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...

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!

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!!!

Sold - Again!

Sometimes, you paint just for the pure joy of it.

You allow yourself to not think too much, grant yourself the permission to not agonize over the end result, and refrain from over-analyzing design rules and profound compositions, complementing colors and balance of value and shape.

Sometimes, you just paint.

And you have a lot of fun.

And you come up with a painting you actually like quite a bit, because each time you look at it, you go back to that happy feeling.

And, apparently, when you just enjoy creating something, it comes through, hidden between the lines and colors.

Because 3 weeks ago, one of my blog readers browsed through all the artwork on my blog, and picked exactly that one painting, which I did at WackieM's class last April. As she put it, "The one that I like the best is Self Portrait #2. . . I want the feeling I get when I look at it. Fun, light, colorful."

So yesterday I did not paint.

Instead, I befriended my recently-neglected mat cutter and cut a double mat for that painting. I admit I dreaded it (as you may recall, cutting mats is not exactly on my top 5 list of favorite things to do), but in some bizarre and crooked way, it was almost fun. Plus, it always pays when you finally insert the sandwich of mat-painting-backing into the clear plastic bag and allow yourself to breathe, as everything went just fine. No fingerprint on the mat, no crooked cuts - and once you're done, it's looking good!

So today I deposited the package in the skilled hands of the FedEx dude, and entrusted him to ship it to my very new patron: Jeani. Thank you, Jeani! It's hard to describe how encouraging it is to know that something I created has touched you to the extent that you want to own it. It feels great.

And now that I have sold my second painting (the first one went to Blogauthor), I wonder: am I a professional artist yet?

Magnificently Magnified!!!

WackieM, in her incredible new blog, is now giving a drawing challenge every Friday.

The first one - wire drawing - was really fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed the results.

The second one, well... is closer to a test of courage: hold a magnifying mirror to your face, and draw yourself. Magnified. Sounds cool, but it makes you really look at yourself and examine each and every wrinkle, mole and flaw.

As the days went by, I thought I would just pretend I'm too busy and forget about it. Y'know, we've been hanging our show, I had to write stuff for our newsletter, I had to maintain my vanity and self-esteem! But after MembieK informed me today that she went for the challenge and sent her results to WackieM for posting on her blog - - - Aha! All of a sudden, the competitive voice in me urged me: "Go for it!".

I went into my studio, and still thought I could cleverly avoid this daunting task by painting something other than myself. For that, I needed some reference photos, but the computer was occupied by The JohnnyB, who got his KVM thingy today (Keyboard-Video-Mouse switch), and was busy failing to hook it up to the desktop. Which means the printer was out of order and out of the question. "Gimme half an hour", he grumbled.

Deprived of technology, I grabbed the Mary Kay mirror w'all got from WackieM months ago, when we embarked on the journey of self-portraits. I pulled out an ink pen (so I am not tempted to correct by erasing) and started to gaze at my magnified-self.

Typically, when you draw yourself while looking at a mirror, you appear very worried and sad. It's mostly because you concentrate so hard. My first attempt indeed obediently follows this rule. I was also trying with all my might to keep still and not move, while holding the pen between my lips. Hence the highly concerned, almost constipated expression.

Yes, I know, I do need to work more on my hand drawing skills. Still, 30 minutes later, I was quite pleased with the result.

But, y'know, I am a bit tired of all these melancholic self-portraits of mine. Mood, emotion, dark depths and the tortured artist soul do "enhance with beautiful darkness" (as Michael Bains so kindly pointed out). And yet, all of a sudden, I got fed up with the gloomy me. Those who know me keep saying, "But you are always smiling!! What's with the woe?".

Bleak is not my only side.

I wanted something else.

So, I went for a different pose.

Mature, impressively glamorous and ever so dignified - that's me!

It was such a fun exercise, and it forced me to really, REALLY look at myself. I discovered some interesting things about the inside of my eyes, found new chins I never knew I had (thank you very much for that, WackieM!), and - in the fish-face version - I worked hard on trying to render the smile I had in my eyes. It was fascinating to see how the little wrinkles and puffs below the eyes make the smile, even when the lips are so distorted!

