Don't tell me it's February -- I only blinked!

Forgive the lateness of this blog. We’re getting our home ready for sale, which has included a new roof (finished yesterday), a new paint job that demanded a power wash and couldn’t be done until the tiles were on the roof; so one delay after another.

We’re also “staging” the inside of our villa and removing clutter, extra furniture, and photographs and paintings from the walls. Patching and repainting means that what comes down must be boxed away in the garage.

I’d forgotten that moving requires several months to complete on both ends. I haven’t been able to do any artwork; in fact, most of my tools have been packed away already. By the time I get to writing on my blogs, I’m either too tired or I’ve lost my ability to focus. If you bear with me, I’ll start up again after everything is finished.

Meanwhile, I thought you might enjoy some photos I took from our office window. A “Great Egret,” part of the Heron family and probably only a year or two old, came sauntering down our front walk-way looking for its evening meal.

Lizards were the main dish. I could tell, because every few steps, the egret would stop and freeze to appear invisible. After a few minutes, he’d relieve his neck by swaying it back and forth, and then take a few steps before again freezing into position. All the while, his eyes were keenly watching for a lizard to move.

The reptiles were as smart as their prey. As soon as the egret gave up and walked away, they came out of hiding. We will miss living in our Tropical paradise.

Valentine's Day is coming up so be sure and check out the cards on my web site:

Carol Allen Anfinsen Gallery

My Etsy store will be open until after Valentine’s Day. At that time, my shop will "go on vacation" until we get to our destination. Some of my artwork and some vintage pieces are on sale for the occasion. Here is a link: Anfinsen Art on Etsy

How many Untold Stories are Still Out There?

(Potential model?)

Just when you think you’ve heard and seen it all, a shadow catches your eye; your point of view or perhaps the time of day makes everything seem fresh and new. A ray of sunlight illuminates radiant color; and wham, you know you have to paint that scene or, at the very least, capture this feeling on camera.

Now you’re hooked, pursuing that elusive dream; hoping that this canvas will make a difference not only in your life, but in those who view it. Is the process of art addictive? Could you stop these urges even if you wanted to?

When your vision is complete, and you’ve rendered that last brush stroke are you satisfied? Is your thirst quenched or are you left wanting more? Does the smell of wet paint and turp cling to your nostrils like an aphrodisiac? Don’t fight the feeling. You’re an artist (you know who you are). Go with the flow.

When I meet with my artist friends there’s one thing on which we all agree. We walk on the weird side. We think with our eyes, and our gut instinctively guides our hand. We see life differently than most people and that sets us apart; sometimes even alienates us from family and others.

Not all of us are so driven. Some artists try to quell that constant beating of their senses in order to fit in and lead semi-normal lives working, raising children, involving themselves in a thousand mundane activities in their neighborhoods and communities. Those who do dedicate themselves to an artistic profession are usually teachers, commercial artists, illustrators who have found fulfillment in working for others.

The few who do break the mold may soar on their ability to create and tap into the dreams of others. They are leaving their mark in the world and managing to make a living at the same time. With effort and determination, this could be you.

Yes, this is what black bears do in your neighborhood!

I had one of those moments yesterday. My husband and I were talking and he was facing the window. “There’s a bear,” he said.  I turned quickly. My eyes opened wide. A medium-sized black bear was sauntering past our screened-in porch. I went for the camera. By the time it was in hand, the bear was long gone.

“It isn’t likely he’ll come back,” I said, leaving the camera on a nearby coffee table. About an hour later, here was the bear lumbering past our porch going back to where he’d come from. By the time I grabbed the camera, he was gone. This is the first time in 12.5 years that we’ve seen a bear in our back yard. Now there was a story. Sadly, the painting that got away.

My next canvas I’m going back to what I love; painting the world’s people. I haven’t narrowed it down completely, but I’ve been looking for inspiration in the flavor of Mexico. My visit to San Antonio, Texas reminded me of how colorful the culture of the people is and how beautiful their faces.

I’ve been searching for poses and ideas online. A few samples are inserted. Continue to watch this blog for that first sketch and the work-in-progress to follow.

 

The Snowbirds miss the Heat and with it, the Beauty

Poinciana Tree, ferny leaves, fiery red blooms

Every time our friends go back up North to their abandoned winter homes, our neighborhood turns into a ghost town. While they’re gone (approximately six months), I’m reminded of how much they all miss.

