National Treasures

I have been on vacation this week.  My husband and I took a couple of days to visit Washington DC.  I had the privilege of visiting a couple of the Smithsonian Art Galleries. While the science museums were packed with bus loads of children, the art museums were far less congested.  Since the museums were free, I could take a quick stroll or a leisurely one.  We come through this area a couple of times a year, so I felt no pressure to hurry as I could always come back.  If you are in the area and an art enthusiast, I suggest allowing yourself at least a couple of days just to see the art.  By the time you find parking, snag a map and a bite to eat, your strolling time gets a little cut short.  Add to that the fact that the hours of operation to all of the museums is limited. (10am until 5pm in most cases.)

My first stop was the National Gallery of Art.

These are the works you study in your basic art history classes.  The galleries are well organized and allow one to progress through the periods of art history.  Each room houses several examples of each period so it is easy to witness the changes in art both in technical skill and in subject matter.  I hated History classes in high school and college.  Art galleries put a whole new spin on history for me.  Here one can see entire cultures move through the things they think are important.  Their reactions to wars and political issues of their time as well as their every day life are on display.  History becomes more significant through art.

Aside from taking a stroll through history, it is quite exhilarating to stand in front of works only seen in books or slides.  Slides do nothing for Rembrandt.  Standing in front of his work and witnessing first hand, the uncanny qualities of his portrayal of human flesh is almost disturbing.  His portraits seem as if they are living and breathing right in front of you!  It isn't so much the "photographic" exactness as it is the subtle hues beneath the skin, and the glimmer in the eye, that speak of life. It hints not only of the subjects life, but of the gentle intuition of Rembrandt himself to have so precisely conveyed what he has witnessed.  Another revelation to me was the size of some of the works I had studied.  It is difficult to imagine the size of a painting when it is projected on a screen in a darkened room.  Sometimes finding that the painting was much smaller than I had imagined, made it far more intimate.  Knowing that a painting was small and one was meant to approach it,  just took the work from a place of grandeur to a humble and tender experience.

Next up was the Hirshhorn Museum.

I love contemporary art.  If I am being honest, a great deal of it goes over my head.  Nonetheless, I am compelled to look at it.  I blame an exhibit at the Guggenheim in New York for the addiction to it. Once you get that jarring feeling of having met a kindred spirit through their art, you just find yourself reaching for it again and again.  There have been a number of inspiring pieces or installations since my encounter with Irwin's "Soft Wall" in New York , this week at the Hirshhorn it was Ann Hamilton's "palimpsest".

It is helpful to read the little plaques at each work.  Those little plaques help one "get" the artist's intentions.  But I feel they can sometimes rob us of an "experience".  For me, the most successful pieces need very little in the way of words.  I like to read the plaques AFTER viewing the art.  For this installation, I overheard someone say it was inspired by the artist encounter with an old man facing memory loss.  He used post it notes all over his apartment. This was enough information, although I wish I hadn't heard it before experiencing it, it may or may not have made a difference in what I was to take from it.  Nonetheless, I find myself reflecting on it long after I left.  That is, I think, a very good thing.  By my standards, the fact that I am still thinking about the work, indicates a strong piece.

One of the first things that hit me about this work was that you had to actually walk into it.  It wasn't meant for you to stand outside and gaze at it.  It was a small room with pieces of paper tacked to the wall with pins.  The papers had handwritten memories written on them.  They were floor to ceiling on each wall and were on the floor as well.  The papers on the floor were given a healthy coating of beeswax.  In the back of the room was a glass box containing two heads of cabbage.  The cabbage was being eaten by bugs and snails.  The liquid around the heads of cabbage along with the bugs gave a clear message of degradation.  They were rotting away.  On the front wall, above the door was a small alcove or shelf with a working fan.  The fan was one of those iconic fans from the 50's era perhaps. It was a small fan with a simple black frame about it.

