Monday, October 29, 2018

Irene, For Julia Kay's Portrait Party

8x 10 inches, colored pencil on toned paper

I have been under motivated to work on art lately.  I'm not sure why, except in a vague way.  I started an acrylic painting of fall trees before our Iceland trip, but have managed to ignore it nicely.  My attitude lately is that a new painting is just something more to have to haul out to  show (then remember to pick up again), or something to store in the closet.  Bad attitude, eh?  If I actually started working on it, I'd most likely get involved and everything would be fine.  

But I also have been relatively low energy lately, the result of anemia which is a side effect of chemotherapy.  Anyway, I decided that I'd just do another portrait for an online group I've been a member of for several years.  I probably should have pushed the values more, but part of me likes the softness of this portrait.  Her blouse is actually dark, but I decided to make it light so the area of highest contrast is near her face.  I also went back to a technique I used before, using a rubbing plate to add texture to the background.  At least I did some art, a welcome break from too much reding or watching recorded movies on television.

Monday, October 15, 2018

Land of Ice and Fire

Earlier this week we returned from a week long trip with the UW Whitewater Alumni Association to Iceland.  It was a fine trip under any circumstances, but considering the my health, it was especially good and memorable.  We signed up over a year ago, not long after my cancer diagnosis, and we wondered if this trip was in the cards for us at all.  But I have decided to live my life the way I want, and assume that plans will work out.  And if they don't, well then we'd make adjustments.

We had a direct flight on Icelandair from Chicago to Reykjavik, a journey that took about five and a half hours.  The first day was challenging, since the weather was in the low 40s and upper 30s, and there was a fierce cold and damp wind.  I was so tired and shocked by the abrupt change in temperature that I was pretty sure we'd made a bad mistake in going on the trip, but then the wind died down and things got much better.  As I said, we were all tired, but we had a good bus tour of Reykjavik, got checked into our hotel room, and had a good first night group dinner.  That night some of the group, including my husband, went out at about 10 p.m. on a bus trip to search for the northern lights.  I stayed in the hotel room, too chilled and tired from travel to go out again, and it turned out the lights were nowhere to be found that night.
The second day was a bus excursion to the south shore area of Iceland. This part of the country is bleakly beautiful, with small villages, farms, lakes and streams, mountains and volcanoes.  I enjoyed both the Skogfoss waterfall and the Skogar Folk Museum, which gave us a good idea how difficult life must have been for early farmers and fishermen.


The third day included another bus excursion to the Reyjanes Peninsula, Lake Kleifarvatn, and the Blue Lagoon. We went again by bus, looking at the snow covered mountains, and seeing the plumes of steam from thermal pools and hot springs.  The highlight of the day was a stop at the Blue Lagoon, a large natural warm mineral pool surrounded by black lava rocks and a hotel, spa and restaurant.  We all brought our swim suits, showered first inside, then got quickly into the warm water, since the air was chilly.  It was beautiful and very relaxing, and interesting to hear so many languages spoken everywhere around us.  I had been nervous about going in with my head covered, but lots of people wore caps just to be warm.
Sunday some of our group went whale watching (they did not see any whales), but we decided to stay in Reykjavik to explore.  It was rainy, so mostly we ducked into shops and had a nice lunch in a pub.  Then later in the evening we went out to see a play, How to Become Icelandic in 60 Minutes.  I'm not sure I'm there yet.  That night some of the group went out again after 10 pm, and were rewarded with the sight of northern lights.


Monday was another bus excursion, this time of the Golden Circle, which included Thingvallir, Geyser, Gullfoss waterfall, and the Fridheimer Tomato and Horse Farm.  I think the tour company saved the best for last, because the scenery this day was outstanding.  I hadn't thought I'd be very interested in the farm visit, but it turned out to be fascinating, both for the scientific way they use geothermal heat and science to grow fresh vegetables year round, but for the close look we got at Icelandic horses.  I had no idea how impassioned the Icelanders are about these horses, or how many of the local people own horses and ride them year round.  In the evening the entire group met for a farewell dinner at a Reykjavik restaurant.
I didn't do justice to what we saw here. but I can  easily see why s many people who visit Iceland are anxious to return.  The people were nice and friendly, spoke excellent English, the food was uniformly very good, and the scenery is out of this world.




