Winter Bridge

21x21 inches, oil on canvas

Winter Bridge

I finished this painting yesterday.  It had been close to done for more than two weeks, but I just ignored it until I realized that it was quietly driving me a little crazy sitting there unfinished.  The subject matter is the Japanese bridge at out local botanical garden.  I took the winter photo several years ago, but then experimented with altering the original photo with a filter program, and cropping the image to a square format.  I painted from the altered photo, and was pleased with the results.  This painting is larger than I usually work, and a departure from figurative work. I'll take it to the gallery tomorrow.

Stacked

9x9 inches, paper collage

It's still really, really cold outside.  I dislike going out, and I have needed to do it whether I like it or I don't.  This past weekend I needed to drive twenty or so miles to Whitewater, where the WRAP show was wrapping up after a month.  There was a speaker, people I know and like, and I needed to bring home my painting.  It really was nothing new, a few inches of fresh snow, wintery temperatures, a stiff breeze, but all I really wanted to do was burrow under blankets with something hot to drink, and maybe a good book.  I am getting less and less brave about driving when the snow blows and drifts out on country roads.  When I was younger, I just did it, but after this drive my shoulders were tight and my head ached.  So when I learned my piece was not selected for any special mention, I packed up and left early, skipping the critiques.  All I wanted in the world was to be back home again.

Since then I've been playing with altering papers, and today I decided to do something with some of them.  This paper collage is loosely based on a quilt pattern, "stacked coins."  I set out some orange papers, and some aqua blue for a complement, and just tore them.  After they were adhered, I glazed the entire thing with burnt umber to unify the design, and this is what I got.  It's actually nicer in person, where you can see the textures and metallic paint on some of the papers.  

I like it.  I've been attracted to the colors and patterns of quilts for years, though my interest in sewing is nil.  I like that this square format can be turned a couple ways, and suggest something different each time.  The Princess and the Pea's mattresses?  Books on shelves? CDs?  Pancakes?  Stairways? I like the contrasts of smooth and textured papers, of patterned and plain.  Best of all it took my mind off the cold outside.

New Self Portrait

8x10 inches, graphite and colored pencil

I get into obsessive little grooves once in a while, and I seem to be cranking out these drawings in graphite and colored pencil, with texture added in the background and sometimes in clothing or hair.  I realized that I had not done a self-portrait for the Flickr group, Julia Kay's Portrait Party.  There's is nothing like being stuck inside because of ice and snow to get some artwork done - and some reading.  All indoor things, you know.

I worked on a different portrait this past weekend, similar technique, at an art retreat.  I knew some of the participants, and some of the ladies were new to me.  Why are these events almost always all women? Virtually all of them worked in watercolor, and when they weren't painting they were knitting.  I gave up knitting in college - not my forte.  Anyway, last weekend I was working on a largish acrylic painting that may or may not be finished off in oil, and on the drawing.  More than one person asked me if it is easier to work on a portrait of someone I do not know than a familiar person, and I was stumped as to what to say.  I used to feel more comfortable drawing strangers, since the portraits I made at first seldom looked like the actual person.  If I struggle over a painting or drawing of a person I know, and it doesn't look like her,  that is a blow.  How much better to basically fail on portraying somebody you are not invested in emotionally!  

But in the past couple years or so my drawings have begun actually looking like the subjects, and I have discovered it does not matter to me if I know the person or not, if all I am trying to do is get a likeness.  It's easier to put something of a person's personality in if I know him or her, but just a likeness, it doesn't matter.  Of course it's  harder working from life, where fatigue sets in for both the artist and the subject.  This drawing is from a photo a friend took of me, and many of the others I have done in this series are from online photos people provided.  I get to take as long as I want or need.  I'm not saying it's easy, but for me it's just a matter of paying attention to shapes, and patterns of light and dark. 

