Jet Blue Art

So, after the initial delay of our flight, came Tuesday night, and we are on a plane to the East Coast.
A red eye flight.

The plane is overheated. Way overheated. Like, way Way WAAAAAAAAY overheated.

And because we were transferred from a flight that got cancelled 2 days before, I find myself stuck in the middle of the 3-seat row, between two strangers. (The JohnnyB is stuck in the row in front of me, between two other strangers, only his strangers are nicer).

The guy on my left is eating a sandwich with his mouth full open, chewing for the whole world to share his pleasure, and then - just when I am certain my nerves are strung to the maximum with his gastronomical concert of wet masticating, he decides to treat everyone to a grand finale with a bag of potato chips. Yes, they are very crunchy. No, he is not closing his mouth while munching on them. Why should he? The other passengers may miss his joy.

To add to the joy, the stranger in the isle seat (to my right) is sleeping. Which is fine. Only she keeps yawning. Loudly. And, judging by the delightful scent, she hasn't brushed her teeth since she her first tooth has budded.

OK then, I put my sleeve up to my nose. The window seat dude is done with his chips and is now deep asleep; by some unfathomed miracle, he is not snoring. I try to sleep, as I am very tired. It's been a long day and it is, after all, a red-eye flight.

But - lo and behold - two rows behind, on the right, someone keeps sniffing.

And sniffing.

And sniffing.

And sniffing.

He's got a cold.

The concept of tissues has obviosuly escaped him. So, he sniffs.

I desperately try to sleep, despite the noises.

Aha - now the flight attendant is rustling with the bags of chips. Apparently, 1am is the perfect time to rearrange them.

My back is painfully stiff, as the Jet Blue seats, while allowing a lot of leg-room, only recline about 20 degrees or so. I dunno why.

There's a personal tiny TV screen in front of me, with an impressive selection of shows to watch. But apparently I am expected to bring my own head phones. They do not give nor sell them on the plane.

I can't sleep, I can't watch TV - by now I am too agitated to read, so I sketch the boring image that's frozen on my screen. Twice. Different styles. I've got time. Plenty of time.

The 4.5 hours of the flight finally come to an end, and my neighbors look very refreshed (with the exception of the mouth of the isle-seat gal).

The wait at the JFK airport is not as bad - Jet Blue has a new cool and hip section there, with colorful sofas (all full of passengers in various poses of being fast asleep) and fun food court and a jazz band(!) playing Christmas songs. And they are pretty good too.

The next flight boards pretty much on time, and The JohnnyB and I are - yet again - separately stuck between two strangers. And again, The JohnnyB's share of neighbors is far better than mine. Because, guess what: the guy sitting on my left is now sniffing. For the whole duration of the flight (he has loads of napkins that come with his drinks, but - needless to say - he is not using them to blow his damn nose once and for all).

And this flight has an additional twist to it: one row behind, on the left, a gal is chatting up a guy with one of those high-pitch voices. She asks him everything one needs to know, from which school he went to, to what his parents do. The guy is obviously charmed, as he answers all her questions obediently. And, to each answer she responds with a braying laughter. One of those phony yet very vocal laughs. Everything he says gets a laughter. EVERYTHING! I sneak a peek, and realize that the poor woman sitting to the left of the girl is close to tears, with head phones and a miserable face on. I send her a sympathetic look. I mean, I am sitting 2 rows ahead and am struggling with a passionate desire to get up and choke that brayer - what must she feel like?.

Again, I accept the no-chance-of-sleep-here-either verdict, and start to sketch the frozen image on the screen in front of me. Luckily, it's a different image, and is one of my favorite actors, Javier Bardem, who - despite his violent roles in movies (have you seen "No Land for Old Men"!?), has a very cute smile on his face.


So I sketch him, too.

Luckily, this flight only lasts less than an hour.

We get off the plane, many passengers are shooting murderous looks at the blond (yup, she is blond) bimbo (yup, she is) who garnished every minute of the flight with her nerve-wracking laugher.

The JohnnyB's mother and sister welcome us near the baggage claim carousel, commenting that I look very tired and somewhat stressed. and with very bloodshot eyes.

On the way out, The JohnnyB's mom has a golden opportunity to smash into the bimbo's car. Alas, she doesn't.

I don't think I'll fly red-eye in the near future, but - going for a cocktail of silver lining and half-full glass: a yield of 3 sketches is not so bad for my state of mind.

'Tis the Season #2

Sent by Myrna (thank you!!!) and had to be shared with the world.