Saturday, September 8, 2018

Work in Progress - Farmall Tractor



I've been playing with this new painting depicting an old Farmall tractor.  I have a soft spot in my heart for these tractors, since Dad had one on our 120 acre dairy farm, and he's sometimes let me drive it.  Farmalls were manufactured by International Harvester, and were common on small and medium sized family operations. I painted this from a reference photo I took at the recent Walworth County fair, a place that also is nostalgic for me.

There is a local painter who often paints pictures of tractors, and I emulated her style here, with exaggerated color, simplified forms and abstracted backgrounds.  This is the acrylic layer where I work out my composition and play with color.  When the painting feels about right to me I paint over this layer with oil paint, making alterations along the way.

UPDATE - This is how the painting finally turned out, oil over acrylic.  I pushed values more, and added some magenta to the cool areas on the tractor.


Monday, August 27, 2018

Unusual Perch

Unusual Perch
8x10 inches, oil

So earlier this summer I painted, as a joke, a cow portrait for a friend of my sister-in-law, up in Door County.  The friend was pleased, and claims "the eyes follow me everywhere."  Right.

Anyway, my sister-in-law, got all droopy and said that she liked cows, too.

This is for her.

Monday, August 13, 2018

You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile



So this is me today.  I got up this morning with silver hair falling like autumn leaves.  The universe let me keep my locks for our anniversary last week, and then the inevitable happened.  Those first loose strands on my pillow, my shoulders, the shower drain, all letting me know my hair was soon to be history.

Last night I felt almost panicky over the idea of being bald once again.  But this morning I was determined,  so I headed over to Cost Cutters as soon as it opened.  Buzzzzzz - hair gone.  I left the shop with a "halo" hairpiece and a hat, and looked very reasonable, I thought.  But you know, it's summer, hot and humid, so at home I decided to just be bald.  A male friend told be recently when I was saying that this day was coming that I "do bald well."  I'm not so sure, but I am trying to be positive here.  At least I still have my eyebrows and eyelashes, though their day is coming too.

Ah chemo, I hope you are as effective on my tumors as you are on my hair follicles.  Session two is coming up this Friday.

Friday, August 10, 2018

Algoma Lighthouse

8x10 inches, oil on Crescent Board

Yesterday was our 43rd wedding anniversary, seems impossible we've been married so many years.  Anyway, we had a nice evening out at a local supper club, and enjoyed ourselves very much.

Earlier in the day I decided to take a stab at painting the very familiar lighthouse in Kewaunee county, where my dear aunt lives.  I've taken dozens of pictures of it over the years, but never tried painting it.  I was sure I had some 8x10 inch canvases in the closet, but no, I did not.  So I used a scrap of Crescent Board, and worked quickly with thinned down oil paint.  

Not so bad.

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

More of the Same

charcoal - 20 minute pose

Monday evening was another figure drawing session, enjoyable for me, though I don't think our model was feeling very well.  This was my favorite drawing from the session, though I don't especially like how her arm looks in my drawing.

I begin my new chemotherapy sessions on Friday.  Since I optimistically thought I wouldn't be doing chemo again, I had my port removed in April, and now I must have a new one implanted, also Friday. I have some new hats and a new wig set to go, but must admit that I am not looking forward to the medical routine, bottles of medication, and losing my hair once again.  However, since this is apparently the only tool available in the box, I guess we'd better get using it.

I hope I can continue with my Monday evening drawing sessions.


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Enyo


I've been attending a summer figure drawing group for several years, enjoying the pretty drive on back roads, drawing a couple hours, and treating myself to frozen custard afterward.  I couldn't attend last summer because of my surgery and recovery, but this summer I am enjoying myself.  I'm keeping it very simple, just a few sheets of newsprint or slightly nicer drawing paper, vine charcoal, and a kneaded eraser.  The model last night was a lovely young woman; my drawing her does not do her justice.

