Horse Comission Gone Wrong

 

                                                            "Surf Runners"

I had a hint in the very beginning that this commission wasn’t going to go smoothly. When I first spoke to the woman on the phone, there was no hint of friendliness or even cordiality, just a very standoffish tone and words. “This is what I want. Can you do it?”

What she wanted was a pencil drawing of two Arabian horses running on a beach from left to right. One was to be a stallion and the other a mare. The drawing was to be used to etch a large mirror. I got right to work looking for references of horses running since there were no photographs provided for this project. Since I’m not an Arabian artist, the only photographs I had in my own morgue files were of Thoroughbreds racing. I did some thumbnail sketches and came up with two sketches I liked that would work well together. Then I set to work on the preliminary drawing, changing those Thoroughbreds into Arabians as best I could. After completing it, I sent it to the client for approval, and waited anxiously.  The word soon came; she didn’t approve. 

Again, there was nothing friendly in her tone or words. Never having encountered anything like this from any of my other clients, I was puzzled. Most people are very friendly and open during the whole process. 

The changes she wanted were a full out gallop depicted, higher more flowing tails, more “free spirit” feeling and less “playful’ feeling. I scrapped the first two horses and came up with two more which I thought fit better the feeling that she wanted. I sent her a second preliminary drawing and waited for her reply. It took a while for her to get back to me, and again she had changes to be made. Make the nostrils on the left horse more flared. Give the right horse a more intense expression in the eyes and mouth. 

Again, no friendliness (or even annoyance!) in her voice. 

This time, thinking the changes were minor, I went ahead and completed the final drawing and delivered it to her in person. Again, her demeanor and tone were very standoffish. 

A short time later she called to tell me that they had decided to scrap the whole project and she would be returning the drawing. It was a bit of a blow to my ego at the time, but I soon realized there was no way this woman was going to be happy with anything I did. She had such a firm idea in her head of what she wanted that it would be difficult for any artist to please her, and I was certainly not that artist. 

I’ve thought a few times over the years of doing this image over again with my own vision. I know which of these two designs I like better and which has potential to become a new painting. What do you think?

Looking Back; Looking Forward

What can I say? It’s been a tough three years. 

Three and a half years ago I said good bye to my horse and just haven’t found the right words to post here since. Probably some of you, my followers, have given up long ago and gone on your way. Frankly, I didn’t know how to follow that devastating post with anything uplifting and joyous. But it does deserve a follow up even if I’m writing only for myself. 

In the instant we left the barn for the last time after loading up my tack trunk, saddles, bridle, blankets and lunging whip, Barn Life and the community it engendered ended for me forever. In truth, barn life had diminished in the preceding two years as one by one my riding buddies gave up riding, except for one. The first one’s back no longer allowed her to ride without great pain, another was dealing with his own health issues, and a third sold her horse and devoted her time instead to her art. A fourth had moved away to pursue a degree in the medical field. Of the boarders, only Anne remained. Problem was she only came out after work once a week which was often too late for me, and I hated to burden her with riding the more flat trails for Scottie’s sake, knowing she liked more adventurous riding. 

Meanwhile, I had my own health issues which kept me from being able to trek out into the hilly pastures to fetch Scottie and even to get on and off him. In fact, there were very few rides in his last years as it was. Perhaps, with his deteriorating health, it was for the best. But the loss of the companionship of my barn buddies, my only real friends, was as devastating as losing Scottie whom I knew was in a better place and no longer suffering. For over a year, it was a very difficult adjustment to make; from horse owner and life in a world of horses to being alone and an outsider. 

The following year our five year old female rescue dog, who was my heart dog, became desperately ill. For five weeks we tried to save her but in the end had to let her go. This loss was far more devastating, and I mourn for her still, resenting the unfairness of it all; striking down a lively, beautiful, loving dog still in her prime. 

And then the Year Of Covid came with its lockdowns and fears of the unknown future ahead of us. Truthfully, lockdown was no big deal for me since I work from home as it is. In fact, it was a relief to have an excuse NOT to go out among people, hermit that I am. 

