Thursday, March 1, 2012

concessions to getting older

Don't know what happened to winter here in the bottom of Texas....we didn't get the freezing temps to kill off the mosquitoes....oh well, the upside is that the plants are happy.  And I'm still in the studio painting without gloves.

I guess I'm back to painting a few people after thinking I was back in love with still life.  Never say never. There is still much to be resolved in the switch from oil to acrylic.  Still not my favorite medium, still trying to make friends with it, still struggling.  I am finding that the wetter and faster I paint the happier I am.  What I really miss is the Liquin I used to use with oil.  What a lovely slider that stuff was, if only it didn't make me sick.  Just a wee bit of petroleum gunk in it.  Guess that's really not a good thing to breathe.

Getting older is finally interrupting my consistent bravado and confidence.  It truly is getting harder to stretch good size canvases.  Not that I'm giving up, just swearing more and running achy fingers under the warm tap when I come inside.  AND....here's the big one:  I just got a three wheel bike.  OK, actually it is a kind of tricycle, but it has a big basket in the back and I can carry stuff.  I had to give up my regular bike when I had a knee replacement....and then lost all confidence in balance.  So, what the hell, I'm now going to be that old lady zipping around on the red three wheeler.

Peace.




1 comment:

  1. In the first painting, I see myself. The morning is silent drifting white snow, settling on top of the sage. AIt first I thought it was "fog"( rarely seen in the desert, though common in memory of the old place at the bottom of Texas), then realized it was lovely snow, transforming the landscape, soft. gentle, beautiful. It is still dark in the studio. Yes, bikes are fun! So much to love!

    ReplyDelete



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I am living and painting in the little town of Houston. A far way from my San Francisco beginnings. I paint what I see of the human condition, be it human, animal or object. The glimmer of humor, pathos, and spirit in so much of what I see is the basis of what I paint.

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