Portugal Through My Eyes: Évora #1

I am notorious for my obsessive photo-taking while on vacation (and any other time), and loyal to my fame I took dozens of photos in Portugal. OK, more like a dozen hundred of them, and then some. And maybe a bit more.

Don't give me this look! All those white washed houses, the laundry, the people sitting on benches, the tiles, the mosaic on the streets, the people, ahhhh the people! I had to document it, didn't I?

The down side of such an overwhelming amount of photos is that when I approach this stash in desire to paint from them, um... what do I paint first? So, since I was grounded at home wallowing in viruses and tea cups, I strolled through the photos trying to pick one.

Or two.

. . . Or ten.

Now, when it comes to painting Portugal, you cannot avoid painting some architectural elements, which I absolutely dread, to say the least. Y'see, I do figurative work; people, figures, faces, hands - all made of glorious curves and odd shapes and lost edges and beautiful flowing rounded surfaces. Architecture has straight lines. That is, linear, and as The JohnnyB would happily attest (with a deep, deep sigh) - I am not a linear person. So how can I paint linearly?

And yet, should one just stay in one's comfort zone forever and not travel at all to other domains, as challenging as may be?

I decided to start simple. My first candidate was a photo I took in Évora, a wonderful bustling town about 2 hours east of Lisbon. This town has an impressive main square (Praça do Giraldo) with a mighty church (Igreja de Santo Antão) and a 1570 Renaissance fountain (fonte Henriquina) with eight jets that represent the eight streets leading into the square (al uphill, as our sore muscles soon found out...). Hmm, now that I am shamelessly using Wikipedia to show off with all that knowledge I did not have while in Évora, I also see that this square has witnessed thousands of Auto de fes during the period of the Inquisition; 22.000 condemnations, it seems, in about 200 years.

OK then... maybe it's a good think I did not paint this square.

But I digress (told you I'm not linear!).

So, instead of all this glory, I chose to paint a humble mundane scene that I took on one of the streets while I was walking and getting hopelessly lost (Oh but what a town to get lost in).

I started it at 5pm yesterday (very early for me, as I usually begin painting when normal people go to sleep), and was done several hours later.

Being so different than what I usually paint, I was actually having a ball, until it reached the stage when it looked terrible.

But rather than give up, I remembered that while diamonds may be a girl's best friends, a girl who's a painter can find a true kinship with (watercolor police, please turn your heads away, just this time) white gesso and the magic sponge, which I used to cover some lame areas and add some texture to the whole thing.

Y'know?

Architecture is kinda fun to do!

But before I tackle it again, I feel a deep urge to do a portrait in order to relax in my comfort zone.

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!!)

Procrastinate NOW!

That is my all times favorite quote of Ellen DeGeneres: "Procrastinate now, don't put it off".

And I always follow this advice, diligently. As - well, Ellen's gotta be right.

Several months ago, I created this collage that was exhibited in a show at a big-shot hi-tech company. I made it especially for that show, and it ended up with a red label of "Sold". Almost none of my artist friends got to see it, as doing it for that exhibit was a very spontaneous decision, and it was finished at 3am the night before the deadline, hung in the morning and then sold within a week.

It was a good thing I took a photo of it, as I really liked it. It was one of those pieces you put a price on with the hope it won't sell. Well, that didn't work.

Then, a friend of my niece saw it on my blog, and asked if I would do a collage of her son as a gift for his Bar Mitzvah.

Flattered and optimistic, I said "Sure!".

She sent me photos and information on what he likes, and I sat down, printing a lot of images to use as collage material. Took me a while to select the reference image for the collage. I consulted Myrna, who has done her share of commissions, and she gave me the wise advice to make sure and do something that I will enjoy working on, as otherwise it can get very frustrating. "Find something that will entice your creative juices, and do the best job you can, as if it's for a show".

So I did.

I worked out an image that actually excited me, composed it on the page to make it interesting, design-wise, with tight cropping and some fun negative shapes. I was actually excited and all ready to get started.