And then our twenty year old cat succumbed to her kidney disease, and we had to let her go, too. Rest In Peace, Mollykins.

So there it was, three losses in three years. I am thankful, however, that we didn’t lose anyone in our family or among our friends to the terrible ravages of Covid-19, and that is something to be very grateful for.

During the  past three years not much art has been created or worked on or even finished. Truthfully, my heart just isn’t into art at the moment. In the meantime, I’ve found another outlet for my creativity. 

Back in the fifties, my father wrote a novel about his experiences in The War and about his life. He submitted it to a publisher who rejected it, he started to revise it and then gave up. I inherited his novel in all its forms and have begun copying it to my computer from the faded typed pages he composed so long ago. Being a journalist, he was an excellent typist. I am not. So the going has been slow as I squint at those old thin sheets of typing paper trying to decipher the text. I figure I owe it to him to get the book printed and possibly self-published and distributed to family members. In the process, I’m gaining a better understanding of the father from whom I kept my distance all my life, never fully understanding why.

As I’m working on my dad’s writing, the urge to compose my own stories has welled up. Long ago my third love after horses and art was writing. I took creative writing classes in both high school and college and did well but never pursued writing in any meaningful way. 

It’s so good to feel enthusiastic about something again. Perhaps The Muse will also spread that enthusiasm and confidence to art some time soon.     

My Muse, My Horse, My Scottie

Two weeks ago today I lost the love of my life, my muse, my dream-come-true horse, my beloved Scottie.

Scottie had a long and well-loved life. I bought him as a still green four year old. I had just started riding lessons in middle age after many years away from horses. For you see, I'd had a bad riding accident when I was 13 which left me even more fearful of riding than I had already been. Soon after I gave up riding but never stopped loving horses. 

My lesson horse was Scottie, a very handsome sorrel Quarter Horse with a very laid back disposition. One thing led to another, and several weeks later I bought him at the urging of my riding instructor. 

You would think that pairing a green horse with a timid rider would not have been a wise combination, but contrarily it turned out to be a perfect match. Not that those early years were easy. Scottie tested me in little ways; never truly naughty or dangerous ways but just willfulness. If I insisted long enough he gave in and did my bidding. Sometimes I went to the barn with a churning stomach full of butterflies. Sometimes I came home thinking of selling him and giving up on horses again. But, I never did, and in the end it was a confidence building experience for me. 

Through the years we took riding lessons sporadically, mostly of the classical dressage nature and gradually became a perfectly matched team. Scottie liked to work but not too hard. He was rarely a horse you had to hold back; mostly he was a horse you had to put out a lot of effort to get to work a little harder. But he always tried. He was always a perfect gentleman. Never once in the 28 years I owned him did he ever buck or refuse to work at all unless he was in a lot of pain. 

Most of all, Scottie loved to go on trail rides. And so did I. In the early years we boarded at different farms where we had access to trails and people to ride with. Twenty two years ago I found a private farm which took in a few specially selected boarders of a mature age and whose owners had the same horse care philosophy that I did. It had an indoor arena for winter riding and miles and miles of very hilly trails for fun the rest of the year. 

That's where Scottie spent his last years, and he loved it there. He found a best buddy to play "wild stallion" with. He lived in a herd on pasture year round where he could eat grass and good quality hay to his heart's content. Most of all, he loved grass. There were run-in sheds and the big indoor arena where the horses could come in away from the flies and sun or snow or pelting rain. It was idyllic for any horse and a very healthy environment.  

It was idyllic for me, too. With new barn friends close to my own age, we rode the trails together often and had many adventures. Some of those trails were really steep and scary to this still timid rider, but Scottie always took care of me, negotiating them with nary a misstep. Sometimes we went off trails through the woods, dodging tree branches, shoving them out of the way and stepping over downed tree limbs and other brush. 

