Tree hugger me

Ah.  After turning my back momentarily on still life and anonymous people, I find I am embracing trees.  Tree hugger me.  But there is a reason.  We went thorough such a drought from hell last year, that Houston lost tens of thousands of trees.  Pine, magnolia, oak, all kinds.  The Lost Pines of Bastrop burned black and seared until there was nothing left.  And like a lot of people who count on nature to lift their spirits in these difficult times, I found myself in something of a deep blue funk.  Trees are being replanted and for that we are supportive and grateful.  But, it will be a generation before our parks are restored to what they were.  There are, to be sure, lots and lots of trees in this very green town, but now there are also many empty places in between. And the rain has come back.
So.  Painting trees, fish, insects and birds is restoring me.  Looking for serenity I guess.  And it's working.

Peace. 

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.

still life out of style

Whatever the crazy world has been up to, I've been in the studio making still life paintings like they never went out of style.  And they did.  But what the hell.  For me it's like knitting, not that I do that, not that there's anything wrong with that, but working on still life makes me ok with the world while I'm doing it.
Like there is only so much you can stand of politics, bad news, and crumby weather.  Still lives make me ok.  Better than booze or pills, I say.  I mean, the props just sit there and give stability to the situation.  Unless they are Clementine oranges, in which case I'm trying to paint them fast before they change their form and start to shrivel.  At least I'm not painting sides of beef like Soutine did.

Peace.

studio copper pot

little satisfactions

The days grow longer already.  Perhaps more noticeable in the places I inhabit....Texas and California.  It's nice not to be driving in the dark at 5pm.  Little satisfactions.  The structure of bare trees made visible by the season; the low slant of afternoon light like a spotlight on humble things giving them life; people taking turns at a non working signal;  smiles from strangers; falling asleep with a book on my lap.

I promise I'm not about to break out into song....but it's good to not be rushing around so much and take in the view, the moment, the breath ....right now.

Peace.

soothing still life

New Starts.  Painted over a partly done canvas and did a large still life.....something I could control, to bring in the new year.  Combining the hills of California and some objects in the studio.  Objects I've painted for many years.  Old friends.  Objects standing in for people.  An avoidance of emotion.  A way to deal with the death of a friend, the end of a year, the prospect of more drought, the calendar turning pages faster than I can count.

Painting soothes the soul, erases the worry, allows my mind to wander in small jerks forward and backward without edit.

More still life for a while I think.

Peace.











 

time

December.  Houston.  Cool, cold even.  The difficult summer forgotten.  We seem to dwell only in the present where we are ok, or not ok.  I find myself thinking forward when in uncomfortable moments: "in one hour, I will be home (or through, or out of the airplane, or done with the dentist, or off the freeway) and 'this' will be over".  I helps. 
I am now of the age where in my mind I can travel long distances through time.  Can even get a bit lost there in the loops and small passages.  Some to savor, some to spit out, and some....to put in trunk, in the basement and slam the lid shut.
But, it seems, we must live in the present moment and make it count by being aware of it.  Tick tick.  It slips away.


Peace.