Only, it didn't happen. My sister was visiting at the time, and we got absorbed in sightseeing and shopping sprees, then there was that vacation in British Columbia, and then... and then... excuses galore became very handy, while the canvas and materials got neatly stored in my studio cabinet to never see the light of day again.

That was almost 10 months ago...

Earlier this week, that friend emailed me that they've just finished painting her son's room, which now has "a green gray turquoise-ish wall", and she thinks the collage would fit beautifully on that wall. That is, if I am still up to it. Am I?

Um... am I?

Took me a couple of days to decide that yes, I am. I'm a strong believer in serendipity, and if this collage suddenly pops up now, maybe it's happening for a reason. It can get me back into collaging, which I love but haven't done in a while. And tackling a commissioned work can be an important learning experience. And, the commissioner, her son and the green gray turquoise-ish wall are located in Israel, so if I go for it I get to flutter my eyelashes and announce myself as an "artist whose work is internationally collected", which has a nice ring to it.

So what do I do to make all this happen and get eternal fame?

I blog it.

Smart move. Highly efficient and utterly practical.

But I hereby admit my fear. All artists know the dread of facing that white surface, and if you add to it that it's a new image, and then add the fact that it's the face of someone's beloved son, and it being a collage, which is trickier than a painting - well, see what I mean?

So, I'm scared. And hence I procrastinate. And hence I blog it, as it kinda commits me to do it, as I know for sure that some of you will keep bugging me about it.

OK then. That was the first step.

Now I should really start working on it.

But first, let me go rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. Anything to not get into the studio...

Need a Hand?

We had the figure drawing class today. Yes, the one with the talkative teacher, who's driving me nuts with his endless talking and taletelling, mostly since what he says doesn't always have much to do with art.

There are artists who manage to block everything out when they draw or paint. Not me, alas. I'm more the kind who needs the whole world to come to a halt in order to concentrate. And so, this drawing class used to send me home with a headache and murderous thoughts.

The JohnnyB kept telling me "why don't you take your iPod?".

Because.

I avoided this for weeks and months, but last week, after a session that was spent resisting a violent urge to go on a killing spree (and apparently I was not the only one with such aspirations...) I brought my iPod.

As did LimaB.

As did MembieK.

And for the last couple of sessions, the only injuries were the two birds I killed with one iPod: enjoying music while drawing - and blocking out the babbling and the background noise.

Works like magic.

Today we had a great model who showed up with a long dress and a big straw hat. As always, I started with the figure, but then got bored of doing the same thing. I decided to follow the teacher's recurring advice "don't show me what you know to do. Show me what you don't know!". (see - I hear the good stuff despite the earphones!).

Now, what do I not know to do?

A lot of things, But when it comes to the figure, the answer is simple: HANDS!

And our model was doing those graceful hand gestures, which intrigued me much more than the rest of her.

Yes, hands are tough, and I keep avoiding them, but if I never try, I'll go on doing the same thing over and over again and stay in my comfort zone forever.


Too easy, too comfy, and way too boring.

I gave it a go.

Yup, I have a lot more to learn and practice, but hey - it feels good to start facing your demons.

'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:

If You Can't Win Them - Draw Their Limbs

Bill of the OnPainting blog has left a comment on my previous post, implying that I am yet to learn how to do some real whining.

That still hurts.

Badly.

And yet, always open to constructive criticism, I took it to my attention, and so today in class I decided to change my tactics.

Today was the last class with a model in the fall series. Our model introduced herself to us as Jan, said she was a replacement to the model we were supposed to have, and cheerfully proceeded to take over the class. I've never seen such a thing.