The years took its toll on both of us. I developed debilitating leg and knee problems which kept me from the barn and from riding regularly. Scottie developed Cushings disease and as a result suffered a severe sinus infection that threatened his life. A trip to Michigan State University Large Animal Clinic saved his life and revealed he had severe periodontal disease. From then on he was under the care of a veterinarian dental specialist. He lost most of his teeth, and the rest were worn down to the gums. 

As a result of his dental problems, Scottie could no longer chew hay and lost weight. A year ago I retired him and retired myself from riding. In spite of massive amounts of grain daily, Scottie lost weight rapidly this winter. He developed another bad abscessed tooth infection. His liver was failing, and sometimes he couldn't get up on his own after lying down. 

At the end, the decision I'd dreaded making for so many years was an easy, but sad, one to make. It was time to let Scottie go. It was the kindest thing we could do for him. He was tired and suffering and giving up. We put him down in the arena surrounded and comforted by the two people he loved most in the world. We told him it was okay to go now, and he slipped away peacefully. 

Scottie is buried up on a hill in the pasture along with his herd mates Jack and Mellissa and Stutz. Mikey will join them eventually. From there you can see almost all of the farm. I think he will like it there. 

"You're Fired!" Thank Goodness!

"Huntley" one of my early pet portraits

If  you've ever been through this ordeal, you know that being fired from a job can be a humiliating and demoralizing experience. But, sometimes it turns out to be the best thing that could have happened to you. 

Right out of art school I got a job with a billboard company as a keyliner. As it turned out the job entailed more than that. My boss also gave me billboard design jobs to do along with the keylines for billboards. Keylines are boards that contain the type and artwork that are used by the painters when sizing up the designs onto huge billboard panels to be painted. Everything has to be accurate and precise because any tiny mistake on the keyline is magnified many times on the huge billboard panels. 

Designing and doing the layouts is much more exciting and rewarding. We were given a few guidelines, like the text to be included and the images wanted and then it was up to us to arrange everything in an eye catching design. A billboard has three seconds to grab the attention of drivers passing by. We used a type setting machine for the type and created color layouts of the designs using markers, just as I had been taught in art school. I loved working with markers.

There were only three of us in the art department in a tiny upstairs studio at Dingeman Advertising in Traverse City. We listened to NPR on the radio a lot, and I particularly remember one day listening to a reading of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" as we worked. It was one of those mesmerizing magic moments that you never forget. 

It came as a shock, then, when my boss's boss instructed her to fire me for being too slow. It wasn't that it wasn't deserved and that I hadn't been warned, but it was still a shock. 

It took me maybe half a day to get over the shock and to embrace a new way forward. Being fired gave me the freedom to do freelance design work which quickly broadened into a pet portrait business. 

When I returned to riding after a thirty year absence and bought a horse, pet portraits expanded into horse portraits. It wasn't long before I was creating equine fine art too, going to horse shows and horse expos with my booth and entering juried art shows. The rest is history, as they say. 

After several years of doing freelance design work, I realized it wasn't where my heart was nor where I was most skilled. I gave it up and concentrated on using my graphic design skills to design my  own marketing materials and a website for the fine art business. 

"Lavender Light" a college art still life

If I hadn't been fired all those years ago, all of this might not have happened, or at least it would have been delayed for who knows how long. So, today I am grateful for being let go from a job that I wasn't suited for in the first place. Today I celebrate my long career as a fine artist and occasional illustrator. 

Today I am fulfilled.

Stepping Stone Art #2; "Spring Lamb" painting

 

"Spring Lamb" 8x10 oil painting on linen canvas panel

I guess by now it's no secret that I've been in a bit of a creative slump for some time now. There is no need to dredge up the reasons for said slump; something akin to airing one's dirty laundry in public; so we'll just proceed as if there hasn't been one. 

This little painting was recently completed and is now in an art show at a local restaurant. I started it several years ago as just a quick study, worked on it a little last Fall, but then holiday duties took precedence and it was set aside - again. After that came end of year business tasks and then tax season which left the little painting once again languishing on the studio wall.

