Searching For Subtle Color

My barrier island is deceptive. It looks like nothing is there. Wide open spaces, plenty of sky, and muddy grey puddles on the leaward side. It looks calm. Idylic. Don't be fooled. It is teeming with life. Sharks swim in the water. Trout, redfish, and shrimp are plentiful. The grasses are full of redwinged blackbirds singing their song. The sand bears tracks of racoons. Pelicans fly overhead. I was told there were not many alligators anymore...somehow that was a relief. Sitting alone on a log drawing. Could have been a tasty lunch.

This is a place at the edges. Part sky, part water, part land. It has hidden treasures. Unexpected wonders. And danger lurks. It is at once peaceful and violent, as prey meets predator. So color needs to be subtle, yet speak of tension too. Why don't I just paint it? Just jump right in? Why all this exploring?

Ahh, remember, it's more of a story. I am after that core. I am trying to pretend I know nothing about this place, so I can see it with fresh eyes. I even hauled out David Dewy's book on watercolor. Me with all my professional experience, yep, looking with beginner's mind. Why? Freshness. No same old, same old. I am after what I don't know, or what I can tweak in another way. I never want to be stagnant, afraid, or rest on my credentials. That is boring. No breakthroughs to be had there. If I am good at what I do, something cool will happen. Why bother otherwise? And that sparkle in my eye...well keeping that is important.

So I am looking for subtle color that belongs to this place in particular. Color that has to be there. I want to strip away all other colors so you will know, ahh, she's been there, seen its essence, and now she makes it glow.

Fresh Color

I get to play with fresh color today. Blank pages to be filled with the color of puddles, grasses and sky. Colors of sand and colors of water. And I need to find mangrove green, pelican brown, and red for blackbirds wings. Shall I include shark grey? I want tone poems of gentle hues. A smattering of unexpected flashes. Nuances of neutrals. I think it must be like creating characters in a story. These colors are to go with the drawings. They all have a purpose. I want one glance around the full exhibition to show the whole of it, but I also want you to be drawn in to take a closer look. Find a favorite that speaks to you.

That's what it is like you know, when mounting a show with a theme. A big story. One strong point to drive home. All the supporting characters echoing, amplifying, elaborating in their own character's way, but staying on message or helping the mystery unfold. Color is a key to character. So today I am after fresh color. Very selective color that I will continue to refine. Tone poems of an island. That's what will go on those pages, lots of possibilites to get to the chosen few.

Brush, no. Not the Speedo. Save that for Barcelona. Go get Pencil will you? No, he cannot be drinking Lemoncello this early in the day. What? Oh, practicing for his dream of Capri. We are very partial to islands around here. Come on let's go splash around in the paints, guys. I'll get some lemonade.

Chop Wood, Carry Water

“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.”~ Zen Proverb quotes

I wanted a trashy novel. See that book in the second photograph? Not trashy. And it has duct tape on the front of it. Hmph. DUCT TAPE. Had to balance that with a pink selection of small work goodies yesterday to fake my brain into believing there would be fun at the end of the tunnel. Yes, I wanted a beach read, a whodunnit, a tawdry tart gets her man...anything but to work on the files I took to work on and the business at hand.

I grabbbed a latte , a strata and opened up the Sunday New York Times, there was plenty of tawdry there, but I was not in a Georgia Zimbabwe mood. I tried to look at the Style section. Nope. Not happening. Off , I am way off today, I thought. Okay nothing for it, but to begin on the work I promised I would do, all that work I had packed into my location bag. I was already getting a late start. The day had felt slightly odd when I woke up way too early. Couldn't put my finger on the why. I was just not feeling the zen. I came to my alternative office anyway. Did not really want to be there, wanted anything else but that. I had thought of plenty of alternatives to the alternative, but here I was now and the very nice engineer from last Sunday was sitting at the table next to me working away. He'd already been friendly. Great smile, all American look. Western doncha know. That was nice. Sip sip. Do NOT get distracted, she says to herself. Let's just wade into the work. How bad can it be?

I pulled out the files and took the top one. Worked it through. Then the next. Then the next. Jotted down some notes. Clipped a few papers together. Picked up the last file before I knew it. Hm. Starting to feel better. I moved on to the sketchbooks and the journal. Paused. Marked a few pages more. The engineered smiled companionably. I read the first chapter in that ugly orange book. Definitely a guy book. Wait, hey...( as I read on) it is actually good. Might even be brilliant. Compliments another one I like called the Tipping Point that I read a few years ago. I had to make myself put down the ugly orange book with the tape ( which may become a favorite), and pick up the book I'd brought with me on punctuation. I have graduated to the second chapter in that one, the one on commas, having done the work with the dot. The engineer leisurely strolls over to the counter for more coffee and smiles on his way back. I now read that tricky comma chapter. Scintillating. Before I knew it I had completed every task in my bag. What? Yes, I looked in it and saw empty staring back. Huh? Tick tock wow. Done. That can't be right. But it was.