Now that we have the basics of the piece, lets get into the experience.  One walks through an average size doorway to go into the piece.  It is required that one removes their shoes or place upon them, a protective bootie.  I chose to go barefoot.  I am glad I did.  My first sensation was of the wax floor.  Slightly tacky, almost fleshy.  The organic nature of it rendered something philosophical about the experience.  I immediately started reading.  Everyone was reading.  There was a quiet reverence about the room.  I got a little teary thinking about how treasured each memory was and how sad it is to lose them.  The breeze created by the fan was the only sound as it rustled some of the papers.  It created movement and I remember thinking of it as breath.  By now I was feeling like I had climbed right into someone's being.  It was intimate and I felt honored to be allowed in.  At first glance, I noticed that the bright green of the cabbages was a good complimentary choice against the yellowed papers.  I wasn't sure they were necessary to the piece other than the visual balance they provided.  It wasn't until later that evening that my mind put it all together.

I was thinking about Egyptian tombs and the sarcophagus.  Then it hit me.  The cabbages, organic material, like our brains, deteriorate.  Here in the brain, where all the memory lies, is the very essence of our being.  It is the sacred, precious part of us.  Encased in its glass coffin for us to look at.  But the life that it represented is written like hieroglyphs on the wall.  The essence of one person's life moves around the room on the breeze.  There's a sense of death and a sense of life after death.

At the end of the day, it was the one work that stayed with me.  Days later and I am still moved by it.  It truly is haunting.  Beyond the piece itself, I have to wonder about the artist.  She has so expertly articulated an intangible feeling.  I can't help but think she must be a very insightful and compassionate person.  All of the technical details of space and balance were spot on in scale, color, material choices....etc.  I cannot find a single fault.

Like the National Gallery, I didn't see all of the Hirshhorn.  Ann Hamilton's work was the highlight of my trip to DC this time.  I can't wait to get back and see what other treasures I missed the first time around!

The "Folk Art Series"

This series is painted from bits and pieces of my childhood memory.  I simply allowed the images to emerge without much regard to realism or any sort of accuracy at all.  I wanted them to feel childlike. So far, the family has recognized each scene.  My sister has these first pieces of this collection.

I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania.  We had one traffic light that actually turned red, yellow and green, and we had two "blinker" lights in town.  There were 90 students in my graduating class, and the local grocery store had "horse hitches" for the Amish buggies.  I say all of that just to make you realize just how small this darling little town was.

My grandmother lived across the street from us.  She had been blind since the age of 19 as a result of typhoid fever.  I don't remember grandpa as he passed away when I was only a year or two old.  My cousins all lived within two blocks of our home.  We played outdoors until the street lights came on.  These paintings center around my grandmother.  At least for now anyway.  I have many more images in my head that revolve around other family members, but these are the beginning of what I hope to be many more.  They are painted with my family in mind, and our descendants. They are to tell the story of our time.

 This is the first painting in the series.  All of the paintings are relatively small (14 x 18) and they are oil on canvas.  The first painting depicts grandma and I standing on her furnace grate.  It was a gravity furnace and the air just drifted up through that giant hole in her floor.  All of us loved to stand on it and let the heat drift up our nightgowns.  When the heat stopped, the nightgown would float down against your legs and it would almost burn.  You couldn't stand on it in your bare feet.  It was a good place to stand and talk.  Grandma kept a small bench between the grate and the wall.  Cuddles, her dog would lie under it.  The light fixture is inaccurate.  It wasn't there at all.  I just thought there should be one there.  The placement of the grate, bench and dog are not accurate either.  None of that mattered.  When my sister saw it, it was all familiar.  The painting of the cat staring down the fishbowl, the handmade rugs, the spare room with the hide-a-bed were all there.  I remember the  "heat shiver" as my body contracted from the pleasure of that surge of heat.  I remember her voice, the smell of her home, the sound of that grate ticking with the heat and that dog that always had a quiet growl every time you got near her.  I remember thinking that "Cuddles" was NOT the right name for that dog.

 The second painting in the series seems to be a family favorite.  It is how we all remember Grandma.  She would sit in her chair with that ashtray as big as a dinner plate held under her cigarette as she smoked.  As a child I would often admire how long that ash could get on her cigarette before it would fall off into the ash tray.  She subscribed to "talking books" for the blind.  We would help her pick her books from a list she would get in the mail.  She liked Gothic Novels.  Few people had air conditioners in those days.  On hot summer nights, I could hear her talking books through the open window of my bedroom across the street.  It was a comforting sound.  It was easy to sleep when you knew someone else was up keeping watch.