She then asked us what we want her to do. Before I managed to suggest that she fulfills my desire and go for short poses galore, Val jumped ahead. Now, y'all need to know something: to the untrained eye, Val seems like a very sweet polite British lady who would agree with whatever you say over a nice cuppa tea. However... once you spend more than twenty seconds with her, you realize that she is anything but. The glint in her eye gives it away, and any doubts you may have left are scattered the second you get acquainted with her ultra-sharp tongue. Show me the best sushi knife forged by skilled Japanese craftsmen - and it will turn dull in comparison. (needless to say, that's why I love her so).

Anyway - with her sweetest voice and most convincing innocent smile, Val said: "Oh, two long poses, please".

The model smiled back graciously at the nice British lady (of course, she doesn't know Val yet), and I knew the verdict has been made. with a big sigh, I informed Val that she's gonna star on my next blogpost, and braced myself towards yet another gazing session.

But wait!

That model was different. She had something about her: maybe the way she held herself, accompanied that inner self confidence and her vibrant personality that shone through; plus, she had wonderful hands.

"Y'know", I told myself "a model has other body parts other than just the head".

Walking around the room, I picked a spot that spoke to me the most, pose-wise. I relocated all my stuff there, and concentrated on her hand, which was nonchalantly resting on her knee.

Three 20-minute sessions plus a very helpful tip from the teacher yielded a hand that The JohnnyB, when seeing it, burst into a healthy laughter and delved in pointing out everything that's wrong about it. I went for the good ole' trick of handing him a brush, and he went back to reading his book.

OK, it's not perfect. And yes, perhaps years from now, when hands will become easy for me to do, I'll look at this one with a pitiful smile, but for my third attempt (or so) at hands, I like it.

After this pose, the model suggested a quick "loosening up" session, and burst into a series of ten 1-minute poses, forcing everyone in the room to get out of their comfort zone and have the ultimate artistic work-out.

Once we were all fit and adrenalized, she went back to the gazing state of being: pose number two.

Again, remembering Bill's scorching comment, I figured I'd better make the most out of it rather than whine.

The model was now seated on a chair, her legs crossed with her elbow on her thigh. With the palette and water bucket in one hand, watercolor pad balanced on my other palm and brushes between my teeth, I relocated - yet again - to the other side of the room, to a spot that offered some fun shapes and fabric folds and creases and tings.

I went for it.

(to those of you who wonder: yes, she was wearing Capri pants in the midst of November. Global warming has cometh to the Bay Area in the past week, I'm afraid).

And I think that for the very first time, I went through a figure class without doing the face!

Who would have thunk?

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?

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.

Back, Kinda.

Back from a vacation in British Columbia, which was bitter-sweet.

We spent 10 days in Vancouver and then Vancouver Island (mostly Victoria).

Being a vacation I anticipated for 10 years (long story), you can imagine my expectations were at their peak. And, as happens with high expectations, reality does not always stand up to them. So, we saw some great views, had wonderful food, had some miserable weather, made some wrong choices as for where to go and what to see, got stuck for some hours on the flight back - It was one of those vacations that actually made us happy to go back home. You live, you learn, you blog.

And now we're back. The JohnnyB to his work, and me to my new freedom.

No longer the president of our watercolor society, I am still involved in a more behind-the-scenes sort of way, and helping maintain the website and organize exhibits, but I've pretty much got my life back.

Which allows me to start painting up a storm, right?

Thing is, after months of not really painting seriously, it's not easy to get back to it. There's this fear that I forgot how to paint, and I know the only thing that can put me back on track is just jump into it and start painting, gain some brush mileage, waste some paint, ruin some paper.

I started doing it at the figure drawing class, but the summer session has ended, and the next one begins only in September.

Which is actually a good thing, as I cannot cling to the straw of a class. I have to paint at home, on my own - the best way to advance and do my own thing, find my own voice again.

So, in the past couple of days, I've been bozzettoing my way back up. I'm in a couch potato Blues mood these days, and - loyal to this, I spend a lot of time in front of the TV.

Rather than fight this, I decided to set a tiny "studio" there - a lap desk, brushes, some paint, bunch of papers and water. And, just as I did when I was stressed in time, whenever I see an image that appeals to me, I pause the TV and make a little painting of it.

