Apples are always such willing subjects! I'm kind of tempted to experiment with painting one apple every day for a little while and see what happens :)
12x9", charcoal & white on gray paper This sweet little fella has been chanting the mantra "I need you" almost incessantly the past few days, which generally means, "hold me and don't put me down." Poor guy--just about breaks a mama's heart :( He finally fell asleep curled up on the rocking chair, so I grabbed some charcoal and sketched him quickly (about 12-15 minutes, I think). I haven't been doing a lot of quick sketches lately. But I think the more careful study I've been doing these past few months is definitely helping when I go to draw something more quickly. And the charcoal is not something I'm very comfortable with, but I think I could learn to like it :)
5x7, water mixable oil on linen panel, 10/23/15 The clouds have been unbelievable lately here in Utah--so big and billowy. Whenever I go outside, I have this urge to paint! But I'm not a landscape painter (yet)... not that I wouldn't like to be. I'd like to be able to paint whatever I want :) However, I used to have this idea that I just couldn't paint landscapes (after a couple of miserable failed attempts). But now I'm thinking, "Why not?" I'm sure I can learn how with some practice, and I do want to. I'm finding lately (especially since starting this blog and recording some of my thoughts as I go along), that I have this constant inner dialogue regarding my art. There's always a voice saying "you're not any good and you might as well not bother." I don't like that voice. And since I'm more aware of it, I'm becoming more effective and pushing it away. Who really cares if I'm not any good anyway? No on...
“There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask "What if I fall?" Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” ― Erin Hanson I almost distinctly remember the time that I decided I just could not be an artist. It was about 12 years ago on a cold and unbelievably-windy November day in Chicago. I was 18, and I had spent an entire day wandering the galleries at the Art Institute of Chicago's art museum. It was the best day, really. I remember standing in front of beautiful painting after beautiful painting, just staring at brushstrokes--I had never seen real paintings up close like that before, and I could feel them--I could see the artist at work there, and it was almost mind-blowing. I was completely overwhelmed. I wanted to soak it all in. I wanted to be a part of it. But there was this pervasive thought that kept running through my mind: "I could never do this." I wonder, now, why that thought--"I could never do ...
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