My cousins and I had many play days and sleepovers at grandmas.  This particular memory is of me and my cousin, Brenda.  We would sit at her kitchen table and play with paper dolls.  Brenda had a lot of them, and she kept them quite nice.  I remember the green door that led to the back porch and the red tile halfway up the walls.  I couldn't remember the pattern of the wallpaper.  I only remember that it was fruit, roosters or frying pans.  So I chose to be a bit obscure about the pattern.  She had curtains on her lower cabinets instead of doors. I remember the sun coming in that window next to the table, I remember that she drank instant coffee and used hot tap water to make it.  She also made rugs and lots of them.  She used scrap bias tape from the Talon Zipper company.  She had boxes of small rolls of the stuff in her attic.  We were sometimes given the task of fetching specific colors for her.  She made red, white and blue ones for the fourth of July.  (My memories are as random and fragmented as my writing!)

By the time I had finished this third painting, I realized I wanted to have the dog Cuddles, and her rugs, in each painting that centered around her.

Right now I am still fussing with a fourth painting depicting a scene with my Grandma.  I have set it aside until I can open the windows of my home to fresh air to clear out the turpentine.  I have a few more in my head that I hope to make a summer project.  Keep watch!

For those of you that would like to paint, I would encourage you to paint your life.  Paint your memories.  Let them emerge in any color that suits you.  For me, yellow is the color of my memories.  It is a warm, friendly color and I cannot remember the actual color of things.  Let the rooms be small or large, the people be fat or skinny.  Just paint it how you think it!  Surprisingly, it works. 

Crickets, Convertibles and the Bard

When I started this blog, one of the goals I had in mind was to talk about not only my own art, but the art of others as well.  I have promised myself that I am going to put the final touches on two more paintings today that I have not talked about here.  I have another forming in my mind.  I have some "behind the scenes" work to do. So, this might be a good time to delve into something else here.

As the morning light seems to appear earlier and earlier each day, I am starting to think about summer and all of the things I love about summer evenings.  There are a few things I would wish that everyone in the world would have the opportunity to experience.  The first is that everyone should take a ride, at least once, in a convertible.  I don't mean that one should race down the freeway and feel the wind in their hair.  I am talking about a ride at about 30 mph at ten o'clock at night on a humid summer evening down Outer Drive in Dearborn.  (Or some other similar place.) As one passes block after block of homes that have quieted down for the evening, the rise and fall of the various cricket colonies can be heard.  I just love that humid, damp, cool breeze on the skin.  The sound of quiet punctuated by the cricket's song rising and falling in wave after wave of sound is mesmerizing. The rustle of trees, the stars or the clouds or the moon, the smell of outdoor fireplaces...etc. are precious sensations. 

To be sure, there are numerous such experiences that I could wish upon mankind besides the convertible one.  One more treasure that comes to mind is, Shakespeare. I am not talking about theaters with fancy gilded ceilings, lots of marble steps, gowns, white gloves and all of that glitz and glam.  (Although that is special enough.) I have the deepest appreciation for those that would bring art to the common man and perform Shakespeare in a small community park.  Indeed, Shakespeare's plays were often performed in outdoor settings for everyday people.  As much as I enjoy dressing up, valet parking and expensive seats, I find the outdoor setting uniquely exhilarating.  Much like the evening drive in the convertible, this experience offers some memorable sensations. There's just something about rubbing down with mosquito repellent, tossing a blanket to the ground, and drinking wine from a plastic cup, that makes it far less intimidating a task to face Shakespeare.  As the small crowd gathers to watch, it is as if they are all going on this delightful ride with you. 

We are so fortunate to live in an area that offers such an event.  Every summer, Water Works Theatre Company (http://www.waterworkstheatre.com/) performs a lively Shakespeare play in Star Jaycee Park in Royal Oak, Michigan.  It is one of the highlights of my summer.  I try to take a guest or two.  I have never been disappointed.  The actors work very hard and it pays off.  The performances are always, at least by my observations, flawless.