Sure it’s hot down here, but the daily rains banish our muggy temperatures and give us brief relief. Yes, it’s uncomfortably hot outside, but so is Indiana, Washington D.C., Georgia, Maryland, New York, and many other states in the summer.

What are these part-time residents missing out on? The poinciana trees are at their prime! Their glorious orange-red florets cascade into pompoms down every branch. They are joined by white sweet-smelling jasmine and multi-colored hibiscus and Mexican petunias.

Even better, the restaurants are only half-filled; no standing in line for a table. The stores are competing with 70% off sales and the cafes have reduced price Happy Hours. The added attention we get in the way of service allows us to eat out more often. Movie theaters are never sold out. There is plenty of parking at the Malls.

I’m not bragging. I’m elated that the traffic is less and that the beaches take half the time to get to and enjoy. We have Fort Myers all to ourselves, we locals. In spite of the heat, this is the time we enjoy best for all it has to offer.

Toppled tree after Hurricane Wilma.

Yes, hurricane season is upon us, but I’ll swap this over the tornadoes and floods they’re having in the Midwest. We can either evacuate to safer areas, or hunker down depending on the directives. We are seasoned Floridians. We have lived here year round for almost 13 years.

We rode out Charlie and Wilma. We were luckier than many who not only lost their electricity for several weeks, but their homes were destroyed as well. We’re far enough from the beaches to avoid flooding, and close enough to enjoy its gritty offerings when we choose.

Palm trees sometimes lost their tops.

Our neighborhood has had a few scrapes with the weather. We’ve had to replace a few lanais’ (patio cages), and a few trees, but all in all we’ve weathered the storms better than some other areas. 

Every year we make our checklist of hurricane preparedness. We purchase the bottles of water. See that the “igloos” and food coolers are clean and ready. Purchase food we can warm up on a charcoal grill if the electricity is down. We’re pros! We’re survivors.

A banyan tree was almost totally destroyed.

Photo taken 13 years ago in Pine Island.

Sometimes we fly away to see friends and family with the hopes of cooling off. But then we discover their homes are less comfortable than our own because they refuse to use their air conditioning system. They’ve just come through a brutal cold winter, and the heat is too precious to waste.

We do the same in the winter. A good month is when we’ve braved the 45-55 degree weather outside and didn’t turn on the thermostat.

Our blood has grown thinner. Our teeth chatter when it gets below 60. But when the August sunshine reaches 99 or above, we’re still going strong!

Several years later, I turned that photo into an oil painting.

Great Photos are your Doorway to Marketing and Sales

"Cafe' Costa Rica" original acrylic canvas 20 x 20 (SOLD) (Prints available)

Many artists recommend not selling your original artwork. Once they are gone, they’re gone forever. Of course, with permission, you can use the buyer's name as a reference indicating where your painting resides.

I was painfully reminded of this when I sold two original paintings to someone in Minnesota. A few weeks later, Fine Art America (FAA) notified me that someone had ordered a gicleé off of one of the paintings, but the photograph on file was not good enough. Since we were not heading back to Minnesota until a few weeks later, I asked for more time. The buyer refused. Their purchase was for a gift. I lost the sale.

"Skudeneshavn Norway"  20 x 16 oil on canvas (SOLD) (prints available)

When we arrived in Minnesota, I had to call the owner of the original, schedule a visit, and then obtain the needed photo of the painting. I took another photo of the other painting they had purchased just in case. But what if they hadn't given their permission or were unable to accommodate my request?

Hard lesson learned. If you are fortunate enough to sell the original, be sure your photos of it are absolutely perfect. Make sure that your client understands you are going to sell prints from their painting. If they do not approve honor their request.

"Hibiscus Glory" 16 x 20 oil on canvas (SOLD)

I sold two other originals at an art show and regretted later that I had no copy for myself. They were two of my favorite paintings. I went back to FAA and ordered a wrapped canvas gicleé of each. I also wanted a closer look at what my customers were actually getting when they purchased a “wrapped canvas gicleé.”

