Time Flies...

...when you are on a break from the blogosphere.

Has it really been 6 weeks?

As with art, one needs some time off from blogging in order to come back with recharged batteries. Or something.

But the good news is that in fact, I've been painting - and quite a bit. A new scene from Portugal is in the making. And a portrait that made me put the Portugal scene aside for a while. And a small flower I made for a friend who was hospitalized. And another portrait of a man whose photo I took last Saturday in an Art & Wine festival and just had to paint him. And...

So, the studio is active and messy, new ideas keep popping up in my mind, I've had a sleepless night with the adrenaline rushing through my (hmm... what does adrenaline rush through? veins? capillaries? Arteries?) followed by a merry night of trying to put what I had in mind to paper - quite exciting, actually.

I will post those once they all reach a finished stage.

Today I can share the little flower I made. By now, you may know that I do not paint flowers. However - a friend from our critique group had a medical emergency. Needless to say, sending flowers came up, but then WebbieM suggested a clever alternative: that instead, we each paint a little flower, as that won't have any issue of potential allergies; plus - they will keep longer. MembieK (whose name should now be changed to EmeritiK) took it a step farther out, suggesting we make a book-thingy from all the painted flowers. FergieJ created one and brought it to critique, where we all glued our little masterpieces into it and wrote something for our friend (who - I am happy to report, is back at home and very well, thank you for asking). This little painted flowery bouquet turned out a real beauty.

Now, if you've been paying attention, you may have noticed that my own name was not among those who came up with great ideas. That's due to the simple fact that I was busy wallowing in sheer terror...

OK - have I mentioned that I do not paint flowers?

Indeed, I was positively terrified: how can I paint a flower? but then again, how can I not be a part of this project that's all about friendship and support?

So, Wednesday night, just before the critique meeting, I got into my studio at 10:30pm, and - - - well, I have to admit: I had fun!

Still claiming my basic right to complain, I informed WebbieM that if I am ever in a hospital, I would like each and every one in the critique group to paint a portrait, just so they go through the same fear I felt.

I know, I know; one should look at everything within the big scheme of things, have the right perspective on life and possess a healthy sense of proportion... And yet: a flower!!!

Anyway, here it is. My second painted flower ever (at least in my adult life). It's tiny: 2.5" x 3.5". But hey, it's a flower.

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.

Attitude Named Wenda

There are days when you have zero motivation to go to class. The weather's gray, you are late and in a rush, morning started bad, as you went to your critique group meeting after weeks of missing it, but since you've arrived last, by the time it was your turn it was also time for the parking police to come after the money of those who did arrive in time, plus you have to rush to class. So you don't get to show your art. Which sucks, as you know it was one of those days when you'd have gotten good inputs.

Yet you make yourself go. Because it's the last session with a model. Because the model might be the legendary Crow and you don't wanna miss on him. Because you finally got a decent armband for listening your iPod while drawing. Because you know that when you really resent going, it can turn out to be a great class.

So I dragged myself into the car, loaded it with the drawing supplies (that were left at home, needless to say), and whined my way there.

But all my bitching came to a halt when I set eyes on the model.

She was all attitude, in the best way. That is, attitude and long fiery red curls.

And her name was Wenda.

And she brought accessories and different hats.

And she went for poses just long enough to capture her without overworking.

And she didn't just sit there. Oh no, she was posing with all her might, pouring her personality into it.

She was the clothed model from the dreams, and you could tell she was having fun.

So was I.

That new iPod armband?

Haven't even taken it out of my purse. Now, that's what I call inspiration.

Through the Fire

OK, OK, so I've been absent from the blogosphere for a while. A couple of weeks, perhpas; no - actually a whole month!

Whoa - has it really been that long?

To those of you who wonder (to the extent of emailing me or leaving concerned comments, pondering whether I have escaped to Aruba or broke my painting arm): No Caribbean escape for me, nor a broken arm. Just been going through some down time, artistically and motivationally and younameit-lly, y'know, the tortured spirit of the artist and all that. Not fun, but - it's sometimes essential to go through the fire in order to regenerate. Just call me Phoenix.

Needless to say, I haven't been painting much during that time, except for a couple of attempts that turned out, hmm... shall we say not overly presentable to my distinguished blog readers.

Even the results from our figure drawing class show my lack of inspiration.

Don't believe me?

OK then - here's my attempt at painting The JohnnyB's niece. She's this real cool teenager who's very deep into her Goth era. No, she does not have purple skin nor a flat face. Told you I'm lame these days!!

But - last week I snuck into my studio and started a major spree of tidying up and organizing and shuffling things around, which is always a good way to enhance the creative appetite and cleanse the soul.

I'll be back - hopefully sooner than later. And yeah, much better.

Nationally Exposed

The Palette Magazine is my favorite art magazine. Written by two wonderful artists, Skip Lawrence and Christopher Schink, it is aimed at helping fellow artists push the envelope . As opposed to many art magazines out there, reading it does not entail getting attacked by countless renewal leaflets, and it has zero ads. (Yup. Zero).

Each issue is dedicated to a different subject, written in a fun cynical humor of the two authors, focusing on design, color, expressiveness and everything good about art.

So, the previous issue called for artists to send their self portraits. Several of us submitted our self portraits, and awaited the verdict with bated breath. The other submitters I know got an acceptance reply very fast, while I became an obsessive compulsive clicker of the "Send/Receive" button, checking my email every day, every hour. . .

. . . after two weeks, I've had it. with trembling fingers, I typed a polite question to one of the editors, asking him whatever happened to the four images I've submitted. He replied promptly, saying he is so glad I wrote, as somehow the portraits I submitted got misdirected. He then added "I've found your 4 images and captions—exactly what I need. Good paintings. At least one of them will be in Issue #28, due out around the end of December or the first of January.".