So - this is pretty much what I look like these days.  I'm heavier than I like, have more "character" lines on my face, but I can live with myself fairly happily.  Unless I consider that my 45th high school class reunion is coming up - then all I want is a dose of Geritol, and a blanket tucked around me in my rocking chair.

Twilight Zoning

Invaders, 5x7" acrylic

It's winter, and I am in hibernation mode.  I'm not alone; I went out to K&W Greenery a couple days ago to visit the koi and sit in a warm greenhouse with lots of green tropical plants.  The koi are definitely moving slowly these days.  In the summer they swarm to the surface of the water for fishy treats, but they couldn't be bothered to do anything more than slowly fan the water and roll their eyes up toward me.  I can identify with that.

Winter finds me reading for hours, researching this and that online, and sitting in front of the wee television in my studio watching programs I have recorded.  The other night I had a half hour to kill, and I decided to watch one of my stash of saved Twilight Zone programs.  It turned out to be The Invaders, from the show's second season.  Agnes Moorehead plays a woman alone in a rustic cabin, terrorized by tiny spacemen.  It was gripping.  She never says a word, just wanders from dark room to attic with a candle and often a knife or an axe, determined to save herself.  The twist at the end was not surprising to me now because I've seen so many of these programs, but I'm sure when it aired it was a shocker.  What really appealed to me was Moorehead, how well she portrayed both her fear and her determination to survive.  I went back and played the program a second time, pausing occasionally to sketch her face or posture in the dramatic lighting.  This little acrylic painting came from those sketches - though I omitted the axe she held in the original shot.  Her expression is creepy enough. 

First Snow

6x6 inches, paper collage with splattered paint

On Wednesday we had our first real snow of the season.  Here in town we probably only accumulated four or five inches, but further north and west they had a real blizzard.  It's hard to complain, since it wasn't too long ago I still had greenish grass and pansies blooming.  It''s all covered in white now, and much more festive than it was before the storm. 

I saw a news photo from Madison of a young woman playing in the snow with her dog, and decided to adapt it for this small collage.  I used bits of magazine ads and photos, part of a Wisconsin map and some bits of graph paper.  I love the dark shape of the jumping dog.

Dark Day

6x6 inches, collage with found and altered papers, stamp

The past couple weeks I've basically ignored Christmas, with the exception of addressing and writing notes in several dozen cards.  No duplicated letter this year, probably because I have slowly come to realize that people who are close to me already know what we've been up to - which is the same as last year - and nobody else is fascinated by hearing about our lives.  Or worse yet they think that I'm bragging about our travels, and that we have altogether too much time on our hands, with all the miles my husband has put on his bicycle, or the art work I have finished. I'm not imagining this; variations have fallen from the lips of friends and relatives more than once. And absolutely nobody is interested in my plantar fasciitis or recent costly dental work.  So I have settled on writing a couple lines wishing the recipients happiness and health.

There probably are reasons for my annual winter funks.  Christmas is one. We do not have children, so obviously we also do not have grandchildren, and children are the focus of most Christmas events around here.  We don't have little ones wanting to see Santa, begging to put up trees or make cookies. No school programs. Our parents are gone, so no gifts bought or visits planned, and neither of us needs or wants much by way of gifts for ourselves.  If we need anything, we go out and get it - usually second hand.  We're not church goers, for all sorts of personal reasons, so are not involved in those sorts of activities and programs.  I find myself occasionally feeling wistful about missing the old excitement of the season, and not even heading out to the holiday light show at the local botanical garden, watching lighthearted television and movies, or dropping off a donation at a fine local charity does much to lighten my mood. Our lack of snow and dark wet days don't help much either. Television news is simply one catastrophe after another, each one worse than the previous.

Light deprivation is possibly a contributing factor in my gloominess; I should go outside more, though there is little sun to be found out there. I bought my winter bottle of vitamin D rich fish oil last week, and have been sitting at my work table with the fill spectrum light - am still waiting for those benefits to kick in.