Several weeks ago I was asked to donate art to an art show benefit event for the animal rescue from which we adopted our dogs two years ago. I jumped at the chance and immediately thought of the lamb painting which was sure to be an appealing image that would hopefully earn some much-needed funds for the rescue. Down from the wall came the painting and onto the easel it went. 

Where I started from to finish the painting

Now, many artists will tell you that most paintings have their difficult moments during creation when nothing seems to be working and the artist considers junking the whole project. Being an artist is not all Fun and Games as the general public seems to think. But once in a while a painting almost paints itself. The studio is in harmonious abandon, and there is much joy in the heart of the artist. 

Such was the case with this little painting. The lamb was partly painted already so I proceeded  to finish it while making a few corrections as I went. Even the corrections went smoothly. I didn't have to wipe out and redo any troublesome areas. 

All the while I had no idea how I was going to finish the background. Should I leave it as an unfinished toned area or should I try for a full landscape? Up until the very minute I started on the background I wasn't sure what to do. Taking a risk, I decided to try for a full background and see how it went. After all, I could wipe it out if it didn't work. 

Wonder of wonders, the background practically painted itself! At every moment it told me what it needed, and when it was done the result was very pleasing and complementary to the lamb. Over all, I am very pleased with this painting, the first one I've finished in a very long time. 

Close up of the lamb

I think my creative block has finally broken, and I'm ready to move forward once again. Perhaps that polar bear I started last year? That should be a challenge!

Stepping Stone #1; "Morgana", a Morgan Horse Drawing

"Morgana", graphite pencil drawing, Morgan mare

After several more hours and many revisions to the drawing, "Morgana", I am declaring it finished. It is the first piece of art (other than sketches) that I've completed in over two years, so its significance can't be under estimated. 

"Morgana" will be my first finished piece of art in the Stepping Stone series; a series of paintings and drawings that will help me to become actively creative again after a creative block of several years. Not only was it a confidence boosting drawing but also a learning experience. Here is some of what I learned:

1. Choose the paper support wisely before beginning to draw. I fought this utilitarian drawing paper from the beginning. It has very little "tooth"to grab onto the graphite and proved very difficult to get the darks as dark as I wanted them. 

2. Measure twice; draw once. I began the drawing sitting on the couch watching TV, holding the sketchbook on my lap while holding the reference photo in my left hand. I eye balled the proportions and angles rather than measuring them, and they were off in several places. I didn't discover this until the drawing was finished. 

3. Don't proceed with the drawing/painting until you're sure that the initial outline drawing is absolutely accurate. After that, corrections are very difficult if not impossible. 

4. Size matters. If this is to be something more than a quick sketch, draw it larger or enlarge the outline drawing on a copy machine or computer.

5. If your reference is a small 4x6 inch photo, scan it at a high resolution and enlarge it on the computer. Either work from a computer screen or print out the enlarged photo.

reference photo for the drawing, "Morgana"

This latter point was the most telling lesson of all. I didn't scan the photo until the drawing was done and did so only to show you what the reference was like. When I opened the image on the computer screen and saw it enlarged by zooming in, I could see far more detail than I had been able to see in that small 4x6 inch photo print. It was a real Ahah! moment to realize how much detail I had missed putting into the drawing. 

But, that's okay. Lessons learned, and that is the whole purpose of the Stepping Stone series; to build confidence and build skills through DOING. At the same time, I'm scraping off some of the rust of the inactive years and awakening again skills and lessons learned in the past. 

What will I tackle for Stepping Stone #2? Check back to find out. 

Thank you, as always, for your interest and support.

New Drawing; "Morgana"

 

"Morgana" pencil drawing of a Morgan Mare

While watching the Democratic National Convention this week, I've been working on this drawing in one of my sketch books. 