My health news continues to be disappointing.  I am not a candidate for further surgery or radiation, so we're going with the chance that a different chemotherapy regimen will shrink my new spot, and extend my life.  I find that I cannot hold that thought for long without panicking.  So, I concentrate on things right now that give me pleasure - watering my flowers, drawing and painting, meeting with friends, drinking wine.  I have been mourning the thought of losing my new hair, which after months of being bald, gives me great happiness.  So, yesterday I went to a photo shoot (with my hair), and I plan to use the spiffy new not-bald photos on social media and at the gallery where I show some of my artwork.  It's OK.  I have hats and scarves.

Right now, staying positive is an act of self preservation.

Saturday, June 30, 2018

New Portrait and More of the Same

Coh-O-Ha, 8x10 inches, colored pencil

It has turned dog days hot here in southern Wisconsin, stuffy, humid, and pretty much awful in my upstairs studio.  Nevertheless, I did finish this colored pencil piece for Julia Kay's Portrait Party online.  I made it to figure drawing this past week as well, which was very enjoyable.

I also had a series of medical appointments the past week which confirmed that I have a recurrence of my cancer.  I've had two biopsies (one good, one not), a CT scan and an MRI, and a consultation.  No decisions have been made yet on treatment.  That has to wait until after the 4th of July.  

Looks like it's going to be another crummy summer.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

One Day at a Time

Martin, colored pencil, 8x10 inches

I just finished a new portrait in colored pencil, just in my sketchbook, for the online group, Julia Kay's Portrait Party.  This group has been very inspiring to me, and I've enjoyed being challenged to do my best work.  This is Martin Beek, whose paintings I have admired for quite a while. I have another started, but life has gotten in the way.

What a roller coaster of emotions the last year has brought, thanks to last year's cancer diagnosis.  For the past three months I have been on what I called my cancer vacation, since in March my CT scans showed that radiation had apparently shrunk my abdominal spots, and eliminated some gynecological ones.  So, no oncology treatment for a few months.  I got my cataracts fixed, and we went on two cruises. I've had two haircuts, which made me improbably happy.

Then, in May, some symptoms returned, and I had a biopsy which did not indicate cancer.  This week I had another CT scan, which came back looking OK, and still another biopsy, which did not come back looking OK.  For a day I felt confident, and now today, not so much again.

I am learning that this is what life with cancer is like.  Sometimes hopeful, and other times terrifying.  Sometimes both in the same day.

So, now I have another whole raft of medical appointments, and I do not know what the doctors will plan for me.  I'm not at all sure how many Monday evening figure drawing sessions I'll get to this summer, how many times I'll be able to visit up north, or if I'll be able to, as I hoped, write and lead a new cemetery tour featuring some fascinating local people.  In short, I cannot really make firm plans.

But I should be able to draw more.  I just need to keep focusing on what I can control, and take it one day at a time.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

More Figures and Random Thoughts


Monday evening was the first regular paid session of Community Figure Drawing at Whitewater, and there were two models, Joseph, who is very experienced as a model, and his protege, a young woman named Sage.  For being her first time, she was also remarkably confident and composed.

The sessions last three hours, from 6:30 p.m. until 9:30, but I leave after two hours, just so I can get home at a reasonable time to relax before bed.  I also like to drive at least part way when there is still some light.  So, often I only get to draw a few minutes of the last long pose of the evening.
This is what I accomplished in the last fifteen minutes of the session.  It isn't very polished, but I like the immediacy of the lines.  This is Sage drawing Joseph, so involved in her drawing she barely moved at all.

Besides going to figure drawing, I went down to the gallery where I sell (or do not sell) my art.  I have a small bin with matted works on paper, where my prices are very, very reasonable.  Some have sold, but most have languished there a year or more.  So, I took them home, looked hard at them, removed them from their mats, and threw them away.  Why?  They clearly didn't appeal to anyone else, and they had an aura of failure.  Nobody loved them, so I found it hard to love them either.  I dug into my stash of unmatted pieces, and took the new pieces to the gallery where they will either sink or swim.  It's hard, sometimes, admitting that a piece of art you created out of thin air, that you liked well enough to send out into the world just isn't very appealing.  But just getting rid of them felt surprisingly good.  Like a purging and fresh start.