One year I took my young niece and nephew.  My gifted nephew could "get" Shakespeare and all the subtle humor that came with it.  My niece, however was a little less confident about her ability to understand the play that was about to start.  She was sure it was going to be "over her head" and she was bound to be bored.  But as the actors carried out each scene her confidence and excitement grew.  She could get Shakespeare!  It was simply an exciting evening for all of us.  There's something about the experience that bridges all kinds of gaps we imagined between us and our fellow man.  History becomes more relevant when you think about a similar crowd hundreds of years ago, sitting down to watch the very same play in a very similar setting.

My hope is that you will find a small local theatrical group, and attend one of their plays.  Take on the old Bard!  It would be an extra special treat if you could find one performed in a small outdoor venue.  Bring bug repellent!

Temporarily Finished

I so often hear people proclaim that they cannot paint or draw.  What they actually mean is that they cannot draw or paint in a manner they perceive as successful. Well, the truth is, neither can I.  What I have learned to do is to take an honest assessment of my work.  A great deal of it ends up sitting behind bookshelves, or painted over and over and over again. When we "critique" works of art, or perhaps attempts at works of art, we not only look for the part that flops, but we find the parts that succeed.

Well, here I am near, or perhaps at, the end of this painting.  I have reached the point where I feel there's still some tweaking to do, but I am not exactly sure what it is.  So, we are calling it done.  For now at least.  At this point I know it isn't a masterpiece and I strongly suspect it isn't wall worthy let alone gallery worthy.  Yet there are some good "take away" successes.  Let's talk about the things that work:

The last blog I had mentioned that I needed to do something with that yellow background.  Yellow is a very "advancing" color.  It just demands attention.  While I don't mind a little bit of a fight with the figure and the background as it keeps the eye bouncing, I don't want the background to "win" the feud.  By pulling some of that light ceruilean blue into the figure and into the darker background, I feel it has softened the struggle just enough.  For the most part, I incorporated this color into the highlights.  None the less, there are areas where that ceruilean blue just seems to sit upon the surface of the painting.  For some reason, this seems to help as well.

Another concern early on was that I keep the eye going all over the painting.  Otherwise, it could have been just a more traditional portrait and could have been cropped to a much smaller size.  Although one could argue whether the bottom half of the painting is actually necessary, I find that there's enough visual interest to have one's eye move to that area of the painting. The interest doesn't rest in the structure of the gown or the details of it.  The bottom of the gown is pretty boring.  But, the haphazard splashes of color and the ambiguity of the gown's edge as it goes into that Payne's grey shadow take the eye to the bottom half of the painting.

                                                                                                                                                                         The  third "take away" is that I have enjoyed the translucent quality of the layers of paint.  I still feel it has a slightly encaustic feel as a result of some of the mediums I had used.  Some areas are a bit "milky" or "hazy" and add to the effect.  For those of you that might be interested in experimenting let me explain what I have done here.  I used an acrylic gel medium quite a bit.  I also used a glazing medium.  At times, I mixed the two together.  At the start of the painting I mixed modeling paste with the gel medium and added color. This, combined with the chip board surface, gave me the initial texture I was seeking. I then used the palette knife to paint this mixture onto the prepared surface.  As I progressed I used the glazing medium mixed with color to apply thin washes when I wanted color to seep into crevices and used the gel mediums to color to heap more texture.  Finally, I sometimes just layered on a coat of gel medium alternately with full color paint.  This "sandwiched" the colors between layers and it gave a completely different effect than suspending color within the mediums.  There were moments when I used the brush to apply thin washes, and moments when I used a dry rag to wipe paint off of the surface.  I use a variety of "qualities" of paint.  While the "professional" paints seem to be superior when suspending them in the glazing medium, for the most part, I am pretty satisfied with a less expensive option.  If I were selling paintings for substantial sums of money, I may consider the investment into the higher quality of paint for the "lightfast" ratings.


Update: Jan 2018

I really think this will never be finished to my satisfaction.  I wasn't happy with the facial features, so I went over them again.  I am a little happier.  But I still feel as if the eyes are not quite real, and an ear is still to long.  I revisited the hands as well.  I do feel as if I have lost some consistency in texture as the face has become too detailed when compared to the hands.  I am not sure this matters.  One could say that it puts more focus on the face.  Well, here it is as it is for the moment.