As reference, I'm using a photograph taken several years ago at a Morgan horse farm. Her name was Lady, and she was a broodmare. In fact, she is the mother of Bullet, the Morgan colt that I've painted twice. The reference photo shows her with mouth open eating hay; a not very flattering picture. The challenge was to change the mouth, and I'm quite pleased with how well that turned out.

The drawing needs a lot more work. I will keep working on it to get it as close to the photograph and artistically pleasing as I can, keeping in mind balancing the values. It will be excellent practice in building up my "seeing" muscles again after such a long layoff. 

So, here you have "Morgana". The drawing is not big; about 6x6 inches done in graphite mostly with a 6B pencil and a little with an Ebony pencil to get the darks more dark. It has a ways to go. Already I can see about ten things that need to be corrected. It will be posted again when it's finished. 

I've always loved to draw  and used to do it endlessly as a kid. I'm really enjoying getting back to my drawing roots again and will be doing more of it from now on as part of my Stepping Stones project of rehabilitation and building up confidence in my artistic abilities again. 

 Please let me know what you think of this new drawing (remember, it's not finished yet).

Thank you for stopping by.

Closing a Door and Opening Another?

"Feel So Fine" springtime foal is now home and available for purchase.

For several years I've had my artwork in a very nice shop in the nearby small village of Central Lake. It started out as mainly a consignment shop for local artists and craftsmen, but over the years the shop has transitioned into more and more stocking commercially made very tasteful home decor and clothing.

I had good sales in this shop for quite a few years, but in the past 2-3 sales fell off considerably to almost nothing.

This past week the owner of the shop called to ask if I wanted to come get my artwork, and I readily agreed. It was something I had been intending to do for months but hadn't gotten around to. With sales so low and the shop no longer emphasizing local artists and craftsmen, it didn't make much sense to leave the art languishing in the recesses of a side room where many visitors didn't go.

Yesterday I picked up the original art, prints and the few note cards that were left. No one had told the young clerk, who was alone in the shop, that I might be coming in or where to find my art. It took her a long time to find it in their back room, and not all of it could be found in the whole shop! I had kept very careful records of what was in the shop and what had sold over the years so arrived with my own inventory list of what SHOULD have been there. 

If I had any regrets about leaving the shop they were quickly dispelled. Remembering that although the owner, an animal lover, had always expressed great admiration for my art, the woman she later hired to order the merchandise and approve the art and do the displays did not seem to share her enthusiasm. More than once I found original paintings of mine hidden behind lamps, and when I stopped in last year, I no longer had my own designated print rack; in fact my prints were nowhere out to be seen. Is it any wonder that none were selling? This was a big hint that it was time to go.

At this point my feelings are very mixed but mainly positive about this "loss" of gallery representation. Merry was very good to me over the years, and sales were good when I had given up other marketing outlets like art fairs and horse expos. In some years, the shop was my only source of income. 

Now that the art is home, some pieces will be available to show to honest to goodness local galleries where actual art buyers will be looking for their next purchase. That will be a better fit for me at this point, and that is my near term goal. 

That is the door I hope to open.

New Painting; Polar Bear

First layer of color on new painting

I have begun a new painting; the first in a very long time. It's a simple painting set up mostly to be non threatening, non intimidating and fairly easy. It's the first in what I'm going to call my Stepping Stone series, a series of new paintings designed to resurrect my failed artistic confidence and get me enthusiastic, confident and prolific once again. 

A famous artist once said (and I'm paraphrasing) "Behind every masterful artist are a lot of failures". That quote has stuck with me as I've struggled to get back into the game. I briefly considered calling new paintings "failures", but that seemed self defeating. Why declare a work of art a failure before it's even begun? Why bother putting much effort into it if it's destined to be a failure anyway? So, I've settled on considering them stepping stones on the path forward that I'm building for myself.  

Back to that new painting. Some time ago I bought a rather large plastic polar bear at Michaels, intending to use it as a model some day. It seemed like a good place to start with the first stepping stone in my series, a rather easy form to draw as compared to a horse or wolf or human. Stacking a couple of boxes of appropriate size, I set up a still life stand on top of a tray table next to my easel, covered the boxes with a bath towel and placed the polar bear on top, choosing a pleasing angle for his "portrait". 