So, for now I'm listening to  my winter playlist, and collaging away like mad.   Some days I go back into my stash of papers and saved images and reorganize, or weed out things that don't speak to me any more, or I paint tissue paper in colors I want to use.  Other days I just settle down to cut and paste, and wait for the light to return.

These are the sorts of things I've been working on recently.

6x6 inches

6x6 inches

Dreaming of Summer

11x14 inches, oil

 Scene from my front step Friday night

Last summer I walked to the local farmers' market almost every Saturday. and I took lots of photos.  This man sold flowers and prairie plants out of the back of his van.  I didn't get his name. though if I see him this season I'll ask.  He had a great smile, and I'm publicly apologizing to him for making his nose look so wonky.  It looked good for a day or so on Friday and Saturday until I fiddled with yesterday.  I'm not sure this is a great painting, but it's cheerful and it reminds me of those summer Saturdays, which will do for now, or until the snow melts again. 

Snowy Day Hearts

Instead of venturing out to visit my art group, or having lunch with the Art League, I decided to stay inside today.  It's eight degrees, snowy, and I am in semi-hibernation mode.  My idea of fun when it's cold outside is to do indoors things, like ferreting out family history from New England, reading, watching movies, or working in the studio.  It's not very hearty of me, especially when friends are posting on Facebook about skiing and sledding, but there you are.

These little pieces are 5x7 inches, collaged bits of old paper and stamps.  Then I drew in the heart, and painted in the solid part with tinted gesso.  I have hopes that someone will buy them for Valentines Day, but if not, they were a fun experiment.  I have quite a few old stamps saved for projects like this, and wish I had more of the Love stamps.

There is a big snow storm predicted for tomorrow, so I may do more of the same.

The Longest Night, and Lights

Winter Solstice Chant
By Annie Finch

Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes
with the edge of winter sky
leaning over us in icy stars.
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.

Happy New Year

From our house to yours, we wish you a happy, healthy and safe new year.

I plan to post some of my favorite books and activities from 2009 and my goals for 2010 very soon. In the meantime, thank you to all of you who read and post here. I love hearing from you, and you make me feel more connected to the world. But right now I have to make an appetizer for New Years Eve!

Northern Lights

5x7 inches

watercolor on Yupo synthetic paper

Christmas is over. We made it to my brother's house for Christmas Eve, despite cold rain and high winds. Dick had called his sister to cancel our plans to drive to Door County for Christmas Day, but when it was sunny and dry here in Janesville, not a blizzard as forecast, we called to ask if we could still come. The answer was affirmative, so we packed overnight bags, loaded up the cat bowl and headed out. The further north we drove, the cloudier it got, and the more the winds picked up. By Algoma Lake Michigan was a sort of ochre color, the high waves filled with sand. The water crashed dramatically over the jetty near the red light house, but it was so cold, wet and windy I didn't ask Dick to pull over so I could get a photo.

We made the trip safely, but Dick's other sister and her husband slid off a side road into a tree, and their vehicle was wrecked. We ended up staying an extra day and giving them a ride back home on Sunday. By then the roads were clear and dry, and the trip was uneventful

I had started this little watercolor before we left, then I finished it this morning. The inspiration was a desk calendar photo of northern lights, something we haven't seen in a few years.

Cold Climes

by Mary Brittnacher in the 2009 Wisconsin Poets Calendar

I've lived my life in frosty air,

Near firs and moss and hedgehog's lair.

For me the seasons are a book;

That tells a story wherever I look.

Browns of springs show many hues;

Flowers of summer are always news.

Gold, red, and rust of fall,

Never fail to give their all.

Deep in winter I watch the birds;

Sleeping woods speak silents words.

Story same, story new,

That rivers and wrens tell clearly and new.

Solstice

5x7 inches, oil (sold)

We have just passed the solstice, the darkest day of the year. I find myself attracted to painting images of sun. This is a little exercise I based on an exercise in a book I checked out of the library. I have been experimenting with using water mixable oils over acrylic under paintings. The biggest challenge is finding somewhere to put the paintings while they dry. For now, that's a disused bathroom in our basement. I painted this a couple weeks ago and it seems dry.