We'll see.

Friday, June 8, 2018

Figure Drawing UWW Summer 2018

One of my summer pleasures since about 2012 has been attending the Community Figure Drawing open studio at UW Whitewater on Monday evenings.  There is no instruction, just three hours with an undraped model for participants to draw or paint.  The fee is reasonable, and nobody minds if anyone comes late or leaves early.  I enjoy driving the back roads there and back, and treating myself to frozen custard on the way home. 

It's a joy.

Last summer, because of my cancer diagnosis, surgery, and chemo sessions, I did not attend figure drawing, and I felt the loss.  But this year I am pretty much back to my real life (with asides for CAT scans and check ups), and I have had cataract surgery so that I am no longer fearful about driving at night.  So anyway, I went back  to figure drawing Monday night.

I will admit that I was uncertain about whether I could still draw worth a darn, but just told myself that this activity is not a contest, and that the pleasure was in the process, not the results.  Sometimes I have to take my attitude aside and lecture it about these things. In the end it turned out OK, and I enjoyed getting back into drawing from direct observation, and a little larger than I do in my studio or journals.

These are some of my drawing from Monday evening.  I have a special fondness for the five minute poses, since they force me to really concentrate and go for large shapes instead of details.  The last one, the face, was done in fifteen minutes, because I needed to leave my 8:30 p.m.




Tuesday, May 29, 2018

What Was Lost, Now Found

Altered photo, Caribbean Sunset

In April my dear husband and I went on a week-long cruise to Grand Cayman, Cozumel and Havana, Cuba.  The Havana part was the main reason for the trip, that plus wanting to get away from the cold and wet spring, and cautiously celebrating a good three-month check up at the oncologist's office.  Havana was a "bucket list" destination, a place that during most of my lifetime I was forbidden to visit.  What is it about forbidden fruit being the sweetest?

The cruise was good.  We flew to Fort Lauderdale, got on our Holland America ship, the Veendam, and sailed off into the impossibly blue Caribbean.  We ate and drank too much, and I enjoyed just sitting on our little balcony watching the flying fish skittering away from the ship.  We toured rum distilleries in Grand Cayman, explored a Mayan ruin in Cozumel (one we had failed to find on our own twenty years ago), and we lunched, listened to music, and smoked Cuban cigars in Havana.  And, as always, I took photos.

When we returned home, I hooked my trusty old Canon Powershot up to the Mac, and POOF!  The photos all disappeared.  Now I realized when we got home that there was a problem with the date and time function on the camera.  A little flat watch type battery had expired, and a Google search helped me figure out how to replace it.  What I didn't realize was that because of that dead battery, all our trip photos had incorrectly been time stamped for 1980.  And that's where I found the photos this week, back in 1980, where I was looking for something else altogether.

So, I am thrilled to discover that the pictures were not lost after all.  So here are just a few to highlight our lovely spring fling.









Friday, April 20, 2018

Upcycle Collage


11x14 inches
collage elements and acrylic paint

I worked on this small piece yesterday and today.  All of the elements, except the paint, were upcycled.  I bought a really awful acrylic painting, just for the canvas, then gessoed over it.  All the papers were found - bits of blueprints, paper bags I painted, notes tucked inside old text books, an old calendar, old diary, stamps, sheet music, and so on.  There are lots of layers here, which was fun, because the piece changed lots from beginning to end.

Considering it was pure experiment, I like it.  In a way, besides getting the chance to use up some of my saved ephemera, I was psyching up for a workshop tomorrow, something called Collage Cocktail, With a Splash of Paint.  I may have signed up just because I liked the title - no alcohol will be involved.

Truth - I wanted to take another workshop, because the last one I took, two years ago, was something of a personal disaster.  It was far away, expensive, from a person whose work I admire.  But she took an immediate dislike to me and had nothing but criticism, and I came away badly shaken, and dispirited.  Recently I decided that that disastrous workshop would not be my last.  I would take a deep breath and try again.  Tomorrow.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Best Laid Plans


So, the good news is that we had a nice, relaxing and interesting cruise on Holland America to Grand Cayman, Cozumel and Havana, Cuba.  I've wanted to visit Cuba for ages, at least since my ninth grade Spanish teacher, a Cuban refugee, told stories about her childhood in Cuba, the beaches, the food, her family. 