Envisioning an arctic scene, I toned an 8x10 inch canvas board with thinned Naples Yellow and proceeded to draw the bear directly on the canvas with a brush. The first attempt didn't look quite in proper proportion, so I made some adjustments, painting over the wrong lines and made new ones.

The result looked better, but I wanted to check my accuracy so I did a little trick with the computer. Seated at the easel, I took a photograph of the painting and then took another one of my still life setup being sure to frame the polar bear in the viewer just as it was on the canvas. Next I brought the painting into Photoshop and imported the still life photo on top of it in a new layer. By reducing the opacity of the layer, I could see the painting underneath and just had to move the layer around a bit so that the two bears overlapped nose tip to rump tip. I was dismayed to see that the drawing was still off in some areas although the body length was spot on. 

Drawing with reference superimposed to check for accuracy

I immediately beat myself up for not getting the drawing exactly right and fell into deep despair. Fortunately at that point my Nurturing Parent stepped in to to say, "Wait a minute here, Bucko! Don't be such a perfectionist! Remember, you haven't done very much drawing from life (or still life) since art school 30 years ago. Yes, Yes, we need to do more of this and up our skills at drawing accurately. But for now cut yourself some slack."

I felt better after that and was ready to move forward. Then the next dilemma cropped up. Should I leave the drawing as it was or make another bunch of corrections to match the photograph? Would it be cheating to do the corrections now? I decided that I wouldn't be happy with the painting, knowing the drawing was still off, if I didn't, and so I did. 

Once I had the drawing set and had drawn in a rough landscape, I painted a thin first layer of color over the whole canvas. Shown at the top. It's in what we artists call the "ugly" stage, but that will be remedied in subsequent layers where I will work in more color and detail. 

Early in the process I looked up photos of polar bears and the arctic on Google. So far I'm very happy with the way I caught the diffused winter sunshine of an arctic day and the pristine blue of the arctic waters. 

Thank you for stopping by, and please visit again.

"Molly" A Dog Portrait

 

"Molly" pastel dog portrait

Looking through a pile of old portraits, I came across this one of Molly the Bichon Frise.

She was a charming little dog who loved her tennis ball, so of course it had to be included in the portrait. She lived in a house with green shag carpet, a perfect backdrop for her snowy white coat. 

When I delivered the portrait, her owner seemed a bit underwhelmed (never a good sign) and sure enough, a day or two later she called to say that the portrait was not quite right; it just didn't look like Molly. I dutifully retrieved the portrait and examined the reference photo closely, and to my embarrassment realized that I had gotten Molly's head too narrow and the ears not right. 

Making corrections on a pastel portrait is fairly easy, and in no time "Molly" was looking like her real self. This time the client's enthusiasm was more genuine when I delivered the corrected portrait, and she has since told me how much she loves it. 

Sometimes one can get too close to a work of art and fail to see the flaws. I have learned to avoid this by standing back often from the easel, checking it frequently against the reference photo and looking at the work in a mirror where mistakes are more obvious. No artist, however accomplished, is immune from this myopia, so I've learned to be aware and to not flog myself when it happens. 

Thank you for stopping by. 

"Cadence", A Driving Horse Pastel Portrait

 

"Cadence", a pastel portrait

Here is another in a series of old portraits to share with you. 

This is Cadence, a flashy Morab driving horse. The portrait was 11"x14" pastel on paper. I took the driving photos for this composite portrait at a local show but used the very nice head photo provided by the client. 

I am particularly pleased with how the eye turned out. Some day I'd like to do a larger version of Cadence with his owner/driver in a country landscape. Wouldn't that be lovely? 

At one time I had note cards available of this image. But after the horse's owner asked if I was going to split the sales of the note card with her, I decided it was time to retire the design. After figuring in the cost of producing the cards, I wasn't making much profit nor was I selling many. 