Right now I am calling it "The Good Queen"  I am interested in that alert far away look in her eyes and the tying of the shawl.  She is prepared, ready for action at a moment's notice and unafraid.  She isn't lavished with jewels but yet she is "put together".  These are qualities I find in both of my daughters.  Well, usually anyway. 

 I wasn't able to work on this painting last weekend.  Today, I have made a little progress.  The eyes still need some work, but I feel better about the face in general.  Today, I worked on pushing the background back and made some effort to bring the face forward. 

There are a few things happening now that make me pretty happy.  First, I have been working with a gel medium and at times, a glazing medium.  The painting is beginning to look a bit waxy like that of an encaustic painting.  I hope I can retain that look.  Next, some repeating shapes are emerging and I am trying to decide if I should just run with it.  Principally, the blue arch and the bottom of the dress, as well as the sweep of the hands. At first glance I think these shapes help provide some sense of rhythm as well as aid in the structure of the composition.  Finally, I added some Payne's Grey at the base to weight the image and I am thinking that I may take the dress into this shadowy area and merge them.

As always, there are some problems that I need to think about.  I pulled the face in more clearly than I had intended.  As I back away from it I realize this creates an expectation for the rest of the painting.  The hands and the bottom of the dress may  need to be pulled in with equal clarity.  Also, the yellow is a color that advances into the foreground.  I will need to find a way to push that arch back.  I really wanted strong yellows and that bright blue in this painting when I started it.  They are enthusiastic, and optimistic colors.  Without them, the painting becomes more brooding.  I will wrestle with this for a while.  Finally, I need to reflect upon the mood I was reaching for in this painting.  I want mystery, optimism and bravery to be the impression in this painting.  I want her to "materialize" as one begins to grasp those ideas.  As the face becomes clearer, I wonder if it will be too clear.  I wonder if I need to lose some definition or grab onto more of it.  Perhaps I am over thinking it.

See you next week!  Feel free to share your thoughts.

Brianne

Original Photo

Lightened to see face

As I have said before, I keep a stash of pictures that "speak to me".  This image was one that was snapped of my daughter at a wedding.  I see a thousand paintings in this one image.  She could be a model of a Victorian mother gazing out the window at her children playing in the yard.  Her look says she is contemplating their future.  She would be holding a dainty teacup.  I see a warm yellow color palette with some splashes of pink.  Then I see a neo classical goddess, perhaps the huntress, Diana.  There's power and certainty in her eyes, a ferocious determination combined with courageous compassion.  My color palette changes to purples and rich browns. 

Most images translate well to "characters" that could be anybody.  But every painting I conjure up in my mind for this image is still my daughter Brianne.  She IS the Victorian woman, she IS Diana, she is Brianne.  I decided to just paint her, my daughter, Brianne.

Who is she?
She is a leader.  She is logical, intelligent and willful.  She is intimidating.  She will ferret out the truth with relentless tenacity.  Even if she has to dig it out of herself.  One of the proudest moments of my life as a mother was watching her walk through her divorce with grace, dignity, humility, faith and steady courage. 

For whatever reason, her husband abruptly left the marriage.  He walked out one night and never looked back.  It was unexpected.  We were all blindsided.  We knew their relationship had some serious "downs" but it also had incredible "highs".  After eight years, we thought they had it "figured out". 

Regardless of what he was up to, she turned to those around her and made us understand that this was about HER journey.  This was about HER story, who SHE was, and who SHE was going to be.  And she walked through it without malice.   She walked through it with faith intact.  She walked through it with love in her heart.  It has been almost a year now.  And she still hopes he is okay.

For me, a mother helplessly standing by, she has emerged from the shadows.  I see the determination in her eyes.  I see her searching the horizon, ready.  I see the quality of her bold, determined love.  She is fierce and tender at the same time.  She is proud and humble.

The painting.

