The key to growth for me is to keep moving. That goes for both growing in strength and internal creativity. Moving physically, sure, but just as important is the mental movement that comes from talking to other creatives and artists, sharing our processes and inspirations. There is no substitution for listening to one's own inner voice, to be sure - but you have to be quiet in order to hear it.
In mid November, I was in the right place at the wrong time. Another driver's error proved to be my downfall, and I've had the past 10 weeks to think about that. I wish I could say that I've been tremendously productive during this imposed state of quiet and healing, but if I'm being truthful, not so much. I have had the chance to be still and quiet, and that should pay off when I am well enough to be back at work in my studio... just the thought of it makes me feel ready for some time in front of my easel. Perhaps tomorrow.
In February I will do the 30 Paintings in 30 Days challenge. I figure it's good for me, and in the past it has served me well to have the incentive of posting daily paintings and saying a few words. With any luck at all, there will be birds singing in the morning and a few crocuses blooming when the challenge is done. That's nice to look forward to, but it's the idea of having 30 pieces of new work hung on my studio walls that motivates me right now.
I will be posting daily, on the 30 Day Challenge site as well as on my blog.
Let me know what you think.
Right now I need that motivation.
Sometimes it takes more than one try to get a thing right.
Improvement is tough to quantify, but recently I discovered the urge to give it a go.
Whether it's a recipe or a painting, something can be gained through repetition.
That's a long way of saying that I am about to repeat a series I did more than twenty years ago. (A lot more). But it's been on my mind, this painting, and I've spent a few months gathering the tools to do the series, and I think it's a good thing to do as Spring is rolling in.
Today I'm going to post the painting that launched my thesis series back in college.
Don't ask the year, it only sets me off on a "where did the time go?" thing that slows me down.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, the first painting that made me feel like a painter.
I'm often asked about motivation: how do you find it, where does it disappear to?
My answer is always the same: stop looking and/or waiting for it, just show up.
Physically take yourself to the place where you create, go through the mechanics, and don't think too much... motivation and inspiration will find you. As an artist, it's what gets me out of bed every morning. It's the possibility that something good and unexpected will happen on the easel.
That, and coffee.
All it takes is one look out of the window and you know that the season is in full bloom. Or full color, at least. Plein air painters are packing extra layers in their cars, especially good socks. And I find myself looking at the LL Bean catalog to see if there is some new solution to my weather-related problems.
Fleece is my friend.
Having been in Vermont last month, I know that the color is at it's very best this week, so a trip north is not out of the question. If only I can declutter my studio, repack my supplies and clear the calendar... but those are all excuses. I'll simply post a painting or two and hit the road.
Vowing to avoid open fields and hours of direct sun, this little painting was done in the shade of a lovely tree near the Landgrove Town Hall. The road leads to Peru (Vermont).
Spending a week or so in Landgrave Vermont is probably akin to a week at a spa for most folks.
We ate, drank, and talked art 24/7. The weather was perfect, the company excellent and the painting was a joy.
This is one of the quick studies done on the first day... more to come!
On The Cape, there was little rain to speak of this summer. Great for the vacationers, not so for the gardeners. For the farmers, it's been just awful.
We had some spells of humidity so heavy that the air breathed wet. The breeze, and I use the term loosely, reminded my of my dog's breath after he's been working hard. That is not a pleasant thing to feel any time, but it's particularly dreadful if you aren't expecting it. Same with the tropical air that hit us hard on three occasions this summer.
When the cloud cover was thick, and the air even thicker, it was impossible to see where the ocean ended and the horizon began. The skies were grey, blue, purple and the fog just lay out there unmoving on top of the water. From time to time the blue heavens broke through, but in the end it took a change of wind to finally clear it out. Rather than fight it, I tried to paint it.
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