A Workshop by any Other Name

Inspiration and fun highlighted a demonstration by the renowned artist Art B. Cunanan, a water colorist from the Philippines who lives in Ontario Canada. Once longing to be a comedian, Art’s wife, Lu, suggested he stick to painting. A professional oil and acrylic painter at the time, Art moved into watercolor for the freedom it provided for spontaneity. His secret? “You must plan ahead!” He paints for the “light,” which requires leaving areas of the canvas unpainted where you want and need the most light.

“Loose” is his watchword and Art slathered watercolor paints on a dry canvas with vigor and imagination. Using plenty of water and a mop brush or “rigger,” Art places color first in sky areas, using his favorite cobalt blue wash, but only in certain areas. He leaves some white spaces for clouds or light.

Working his way down the canvas, Art splashed in some yellow near the “eye line” Art prefers to paint plein air and from his imagination. For our demo he worked from a photograph so we could see how he applied his interpretation of what he saw to the canvas. Using only a few light pencil marks to define negative space and light, he worked loosely around those parameters.

The rigger brush provided a point when he needed detail, but mostly he washed many different colors over areas of the canvas, leaving them unblended; a splash of alizarin here, a touch of yellow ochre there. He never uses green, but prefers to add cerulean blue to areas of yellow mixing them on canvas to make green. He stressed that too much time on a canvas produces overworking and “tightness.”

Masterful at what he does, he wrapped up a beautiful finished painting in about 40 minutes as we sat with our mouths hanging open. For a beach painting, he also spattered some droplets of color to add texture to the sand and some finer shadows. He stressed that colors should appear in different areas all over the canvas to provide continuity.

Cunanan added people to scenes with simple shapes and the stroke of a brush tip. Two legs were single strokes of a different color (no feet or detail). A head was a simple dab of paint. What brings the people out and makes them viable along wiith other details? Art uses a touch of white gouache on the shoulders and head. His people look realistic and add to the energy and interest of the painting.

I will be taking a full day workshop from Art next week while he is here in Fort Myers. In the Spring he has workshops in Spain and Italy. In the summer, Cunanan teaches workshops in France. Of course, he teaches in his beloved Ontario where he is more familiar with painting snow scenes than beach scenes and pine trees more than palm trees.

Please go to Art’s web site and enjoy his wonderful energetic portfolio
@ http://www.artcunanan.com/ 

Oh, That I had a Crystal Ball or a Genie in a Bottle

"Sand Crane Dreams" -- Oil on canvas

I shopped for groceries today. Several items I normally buy had shrunk, literally; going from one pound to 13 ounces, in some cases, plus the boxes and packages were smaller. Even cans had decreased from 12 oz. to 11 or from eight oz. to six.

When I checked out my items, the cashier tried to hit me up for another contribution; a good cause, of course, but please! I felt like saying “I’ll leave that to the fat cats,” but I didn’t.

"Anhinga in Paradise" -- Watercolor / framed

Producers, manufacturers, and especially Wall Street seem to have gotten terribly greedy of late. If an artist, a writer or a small business raised their prices that steeply that often, nobody would buy. Even now, people seem to expect more for less, including more profits which is why they have to disguise those changes in weight and substance through smart packaging. Where will this lead and how will it end?

Makes you wish for a crystal ball. Wouldn’t it be nice to know what to choose and what to buy to keep more money in your pocket? It’s impossible to outsmart Wall Street. Even Romney, who is supposed to be “squeaky” clean has millions of dollars invested overseas; the Cayman Islands, Swiss banks, etc. Why? To avoid the taxes that you and I must pay. He’s a Wall Street guy first and foremost, and has made billions at the expense of others.

It’s so easy to point the finger at someone else rather than take responsibility for your own actions. It’s all right to line your own pockets, but let anyone else try to do it and the profiteers cry foul. Okay so I’ve got election jitters and I’m venting my wrath. But only two States have voted in a Primary, and the powers that be are ready to declare a candidate, discounting the votes and desires of the other 54 States.

"Americana" -- acrylic on canvas

They shoved McCain down Republican’s throats last year and now they want to shove Romney down our collective craws this election cycle. Whatever happened to the “people’s choice?” Whatever happened to the America I know and love.

A Teacher’s Influence may Last Forever

Amaryllis in candy cane stripes
(original photo)

You may have read about my grandfather in my biography, but to know the man was to love him. He had more granddaughters than grandsons and he made each one of us feel important.

For decades, he was a sixth grade teacher who had an influence on the entire community and on the cities and towns wherever he taught. When he died, his funeral was crowded with former students and teachers who knew him well and remembered him fondly.

As our grandfather, he made us feel special, and we wanted to please him. He admired his granddaughter's shiny bouncy ringlets. We would quicken our steps when he was nearby so our curls would bob even harder.