The bad news is that when I got home last week I somehow deleted most of my photos, including one of my dear husband sitting with a Romeo and Juliet cigar, a glass of rum, and a wee cup of potent Cuban coffee.  Oh, and one of the two of us on the ship, with a Caribbean sunset in the background.  It's possible that I never actually got those pictures, since a little secondary battery in my old PowerShot point-and-hope camera had died.  Before this I had no idea there was a secondary battery, much less that it was depleted,  but I have a fresh one installed now.  It's done.  Like a Disney heroine, I am just letting it go. 

The picture here is a public domain photo that I ran through a fancy filter.  It's probably better than any of the photos I took.  There are actually lots of these sorts of old cars in Havana, though everyday folks don't seem to drive them.  Rather, they seem to be pricey taxis for tourists.  They circle the city blocks endlessly, like a perpetually cruise night from 1957. Many are colors never imagined by Detroit.

We were only in Havana a few hours, though I did have some general impressions.  First, getting into the city wasn't as daunting as I feared, though we did  have to get a $75 visa, and fill out some paperwork indicating we were on a tour.  We also had our photos taken in immigration (no glasses, no hat, no smile).  But after that it was pretty standard.  People were friendly, and the food and drink we sampled was fine.  It is true that even in the National Theater, where we had lunch and listened to some good music, that the toilet, while working just fine,  had no seat and no paper, but I came prepared.  No problem.

Our guide, a thirty-something young woman was no-nonsense and honest.  Someone asked her if Cubans hated Americans and she assured us they do not.  I asked her what her favorite thing about her homeland was, and she said it was the people.   The people, we learned, make about $50 a month, and get rations such as rice, beans, flour, and five eggs a month per person, from their local bodega.  If they have the cash they can buy more.  Of course all Cubans have free healthcare, and free education. The people smoke like chimneys, not only cigars but cigarettes as well; so that healthcare is good.  The sight of so many people puffing away was strange to me. 

The one thing I gathered from the comments of our young guide that was nagative is that she wished she could travel freely.  Things are changing rapidly in Cuba, so I hope she can do that at some point.

At the end of our tour of the old city we were all on the bus, headed back toward the dock.  Jenny, our guide,  launched into a speech about how the people in our lives are important, and how we should never forget our blessings, and should appreciate the people we love, and so on.  She seemed sincere and was warming nicely to her subject when the door to the toilet at the back of the bus slammed open, and a man poked out his head and called "Hey! What should I do? The water in here won't stop running."

Speech over.  Sometimes things don't go as planned.

Anyway, we're home, safe and sound.  It has been snowing like it's January instead of April, burying my blooming snowdrops and squill.  My brother called this afternoon to say that our sister's farm house was in the middle of burning down, and he was heading out to see if he could help.  My niece called later to say everyone is OK, though the house is lost.  I remembered to tell her I love her.  It remains to be seen how I can help.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Easter in the Studio


Easter was quiet at our house. We shared a nice breakfast and the newspaper, and spent time putting together our gear for an upcoming trip.  Then later in the afternoon I decided to play around with adapting a photo I took and altered from our 2016 trip to Yellowstone.  I had a couple goals: to play around with the colors and composition, and to use up a 12x24 inch piece of watercolor paper that had been prepped a couple years ago, but never used. 

So, I did this all in one go, with acrylic paint and fairly large brushes.  It's certainly more dramatic than the original photograph was.

I think I've worked out enough in my mind to try the same subject in oil on canvas later.

Sunday, April 1, 2018

An Awful Quiet


On St. Patricks Day our kitty died.  It's terribly quiet in the house.  Not that she was so loud, especially as she grew older and fonder of napping in sunbeams or on soft chairs.  But now that she is gone, I miss her soft vocalizations asking me to hurry up and open the Fancy Feast can, and just forget making coffee, or purring loudly on my lap.  Then there was the sound of her claws on the kitchen floor, and the solid thump when she jumped down off the bed after I clicked off the light. I keep thinking I hear her, but of course I'm mistaken.