Although I first imagined this painting in a hyper realism way, I quickly decided that wasn't what I wanted to portray.  I want her to "materialize".  I want the viewer to question what they see.  For this reason, I went back to the rough texture and the palette knife.  Painting this way keeps me looser and more intuitive.  Although I usually use a grid to map out the painting, I decided not to here.  The proportions are not as important as they usually are.  I tend to tighten up my paintings as I go, so I wanted to resist all the tools that would lead me in that direction.  Additionally, I decided to paint this on a piece of scrap construction material I had lying around.  It begins with two thick coats of gesso on waferboard.  On day one I laid down some yellows over the entire surface and used white to map out the figure and suggest the background.  I then took to the palette knives and started dropping in color.  Here is where the painting stands a day or so into the project.  From here, I have to let it sit while I think it through before I tackle the next hurdle in it. 

I am thinking about:  The look in the eyes.  That is the most important thing right now.  From there, I am thinking about shadows and light, and how they might tell her story.  The hands and the bottom of the picture will need some more visual interest.  (or else the painting could be shortened).  I have quite a bit of work to do before I am ready to call it "finished".  Tune in the next couple of weeks and see how this develops.  Let me know your thoughts.

Little Brother - Acrylic on Canvas

Image 6 - Finished

Image 5 - Actual colors

Image 4 - Washed beginnings

Image 3 - Monica reference (older sister)

Image 2 - Madeline reference (younger sister)

Image 1 - Merged photos of 2 and 3

My grandson's third birthday is next weekend.  Therefore, I decided to talk about this painting as it depicts his homecoming.  For me, realism is less important than the story I wish to tell in a painting. (Unless, of course, I am doing a portrait of someone.)  Here, I am not concerned that the children look exactly like my grandchildren because their story is universal.  My goal is for the painting to be special to anyone, not just their mother.  Of course, their mother snagged the painting before it was dry.  I am glad she approved so heartily.  It is hers to cherish.  None the less, that initial moment of a child meeting a new human being with intense caution and curiosity was the goal of this painting.  To be honest, I am not quite sure I "got it."  (See the critique at the end.)

The Back Story
I had the girls while mommy was in the hospital to "get the baby out," and I brought them home to meet their new little brother.  (The hospital wasn't allowing children under 18 at the time.)  I had my camera, as I often do, and snapped a gazillion pictures.  Unfortunately, I am not a very good photographer.  My favorite picture was Image 2 above.  Madeline shyly crept across the sofa for a peek at her little brother.  The light was perfect as it poured through the picture window.  I was so anxious to get the moment that I didn't think for one second about composition.  Consequently, I chopped off her whole hind end in the viewing field.  Still, that moment rolled around my head for two years. Finally, I gathered up enough courage to paint it. 

Working From Photos
For me, photos are as much a part of my process as the sketchbook.  I have a collection of my own random snapshots that really are not much good on their own, but each one has a special "thing" about them that I want to keep.  I primarily use them in the manner you see here and in the previous post, as reference.  Here I merged two photos together rather roughly.  The trick was to get the size of each child's head to relate to the other correctly.  The original photos were not "zoomed in" the same way, so I had to adjust it in photoshop until if felt right.  This was a start.

Jumping Off the Photos and On To Canvas
From here, I print the photo on regular printer paper and grid it out.  I also grid my primed canvas and start to transfer information.  I use a thin wash of watered down sienna.  I don't always follow the grid exactly.  As you can see, there are some compositional choice made here.  Note the angle of the pillow that Monica's arm rests on and the seat cushion lines.   All these are directional tools to direct the eye into the painting.  Good or bad, it was a conscious choice.  Later I would make color and pattern choices.  I kept the sofa's character in the print/pattern and chose to remove the pattern on Monica's pants.  Keeping Monica's clothing all one color provided a unified shape and proved to be less distracting.  Changing the baby blanket color and pattern helped separate the baby from the blankets.  Some choices I could foresee, others were made by trial and error.  (That is the sweet thing about acrylics, you can paint over them repeatedly.)

FYI : Materials
I used Liquitex Student grade acrylic paints for this painting and Liquitex glazing medium.  I have recently bumped up to the professional grade acrylics as they seem to suspend better in the glazing medium.  I usually use unprimed medium weight canvas and prime it myself with a decent gesso.