On the other hand, holding my face in this fishy pose for 30 minutes(!!!) was not the most brilliant thing I ever did... it still hurts like hell! See, I do suffer for my art!

Looking at the result, somewhat horrified, I asked The JohnnyB, "Do I really have that many chins?".

"No", he assured me, "Just the three".

Time to make the sofa for him, I presume.

The Hanging at the Museum's Backyard

...there we were again, almost the same team, hanging a show, Again.

This time, it's the show of the art organization of which I am president, so it's much more thrilling.

Just under 100 artworks were entered, all in watermedia. which made the hanging process easier, as it did not require a mix 'n match of oils with sculptures, canvases with framed watercolors, apples with oranges.

Still, it was exhausting.

It was my very first time to assemble the pro-panels, and while not complicated, it's just a highly annoying job. Now I know why nobody else wanted to do it. We were done around 4pm, and it looks glorious! It seems like the quality of the overall show keeps improving from one year to the other, which is truly exciting. I can't wait for my gallery-sitting shift, which will be on the first day the show opens.

My painting for this show is one of my self-portrait series. I have posted it as an ArtPact in its unfinished state. I love it, The JohnnyB really doesn't. So be it. I am done trying to please everyone with my art. That's pretty much mission impossible, and will only result in frustration and compromise.

I have to say I really lived on the edge with this painting. A day before the hanging, it still wasn't framed yet, and I knew there must be a reason, as usually I am not that bad about it.

There was.

On Friday afternoon, after hesitating to do so for 2 days, I grabbed several pencils and scribbled the words of one of my favorite songs throughout the painting. A brave - and at the same time, very stupid - thing to do a day before hanging it in a show. And yet, I just had to. Once I was done, I knew it was the right thing to do. The painting was finally finished.

I then spent a while contemplating the fact that nobody will be able to read the words. It's not a cheery song, y'see. It's quite exposed, and as long as it was just in the painting, in Hebrew, I was safe... a big coward chicken, but safe.

Eventually, I decided to take it one step further, and translated the words to English. I figured that not doing that would mean I am not really walking the extra emotional mile. It was quite amusing to have the JohnnyB help me translate a song he doesn't know from Hebrew to English, but he was incredibly helpful, and got my utter gratefulness and admiration.

So, here it is. The song was written by Nurit Glaron, a wonderful Israeli singer. It's much more beautiful and touching in Hebrew, but there's a limit to what I can do, I guess...




“Within the storms,
between breathing and suffocating
within me.
Doors closed,
latches locked.
Slowly.
Quietly.

Do not follow me
to that place.
Where the sky is foreboding,
where no children play,
where the silence oppresses -
and does not let go. “

ArtPact #32

(Originally published October 1, 2007).

There I was, trapped in a vicious circle. I had this incredible photo I took at the cafe, of the lady with the hat, trying obediently follow what I was taught: study the shapes and values, make a value plan - and I got stuck. I know it's supposed to be the right way to go, but every time I do this, it somehow drains the fun out of it. All of a sudden, creating a painting turns into a list of chores, of do's and don't-do's, which frustrates me beyond belief.

At times like this, I wonder whether I should just delve into careless painting, throwing all the rules aside, and get the first version out of my system. Perhaps then I can go back and work on it more methodically? Or, perhaps I am not quite the methodical painter? Could it be that value plans work for some artists, while others have other ways to get to a painting? Or, maybe there is no right and wrong? Why do birds sing? Do angels exist? What's the time?

And then, as I was getting into this destructive over-pondering mood, WackieM launched her online "class", which is what made her start a blog in the first place. As she puts it: "My blogger plan was to create challenges for myself and to encourage others to join in". She posted the first drawing challenge on Friday, and pretty much threw me a life vest. Now I had a distraction, an excuse to get out of my over-analysis whirlpool and follow her challenge, which was all about line. No values, no existential questions.