When a pet dies, a little part of your heart dies too - even though you know in your head that animals have comparatively short life spans.  Heck, we learn that when we're children through a whole parade of fish, birds, cats, dogs, all lost to accidents, disease, or old age.  If our parents didn't allow pets, there were books and movies to drive the lesson home - Old Yeller and The Yearling come to mind. 

Bucky, aka Cat Girl, Little Buckeroo, was a rescue.  After our previous cat, Sophie, died, we grieved a few weeks, traveled a little, and then went interviewing kitties at the Humane Society.  This particular feline, then probably an adolescent, somewhat small in stature, stood out from the pack by trotting over and hopping up and my lap and making herself at home. Clearly she was the one, a first rate snuggler.  We had eleven years together.

Eleven years aren't so many, really.  Lots of cats live longer.  She, unfortunately, developed a benign tumor on her face several years ago.  The vet prescribed steroids, which helped some, but caused her to develop diabetes.  I wish we had been told this was a possible side effect. We made an executive decision not to treat the disease.  Treating her would have involved much drawing of blood, administering of medicine, and in the end, the same result.  So we opted for lots of cuddles and staying home.

She was so weak at the end I started searching for a vet who would come to our house to put her to sleep, but she took charge of the situation herself, and passed away on her own at home.

I surely miss her.


Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Homage


This afternoon I spent time copying a painting by my friend, Jack.  His style could not be more different from mine. He often works very large, mostly in acrylic, and always from imagination.  He strives to spontaneously capture the effects of light upon the landscape. 

I almost always work from my own photos, or from life. I tend to paint people or objects, rarely landscapes.  I rarely invent any subject, and seldom use such a light palette.  But I like his work, admire his willingness to invent as he goes along, and appreciate his generosity with criticism and advice.  He was leading a class this week in which he encouraged students to use large brushes, and bold strokes, so I decided to see if I could come close to his style.  Except I worked in my quiet studio, using my recycled mat board and water mixable oils and cold wax medium.  Not so bad, even though the idea was his, not mine.  Sometimes it helps to try out other subjects and styles, and it stirs up the "little gray cells."

At least I hope so.

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Playing With Pears



I've been playing around with some old exercises from Robert Burridge.  He does workshops all over the USA, and I've taken two of them.  In his workshops he always uses acrylic, since it's nontoxic and dries quickly.  But instead of using acrylics, I decided to play with his method of painting pears using a little patterned collage paper and water mixable oil paints. 

None of these little paintings are especially impressive individually, but I like them like this, done in a series.  Each one has a different pattern in the collage paper under the pear.  So each is similar, but a little different.

I also liked using up old materials.  Here I used old leftover mat board cut to a 11x14 inches, or else old watercolor paper ripped to the same size and coated with gesso.  It irks me to waste materials, especially when I'm just playing around. All of these can go right in a pre-cut purchased mat, no fuss.

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Updates


It has been more than a month since I've posted here.  Most of my life has been centered on health issues.  I had a biopsy on a suspicious spot in my abdomen that happily turned out to be benign, so the plan here is to forget about cancer as much as possible until my next checkup in June.  My hair is growing in and looks sort of radically stylish, and I think the nerve damage in my feet from chemo is improving, little by little. 

With the scary health concerns on the back burner for now, I've been doing more of what I enjoy, reading, getting outside, and playing around in the studio. This little eight by eight in inch oil was actually based on an online demonstration. The idea of the demo was that its easy to use large brushes on small paintings.  I went out and got myself a no. 18 bright brush (similar to a flat but with shorter bristles) and gave it a go.  To tell the truth the big brush was only for the background; the details on the orange were done with smaller brights, sized 10 and 12.  Still, it was a way I don't usually work, and following the steps on the online demo was interesting.

Other than these things, I'm looking forward to getting my cataracts fixed this month.  Little by little it is getting harder to see in low light and drive a night, to say nothing of reading subtitles on foreign films.  And when we go on our Caribbean cruise in April I want to see as well as possible.