plants.

Eventually we went into the house (which is quite impressive if you are one of those fancy-house lovers, with chandeliers and carpets and heavy furniture and window treatments and a drawing room and a refectory and the China from which they used ot drink tea and a living room and another living room and - well, y'know).

My sister went to visit the rest room, and while waiting for her, I examined the artwork on the nearby wall. Two big paintings of sailing ships hung very high above the extra-high doors, and in between them a third piece that looked impressively three-dimensional. A close look revealed that it really was 3D, with plastic sails glued onto the canvas... I gazed at the paintings and the 3D critter with sheer boredom, filled with thoughts of how much I dislike this kind of art, when the docent approached me.

She smiled at me - and immdiately frowned at my sister's big black purse which was in the carpet.

"Oh, I thought it was a cat!", she realized her mistake.

"Nope, it isn't", I assured her.

"So", she turned to me, wearing back her smile, "I see you are admiring the details in these pictures?".

For a moment there, I contemplated giving her a lecture about details having nothing to do with quality of art, about going beyond the obvious and reaching higher for expressiveness, about the elements of design being sacrified so often in favor of mediocre art - - -

But instead, I just smiled and said with my sweetest voice: "Oh yes".

Because sometimes, it's just easier.

Juried

Since I've started to show my art, I only went for safe shows. The ones that are member shows, to which you get automatically accepted, as there is no jurying process. Actually, this show was kinda juried, as if you entered 3 artworks you were guaranteed one in, but the others could be rejected.

WackieM keeps telling me, "It's about time you added some rejections to your resume!", but I keep stalling.

I think I still carry the scars from that first time I tried entering a juried show,. It was about 5 years ago, with a collage I created - and it was rejected. It was supposed to be my very first show as a painter, and I got so discouraged, that I went home and threw away that piece as well as all the other canvases I painted (I used to paint acrylics back then). Not only that, I also deleted the photos I took of them. Went for the scorched earth method, big time. I was new into art, and I thought the rejection was a clear message that I am not good enough. Luckily, I took Mike's incredible class, and that got back to painting, big time.

Me? Emotional? no................. How can you say that?

I thought jurors and judges of art shows are the ultimate authority, and their choice can be a significant input on my artistic skills. Little did I know... Since then I have seen many shows, been in some, got a couple of awards, and above all - learned that selecting paintings in a juried show or selecting the award winners is a subjective matter that has a lot to do with personal taste. unless you type the criteria into a computer and let it do the choosing, personal taste will always be a significant of the choice. Can't escape that.

Now that I am wiser, I can only kick myself for responding so strongly (and oh so stupidly) to that rejection. Looking back after all I know about color and design, I now know the collage that was rejected was a good one. I did it right after the first Cirque Du Soleil show I went to (the unforgettable Varekai), so it was fresh and personal and expressive - well, damn good! And I don't even have the photo, as I deleted that as well. But I'll always have it burnt in my mind.

So - our organization is now having a juried show, for the first time in 20 years or so. Why juried? 'cause in our quest to find better venues for our members (as in not just a library, a cafe or an abandoned building...), we managed to get into Gallery Saratoga, a place that has a lot of foot traffic, in the quaint downtown of Saratoga. We were given one long wall in the gallery (and then granted another small space), that can only hold about 25 pieces - even after limiting the size of the paintings. We had 50 entries, which meant that 50% will be rejected. Artists could enter one or two pieces, and since I handled the registration, I was blessed with headaches galore due to the constant repeating of the rules and size limits to people over and over again, as sooooooooooo many artists do not bother to read and follow instructions. So, that was a joyous fortnight full of hair-tearing and a lot of cussing.

I also volunteered to help hang the show. I love hanging shows! While exhausting, is so very satisfying to start with a bunch of paintings scattered around and end up with a nice colorful jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces fit harmoniously together.

Between these, I was very aware of the fact my paintings might not make it in, in which case it means I am doing all the work for a show in which I have none of my work.

Tough call, eh?

Going to the gallery on Monday morning, my fears increased, as there were so many good paintings there! We all seemed nervous, including our exhibits co-chairs who organized the show - nobody knew who's gonna be in and who will end up carrying the paintings back to the car. So we all registered our paintings, leaning them against the bare wall of the gallery, and those of us who were in the hanging team went to have lunch, leaving the 3 jurors to do their job. The jurors were former presidents of our organization (which means some day I may be asked to do this too), and they are very sweet women, but when they were doing the jurying, boy did they seem tough! Examining each and every painting with scrutinizing eyes, critiquing it and deciding which will stay and which will go. I wish I were a fly on the wall, so I could see how they did it. By the time were allowed back into the gallery, I was just curious to see which paintings made it in. I was also glad I did not need to do the jurying - as far as I saw, all the paintings were good, and selection must have been tough.