And so, I cheerfully dropped the hat and the lady, and took the gauntlet dropped by WackieM. Reverting to my comfort zone, I tried doing my self-portrait in that wire-drawing technique that she demonstrated. You basically draw as if you are creating a wire sculpture, allowing the wire to twist and wrap and bend. the only rule: all lines need to connect.

I am a line painter - to me, line is the best and most glorious design element. I love lines! and I mostly love open lines and lost edges that leave room for imagination. So, I thought it's going to be a trivial little exercise, but then I realized the challenge in it: wire drawing forces to connect all lines, and think of the necessity of each and every line. Working on a face, it also forced me into thinking of the planes of the face, rather than the features.

It was a wonderful exercise. I did a first drawing, loved the result, and decided to try and make it more minimal, getting just the essence.

Hmm... I got totally carried away, forgetting the goal of the exercise and just enjoying the process.
So much for minimalism on that one. Nice hair, eh?

And then, after I was done messing with my own face, I decided to get back to the lady with the hat. Something about her is haunting me, forcing me to paint her, and I see a series coming. These little drawings actually speak to me more fluently than the value plans I attempted here. I guess w'all speak different visual languages.

It still has a long way to go, a journey even, but - my enthusiasm is back! So, thank you, WackieM!

ArtPact #29

(Originally published on September 3, 2007).

. . . and then, sometimes, when you are frustrated with failure, you go into a screw-the-show-the-hell-with-the-result-let's-just-have-some-fun mood.

(Funny. While I see my previous self-portrait as a failure, y'all seem to actually like it. Whose side are you on, anyway?! Makes sense, actually. I had in my mind's eye what I was aiming for, but you see the result without any previous notion of what it should look like, so you are much more objective. I myself am starting to resent it less, and see ways to maybe save it. Thanks for your encouragement!!!).

When I was working on my self-portrait bozzettos, I stumbled upon the combination of walnut ink and purple ink, and fell in love with the result. If you recall, I thoroughly enjoyed creating textural effects on a wet sheet of watercolor paper, which I have put aside, as I was too scared to ruin it, as I am known to do.

But last night, after the first painting, I was angry. "I can always make another one, Eh?", I announced to the atmosphere and to The JohnnyB, who just sat there quietly, aware if the fact that even a "Yes, dear" would be a risky answer as his lovely wife is undergoing artistic despair.

I took the nicest background out of the three, and contemplated where to locate my face. The first option would have adorned me with a mighty mustache, and although I was in the careless mood, I still have my vanity. I turned the paper upside down and decided to go with the less hairy choice.

Took the bamboo stick in my hand (the fancy one, that has a bamboo pen on one end, and a brush on the other), and went to town.

It was

- - - - - So.

- - - - - - - - Much.

- - - - - - - - - - -- - - Fun.

I stuck to pure drawing, going along with the ink, the paper and the bamboo stick. Bamboo sticks work much better on slick paper, so - working on watercolor paper - I could not really achieve the sweeping lines that I like. So be it. I didn't fight back, and proceeded to create edgy lines, which dictate the mood of the painting. Hey, I was edgy! Worked just fine for me.

Thing is, when I am having a lot of fun with a painting, the doubt kicks in, and I think it's not good enogh. I mean, an artist should struggle and sweat and suffer and go through a lot of agony, cigarettes and berets when creating. Having fun does not seem to fit into this formula... Ah, damn that Jewish guilt...

Y'know, I really, Really, REALLY like this one! to the point that I am considering to enter it to our annual show. I am not sure whether this is my best work, but this is my most recent piece, it is a direction I want to explore, and it is anything but your typical watercolor. (it will definitely not get the "Popular Choice Award", Eh?).

For the record: The JohnnyB does not quite share my pride on this one.

"I'd give it like a 6 now", he hurried to inform me. Yup, da man is painfully honest, at all times.

"What is it that you don't like?", I opened my mind to constructive criticism.

"I dunno", was the profoundly artistic reply.

"Well, is it the color combination?", I went for an how-to-critique-a-painting education spree.

"Yes", he blissed. "And also, I don't like the splotchy thingies". (hmm, 'splotchy-thingies' is not quite a design element, mind you).