So it goes for a portrait artist. 

Sudan, Palomino Horse Painting

 

"Sudan" 24x24 inch oil painting

While I'm toiling away preparing tax stuff to send to the accountant, I've decided to share some of my older artwork and portrait work with you and share the stories behind them; good, bad and downright ugly. It should be fun. 

First up in the spotlight is "Sudan", one of the last commissioned portraits I accepted. Sudan was a nice looking palomino Arabian Quarter Horse cross gelding. His owner wanted me to depict him in his summer and winter coats since he turned much lighter in his winter woollies.

Although I got to see him in person, I didn't have my camera with me and had to rely on photos provided by the client; almost always a challenge. I was downstate visiting my elderly parents and didn't have the camera with me at the time.  

The most challenging part of the portrait was selecting the photos that were the best AND which worked together the best. Once I had the composition worked out, the painting went rather smoothly. It was delivered to the client on another downstate visit to my parents. 

 "Sudan" might not be up to my current painting standards, but it was one of my best at the time and for that deserves a bit of recognition. 

I hope you enjoy him, and thanks for stopping by. 

One Step Forward, Two steps Back

It's safe to say that I am rusty when it comes to painting. Witness the painting above. 

Last week I put in time on this painting two days in a row. On the second day, I wiped off part of what I had painted the day before. On the third day, I tried to wipe off what I'd done on Day Two, but the paint had already dried, and I was only able to get off a little bit of it. 

The "progress" you see is on the hind legs and haunches of the horse. The left side isn't too bad, but the right haunch is a different matter. I mixed three piles of reddish brown: dark, medium and a lighter version. But somehow the haunch all came out pretty much one value. 

How did that happen? I asked myself. Well, I just wasn't paying enough attention when I mixed fresh batches of each value. I will have to paint that area again. There are other corrections to make as well. 

Although I'm eager to get back to the painting, I've taken a break to give the paint plenty of time to dry before I put on another coat and also to get some progress made on income tax information for the accountant. Then I plan to set aside three whole days to do nothing but paint the horse. 

So that's where I am now; dealing with Life responsibilities before getting back to the painting. Next time you can be sure that I will mix those different values more carefully and test them out before putting paint on the canvas again. 

Sometimes it's just one step forward and two steps back. That's just the way it goes in the life of a painter.

Blink Of An Eye

"Twilight Reverie" in progress painting

Revised painting, in progress

After an unusually warm Fall and a very green Christmas, the weather has changed from mid October-like to mid winter in the blink of an eye. As I write this, we are experiencing what is locally called Lake Effect snow. Those who live on the borders of the Great Lakes know exactly what I mean; periods of heavy blowing snow interspersed with blinding moments of cheerful sunshine. Mother Nature is at her most fickle.

Early January is the time that my day job dictates doing all the end of the year chores that are required for preparing business tax figures for the accountant. In my case, that would be two businesses: my husband’s and my own. So, this week I am sorting through papers, making new file folders, moving records and compiling documents into the Tax Box.

On the art front, I always do an end of year assessment, looking back over the year and noting what art sold, what art was started, exhibitions participated in, new products created, hours spent in the studio (yes, I do keep track of that for every work of art) and other assorted things. Part of that is also planning ahead and making new goals for the coming year.

So here I am in the midst of all this busyness, thinking about the promising year ahead. Having gone through some very difficult years (family, health, emotional) where art has taken a back seat and practically been kicked to the curb, I am thinking more than ever that THIS is the year to poop or get off the pot. Pardon the vulgarity, but that is exactly the phrase which is most apt. Either start creating again or throw in the towel for good.

For quite a few months now, I’ve been stuck on one particular large painting. There was something bothering me about the background. Was it too warm - or not? I feared that I had fallen into that crippling pit of following the reference photo too closely. I couldn’t decide, and so it languished on the easel, staring back at me in admonishment of my incompetence.