Hibiscus Glory - oil on canvas

Grandpa helped us practice perfect posture by placing books on our heads as we walked to keep our spines straight and strong. Even now when I catch a glimpse of myself with shoulders slumped, grandpa whispers in my ear reminding me to pull my shoulders back and stand up straight.

His love of the dance made winter days indoors a fest of delight, at least for most of us. We learned “The Hokey Pokey,” the “Grand Right and Left” and any other music that not only stressed rhythm but self control and coordination. He helped prepare dance festivals for schools and churches that were performed on a nearby football field. “Peter Cotton Tail” was one I remember, and dancing the Maypole with hundreds of dancers and poles scattered across the field with a myriad of bright costumes and multi-colored streamers.

Blending In" -- Acrylic on canvas

Having a male teacher who enjoyed dancing kept the boys in line. Some of them even enjoyed the experience. When it came to biology, grandfather’s first love, the boys witnessed his tough side. He loved spiders and snakes and made them a part of our curriculum. We handled them, learned how vital they were to the ecosystem, and lost our fear as we got to know and understand them better.

Acrylic under painting -- work-in-progress

One Fall we gathered monarch caterpillars from the milkweed plants outside our school yard and placed them in glass canning jars. We fed them and watched each of them form a chrysalis. When Spring arrived, we observed their struggle to break out and dry off their fragile wet wings. Grandfather allowed the butterflies to flutter freely about our classroom, but most of them flew to the windows bouncing against the glass until they grew tired.

Finally, they settled on the window ledge letting us approach them if we wanted to and curiously crawling up our hands and arms with their tickly prickly feet. During recess, we fed them sugar water from jar lids. I’ll never forget the wonder of watching an orange and black butterfly sit on my palm and unroll its long proboscis to drink the life-giving water.

"Moody Blues" -- oil on canvas

When the time came for their release, we opened up the windows and our butterflies flew to freedom. We yearned to bring them back as they fluttered upward tinting the sky with orange. We would never be the same.

Please Your Painter’s Palate with a Creative Pot of Soup

I can't help myself. When the calendar reaches January, my mind conjures up images of winters past with snow and blowing cold. Even though I live in Florida, come January I get that "rumbley in my tumbley" for a crock full of homemade soup.

NEW Pastel -- "A Joyful Heart"

I love soup. I know it's not a guy thing, and nothing like real meat and potatoes, but it's user friendly. No matter what you put in the pot, it comes out smelling and tasting like fine wine or the best in epicurean cooking. And when you're done, you feel like you've accomplished something.

Some people have a tradition of serving black-eyed peas on New Year's day. I love black-eyed peas; but alas, my stash was gone, and we ended up with pea soup. My Swedish grandmother made the best pea soup on the planet. She fried a small pork chop for each bowl, added parsnips, celery, carrots and onions for a feast of Kings.

Many people have never heard of parsnips, and I haven’t seen any on the market here. They taste ever so sweet and yummy when fried in butter. This adds a richness to the pea soup that potatoes can’t.

My next painting -- provided by online Pastor friend from Africa

When I traveled throughout Germany and Austria many years ago, I noticed that pea soup was a staple. Instead of a pork chop, each bowl had a sausage floating. I felt right at home. This was the kind of fare I grew up on. My American friends searched everywhere for a McDonald’s to satisfy their craving for a hamburger while I lapped up my soup like a contented Cheshire cat.

Drawing is transferred to 11x24 canvas

In winter, soup warms your bones. In tough times, it fills your stomach. When there are many mouths to feed, you can thin and stretch soup to fill every hungry mouth. People, who turn their noses up at leftovers often slurp down every scrumptious bite of a flavorful soup; no matter that the ingredients may be leftovers hidden between stirs of a bubbling pot of melding flavors.

Soup is like life itself: a pinch of this, a dab of that, some bittersweet, some sugar, some spice mixed together with faith, hope and love. Simmering through the highs and lows, the combination becomes the essence of a life well lived; a life remembered.

Work in Progress -- "Release" (acrylic underpainting)

A painting withiin a painting

Is it any wonder that my favorite channel is the food channel? I believe people who can participate in “The Iron Chef” or decorate cakes with sculpted roses and present their dishes in royal style can match any artist's creativity. Come to think of it, the soup I’m cooking today is giving me inspiration. I see colorful shapes forming, values changing, and my imagination soaring just like it did over my alphabet soup when I was a kid.

Have you got brain freeze? Are your creative pipes stopped up with cold slush? Get back to basics and warm up with a bowl of hot homemade soup. Happy New Year everybody!

Note: The "work in progress" above has evolved from when I introduced it several blogs ago. Originally I had a monkey and another quote, but it gave the entire piece a "human origins" feel, and that was not my intention. I like the new quote by Joseph Campbell which gives the painting a more creative feel: "Art is the set of wings to carry you out of your own entanglements."  I will use oil painting on the orchid in the frame and anywhere else I feel the canvas needs a pick-me-up. The final piece will be titled: "Release"

Human nature or stupidity?