"You mean the background, or the spritzes?", I aimed for specifics.

"Yes", he exclaimed.

Then, after a short thought, he added, "I do like your drawing. If it was on a different background, I may give it 7 or 8".

Ah well. At least when he says something good, I know he means it.

Come to think of it... mastering the art of creating a failed painting, getting highly agitated and going for a just-for-fun painting, that ends up successful - this scenario feels very, very familiar.

Is this becoming a pattern?

ArtPact #28

(Originally published on September 2, 2007).

$#%*#@^#!

- - - $#*&%##!!

- - - - - - @#&)%^#)$!!!!!

Can you tell I'm a bit upset? Just a touch?

After a long break in which I have not entered my studio (except for packing it yesterday) I just couldn't let it go on. I can only blame myself for letting everything else stand between me and what I love to do, and I am fed up of so whiningly blaming it on everything and everyone. Gheeze, grow up, woman!

While The JohnnyB had his nap today, as I was slouching in front of yet another redundant TV show, I pulled myself together, and stormed into the almost-empty studio. I imported paints and brushes from the den (to which we relocated my supplies cabinet), made another trip to get a palette - and went for it.

I decided to do something I've been postponing for a while. Y'see, I have a problem. Whenever I take a brush in my hand, I always blend the colors together beyond distinction and soften the edges like some edge-softening maniac, ending up with grayed colors and my infamous wishy-washy style, which I am quite tired of. When I did my self-portrait collage (and the others that followed), I was thrilled by the sharp edges and the interest they added. I loved the result, loved the new style - and yet, can't do it with a brush.

Perhaps it's a matter of patience (or lack of). While in collage you can work continuously, getting sharp edges and glowing color with watercolors requires waiting for the previous layer to dry. Aha! herein lays the catch: Waiting. Holding back. Postponing satisfactions. No such concepts in the dictionary of us Aries people. Such deeds are excruciating, and require extreme effort.

RabkieM, listening with growing pity to my outcry, had a brilliant suggestion: reproduce my collage in watercolors. I was intimidated, as it's basically copying, which requires discipline. And yet - I decided to give it a go. Perhaps it would teach me to leave the paint alone, and enable me to do what I have never managed to achieve before. Perhaps hard edges will become my new best friends? Perhpas pigs will fly?

I started on the right track, obediently following the collage - - - for 5 whole minutes!! Then I was carried away, and began to get creative. As it often happens, I got lost in the process.

"Stop!", I told myself.

- - "Take a break and look at it from far away", I reminded me.

- - - - "At least take photos of the stages!", I begged.

Nothin'. Nobody to talk to.

I was apainting.

And as I was trying to pull the painting together, I became even more smart-alecky, introducing a couple of more things.

Just to remind you, the original intention was to copy the collage.

OK, before starting, I decided to incorporate some text by transferring it onto the paper (which resulted in a pathetic failure, as it dissolved into nothing!). Once the face was done (very successfully, if I may say so!!), I attempted to repeat a very successful light pattern I had in one of my self-portrait bozzettos. AND, just for fun, I decided to follow an advice I suddenly remembered: conceal one of the eyes, so they don't compete for attention.

Oh, and above all: I was trying to paint a masterpiece for the upcoming annual show. Yeah, that helped...

OK then, enough stalling. Here is the result:

For those of you who find themselves gazing at the painting and wondering... no, The JohnnyB did not do that to my face.

Ah well, we learn much more from failures, Eh? Tomorrow is another day. I will start a new painting. I will hopefully keep the many lessons I've learned from this one in mind. Hey, at least I painted today!


And yet: @#&)%^#*$*^#)@^#!!!!

ArtPact #27

(Originally published on August 18, 2007).

Actually, not quite an ArtPact. Just sharing what happens when you go back to what you think was a perfectly completed work, looking it again with criticizing eyes, and thinking "Uh Oh! This is sooooooo unfinished!".

This kind of sobering up usually happens when you are just about to enter the painting into a show. And, today is the deadline for entering the annual show of the smaller organization to which I belong. That one is not Watermedia-bounded, so you can enter anything - which means I can enter my very first collage, which I did about 3 months ago.