So - what are you getting for the holidays?

'Tis the Season #1

It seems that everyone is running around in frenzy these days. The parking lots are full of killer drivers, stores are packed people on gift quests, family visits are in the horizon - and there's an edginess in the air, a higher susception to cranky sprees, and - needless to say - this cheery spirit is getting to us all.

So, I figured that as a service to the public, I'd remind y'all (and us'all) of these simple rules of survival.

The first one was sent to me by David (thanks!). I found the second one and added it for balance, harmony, contrast - name your favorite design relationship...

And the counterpoint:

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!

Another Gaze

Figure class again.

One endless pose, yet again, like last week.

This time, the teacher wanted us to go for the portrait rather than the whole figure. Yes, I know what y'all are thinking. Indeed, I've been doing mostly portraits the whole time, but that was just me and a couple of others in class. Needless to say, because he told us to do a portrait, MembieM (who always, ALWAYS does stunning portraits) cheerfully went for a full-figure. I filed a complaint to her that being the rebel has always been my job, but she just laughed joyously and proceeded to capture the whole model - 'coz MembieM is a free spirit. Ain't nobody tellin' her what to paint.

Now, as much as I wanted to do the figure (and thus keep my rebellious reputation), I simply couldn't. The model (whose name, so I was told, was Paula) was wearing a beige sweatshirt and jeans, which is as boring as it gets. To add to it, she sat a chair and acted like... like... her portrait is being drawn or somethin'.

You know those formal portraits you see in galleries, of uberly blank-gazing people? Yup - that was the expression.

But - it is, after all, class. And we came there to render, so renderin' I went.

I sat next to MembieM and gave it a try. I did one on smooth Bristol surface, and then another one on watercolor paper. The second one actually turned out quite nice (but that's shall be shown in the sequel of this post, sometime next week).

Towards the the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to loosen up and get some fresh air into my soul, so I went for some (very) quick sketches of the artists around me. I managed to capture Val and Al at work. Now, THAT was fun! The model looked at me kinda nasty, but hey - she's had 2.5 hours of my undivided attention. That's more than enough, I'd say.

I no longer have these two sketches in my possession, as I gave them to their unsuspecting subjects(*). It was the fair thing to do. Glad I took photos, though.

(*) I'm guessing it would have looked much more professional to write "these two sketches are no longer in my possession, as they are collected". Ah well. Next time.

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.

Eye Art

Yesterday was the time for my annual eye doctor appointment, which last year sent me into a frenzy of profound contemplation.

It's not a bad appointment really. You venture through a variety of machines and tests, from the one air puff tonometer that rudely spits air in your eye, through the poetic chanting of letters and numbers, to the spatial vision test which is pretty much a computer game in which I always score high.

Among all that joy, I opted for the eye scan that replaces the dilation. You pay more, but at least you do not become a squinting owl for hours after the visit to the doctor's office.

While the doctor was examining my eyes, in between deep discussion whether I can see the HZJUYT better now - or now, I mentioned to her how scary the results of the eye scan always look.

She smiled [JIHUTES], claiming that some people actually ask her to email them the images, as they are so cool.

"Oh, they are cool, [JKYTZW]", I clarified, "they just seem, um, [POHTREU], y'know, scary".

And within the next minute, I had mine in my inbox.

It's not an up-to-date one, as this time I kept blinking and my eyelashes were commemorated all over the place.

So, that's how my left eye looked like 2 years ago, when I wasn't such a blinker.

Makes a nice abstract, don't you think?

One Man's Trash...

Pat (of Single For A Reason blog) has come up with a challenge to see what w'all can do with a discarded - yet very photogenic - paper bag. As she put it, "One man's trash is another man's treasure type of thing".

Since my creative juices are a bit on the murky side these days, and I am amongst the finalists in the Olympic sport of the procrastination (I persoanlly think I deserve the gold medal!), I decided to act fast while it was still hot and fresh from the email.

So, here is my humble attempt at it.


The first thing that came into my mind when I saw this bag was a cheery Smurf making a fashion statement.

Maybe he's tired of the everwhite Phrygian cap.

Maybe he wants to fly and save the world from the roaming Gustav with his mighty umbrella (you're a bit late for that, little fella!).

Or maybe he just wants to escape reality and feel like Superman for a while.

All that - with a bonnet made from a discarded paper bag, with some extra pieces used for birdies to accompany him.

Oh, and one mighty umbrella, of course.