The Critique
One of the things I miss the most about school is the critiques.  For this painting I called upon a former student to give me her thoughts.  She currently lives overseas and carries on a pretty busy life as a working artist.  Her critique arrived after the painting was gone.  None the less, I love every word.  Even though I can't "correct" the issues, I think it is worth sharing. 

Here's an excerpt from her critique :

"I know you mentioned you were having troubles with the little one on the
left that is crawling on the sofa towards the baby. What I find is the girl
looks like she is weightless or the sofa is made of a hard substance. The
shadows look good but she is not making any or enough indentations in the
sofa cushions."

From my own observations I will say that I am still slightly disappointed that I couldn't manage a more dramatic lighting as was in the original photos. Yet, I am not sure it detracts from the story.

When all is said and done, the audience seldom, if ever, has the opportunity to see the original source for the paintings.  Therefore, we must judge and critique the work as it stands alone.   

Madonna and Child - oil on canvas

I have chosen to publish my first entry at the same time as my introduction.  Here we go folks!

Madonna and Child, Twila Wayt - Oil on Canvas

Madonna and Child Twila Wayt - Oil Pastel on paper

Personal photo, Twila Wayt

     One of the exercises in my painting class in college was to work in the style of a particular artist.  I chose George Rouault for a number of reasons.  Initially, he was the artist that made me understand that being able to draw the human form perfectly was not as important as the story one needed to tell.  I absolutely love his crude figures, his glopping on of layer upon layer of paint in search of its perfect placement.  In his paintings I see his struggle to communicate.  As I began to study the man and his work I would come to understand what it was that he tried to say in images such as "The Old King - 1937".  He wanted to be an important religious painter.  I had read somewhere that he wished to make a painting of Christ so profound and inspiring that the image would draw men to God.  Finally, it is said that he once burned several hundred of his own "unfinished" paintings after a great deal of effort to retrieve them from his dealer's estate. Some suggest he did this out of spite, others suggest that it was simply because he didn't think he could "finish" them.

     I had completed a number of works while I imitated his style.  I selected his subject matter and various mediums during my study of  his work.  This painting stands out as my favorite among them as I believe it to be the closest to my understanding of him as an artist.  (At least in his later works.)

     The black and white photo is one that I snapped of my daughter and her first child.  We were goofing around with a piece of red satin and some skin.  I was using a regular old 35mm film camera and I wanted to experiment with that red as it translated into black and white.  My photography skills are not real keen, but I like to toy with it occasionally.  Though the image itself wasn't anything of a portraiture quality, I was still quite fond of it.  Her youth, innocence and most of all, her laughter just struck me as interesting.  As I often do, I stashed the image away in a special place, knowing it held some element I wanted in a painting.  Later, when I discovered George Rouault, I would find that "thing" I saw in the image.

The Theme 
     The message I was compelled to relay?  Mary, a young mother, enjoying her child's little fingers scraping across her skin.  The tickle.  The joy of just being a mom.  And yet, how could she be laughing when she knew all that was ahead of her?  And my mind began to race.  It wandered to scary places, joyous places, deeply philosophical places....

   From a religious perspective I find it amazing enough to contemplate a love so deep that it is able to look out of dying eyes and forgive.  A love that would say "No matter what you do to me, I WILL love you."  I have often thought that if I were on that cross, with all that god power within me, I might have turned the whole crowd into toads and shouted "Who's your god now bitches!"  But this path of love.  It is more frightening and powerful than a world turned to toads.  Yes, that is amazing enough, the love that says "No matter what you do to ME, I will love you."  But what of the love that says, "No matter what you do to my CHILD...."  ??

   As I painted this, I not only thought about my own daughter as a mother, but of my cousin and his wife as well.  My cousin's own daughter died of a cancerous brain tumor just past the age of five.  We watched helplessly as they fought for five years.  During those years there were moments, like her fifth birthday party, where laughter and smiles ruled the day.  In all of that fear, despair, struggle... there were moments of joy.  It was this moment that I hoped to portray in Mary.  Though she "knew all things" in her heart.... here, she was just a mom.  In this moment her faith said "No matter what you do to my child, I will love."  And I think of a God, that at the very moment of the birth of mankind ...."No matter what you do to my child, I will love."