Now, this show required you to submit photos, which will be juried. If you enter 3, you are guaranteed that at least one of them will be accepted. And, that is my top choice.

I was about to take a photo, but something about the collage kept bothering me. Echoing in my head were the words of RabkieM, LimaB and WackieM (Oh yes, I hear voices!): "You should add line work in your collages!".

I kept refusing to do so, sticking to my one-medium-only purism, but last week I decided that without it, something is indeed missing. Putting the disappointed camera aside, I took a brush, dipped it in acrylic paint, and thoroughly enjoyed adding some finishing touches.

Luckily (if not miraculously), I stopped in time. Looking at what I did, totally loving the result, I was astonished by the difference that a few lines and touches of paint here and there can make. Apparently, being brave enough to take an OK painting one step further beyond safe can improve it significantly. (of course, some times it can totally ruin it... and in art, as in life, there is no undo!).

You be the judge of this slight makeover.

Before:





And after (the title is courtesy of The JohnnyB):

"Bored Meeting", Collage on matboard, 15"x19"

Wish me luck with the juror!

ArtPact #26

(Originally published on August 6, 2007).

After the sudden August winter we had here yesterday, the sun has graciously agreed to get back to its seat, allowing me to photograph my work.

As I lengthily stated in my previous post, I am back to my self portrait. I am working small, in 5"x7" bozzettos, sticking with the same image, but trying different techniques, color schemes and styles. The idea is to experiment in small quick studies, and apply lessons I learn to the following versions.

I am working from a photo of myself. One that I truly like, taken by The JohnnyB. It's a challenging one, as it was taken at night, with a flash - not recommended when you need a reference photo to paint from. But in fact, the lack of inspiring light pattern is forcing me to find ways to make the painting interesting, so it has its merits.

I started in my usual style, rendering the face, religiously following the photo and trying to copy what I see. After the first one, I tried to move on to more exciting pastures, but I got stuck on copying for the next three attempts. The result: four bozzettos that are not really bad, but are not good either. They are hesitant, the colors are far from exciting. And, the ultimate original sin: they are overworked, and not in a good way.

The watercolor medium is the ultimate snitch when it comes to overworking. "Na na na na na", the bloody pigments taunt in that annoying watery voice, "Nava re-worked this to death! Heh heh!! Again!!! Hi hi!!!! Too funny!!!!!".

I was getting angry.

- - And bored.

- - - - And frustrated.

And I think it shows in the paintings. I swear I can hear my painted image yawning, "C'mon, have mercy! you can't leave me looking like that!".

It was midnight when I muttered to The JohnnyB, "I hope I don't end up never wanting to do a self-portrait ever again!". I was tired, and yet, decided to do one last bozzetto, and just have fun. Squeezed fresh paint, choosing bolder, less sweet-looking colors, going for staining pigments, so I cannot lift and repaint, took the brush - - - and went into one of those the-hell-with-it modes of painting.

When I got back to my senses - I stared at the result, with sheer terror. 'coz I never, like, ever, painted this way!

And then (took me a a while!) I realized that, Uhm, I am really, y'know, liking it!

And, to my surprise, The JohnnyB liked it too, saying it's clean, confident and looks like I knew what I was doing. Perhaps this was one of those rare occasions when the hand was faster than the mind, and did whatever it felt like, while my left brain was watching with disgust, saying, "Oh, screw it! I'm off duty now!".

I went to sleep, very excited, got up (very excited!), looked at what I did at night - and gave it another, similar shot, just to see if I can do it in a post-coffee conscious state of being.

Apparently, I can. (the one on the left is the first one, the right one was done in the morning). Hey, I even gave myself a gorgeous pair of blue eyes as a reward!

Definitely a breakthrough, and just what Mike has ordered.

Now, the wonderful thing about hitting the wall of boredom and getting past it into creativity, is that your mind is starting to spawn more and more ideas, like some freakish alien.

I wanted to try them all - but I was starting to run out of paper.