Good news, right?

And yet - due to my natural skepticism on such matters, I thought to myself "Ah, he must be saying that to all the girls", and kept my expectations on a cautious level. You live, you get rejected, you learn.

The busy holidays season came and went. A new year has cometh, and no magazine.

Last week, WackieM told me with excitement that her well-known painting has made the cover of the magazine (I am highly amused that she is still surprised by its success; what part of 'this is a very unique painting' is not clear?). I kept waiting. And waiting. And watching in disbelief as the postman was passing our house without approaching.

And suddenly, on Monday night, I see a message from a friend on my Facebook page, telling me how excited she was to see my painting in that magazine.

The next day, LimaB emailed me happily, informing me that mine indeed made it. A similar email followed from MembieK.

Cool, so I'm in.

But which of my four images made it? I called her for a thorough investigation, and was ecstatic to hear that it's my collage, which is one of my favorite pieces and definitely my favorite self-portrait.

Needless to say, the magazine hasn't arrived yet to our humble premises, so it was still all a hearsay - until MembieK brought the magazine to class today (thank you Thank You THANK YOU!) and I finally got to see it with my own eyes - and document it with LumiB's lens. This is the time to mention that MembieK also has a wonderfully expressive self-portrait in this issue.

Still no sign of the magazine. I am starting to suspect that the postman is boycotting our house (no mail whatsoever for 2 days now!). So I am still waiting. Who knows, one of these days the magazine may actually appear on our doorstep (or, more likely, in the mailbox). Hope springs eternal.

Oh, for the record: the quote underneath my self-portrait (the one at the top-left), stating "I loathe my face" is not mine. It's by Francis Bacon. I happen to live with my face quite peacefully, thankyouverymuch. Don't know why they decided to juxtapose it the way they did. Better check what quote they posted under MembieK's face...

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.

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...

Sentence of the Year

The JohnnyB and I were having one of those conversations this evening, and it became quite profound and deep, dare I say on the verge of philosophical.

Bear in mind that when you have a true Minnesotan for a spouse, this kind of dialogue happens once in a blue moon. (And not just any blue, mind you; Manganese Blue!).

And due to that rarity, I was trying to get the most out of it.

At some point, I asked with sheer frustration, "So, I want to understand: why do you always have to be so damn logical???".

The JohnnyB replied, "because I don't like to lose control of my - - - "

" - - - emotions?", I interrupted (hey - I'm an Israeli. When we pledge allegiance, we make a solemn commitment to never ever let anyone finish a sentence!)

"No", he continued patiently, "I don't like to lose control of my state of mind", and - hesitating - he pondered, "Um... is that the same as emotions?"

And so, to y'all who wonder why so many of my paintings have women with this look in their eyes - I hereby rest my case.

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!

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...

Still Here!

...actually spending time at my studio, seriously painting, and painting seriously.

Really. I am!

The upcoming show of our watercolor organizations has sent me in there in a frenzy of organizing my work areas and clearing the enormous piles of, well, stuff, that were breaking new records of mess and were miraculously balanced on every surface possible.

So, no more of that.

My table is now adorned with the happy mess of paints and brushes and water buckets and all that healthy disorder that comes with painting.

And I have two paintings in the making - I am just trying to come to a stage that they're presentable enough to be posted.

Soon. Very soon.

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.

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.

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?).

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!

Braggin'

Those of you who are seriously into watercolors do not need an explanation of what AWS is. The mere mentioning of this acronym is always accompanied by awe and wistful eyes, and the thought of "some day, I wanna make it into that show!".

For those of you who do not belong to that crowd, AWS stands for American Watercolor Society, whose annual show is probably the most distinguished one to be accepted to. Hundreds of entries (if not more) are sent every year, which makes it extremely difficult to get in. Many artists try again and again, getting rejected, and keep on trying. And then, one day, they make it in.

This year, 96 paintings were selected. Both Mike Bailey and WackieM made it into this prestigious show for the first time, each with an incredible painting

And - WackieM (who goes by Myrna Wacknov in the non Nava-blog realm) got an award on her painting "Reflections on Turning 65".

This is so incredibly cool!!!

"So, what are you bragging about!?", you ask. "It's not like you won an award or even got accepted!".

True, very true. I am still wading in shallow water and muck with the unwashed masses, making my first steps in the art world, one tiny step at a time.

And yet - I am lucky to have both Mike and WackieM as great teachers and mentors, which kinda has some braggin' value. I can bask in their glory, I can hope that - along with their teaching - some of their mastery rubbed off on me, and I can just be very happy for them, 'cause they both deserve to be recognized.

But there's another thing: The JohnnyB and I now get to wallow in the glee and piousness that comes with the good ole "Told ya so!" - which is always an undeniable fun.

Y'see, just before the annual show of our organization in October 2007, WackieM was deciding between two paintings, and I was one of those whose she asked for. Both The JohnnyB and I unanimously voted for the one that had striking novelty and uniqueness in its composition and the idea behind it, as well as a powerful emotional effect in its honesty and vulnerability. WackieM decided to go along with that painting - and indeed, as you may recall, got the First Place Award, together with an unprecedented consensus and countless comments about how much it's touched everyone who saw it. The painting also won the first place in the Popular Choice vote. (I can now say how relieved I was that it got awarded; when you give advice and it turns out sour, well, I have a sensitive conscience).

Realizing this painting has something very special about it, she decided to give it a try at AWS. . .

. . .CONGRATULATIONS, WackieM!!!

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!