No commitment to create a masterpiece, no pressure, no fear of the world coming to an end if it's not successful - it's all about getting my muscles back in shape, about learning to see and choose what's important to render and what's best left out, about combining colors and shapes, about where to put lines.

These two images are my first attempts, done with watercolor on smooth Bristol paper. No preliminary drawing - just the brush.

Not sure the brush mileage I gain this way will get me an around-the-world free ticket, but at least I can eventually upgrade to getting back to business.

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!

Going Emeritus

Ahhh, that sounds so good.

Yup - June 30th was my very last day as the president of our watercolor society. I announced my stepping down several months ago, and since nobody agreed to take the baton from my hand (like Taltul in his time), I had to cope with a lot of requests, pleas and emotional blackmail, all aimed at making me change my mind and stay put. I spent hours, days, weeks contemplating, consumed all the assertiveness I had in me in order to stick with my decision - and the day has come.

Oh say can you see the air going out?

. . . Can you spot my dropped shoulders straightening a bit?

. . . . . . Can you hear the large rock falling off my weary chest?

. . . . . . . . . . Can you trace this wrinkled forehead getting a bit looser, with less line work and texture?

Let's have a moment of quiet here, if I may. Zen, almost:

P H E E E E E E E E E E E E E W ! ! !

My sister, who during her visit witnessed me in action as president several times, both at an all-member meeting as well as at home, asked me if I won't be missing all the action and responsibility and fire extinguishing and crisis solving and peace making and never-ending phone calls and emails and the adrenaline rush and the status (the WHAT!?).

Yup, she is smart.

And she knows me well.

And yes, to be honest, I was somewhat afraid of having mixed feelings, of a sense of regret, a void even.

But, y'know, on the morning of June 30th we had the last board meeting arranged by me. As I did in the year of being the president (and actually, in many a month before I became one...), I arranged-the-meeting-called-for-committee-reports-sent-them-to-the-board-members-ran-the-meeting-assigned-tasks-took-minutes-and-distributed-those-to-the-board. (and the monthly board meeting, mind you, is only one part of what kept me occupied full-time during this year).

And now that it's all said and done, reverting to dude-language: I am like, "Cool!".

Man, was this a busy year!!!

To quote a fellow president (well...), I sometimes feel that during this whole year, "I did not inhale". Only exhaled.

Looking at the blogpost I wrote when I just started, I smile at that young enthusiastic girl, who was so full of energy and excitement and goodwill and plans to change the world (or at least the organization) and I think, "Ah, duckie(*), if you only knew..."

And yet... of the feedback that I hear, I did achieve some things.

We are now on the road to becoming an incorporated non-profit organization (yup, after over 40 years of existing!!! about time, don't you think!? and it was not a trivial thing to pass to some of our members who are not too keen on changes); I drove some other novel ideas in several domains, and I guess I did have an impact.

Oh, also, despite all I've been told, I did not manage to make a certain member hate my guts, as he did with many former presidents. On the contrary - when I announced my stepping down, he came and spoke to me, and actually had tears in his eyes. (and yes, so did I).

And yes, I have gained a lot. A turbo speed steep learning curve from almost zero to nearly 100% has granted me a vast and invaluable knowledge of so many aspects of being in the art world, as well as what makes such a big organization tick. I won some friends, I made a couple of enemies (but hey, one of Mother Theresa’s Paradoxical Commandments says, “If you are successful you may win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway"... and who am I to argue with that remarkable woman?). And, I got acquainted to so many people, from fellow volunteers to art museum directors, that this may have been the biggest advantage of all; being a relatively newcomer to this country, it's not easy to have your foreign-hard-to-pronounce-name be known. And now it is.

So, what are a bunch of white hairs, a few sleepless nights, a collection of (well documented!) emails that caused serious palpitations, and some showers of tears (oh yes....) comparing to all this?