So I promptly smiled and repacked. Game over. Done. I sprinted over to the fiction and grabbed a pastel colored book about an heiress in Nice on the trail of a lost painting- villas and Dragonettas and romance in the South of France by a Sundance authoress. I grabbed the latest De Silva too. His lead character is the Jack Bauer of Israel. It says so right on the cover. That could be excting. I am zen again...and smiling.

Moral of my Sunday story? Chop wood, carry water. It may not be so glamorous, but sometimes you just have to do what needs to be done. Yes, it's Organizing Monday again. Pick 3 Most Important Tasks and simply do them. Small relentess steps. The road to "overnight success", or rebuilding, is full of small steps. Ones we wish we didn't have to do, have done a million times already, or would love to pay someone else to do for us when we can do that. But there's fun to be had there too...and sometimes a terrific view.

Now Brush is excited. That pink watercolor Moleskine in the first photograph is his reward. It's getting color tone poems this week. And island paintings will come from those. We have elegant handmade paper on the way. Brush is feeling very Nice-like now. Descriptions of the Grand Corniche, azure sea and pink villas can do that. Oh, I need island colors, but my heart, it needs a touch of romance, and it needed some zen discipline yesterday. So chop wood, carry water. Then reward yourself.

What, the engineer? Well, Texas seems to be a friendly state. Come on Brush we have drawing and painting to get to. Yes, you can drive the Dragonetta, let me get a scarf for my hair. Brush has a romantic side himself. Go on. Get busy. But don't forget the fun.

Week's End

Gentle rain drops woke me up. The ceiling fan is rustling hand made paper. Brush and Pencil are still yawning, tea is not yet made. It's a nice day to be cocooned in quiet. Softly sketching all day long.

Today, I'd like to be quiet. Let the drawings come. It's raining harder now. The downspouts run like streams. I have to smile, wetlands in Dallas are coming from the sky. There's a creek just down the hill, by a little bridge. Maybe I'll walk down later to see what washes by.

New pieces are mapped out. Ideas are flowing, thanks to beginner's mind. The three things I set out to do this week, I did. But the rain has made me dreamy. It's patting out it's rhythms on the roof. I wish that you could hear it.

Here is what I am thinking: How could I have forgotten to love what I love so much? I love to draw. But I have saved the drawings for myself. Part of what I do. Now, I plan to do some for exhibition and for sale. And that feels...exciting... and scary. Drawings are intimate. Directly felt. It is akin to opening up love letters for public view. But, we are going there.

Sometimes our private loves are essential to our wholeness. Hold them in your heart. But some of them we can share--like a poem. Soft caresses over paper like rain drops quenching a passionate thirst. Today I will be smiling as I draw. Gentle rain drops woke me up this morning. Made me think of love.

Well, it IS Naughty Friday. Go on. Love something passionately. I dare you.

Steve Holl and the Paper Chase

I fell in love with an architect on Sunday. Well, at least with his work, but I am quite sure if he asked me to marry him today, I would, sight unseen. I could live in one of his houses. Failing that instant marriage proposal, I will do the next best thing. Play with his influence on my work.

There's a drawing I want to do. Have for a long time. It happpens. Ideas sometimes have to gel for awhile before they are complete. Then boom. Right there it was in the pages of his current book, my drawing staring back at me. Only it is actually a building in Amsterdam. Aesthetic arrest. Totally stopped me in my tracks. Now I will not be able to rest, until I can figure out how to assemble the pieces, what materials to use, what pencils, or color, what mixed pieces I could bring in. So I can make my 2-d version of hide and seek, of the island of course.

I went online later, found another piece of his architectural art that has me thinking too. It slammed right into an idea I had for an environmental art piece. See what beginner's mind can do? I am translating into bas-relief and 3 dimensions what I would normally do in only 2. Playing with the small bits, confining myself to neutrals for just awhile, other aesthetic considerations start bursting on the scene. And I love it.

So today I will search, probably at Hiromi, for some unusual papers. Need some more like silk and tissue. There is a small screen I want to construct. Yes, some of these ideas come directly from those collages of found papers and inks. I am still playing with those. And some are from a small sketchbook I have had for awhile. It is time to move some of those, and the drawings from Tuesday, a little step forward. Some grander more elegant materials, just a few, are called into play. I want timeless whispers, some reflections and some shapes. Maybe it all changed a bit, when I saw that Beijing gymnist running in the air atop The Birds' Nest. But today I am thanking Steve.

