I had grand plans of hiking in the mountains over Fourth of July weekend, but instead my daughter came down with a cold and consequently, so did I. Thankfully, I still got some time to paint. So here were my holiday "fireworks," a sketch of some day lilies from our back yard.
"Day Lilies" - 10"x10" oil on gallery wrap linen
I painted these freely and without worrying whether or not they would turn out. I've been slowly learning that the best paintings are done with a positive assumption that they will turn out, no matter what bumps or hiccups they meet along the way.
I've also been re-learning to paint with my canvas and reference photo upside down when I'm doing studio work. Over the weekend I also finished this 12x16 studio piece of my sister in law sitting at her cherry grand piano. Lindsay has such a perfect face that sometimes it's hard to capture her likeness. By flipping the painting sideways and/or upside down, I was able to see her proportions more objectively and therefore get it right.
"Composing Thoughts" - 12x16" - oil on linen
These two paintings are both direct manifestations of subject matter/people/colors/etc. that I love. As hard as I try to objectively separate design from subject matter (see my last post), I simply can't. Perhaps that will still happen eventually, but I have an emotional connection to my paintings, and that's why I create them.
I'm just throwing this out there... but could this emotional connection be because I'm a woman? Take for instance the works of Richard Schmid and his wife Nancy Guzik. Both are world-class painters, whose styles are similar... but different. Richard is one of the people I credit with my choice to become a professional artist. But upon seeing Nancy's work, I happened to relate more to her paintings than Richard's. Why is that? Someone once told me, "Richard loves to paint, Nancy loves what she paints." There is a very important difference there, one which I relate to as a deeply emotional and relational being. Richard's paintings sing with panache and bravado - they test the very limits of what paint is capable of. Nancy's take you to a quieter place and render you breathless with their mastery of color and their sensitivity towards the subject. I relate more to Nancy. Neither are right or wrong... just different.
So as I've been trying to come to terms with what I'm learning from Quang Ho and the many powerful contemporary painters I've been fortunate enough to meet... I realize that I've forgotten what
I have to bring to the table.
I don't want to paint like anyone else. I didn't choose this job for the money, fame, or to be in grand museums and written about in art books. I chose art because it's what I was meant to do, and I have a voice of my own... one that is unlike any other's and one that is only mine to share.
Yes, perhaps my work has a feminine touch to it that at its worst might be called indulgent and overly sentimental. But at its best it is sensitive, honest, and relatable... and don't human beings--especially during these trying times--need to relate to one another?
So, I continue the quest to make my artworks powerful and meaningful... while being true to the voice God gave me. Fellow artists, consider this my encouragement to do the same. :-)