Ain't recycling wonderful?

So - there. Done, with fun and Photoshop.

Paper bag courtesy of Pat, Smurf courtesy of a free image online. Photoshop courtesy of The JohnnyB and TexieD. Blogger courtesy of Google. OK, enough of the credits!

One thing this reminded me of was my favorite illustration by Mordillo, that used to hang in my cubicle during my early hi-tech days (the poster, not Mordillo, alas).

I think it's titled 'The Non-Conformist'.

Sure enough, my manager at the time advised me to take it off, as it was too much of an attitude statement...

Well duh!

Needless to say, I left it there until it was completely faded.

Like many of Mordillo's bitter-sweet creations, it's the kind of image that makes you smile at first sight, but the more you look at it, you realize how disturbingly true it is.

Fun with a 99 cent Pencil

Thursday again. Figure drawing class begins in less than an hour, and I am - yet again - amazed by how fast the week has gone. Been busy putting the house back in a civilized state of being, so obviously, I didn't paint this week. Nor sketched. Nothin'.

But before I rush to class, I might as well post the fruits of the last one.

I almost didn't go last week. I was so demoralized by the previous one, that all desire to go through it again became extinct.

And yet - I know very well that this is the best mood to go to class with - zero expectations. I decided I'll go and see who the model is, and then make up my mind.

I arrived late, went into the room, sans my drawing board and paper, and one look at the model made me rush out to get the rest of the stuff. For once - someone who dressed for the occasion! She had a black fancy hat on, with a feminine figure and carried herself in a great way.

Only... this class was about 10-minute poses, and by the time I arrived, she went through the more interesting ones, so it seems. Or maybe she never had any.

I didn't feel like messing around with charcoal this time. So I took fun kids pencil I got a while ago (Michael's. 99 cents..), the one whose nib is made of endless colors and any line you make comes out very rainbowy.

A 10 minute pose is tricky. It doesn't allow enough time for a drawing, but it's too long for a sketch. I tried to keep it short - spent time examining the model, deciding what it is about her pose that makes me want to capture it, and then took the pencil in my hand.

That impressed the hell out of the teacher, who announced to the class "I want you to follow what this lady is doing" (lady? moi!?).

"You see", he carried on, "how she sits and first looks at the model, deciding WHAT it is she wants to paint? That's what I would like you all to do. Don't just jump at the paper - LOOK first. OBSERVE".

Being the sweet soul that I am, I did not share with him the fact that some poses were so uninspiring, that in some of them I spent the whole time observing without doing anything... especially when the model threw a shapeless sweater on, as she was getting bit cold. All that did not prevent her from repeatedly annoucning to us - and to the world in general - what a good model she is, and how she's been modeling for her mom (who's an artist) her whole life.

At the end of the day, I had 3 sketches that I like. I worked on losing edges, keeping it simple - putting in only what's necessary. All in all, I'm glad I went.



OK then - time to run to the next class.

Lapworking

One of my favorite art sites, "The Painter's Keys", who's originator (Robert Genn) sends a bi-weekly email, has finally addressed the mood I am in recently, of more casual art, or as he calls it: "Lapworking".

Among other things, he says "You might find that the 'hobby-horse' feel of lapwork generates the languid ease that helps get you into the "zone." While it appears nonconforming and casual, ideas and motifs flow remarkably well. Further, when the work is already in your hand, it becomes easier to put it down and pick up another. In lapwork there's a feeling of embrace as you move lovingly here and there, following whims".

Exactly!

Great minds, eh?

And why am I so joyous about this?

'cause I am still clinging to the convenient excuse of my studio being too messy to actually paint in it, and am trying to find validation for this mood. Plus, when one is recovering from a long stressful period, and is getting ready for vacation, it's hard to start something serious.

Ah, if only I was as good in painting as in making excuses...

But hey, at least I am keeping my hand going, and my brush wet. Sketching from TV is fun, and I keep pausing whenever I see a compelling image. Obviously, being me, most of the images are faces.

This time I was glued to the British movie "Breaking The Waves" - a very unique, emotional and quite bleak movie. I watched and paused and sketched and paused again.

I have to say that this way, parts of the movie really stay with you. Especailly those that you drew.

Rather than using a pen, pencil or marker, I limited myself to drawing with a brush. It's somehow more committing, but also providing a big spectrum of strokes, so I can play with edges and shapes rather than use lines only.