Well, to my surprise and delight, both my paintings made it. The show is named "Let It Shine", to celebrate the approaching spring, and it's looking good!

Salvation

Not a new painting, but rather a rescued one.

This one has made quite a journey along the Via Dolorosa... starting as quite pristine clear washes (well, very pristine for my usual style!) through a miserable correction attempt that led to a valuable lesson and then to a frantic quest of salvaging it - I think it is now done.

I brought it to our critique group on Thursday, and the responses were positive. The 3 group members who were following the saga on my blog said that had they not been clued in on the turmoil, they wouldn't even know there was a problem with it. LimaB even called me after the meeting to file an official request that I do not touch that painting, as it is really a good one.

"Please, PLEASE don't touch it, Nava", she pled, knowing the power of my self-destructiveness.

Well, needless to say, I did go into it today with a brush (sorry, LimaB), but just to add some very final touches, which I actually think have improved it. Now the left cheek is not a flat surface, but finally has form.

So, counting my losses: I have lost the clean washes of pure color, and some of the white of the paper.

But - I managed to maintain the white shape, as well as most of the shapes in the painting and the pure color in the important parts. For someone who is not a shape painter, with a chronic tendency to dull all the color - this is a MAJOR achievement!!

And, I have gained a lot of fun, as in my rescue attempts, I got into the careless mode, so I allowed myself to used some stamping and gouache, which add depth and interest. And let's not forget that this incident inspired a sentence of the month post.

Bottom line - I think this final version is much more a "Nava" painting, and it does capture the essence of the person much better than the clear cheery one. Hmm... does that mean I actually need to thank The JohnnyB? Or is it my natural inclination to take an OK painting and bring it to a point of disaster so I revive it and take it beyond? Ah well, that's just too profound for a lazy Saturday afternoon...

Critique vs. Gut Feeling

...and sometimes, you should just not listen to your husband.

Remember I shared with y'all that The JohnnyB had some comments about the portrait I did at the Salminen workshop? That the forehead was protruding, and there was a bold spot on the left temple.

Well, it did not bother me.

It did not bother others who saw the painting.

In fact, I was soooooooo proud of the luminosity and pureness of the white shape; I was at awe that I have actually managed to maintain its virginity and not screw it (OK - minds out of the gutter, everyone! I am talking about a white shape, for heaven's sake!).

But last night, I decided to listen to The JohnnyB.

At 1am, I started to do some changes, intermittently using Mr. Clean Magic Eraser to lift some of the whites and a brush to paint around some of the white shapes in order to make them more approvable by the JohnnyB.

Big, MAJOR mistake.

As once you go into a painting that is pretty good and at the stage it could be ruined, you need to seriously consider what you are about to do.

And, as I have learned more than once, if my gut feeling and The JohnnyB say contradicting things, well - my gut feeling is right. This is what I tell a lot of fellow artists, this is what we always tell each other.

And yet - I chose to hush my guts.

And I regret it, deeply, as that is what it looks like right now.

And I can only blame myslef. (which makes it all even more annoying!).

Y'see, while the magic eraser indeed lifts the color very efficiently, it is not a time machine. Nor is it Superman. Thus, it does not bring back the pure white of the paper. What it does is create a shape that has an opaque-ish residue of the paint. This can be a beautiful effect, but not when you want a glowing pure area. AND it bruises the surface a bit, so now you have a different texture that - when painted on - stands out.

I know, this is all very "Duh!". But don't be so smug - if you're a painter, you know very well that once you have a brush in your hand, your left brain shuts down and all logic and common sense take a backseat to the right brain that cheerfully rushes forward with a stupid grin.

The thing with watercolor is that you can never get back that pure white. If you want to have the white of the paper showing, you have to save, protect and guard it with your life. Hmm.. maybe that's why I hardly ever have white in my work - with my style of painting, the chances of me leaving the white of the paper untouched are slimmer than a super model.

So now, with a partly erased eye, a scrubbed face and a lost glow, Salminen looks like he is about to cry. I almost did!

Went to bed, totally pissed (as the most annoying part is that I can only blame myself!!!), and in the morning informed WackieM that I am going to shove my head in the oven, as I have destroyed the painting. I also wrote why I did it.

She gave me some helpful advice about situations when you have a good painting that you think of changing, then comforted me with the it's-only-a-piece-of-paper mantra, and then provided me with the sentence of the month, as she wrote:

"When is The JohnnyB going to take Mike's class? Seems like he is itching to paint".

And that well-sharpened sarcasm is worth it all!