I was well pleased. The colors were bold and beautiful. Most people think they are originals. The paintings are the size the customer has requested, 9 x 12, 20 x 18, etc. The wrapped portion is 1.5 inches and is black. On the wall, it gives the impression that the painting is framed. The only thing missing is the texture. If the gicleé was prepared by the artist locally, then texture could always be added to enhance the canvas. The cost to the buyer is significantly lower than purchasing an original painting.

Wrapped canvas Giclee' of Cafe' Costa Rica shown above

Since that sad experience of losing a sale because I couldn’t produce a quality photo in time, I work hard to be prepared. I upgraded my camera and make certain that I have adequate lighting. I save my photos online and organize them carefully into folders for paintings, drawings, illustrations, etc. Then when I want to upload them again, I can find them in seconds.

We live in a digital world. These same photos will be entered in online contests, uploaded to secondary web sites, and used on registration forms for other contests either locally or in magazines. They are the main promotion you have of your artwork. Before others see your paintings they will see a digital copy of your work. If your photo is imperfect in anyway, it will reflect on your work as a whole.

"Broken" original 11 x 14 mixed media canvas (SOLD) (Prints available)

I suggest taking a short class on photography so that what represents you is as good as it can get. Quality means everything. Images will be produced from your photo. Time is of the essence. The customer is always right and they may be impatient. Don’t lose a sale as I did because your camera isn’t good enough or your photo is flawed.

(Giclee' of "Broken" with black 1.5 inch wrapped canvas)

Do cramped closets and overstuffed drawers have you by the throat?

I didn’t realize what a pack rat I’d become until I tried to clean out my jewelry boxes and a bulging chest of drawers.

My rationale went like this: “If we move back up North, I might need these sweaters, these gloves, and this flannel nightgown.”

The jewelry was no different: “If I had this fixed, got a new clasp, a new link, I could wear this necklace again. Why, some of these pieces must be heirlooms; I could give them to my kids. The stones may be valuable? At the very least, I should have them appraised.”

And so it went. Instead of throwing things out or giving them away, I just moved them around to a different place.

"Home at Last" 16 x 20 acrylic on panel

In truth, I’ve thrown out a lot of things in the past from necessity. For one thing, I’ve moved a lot. When you move or downsize, some things have to go. I think the loss has made an impact on what I’m now willing (or unwilling) to give away.

 Everything near and dear to me seems to be gone. My children live in different States across the country. I’ve changed my life, my religion, and my hair color. Is this why I cling so tightly to what is left?

Please don’t psychoanalyze me! I do that enough myself. I’m just glad that I haven’t become a classic hoarder (yet!).

I once knew a woman who, like me, had trouble throwing away her favorite magazines. She lived in a small duplex and when you walked in the living room, every table held multiple stacks of magazines, albeit neat stacks. Each pile was face up in date order and could be found instantly. While I admired her ingenuity, I often wondered how high those magazines were allowed to get before they came tumbling down.

"Painting of my Grandmother" mixed media using "found items"

My artistic “scrounge for finds” nature encourages clinging. “What can I turn this into?” I ask as I comb through saved items in the garage. “There must be some mixed media project that would welcome this?” So like a game of shuffle board, I just move junk from place to place until I get the urge to clean and then I start the process all over again.

My mother was a neat freak; immaculate and germ conscious to the point of paranoia. She once threw away a square of butter because a fly had landed on it. I remember thinking that I would scrape away only half an inch to make myself feel better, but never the whole square.

She also loved changes and moved her furniture around at least twice a month. I hated it. When I walked in the door after school, instead of feeling at home, it took me several days to adjust. Because of this, I rarely change my furniture around. I find an arrangement that feels right and then I live with it – forever. Why change a good thing!

"The Pose" 16 x 20 Barred Owl acrylic on panel

My mother’s cupboards and drawers were neat and simple; partly because my parents had so little, and partly because she hated old things. Ironically, I developed a love for antiques and used items. I’ve always felt that old things carry the spirit and the life of those who went before.

This feeling was reinforced by an antique frame I purchased that held the photo of a woman with dark eyes. Every time I walked into the room where the picture was stored, those eyes bore down on me. There seemed to emanate a dark spirit of evil around that photograph. I couldn’t explain it, but I certainly felt it. Eventually I threw that old photo away, knowing that it was worth far more than the antique frame that held it.

See, I can throw things away on occasion.

"Playing Dress Up" 16 x 20 mixed media on canvas