Pushed by my figure drawing teacher comments, I am working on getting out of my comfort zone, That means using line as an accent and a final touch rather than as the underlying structure. I decided to give this a try for a while, and see where it takes me.

These sketches are done on smooth surface Bristol paper (which shows every brush stroke you make), using the Daniel Smith's Graphite Gray watercolor paint. While this paint doesn't always go well in a wateroclor painting, it's perfect for drawing, allowing for great control of the value while keeping the graphite hue, which I like.

Oh, and if you think the mood of these sketches is a bit on the dark side, well, watch the movie.

Sketch Therapy

It's hot today.

Too hot to do anything.

I have grand plans to tidy up and organize my studio, so I can start painting there, but it's just so damn hot!

With no air condition in our house, couch-potatoing with a wet towel around my neck and a big bunch of grapes, is the only way to go.

And yet, I have those pangs of conscience that I am yet again reverting to the status of I-am-painting-in-class-hence-I-don't-need-to-paint-at-home; a known place many of us tend to get stuck in when we participate in an art class, be it a figure drawing class or a full-blown watercolor workshop.

It's an easy and convenient self-deception excuse, but very, very wrong.

While watching TV, there was a phone call. LimaB, telling me that in between remodeling going on in her house and her husband staying home, doing contractor-sitting, she actually managed to sketch and draw. Hmm... well then, who am I to just sit around?

Went back to the paused Aussie film, and realized that the frozen face on the screen had an interesting expression. So, I went to the studio, dug in the skyscrapers of stuff piled all over the place, and found my new vis-a-vis marker (just had to try it after WackieM's recommendation!). My excavations also revealed the smooth surface Bristol drawing pad, and - armed with those, I went back to the TV (with a detour to the fridge for a refill of grapes), where I sat watching and pausing and drawing images that spoke to me.

I went for quick sketching, capturing the movement and main lines, softening some of the edges with a we brush, letting the vis-a-vis ink run and separate to blue and orange, and - as I was getting more into it - I allowed myself to add some touches of color with watercolor crayons.



That was fun!!

Can't think of a better way to spend a hot afternoon (actually, a cool swimming pool does come to mind, but it would be a bit hard to sketch in there, right?).

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...

Masked Fun

I am not painting these days. Haven't painted for several weeks before we went on the trip to Utah and Arizona, haven't really painted since we came back.

I'm busy and distracted. My one and only sister is coming to visit us for a month (she's landed in New York today for 5 days on the East Coast, and will arrive to our house on Monday), and it got us in a frenzy of house improvement, or at least converting the house from a pigsty (lot of neglect in the past year) to a welcoming cozy home - not just for her, but mainly for us.

And yet - I do have the urge to dip a brush into some paint and go for it. And am in the eternal catch 22: I have so many images I want to work on that I cannot choose any of them. Plus, after not painting for a while, you kinda get into regression, and need to start two steps behind (at least two, that is). Armed with all these lame excuses - no wonder I haven't visited my studio for quite a while.

In the last couple of days I've been browsing through Rhonda Carpenter's Watercolor and Words art blog, and was inspired by her recent work, of going nuts with masking fluid, letting it dry, and then pouring watercolor all over. I decided this might be a good way to loosen up and get over the well known fear of a white paper staring you in the eyes. Plus - I am on a quest for new ways to get away from tight realism, and this process has really appealed to me. Nothing frees you up like making a mess and then creating a painting from it. (Thanks, Rhonda, for the inspiration!!)

I took 3 different color triads, and played with five pieces of paper this way. Without thinking of the subject, I simply tried to create interesting shapes with the masking fluid, smearing it with a scrap piece of foamcore and using spray bottle to move it around a bit (hmm... still need to work on that). Waited for it to completely dry (which wasn't hard, as we're having a heat wave as I write. 94 degrees tomorrow!), and then poured the paint. It was pure fun to see the colors intermingle and become acquaintances without the interruption of the brush. When this dried out too, I removed the mask (which is a very annoying stage - I hate doing that!), and was rewarded with five pieces of paper with interesting colors and patterns.

OK... now what?

I can see things in some of these, but nothing really screams at me yet.

Because it's so much fun to make these, I think I'll just start a pool of poured papers, and use them when the right mood and subject strikes. Some will serve as backgrounds, some as under-paintings, and some will sit in the dark closet until their day comes to be torn and reincarnate as pieces for collage.

Still, they look really cool even as they are now. So, I played with them a bit on my "Picture It!" program (the poor cousin of Photoshop), and - lo and behold, just juxtaposing them together came out as a cool abstract piece! (The JohnnyB claims he likes it more than most pieces of nonobejctive work he's seen).