Winter with its cold weather and darkness turns me into a brooder. I enjoyed making art this year, and have worked with paper collage, mixed media, watercolor, acrylic and oil. I've made it into some shows, won a few awards, sold a few pieces. One of my pieces that feature recycled materials was purchased as an "eco-friendly" award for a local business. Most mostly I have a growing stack of painting slowly filling up my closets (and bathrooms). A part of me asks, what is the point? I buy materials, pay out entry fees, take classes, and mostly it drains my bank account and fills up my storage space. Is the enjoyment I get from making art worth it?


Most likely I need to market myself more. I have pieces in a local gallery and coffee shop, but this year nothing sold from those places. I did sell by simply showing people my work, one on one. I have not tried selling online, though I may do that. Of course selling isn't everything. I enjoy the company of other artists. I enjoy making and showing art. But I worry about if I am getting any better, and if my enthusiasm will become a financial burden for us.


This uncertainty may be a function of too few sunlight hours. Maybe I should fret less and just go to the studio.


OK, that's where I'll go, but first a poem from my desk calendar.


Sunsets on My Farm
by Candace Hennekens, 2009 Wisconsin Poets Calendar


A flaming peach blazes
through green needles,
the pine bough marking
summer solstice.
As the crow flies


fields of soybeans
groves of trees
an abandoned farm
lying in the rays' path.
As summer wanes


the sun slips down
to Westphal's farm,
then Albert's place,
drifting faster now
past trees, barn, silo


until the sun sets
at winter solstice
behind the old oak
standing tall
in the fence line.

Beautiful Days

Winter in Wisconsin can be dark and gloomy, but the cold snap in the aftermath of our recent snowstorm is beautiful snowy trees. Mornings are especially pretty, with combinations of sun and shadow on the frosted branches of maples, oaks and conifers. The only hitch is that the weight of so much snow has been breaking off branches, and in some cases taking down power lines.

My eye craves color in all this white. This poinsettia from our local FFA is as bright as a cardinal.

Sometimes the color comes from little things, like these colored glass bottles from a local resale shop. Note to self - try a painting of these sparkly things.

It's hard to see here, but this little artificial tree is flocked almost solid white, art imitating nature. I like the combination of little white lights and big colored ball lights. I made a dozen or so paper cranes from origami paper to use as extra decorations.

Cold Morning, Warm Buns

Last night we wedged the backdoor shut so no frigid air would seep in, kept the cabinet doors open under the sink so the pipes wouldn't freeze, and brought the cat to bed for a little extra heat. We were lucky because our furnace never quit runningt. Quite a few people in town lost power yesterday when snow laden branches fell on power lines.

This morning it was below zero, and I decided to warm it up with a recipe clipped from the Janesville Gazette. This thing is a dieter's nightmare, but it sure smelled and tasted good this morning with snow blanketing the outside world.

Christmas Morning Cinnamon Rolls

recipe provided by Judy Stoney

12 cinnamon rolls, uncooked and frozen (I got mine at the U Bake store)

1 cup butter - yup, two whole sticks

1 cup brown sugar, packed

1 small box butterscotch pudding

1 small bag chopped pecans - optional but I love them

Directions: Place the frozen rolls in a 9x13 inch baking pan. Set aside.

In a saucepan, melt the butter, add the brown sugar and stir. Stir in the dry pudding mix. Stir in the pecans. Pour this mixture over the frozen rolls in the pan. Let the rolls sit on the counter overnight. I covered mine loosely with foil.

In the morning preheat the oven to 350 degree. Bake the rolls for 20 minutes. Let rest five minutes then tip out onto a platter. Or do what I did and leave them in the pan and dig them out with a spatula (one less thing to wash).

Happy eating!

