The song inside you
Amusing: after announcing right up front that yesterday's painting was going to be painted over, I discovered I really liked it; in fact, I used it in this morning's blog on Contemplative Photography, and so far the response has been really positive.
So I have to wonder -- given that this one was a VERY quick experimental piece (I only had half an hour in which to paint this morning) -- if my assumption, that it, too, will eventually need to be painted over, will also prove false...
I do have this unfortunate tendency to have vaguely floral effects shooting out of the middle of some of my paintings, and this one certainly exemplifies that. But it's very loose and free, with a lot of mark-making going on, and I see that as a plus, whether or not I like the actual marks. It's just good that I'm loosening up.
Which is kind of what that blog post this morning was about: now that we have all this time with no interruptions, no need to be anywhere or prove anything (other than to ourselves), does it give us a chance to explore freedom? Will we loosen up, open up, allow ourselves to try things that normally intimidate us?
It reminds me of something someone asked at one of my artist gatherings years ago: What would you like to attempt if you knew you absolutely couldn't fail? I remember one of the other women in the group startled us all by saying she'd like to be a jet pilot. For me, though, the answer's always been a professional singer: gospel, maybe, or country and western; possibly jazz... blues... I love them all: I sing constantly in the car and I've been singing in groups most of my life, but when solo opportunities arise I always freeze up; I have no confidence whatever that the song inside me will safely emerge.
... which is probably why I enjoy painting so much: it's like the song inside me gets to appear on the canvas! So -- what's the song inside you? And how will you express it today?
Learnings: This one is even worse than yesterday. The Diarylide yellow sucks.
Fine lines need to be background, not center image.
My marks need to be bolder.
So I have to wonder -- given that this one was a VERY quick experimental piece (I only had half an hour in which to paint this morning) -- if my assumption, that it, too, will eventually need to be painted over, will also prove false...
I do have this unfortunate tendency to have vaguely floral effects shooting out of the middle of some of my paintings, and this one certainly exemplifies that. But it's very loose and free, with a lot of mark-making going on, and I see that as a plus, whether or not I like the actual marks. It's just good that I'm loosening up.
Which is kind of what that blog post this morning was about: now that we have all this time with no interruptions, no need to be anywhere or prove anything (other than to ourselves), does it give us a chance to explore freedom? Will we loosen up, open up, allow ourselves to try things that normally intimidate us?
It reminds me of something someone asked at one of my artist gatherings years ago: What would you like to attempt if you knew you absolutely couldn't fail? I remember one of the other women in the group startled us all by saying she'd like to be a jet pilot. For me, though, the answer's always been a professional singer: gospel, maybe, or country and western; possibly jazz... blues... I love them all: I sing constantly in the car and I've been singing in groups most of my life, but when solo opportunities arise I always freeze up; I have no confidence whatever that the song inside me will safely emerge.
... which is probably why I enjoy painting so much: it's like the song inside me gets to appear on the canvas! So -- what's the song inside you? And how will you express it today?
Learnings: This one is even worse than yesterday. The Diarylide yellow sucks.
Fine lines need to be background, not center image.
My marks need to be bolder.
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