Sometimes, art can be just for fun - I need to remember this more often.

An Attempt At Plein Air

Time really flies in the blogosphere... I haven't published an art-related post for just over 3 weeks - and it seems like forever.

Haven't been painting recently - partly because we went on a 10-day vacation to Utah and Arizona, for some glorious views and time-out.

I still have the sights carved on the inside of my eyelids: the majestic rocks of Zion, the awesome hoodoos of Bryce against the snowy background (yup, there's still snow on the slopes), the sensual spirals of Antelope Slot Canyon and the overall sublime vastness of the desert. And all those textures, shapes, lines, colors - a true feast for the eyes, especially when the eyes belong to an artist. Mother Nature sure has an incredible exhibit out there!

I am documenting it all on my other blog. I took hundreds of photos, and yes, I did take my sketching kit, but it turned out into one of these trips that were too hectic to sketch.

And yet - on the very last afternoon in Zion, while The JohnnyB took his nap, I sat in the garden of the incredible B&B (Harvest House - highly recommended!!!), thoroughly enjoying the tranquility of the sorroundings, and tried to transfer to paper the feeling of having The Watchman cliff facing me eye to eye.

I reached for my sketchbook, but then saw the watercolor postcards pack that I carry with me on every trip, but never used them.

"OK then - postcard it is!", I decided. I'll make one for my sister and send it to her.

Ambitious? Of course!

And... probably not the sharpest idea to try and capture such a sight on a 4"x6" piece of paper!

I made two attempts, of which I am bravely posting the least disastrous one. It was fun - but it makes me think the world would be a better place if I stuck with painting people...

Is Art Your Life - Or Your Livelihood?

Went to a demo on Sunday - by a serious watercolor master: Cheng Khee Chee. A real sweet, fun and funny guy, with a lot of wisdom to share and a masterful hand with the brush. He is giving a workshop here this week - which I am not taking, and I quite envy those who do, as the short lecture he gave before his demo was very inspiring. It was wonderful to listen to someone who spoke of his philosophy of painting rather than showing his technique. he spoke of the Tao of paint, of Yin and Yang - but did it in a way that was not pretentious or annoyingly vague.

Oh yes, some of the attendees gave him this "shut up and paint already!" look, but I was fascinated as I have not been in a long time. I loved his emphasis on the emotional contact with the subject and painting what your heart desires, and thoroughly enjoyed his message that although we do need our right brain to create, the left brain also plays a very important part. After meeting so many artists who seem to have given up on their left brain, well... 'nough said.

You can read more about his ideas here.

Anyway - while Cheng Khee Chee was talking, I kept snapping photos of him, as he has a great expressive face. Once I was done capturing him in every possible pose, I let go of the camera in favor of a quick skecth of the master (top left), then chose my next victim: this guy in the audience who was kept falling asleep... I guess Sunday afternoon is not exactly the time when artists are at the peak of their wakefulness. It was fun sketching him, even if I had to change the position of his eyelids once or twice...

Oh yes, I do have some real paintings to show, but I've been way too preoccupied and stressed about with our upcoming vacation (that got very close to being cancelled), so more on those when I get back.

Create Your Kinetic Masterpiece

Found this gem on the Mother of Shrek blog - and just had to share.

This is a screen capture of what I did - only imagine everything moving and swirling and shooting up and down, depending on the nature of the line or shape you draw.

Click on it be taken to the website, use your mouse to scribble - and enjoy.

This is one talented guy - check out his other projects, especially the floccular portraits.

I only wish I could capture it on paper!

Meet Wilbur

Seen last week ago at Andronico's.

The JohnnyB was shopping for sausages for his lasagna, and I was exploring the butchery shelves, and stopped in my tracks when I saw this.

After several times of going back and forth, I thought "Oh, the hell with it!" and took my camera out. I just had to document this refreshing gem of creativity at a place you expect it the least.

The young guy at the counter grinned at me and asked, "Ah, so you've noticed Wilbur?".

"Huh?", I responded eloquently.

"Wilbur, my pig!", he explained patiently. (like, Duh).

Oh yeah, I've noticed, and informed him how totally cool I thought it was.

It's a shame I did not give him the URL to my blog, so he can see his artwork. It's also a shame I cannot remember his name either so I could credit him properly.

Next time I see a Wilbur, I'll be better prepared.