Snow Day

This was what we saw out the dining room window before bed last night. Local weather forecasters called this storm a "beast." Our beast, little Bucky cat spent a good part of the evening in the cellar hiding from the snow thunder.

The scene this morning was a study in black and white. I was awakened a couple times during the night. Once when the cat climbed into bed for some warmth and security. Once by snow plows on the street, and again at 5:30 a.m. when the school district's new automated calling system announced that school is cancelled. Trouble is, I have been retired for three years. Plus, when the test call came two days ago I called the central office to remind them to remove me from their list. They assured me they would, but apparently the new system still has some kinks to work out.

We live on a hill, which makes winter weather tricky. We can step out the door and be lulled into thinking the weather is fair enough, forgetting the shelter the hill provides from wind. There's no pulling out of our driveway on these days and heading up the hill. We've had hours of entertainment watching other people try it though.

So, it's a day to stay in and read, or paint or work on cards. I didn't put up a big tree, but several small ones provide a little color on a day that has me humming "A Hazy Shade of Winter."

Exploring a New Watercolor Book - and a Poem

I usually plan my trips to the local library around my fiction reading, but a couple days ago I browsed the new arrival shelves and found one that looked interesting. The title is Exploring Textures in Watercolor, by Joye Moon. It is published by North Light books.

Moon lives in Wisconsin and I've seen her name in area workshops, though I have never taken one. This 5x7 inch watercolor is the result of my doing the first exercise in her book, which has to do with basic skills and techniques. I thought I might do some small watercolor Christmas cards for friends, and this is a scene I probably could do quickly.

The book has 14 chapters and is nicely indexed. Some of the chapter titles include the following:

Discovering the basics

Exploring geometric shapes and color theory

Turning a negative into a positive

Pouring your heart out

Capturing sparkling white

Painting the garden

Painting people

Collage painting

I enjoy looking at her demonstrations, and I hope to do a few in the next couple weeks. It hasn't snowed much here yet, but I thought I'd share another poem from my desk calendar, one that imagines an early December snowstorm.

December 1

by Ronnie Hess in the 2009 Wisconsin Poets Calendar

The mail carrier has delivered

The season's first snowstorm

Pulling the tempest out of a bag

Slung across his shoulder:

Wet circulars and post cards

Iced holiday greeting cards.

This drab gray afternoon

He looks vaguely familiar:

The red face the beard

The big black galoshes

The baggy pants

The white postal truck

Isling at the corner

Ready to take flight.

Frozen

 gouache on illustration board, painted by my mother, 1947?

What felt like cozy cocooning, settling in with a cup of hot chocolate, some books and movies on DVD, and a stash of art supplies back in December is starting to feel like cabin fever.  My sloppy sweatpants and bulky sweater are hiding a shape that I don't want to think about.  My artwork seems to be stalled out.  My employed friends are overwhelmed with their jobs and families, and my retired friends are either busy volunteering or are away somewhere warm. The plumbing has been misbehaving, and the Saturn has been suffering aches and pains of old age; we have been enriching the local economy with money paid out for repairs.  Television and the news - forget about it. I've been thumbing through magazines and thinking that none of the people pictured in them look like anyone I know, but rather like like some other fitter, younger species.  The winter of our discontent is here, and more snow is forecast tonight.

I'm trying exit this state of blah.  I'm planning a train trip to Washington state in May, partially to do some family history research.  I've been to the athletic club most days the past two weeks. I cashed in my birthday gift certificate for a pedicure today, so my toes are adorable and very cold.  I matted three watercolors for an upcoming art exchange, though I wish my paintings were fresher, more original.  I've been doing a personal visual journal, though it feels a little like navel gazing.  I'm certainly not posting anything from that in public. Mostly I've been spending too much time on line, trying to see what other people are creating, or what they're reading. Got to stop that.  

OK, I'm done whining.  I know my moods are tied to the seasons.  Just for fun, take the little quiz on the link below.

Your rainbow is shaded green.