I was lucky to work with a board that has some truly incredible women (and one great guy) on it, which made it easier, as I did not really need to know everything. I also got a very helpful hand (and sometimes ear), from a couple of former leaders, whose wise advice was like a CPR and kept me going. And - The JohnnyB was beyond supportive the whole time. He provided some priceless ideas (for which I got the credit, alas) and insights, suffered through going over the monthly Leader's Notes to help me polish them for the newsletter, helped me phrase some responses to some ultra-bitching emails (yeah, those were fun) - I am pretty sure he is also relieved that these days are over. Yup, he is a keeper.

In hindsight, I would have done it again.

But now it's time for becoming Leader Emeritus (that is music to my ears!), and thinking about moi for a change. Yes, I am still volunteering, of course. I'm stayin' as a working bee on our exhibits committee and the website committee (coz those are fun!), and will also be busy supporting our board in leading the organization, and initiating our incoming leader (yup - someone has finally agreed to do it starting January!) - but still, I feel like I am getting my life back.

Did I mention Pheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew?

(*) Courtesy of Val, who warms my heart each time she calls me that.

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Back To Basics

it's been a long time since I last took a drawing class. Way too long.

On Thursday, I started a new one - figure drawing. Clothed figure this time. Yeah, I know - a lot of you non-artists think w'all stare at naked bodies under the excuse of drawing them. Well, not quite. At some point, you kinda get tired of it. And clothed models become much more exciting. Clothed figures have more movement to capture (well, yes, some nude models also manage to produce movement, but let's not get into this...).

So - that was the first class, with the first model. A pretty woman in her 30s, which immediately made her an uninspiring subject. Plus, she wore a simple dress with an annoying greenish patterned-fabric, that was visible enough to obscure the light and shadow, but not interesting enough for shapes. She then took an ordinary pose, just standing there, and to top it all, I had the luck to face her back. With too many students in the class to relocate to a different spot, I was stuck.

OK...

When the subject is conventional, you can either give up - or turn to your creativity glands.

I took the charcoal stick (which I have not used forever!), and started to render the figure, recalling my long-forgotten measuring skills. Still boring. I blocked in some dark areas, then used my kneaded eraser to add highlights (one of my favorite things about charcoal), and started to have fun. Luckily, I brought with me the whole bag of charcoal goodies, from the fair shy vine charcoal, to the darker willow one, to the compressed charcoal, and when she took the final 20 minutes of the pose, I went for the big daddy of charcoal, a thick stick of the darkest charcoal that makes wonderful dramatic darks. Not for the faint hearted, as there is no way to erase it, mind you.

When I was done, the teacher picked up my drawing, and raved to the class, pointing all the good things about it, while I busied myself looking for a place to hide, as you don't quite what to do with yourself at such occasions.

A short break - and it was time for the second pose.

The model slumped herself on a chair, and - lo and behold, had her face towards me!!

Inspired by what MembieM did in the previous pose, I decided to go for a close up, and use watercolors this time. I have never ever painted a portrait in a drawing session (well, once, and on pastel, but that was 4 years ago, and it was disastrous). Aha - much trickier, especially when all I had to work with were my cheap pad of paper and my low-grade watercolors that I keep taking to classes and workshops in order to get rid of them, but instead I only get lousy results, as I resent working with them. Well, a lesson for next time.

Needless to say, this time the teacher did not glorify my masterpiece, except for congratulating me on my free and loose style (yes, he is a sweet encouraging soul). Instead, he chose to embarrass MembieM, who came up with an incredible charcoal drawing.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the exercise, even if not the result. Poor gal, I may need to go back into the painting and save her from the fate of an unshaved woman with a shiner... I do like the way her dress turned out, though.

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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.

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.

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!

Creativity - Let It Be!

An enlightening and entertaining take on creativity, by creativity expert Sir Ken Robinson, at the 2006 TED conference in Monterey, CA.

Thanks, NancyBJ, for sharing!!

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!