Relationships

I concentrated this morning so deeply that I forgot to turn my music on.  It’s hard to believe, looking at this photo, I’m sure.  The piece is developing with more interest than you can tell here.  When I came up for air, I was pondering what pulls me into such a deep and wonderful place.  

It’s the color relationships.  I love planting one color against another, making one place whisper quietly while another pops.  I’m thinking ahead a little about what I ultimately plan to do with each area of the composition but at times, I’m simply enjoying what colors do together or to each other.  

I think creating art is probably that simple.  I’m sure writers love stringing words together and beautiful gardens begin with a bit of moss.  I met a man recently who bought a piece of land and goes outside every morning with his sleeves rolled up.  He digs, researches, examines, transplants - with joy.  He stops to drink a cup of coffee and look up at the trees.  The piece of land is changing very, very slowly — and I have a feeling it will be stunning some day.  No doubt, he’ll know every stone, bunny, and wildflower on it.  He’s building a relationship. 

Valuing the simplest elements of what we do is where the peace is.  I think by slowing my pace over the last couple of years, I’ve rediscovered that.  Rediscoveries take patience too.

Going through the motions

It’s the title of this painting….and sometimes exactly what I need to do!  It’s comforting, reassuring, and can border on boring BUT I really think it works.

My focus has always been to keep working.  Right or wrong, if in doubt….I paint.  I might not feel creative or inspired but I have a choice to make.  I can stare at the blank sheet and freeze, leave the studio and eat Cheetos (fill in your blank here…), or I can paint.

I feel like I’ll learn something if I’m working — maybe a new technique will emerge or an unexpected color combination will bump up against each other.  Maybe I’ll feel energized by my subject after fifteen minutes — or maybe I’ll get sick enough of what I’m doing to actually DO something different tomorrow.

Whatever happens, I’ll be a step or two down the road.  So if going through the motions is the best I can do today, well, there is no reason to leave the studio.  I turn the music a little louder, adjust the blinds, and pick up the brush.  If I’m lucky, I’ll look at the clock in a couple of hours and wonder where the time went and why my muscles are sore from sitting so long.

And usually that’s exactly what happens.  Of course, I do stop for Cheetos - there is a sprinkling of Cheeto dust in almost every painting.  Magic dust.