So, I soaked and stretched four half-sheets of watercolor paper, and while waiting for them to dry, I decided to try something while they are still wet. I combined walnut ink (which I passionately love!) with a purplish ink, and had my way with both on a sheet of paper. That yielded some veeeeeeeeeeeery cool texture, which will become a painting some day (when I figure out what to do with it...).

"Hmm, I should try this on a bozzetto", I overjoyed, and reached, again, for the inks. Obviously, I failed to recreate the texture, but still got some beautiful backgrounds, on which I drew with a bamboo stick and a twig.

That resulted in an unusual level of fun - and these two:

Then I decided to revert to the safety of the monochromatic world, and thoroughly enjoyed doing this one:

T h e n -I tried painting on top of some text which I have transferred to the watercolor paper with Acrylic medium. Now, this medium changes the surface of the watercolor paper beyond recognition, so that the watercolor paint starts beading like crazy, and you end up pulling your hair and looking pretty much like the resulting image...

Hmm... interesting would be the right word for that one, Eh? Although, the more I look at it, it is starting to grow on me. It sure is expressive, and has some interesting modern-art looking potential. It's a known fact that good things can come out of accidents and alleged-failures. All I need to do now is practice saying "Oh, I meant to do that!", and define myself as an expressionist painter.

So: 10 bozzettos overall, and I already have two additional ones in their very early stage.

I am exhausted.

ArtPact #18

(Originally published on May 12, 2007).

"You are stalling", she said.

Y'see, after a lot of hesitation, I finally jumped in and did the first painting of La Sagesse. I was very intimidated, as it's a great photo and very easy to screw-up. So, NOT painting it would make sure I don't. But then again, I do want to paint it... Typical for a first painting - I guess there's no way to avoid this.

"I'll make several versions of it", I told myself and The JohnnyB, and went ahead with the first version. As expected, I turned out copying what I saw, clinging to the photo, trying to capturing every little bit that's in it, rather than creating my own painting from it.
It was frustrating, and I could not tell what's wrong with it, so I just stopped, and - being very frustrated - I decided I might as well have some fun, and did two in my sketchy-line style with some light washes, which I have recently started to explore. It was fun. Not yet what I want, but - it's also about enjoying the journey.

On Thursday I went to our critique group meeting. It was a very reduced-forum, only the three of us: WebbieM, RabkieM and myself. It was actually quite pleasant, and each of us ended up getting a lot of attention and critique of her work.
WebbieM nailed down what was wrong with my first painting: I was using hues & tints, and then tones.

OK, a quick lesson in color: 'hue' is pure intense color, out of the tube. 'tint' is the hue mixed with white or water to lighten its value, and 'tone' is the hue mixed with its complement to create neutral grays. Confused? Wait - let's also add 'shade', which is the hue mixed with black. Hues and tints tend to be more intense and bright and cheery, while tones and shades are tuned down, more grayish and a bit more moody. Somehow, all my paintings end up with tones and shades, and I keep trying to get to cheery, but that's not part of the lesson, and not what you are paying for.

So, I was using cheery hues and tints in the sky and ocean, while the figures and their shadows were all tones. Doesn't quite feel right. Then, RabkieM pointed out what was wrong with my sketchy one, and I was very grateful for their help.

After the meeting, I was telling RabkieM how weird it is that I cannot bring myself to paint portraits since I started taking WackieM's advanced portrait workshop, and instead I'm doing figures and other stuff.

RabkieM gave me a reprimanding knowing look and said, "You know what you are doing, don't you!?".

"What?", I asked with angelic eyes.

"You are stalling".

"Me? stalling?", I faked insulted astonishment (like, Duh...).

"Yes. I am only saying this because I do the same. It's just like doing the laundry or washing dishes or finding little house projects instead of painting. You should be working on your self-portrait, which is the homework we got from WackieM, not escaping to this beach scene!!".

Ah, I really hate it when people are right.

I went back home, and proceeded to work on the first La Sagesse painting, keeping in mind WebbieM's comment. Yup, the 'after' painting (the one on the right) looks more unified. Not quite a bright Caribbean beach, more like a beach on very hazy day, or at dusk, but hey - at least it has a consistent mood.

