Reunited

I'm about to begin my next painting. The canvas is a stark white, which makes me nervous. I am anxious to put a mark, a blot of color, almost anything, as a respite from the bottomless white. I have the concept in my mind, next I will do a sketch, work out the composition and values. That's the rigorous part, the grunt work, if you will. Experience is teaching me to take this as a dose of medicine, a necessary unpleasantness you have to go through to get to the pleasantness. The reward will be the moment my loaded brush caresses the canvas, like lovers reunited after a long absence.

Spring

Spring! Spring! Spring! Thank All That Is Good she has finally arrived! Living in the Southeast, we are beseiged by choking pollen at this time, but I suppose it is the price to be paid for the balmy sun, the tender shades of green, the soft earth scents. I feel renewed and eager, and have started on the next painting in my still life series. It's a providential thing Spring follows bleak Winter. . . colors seem brighter, each drowsy bumblebee a miracle.

Close Courage

I received a dose of inspiration. Saw a piece on CBS's Sunday Morning about portrait artist Chuck Close. His portraits are very large - 6-7' X 9-10', and are composed of smaller round, square, and/or triangular shapes, intrically placed, carefully hued, that when seen from a distance form an amazingly original likeness to the subject. Now, this work is wonderful enough, but what I find particularly inspiring is that he is in a wheelchair, with limited mobility of his arms and hands. He paints by using a specially made wrist strap, on which his brush is fastened. The man refuses to give up. Most probably there are days when it would be easier. But he forges on, against the tide. He is determined to speak his own unique voice, to express his inner self. This is courage and tenacity.
I will think of him often when my muse decides to hide, when it's too hot or too cold or too . . .
whatever.

Savannah Smiles

Managed to get to Savannah over the weekend with 2 of my best friends from high school. We were in art classes together - separating after graduation like dandelions on the wind. They went on to college, successfully acquiring degrees; I did not. I did the 9 to 5 thing. 24 years have slipped by, the 3 of us keeping in touch sporadically. Sometimes 3 or 4 years would go by between contact, sometimes only months; the rhythm of our lives dictating the tempo of communication. We met, and it was as if no time at all had passed. Sure, we are no longer the naive girls we were, but our bond is still there. The same linking of our minds and spirit. This is true time travel. This is the fountain of youth. This is riches beyond the dollar, yen or peso. And to be in the gloriously historic city of Savannah, with her fantastic archetectural heritage, wonderful art, diverse cuisine - oooh! My creativity well is full again.