What is says about you: You are an intelligent person. You feel strong ties to nature and your mood changes with its cycles. Those around you admire your fresh outlook and vitality.


Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

1924 Violet Postcard and Poem

1924 postcard

Today we had a thaw, and most of the snow banks disappeared for the first time since Thanksgiving.  I went out without a coat, and nearly shouted with happiness.  This little poem was probably written for children, but just thinking about colors after all the gray and white around here made me smile.

Color

by Christina Rossetti

What is pink? a rose is pink

By a fountain's brink.

What is red? a poppy's red

In its barley bed.

What is blue? the sky is blue

Where the clouds float thro'

What is white? a swan is white

Sailing in the light.

What is yellow? pears are yellow,

Rich and ripe and mellow.

What is green? the grass is green,

With small flowers between.

What is violet? clouds are violet

In the summer twilight.

What is orange? Why an orange,

Just an orange!

February Thaw

graphite and colored pencil, from an old sketchbook

The good news here in southern Wisconsin is that the temperatures have risen above freezing the past two days, and it looks like today will be a nice day also.  The rotten old snowbanks are black with road grit, but that same dark color is hastening their melting.  We live on a hill, so rivulets of snow-melt rush down Atwood Avenue.  I drove to East Troy yesterday to meet my sister-in-law and plan a May train trip to Washington state.  All along the way the traffic sent up showers, and I had to depend upon the windshield wipers to see, though the sun was shining brightly. Today I got the storm window in my studio open and shooke out my dust mop.  For months it has been frozen shut.

No new art to show.  I've been doing a little personal journaling, nothing interesting to anybody else.  A fair sized watercolor on Yupo sits nearly done, but not finished.  Ditto for a colored pencil piece.  Fiddle-dee-dee, I'll worry tomorrow.

Rarity

by Michael Belongie, the 2009 Wisconsin Poets Calendar

The ordinary is rarer

than we think, as I walk

in early January thaw, thirty

degrees warmer than norm.

Greened grass reappears

from sand-smudged snow;

the melting invigorates

birds, alighting to feeders.

Stoic snowman melts;

his head eroding as

stick arm tilts down, and

ground absorbs this thaw.

A Bit of Warmth and Color

 It's Groundhog Day, a day when everyone, including that small furry rodent, considers how much more of this winter foolishness it is possible to endure.  I decided to take myself out to a local garden center and walk among the flowering houseplants.  They have an indoor pool with koi, and I visited them too.  The fish aren't fed in the winter, so when I agitated the surface of their world they rose, expecting a treat.  These altered photos are the results of my excursion.  I hope they bring you a smile.

I liked Lily Long's poem because of its joyous and optimistic tone.  I can't say that my dreams have been so pleasant lately, but I still like the feeling reading these words gives me.   

The Singing Place

by Lily A. Long

Cold may lie the day

     And bare of grace;

At night I slip away

     To the Singing Place.

A border of mist and doubt

     Before the gate,

And the Dancing Stars grow still

     As hushed I wait.

Then faint and far away

     I catch the beat

In broken rhythm and rhyme

     Of joyous feet, --

Lifting waves of sound

     That will rise and swell

(If the prying eyes of thought

     Break not the spell),

Rise and swell and retreat

     And fall and flee,

As over the edge of sleep

     They beckon me.

And I wait as the seaweed waits

     For the lifting tide;

To ask would be to be awake,--

     To be denied.

I could my eyes in the mist

     That veils the hem,--

And then with a rush I am past,--

I am Theirs, and of Them!

And the pulsing chant swells up

     To touch the sky,

And the song is joy, is life,

     And the song am I!

The thunderous music peals

     Around, o'rhead-

The dead would awake to hear

     If there were dead;

But the life of the throbbing Sun

     Is in the song,

And we weave the world anew

     And the Singing Throng

Fill every corner of space--

Over the edge of sleep

     I bring out but a trace

Of the chants that pulse and sweep

     In the Singing Place.