C'mon Brush and Pencil, grab your kimonos, we have some looking to do. Yes, you can wear your flops, but not inside. And please, no ju jitsu in the store.

Godiva Chocoiste and Men, or Hoping To Get Lucky

The important thing to remember about stalking, er, doing market research, is to correctly pick your ground. I want to observe my target in some of the species' leisure habitats. Since I am currently without a boat, Ball season is way off (the kind you wear a fancy gown to, not the kind where they sell hot dogs in the stands, or have cheerleaders for), and I am off my home turf, this will have to do.

And look, they have seeded the field. Less than 15 feet from my cafe table, uh, office desk, here we are--Dallas leisure time activity center for the guy who reads. I was sipping a vanilla latte, discretely observing and sending my report back to corporate headquarters. Okay, I was on my cell phone to a girlfriend. I counted 9, no, 12 men and me in the area. Not another woman in sight. It was mid Sunday morning, kind of early, and they were everywhere. Men. Well groomed, casually dressed men, out for a cuppa and something to read.

Dallas men are the most time obsessed, watch collecting males I have come across. Look at the titles on the magazines. And this is a small sampling. There is a whole section on the rack behind this one that is devoted just to watches. However, notice Art and Architecture and Communication Arts are way up there too. And that is a very good thing for me. One of my most prolific collectors is a residential and commercial developer. His International Style private beach house contains no less than 5 of my large paintings in his main public rooms. So I liked seeing the interest in fine architecture.

Among the watch afficionadoes this Sunday morning, are well built security/bodyguard types. How did I know? We artists are highly trained observers. And it said so on their tightly fitted muscle restraining tee shirts. There was some serious muscle at this watering hole, reading and then walking. The muscle guys walk a lot. Up for coffee and back for water. Get another magazine. Get some more juice. Read the paper. Go get a pastry. And they observe everything around them. Like scanning constantly. Note to self: Find out if they furnish the palace or if they just guard it. Either way, a win. I think I spotted a Maverick or two as well. Ball players, not horses. Hm. Do the sports guys buy art?

The Godiva Kiosk was slightly over to the right. I am not sure whether it was a gentle reminder for these guys to pick up a treat for a loved one, or parallel bait to bring in prey. I prefer to think of it as nourishment. This is work after all. Hmm, of course I could be prey come to think of it. The engineer I ended up talking with did ask me if I come here often. And yes, he wore a very nice watch. It's okay, I can take a hit for the team. Such is the life of an artist wanting know her ideal clients up close in a Texas Town. I must breach the Petroleum and Cattleman's Clubs too. Yep, dirty work that...might require special shoes. But I am on it. Stay tuned.

Punctuation, Baby Crabs, and a Bit of China

The intersection of influences. Punctuation. I have been reading up on that. Can you see it in the drawings? Those marks are baby crabs and grasses on Chandeleur. And of course, on Friday I saw the big show put on by the Chinese. So it is no surprise to me that these Chandeleur studies are looking like Chinese screens and pencil calligraphy.

The paintings themselves will be a dance across surfaces now with a Beijing bounce. I want lyrical, but depth and timelessness are again my goal. And some color, very selective color. I want subtle explosiveness there; there is violet sneaking in. Gold and crimson here and there. And green, some green of new growth. We'll have to put that in. I want tension in the beauty. That is there too. The calligraphic symbol for harmony was featured in the show. I'd like to hide that in the grasses for you to discover.

Balances and rhythms, in the punctuation book. Pacing and progress, an editor's suggestion. Exploration in line continues, now in the grasses on the leaward side of the island. I have been playing with line so long you'd think I'd have those down, but beginner's mind requires that I take a fresh eyed look. Solve the puzzle like a child. Line, shape, color. Marks upon paper. Punctuation of an idea. Simple you would think. Ahh, but how can I make them resonate and entertain? How to make them speak? So that baby crabs and grasses come out as the heroes they can be. How to make a marriage between science, art, and poetry?

I must play with punctuation, baby crabs and grasses, what, in Chinese? Apparently that's what my muse thinks. Brush and Pencil are still high five-ing our boys who won the Bronze last night. They've asked me for some rosin, and some of those fancy tights. Sheesh. Olympic fever. It's contagious. Come on Brush, Pencil, we have some roaming to do and some calligraphy to learn. "Yes, guys, you can practice your new moves." Learning curves. Do they ever end?