The new year is a good time to re-evaluate who we are and where we're going, but sometimes the process elicits more questions than answers.

For instance, why do we worry about the environment:  is it getting warmer, is it too cold, are the polar bears starving, are the oceans rising, is the air clean enough? And then we use our bodies as a garbage dump for every toxic element we can shove down our collective throats (or veins) in the name of fun, stress, popularity, intoxication or thrill seeking without regard to how it poisons and pollutes our internal environment.

Why do we blame society, the government, or the world when politicians (or sports idols) are caught cheating and crime gets a little too close to home? Don't we sometimes lie just a little, or speed when we think we can, or take a few pencils and papers home from the office, or delve into taboo behavior when no one is looking?

Why do we keep insisting that a little infidelity, a little pornography, a few indiscretions can't hurt, and then we're surprised when a friend or a neighbor suddenly goes berserk and shoots someone, hurts someone, or rapes someone? Remember the adage "what goes in, must go out?" What we put into our bodies or our minds will, whether we like it or not, affect a result.

Like a woodpecker pounding away at a tree, if we do it long enough, often enough, and hard enough eventually we'll get a hole. Bad habits and wrong actions have that same effect. They keep on chipping away at us, weakening our resolve and our willpower until we lose all sense of who we are or what is happening to us.

It isn't the environment, or "global warming," or "climate change" that needs our attention. It's the "heart of darkness" that lurks within each of us. Input equals output. In the coming year, let's use balance, moderation, and common sense to change the world, the environment, the government, and our own health and well being.

The Holiday Aftermath -- a Kick in the Teeth

It’s a “down” time of year: that ebb between the hoopla of celebration and the impetus of New Year’s madness. We pause. We evaluate what has been and what will be. It is a somber time. Some people get depressed after the letdown of holiday’s end.

Stress has been building; expectations have not always been met, and we slide into that slump known as “Twixtmas.” Maybe we return gifts to recoup our losses. Perhaps we spend a little more to lift our spirits and take advantage of even lower prices only to regret it later.

But when all is said and done, we’re a little wiser, a little closer to the true meaning of Christmas. We’ve put up with crazy relatives and learned a thing or two about tolerance, forgiveness and understanding. Besides, buying something for someone else has enlarged our spirit and given meaning to our own self-centered lives.

But for some, tragedy strikes in the context of life and death. The turmoil of every day living takes its toll. Accidents happen. New babies are born as others are taken in the midst of our singing and merriment.

Such a tragedy struck my dear online friend; a Pastor whose beloved wife was taken from him as he held her in his arms on Christmas Eve. His faith is strong. He will prevail because life goes on.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? …Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom 8:35-39 KJV)

My own sadness pales in comparison. I’m sad the festivities are over, and that I’ll have to take down the holiday decorations. The ornaments will be boxed and put away, the house and my life will get back to normal, and all will be well again.

With the dawning of a new year on the horizon, we can only hope and pray that, indeed, there will be peace on earth. But as the song reminds us: “peace begins with me.” God Bless you, my friends, and may the new year bring you joy and happiness.

Hallowed Traditions Spark Togetherness

Christmas Eve was a special time for my family. Coming from a Scandinavian heritage, it was a time to open presents, visit with Santa Clause (a kind neighbor down the street), and afterward enjoy a scrumptious dinner of turkey, ham, and all of the trimmings.

New Pastel -- "Maestro"

Since my husband’s family celebrated on Christmas day, this worked out well for us. We had a large dinner Christmas Eve and another one on Christmas day. The in-laws were not offended, and we could spend time with both families.

After our dinner and the opening of “one present” each, we put on our bathrobes and wound towels on our heads for turbans. Everyone in the family had a part. The youngest always played the baby Jesus. We read the Biblical story of the birth of Jesus and acted out each scene.

An Open Book

The children enjoyed saying their parts and dressing up in costume. It became a tradition. As they grew into awkward and silly teenagers, our tradition soon changed to a simple reading of the scripture, but the message and the feelings remained the same: the hallowed birth of God’s son.

Playing Dress-Up

Family traditions help shape and strengthen the bonds of love. Without them, families hurriedly go their own way secluding themselves in their own rooms with their ipads and phones connecting to the outside world instead of with each other.

A new kind of loneliness is eroding families; an isolation that happens even in the midst of holiday chaos and fun. A feeling of being separate and apart. Reach out this Christmas and tell those close to you how much they mean to you, even if they don’t. Take someone’s hand or place a hand on a shoulder and say: “I love you.”

Dainty Diva

God is love. What better way to celebrate his birth than offering our love to others.