Nuances of Technique
  I had noticed that George Rouault often placed his images inside of niches.  A niche would suggest a place of importance and I thought of old Byzantine alter pieces painted on panels for the alter.  This was Georges goal, to have his painting be a religious symbol of sorts.  It felt very natural to surround my moment in a niche.  Additionally, George is listed often with the Fauve artists.  (Think Matisse and the garish colors)  You will also find his work described (rightly so) as expressionist.  In keeping with those descriptions I chose a slightly funky color palette and kept my "expression" more upbeat. 

Beyond Rouault
  Unfortunately (or fortunately) the painting suffered an accident.  It is, at this moment, quite torn.  I removed it from the stretcher bars and rolled it up while I devise a new plan for it.  I am inclined to destroy it.  And then reconstruct it.  I had witnessed a student of mine chop up a painting that she didn't like, only to glue is to another surface with haphazard spaces between the pieces.  When the pieces started lifting off the surface, she grabbed some clear packaging tape and slapped it all over the piece.  The finished work was far more interesting than that with which she began.  (She's one of those rare "fearless" artists.)

   In my mind, I see the painting in pieces.  I see myself sewing the pieces together by hand.  I cannot imagine the finished piece.  Viggo Mortensen said in his book Recent Forgeries, "Making things is a way of finding out."  I have a certain faith about life that is reflected in my idea of art.  No matter how much you screw it up, just keep going.  It will work.  I guess I just have to "find out".

Introduction

About This Blog

 

"So, what are you going to do with an art degree?"

"Hell if I know!  I guess, I'll just paint."

Seriously folks, no one teaches you how to BE an artist let alone how to live as one.  I started out in mechanical drafting, moved towards a math teaching degree, got redirected into teaching art and finally ended up with a fine art degree.  Not a day goes by that I don't find myself shaking my head and asking "How the hell did THAT happen?"

The truth is, although I fought it all my life, I just EMERGED as an artist.  I have always loved drawing and writing.  I just never had enough respect for it to pursue it.   In high school art was for the "stoners."  I was better than that.  I had a brain.  I could grasp math.  Mechanical drafting was an obvious avenue and it was readily available to me.  So there I went.  There's a long arduous journey between the "there" and "here", not to mention, a tedious story.  We'll leave that for another day.  "Here" is where I am today.  Today, I cannot tell you how to market your art, how to make money at it, how to "justify" all that time, money and effort into what you/we do.  I can only tell you that I am an artist, and I am compelled to create.  More importantly, as I have embraced this , I have come to understand just how important it is to humanity to have "art".   I must tell you that some of the most "brilliant" people I know are artists!  Somehow, I must make you know what art means, not only to me, but to all of us.  There lies the point and goal of my blog!  So tune in.  Meanwhile here is a little more about me:

About My Own Work

There are several ideas and inspirations that coagulate in my work.     For the most part, I would say that I am most interested in the human experience.  Naturally, I find myself interested in expressionism.  But my interest is not limited to expressionism.  I am intrigued by a number of works I had seen at the Guggenheim museum of Modern Art in NYC a few years ago.   One such example, "The Soft Wall" by Robert Irwin is among one of my favorite experiences.  I was absolutely fascinated by the artist's power of manipulation to have held me captivated by an empty room.  It was as if he understood the nature of my intense curiosity.  He somehow understood me and gave me the delightful human experience of discovery.  When the artist and his audience see eye to eye, when one understands the other, in that moment, some kind of communion happens in the soul.  That is the moment I strive for as an artist.

Artist Bio

Group Exhibitions

            Feb 6 – March 10, 2006 Great Lakes Drawing Biennial Eastern Michigan’s University’s Ford Gallery

            2005-2006 Eastern Michigan University Honors Exhibit (for Art Scholarship recipients)

Grants, Scholarships and Awards

            2004-2005 Eastern Michigan University’s Recognition of Excellence Scholarship 

            2005-2006 Eastern Michigan University’s Regents Scholarship

            2005-2006 Eastern Michigan University, Art Department’s Juanita Weddige Scholarship

                      

Education

          2007 Bachelor of Fine Arts from Eastern Michigan University - Magna Cum Laude

2003 Associate of Science from Henry Ford Community College - Magna Cum Laude

Member of Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society  2006