But RabkieM's words kept echoing in my head.

And so, the next evening, I decided that she really is right. A couple of weeks ago, The JohnnyB took a photograph of me in the same pose of the self portraits I painted from life at the workshop. I printed that photo, dug out all those tissue papers that I prepared a month ago, got the guts to finally tear them up (the first tear broke my heart, but once I got over it, I proceeded to slash them, pogrom-style) . . . . .

. . . . 4 hours later - I came up with this:

"Self-Portrait #3", Collage on matboard, 19"x16"

I was having soooooooooooooo much fun, it must be illegal in some states!!
And now I am hooked on collage!!

So - I owe a big, Huge, IMMENSE Thank You to RabkieM.

The Beach Boys can wait....

ArtPact #15

(Originally published on April 22, 2007).

So, the long feared class took place on Saturday.
WackieM has warned us since this advanced portrait workshop has begun, but we kept denying it, choosing to not think about it, concentrating on other things instead. Some of us, even dyeing countless tissue papers. . .

And yet - the moment of truth has come.
The dreaded lesson of all: Self-Portrait.

S E L F - P O R T R A I T ! ! !

And not from a good flattering photo that we carefully chose, mind you...

No - we were going for the real thing. A self portrait done the good old way, drawn and painted from life, sitting in front of a mirror. And no just any mirror; a Mary Kay mirror, which WackieM has brought to class. (Never heard of Mary Kay, but I know her name makes American women very excited, pink Cadillac and all).

Before we even started, I did a quick one, just to see what I can come up with without getting any education on the subject. Just scribbled with a pen on paper, and went in with some color.

Hmm... as you can tell, I was still in the pissed-off mood.


Then WackieM had us approach capturing ourselves in stages.

First, we did blind contour drawing - which was truly fun! You look at the mirror, imagine that your hand is an extension of your eye, and trace your face as if you were a tiny ant crawling around. No peeping at the paper, no lifting the pen. It was hilarious to look around and see everyone gazing intensly into the mirror with complete silence and somber expressions.
The first blind drawing I did was not only very blind, but also transparent. After 5 minutes of deep concentration and devoted drawing, I decided that I was done, and looked at the result - just to discover that I was using a dried-out ink pen... How typical, Eh?

So, I quickly did 3 additional ones in the remaining 5 minutes.


Still pissed . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and somewhat Picassoish, I'd say.

Then we moved on to what's called a modified contour drawing, where you get the gracious permission to look at the drawing from time to time and even lift the pen now and then, to make necessary adjustments.

That was somehow less fun, as you no longer have an excuse for the creepy results that are produced...

I did like the last of the modified drawings, though.

It was a more interesting pose (well, as interesting as you can get when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror and use one hand for drawing) and I did get some likeness.

Plus, for a change, I wasn't looking so cranky. I guess I was starting to truly enjoy the class.

WackiM recommended that I take that one further, towards a painting.
And, I actually came up with two paintings.

This first one took a long time, with lots of going back with color and glazes and endless changes in the background.

"Self-Portrait #1", Watercolor on W/N CP Paper, 8"x8"

While the second was a very loose 'n quick line work, purely fun.

"Self-Portrait #2", Watercolor on W/N CP Paper, 9"x9"

Y'know, I actually like them both.

The JohnnyB claimed the first one generally looks like me. "More than kinda", was his exact eloquently technical term.
The second one is lovely, he agreed, but then added with his typical excruciating honesty: "but you look sooooooooooooooo much younger in it than you really are".
Indeed, daily ego boost and constant support and assurance, that's what I married him for (in case you were wondering).

And I've got to admit: it was a great experience. Most of us bought the mirrors so we can use them for this purpose at home (luckily, not all of them were pink. . . ), and I do believe I'll do more of that self-examining.

RabkieM dared me to put one of these on my blog.

"And I don't just mean post it", she clarified. "I mean put it as your blog image, instead of the photo you have there".

OK, RabkieM - done.

Ah, I wish we'd made a bet :-)