A few months ago I decided to learn more about Notan, an art technique used in the composing a work of art. I will write more about that later. Having learned how to apply it to a work of art, I decided to  apply it to this same painting to improve another problem that was bothering me. The simplest way to do that was to manipulate the image on the computer in Photoshop, and in the process I could try cooling down that offending background with a thin layer of blue on the computer screen. That is exactly what I did, and in another blink of an eye I knew this was the answer to my dilemma, and it hadn’t even risked ruining the painting!

However, the holidays were fast approaching, with much to be done and little time to devote to art. I decided to put off working on the painting until after the holidays which brings me to the present.

I love this part of winter when I can hibernate inside and not feel guilty about all the things I should get done outside. It is a time to relax, regroup and begin anew. Having resolved the problem of how to fix the painting (which had also greatly boosted my miniscule self confidence), I am now eager to work on Twilight once again. THIS year I resolve to put art at the top of the priority list and let everything else fit around it.

I am letting go of all the rejections and disappointments of the last several years and moving forward with new confidence, moving in new directions and setting more realistic expectations for the future. I feel more upbeat than I have in years, and that is a very positive thing. 

A Season of Gold and Silver

The view from my studio

Lady Autumn has descended on northwest Michigan, laying her golden hued gossamer cloak upon the earth and imbuing the air with a soft glow that no other season knows. Like the squirrels and birds which scurry about stashing nuts and seeds for the impending winter storms, I am busy cleaning out flower beds and putting away the garden equipment. 

This fall, more than any other, I feel a part of this golden season as I seek to find a new place for myself, a new meaning in daily living and art. I am becoming more comfortable in my own autumn season. It was quite timely, therefore, to encounter an admired artist from my past this morning. 

Burton Silverman, now in his eighties, was interviewed in The Artist’s Magazine. It took me back over 30 years to my final year in art school when our class took a field trip to Chicago. One of the highlights of the trip for me was a visit to a top advertising design studio where we were able to peek into the tiny cubicle spaces of illustrators as they worked. Lining the walls were original paintings by some of the top illustrators of the day. 

I was awestruck. Although enrolled in the commercial art program at Northwestern Michigan College, it was the Illustration courses that excited me the most. The nineteen eighties may not have been the Golden Age of Illustration, but its top illustrators were golden in my mind. The likes of Robert Heindel, Bernie Fuchs, Bob Peak, Mark English, Bart Forbes, Nelson McLean and Burton Silverman inspired me to make art my life’s work; to have something to say through art. 

Looked down upon by the Fine Art establishment, illustrators were all blue ribbon winners in my mind. While following the constraints imposed by clients and art directors, they were still able to create great art. To tell a story or illustrate a point is the purpose of commercial illustration, but isn’t that exactly the same goal that fine artists strive for? They create without having to follow the dictates of outside voices. Who, then, is the better artist? Consider also that many illustrators become some of the most respected fine artists in their own right, having honed their skills and sensibilities in the commercial art world. 

Getting back to that interview with Burton Silverman, he discussed his endeavors to make his models not just objects but flesh and blood people with real lives, putting them in some sort of context in his paintings; telling a story and making a point. Isn’t that what the greatest paintings have always been about, going back through the centuries? 

It was a small reminder to me of what I’ve long wanted my own art to do. It was a nudge from a fellow artist in his own golden years to do my own thing. 

My life has wandered many paths since art school days; some led nowhere, some through briar patches and dark woods, but now in my Autumn years, I am finding my way along the path that destiny laid out for me in the birth of my own Spring. I am finding my destination. 

As a child, I earned the nickname of “Silver” because of my silvery blonde hair. Now here I am in the Golden Years, the Silver One again. When the flower beds are cleared and the garden tools put away, Burton Silverman will follow me as I enter my own winter hibernation in the warm inspirational walls of the studio. 

There I will embrace this Season of Gold and Silver and look forward to the promise of Spring. 

Looking northwest from the studio