Plein Air Follow-through—More or Less

Well, after all my posturing about getting out of the studio and painting en plein air, I made myself do it! I mean, what could be better than a 70° autumn day in New Hampshire?

I started with a pencil sketch and quickly got bored and my back started aching. Once I sketched out the basic lines, I switched to an indelible black ink marker and wondered why I was even bothering.

The Perfectionist sitting on my shoulder, whispered, “You call yourself an artist? Is that what you call perspective? You haven’t laid down one plum line! And that, after resorting to an eraser!”

“What—you think I can’t see that?” I kept at it, telling myself that I really hate sketching. I was about to abandon my aspiration and simply call it an attempt. Then my Motivational Critic jumped in.

“What! You’re not even going to follow through and break out the paint—Oh, how pathetic are you!”

So, I cracked open my paint. After about 60 seconds, I got bored again and just wanted it to be over with, so started laying down paint more quickly (it dawned on me that this was likely what I should have been doing in the first place).

I shrugged the Perfectionist off my shoulder and heard my MC whisper, “At least you can say you tried and followed through—good for you!”

“But I don’t have to do this again, do I?”

“Well, did you have fun?”

“Not really.”

“Then why do it?”

“I don’t know— It’s such a romantic notion…I just really wanted to be the artist who could whip out my paints anywhere and produce something really stellar.”

“Why?”

“I feel as if I’m stagnating in the studio.”

“Really? But you produce some pretty remarkable stuff in there. You like it—I’ve seen how you study it afterward with satisfaction. Why can’t you be happy with that?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Well, you need to figure that out.”

“Yeah, I know…maybe I’ll carry my paints and tablet around just in case…”

Sigh. “Whatever…” 

The Fact of the Matter Is…

Okay, I just can’t stand it any more, with all those lies circulating out there about me. Here’s the truth of the matter:

1) A poor black child? Really? Well, umm, no.
2) Most Likely to Succeed? No way! Not with my mediocre grades. I was, however, voted Most Artistic, along with Gary Rabinowitz, who went on to earn his MFA, while I, well…anyway…
3) Now, really, if we were in the Witness Protection Program, I sure wouldn’t broadcast that—and I would never admit whether it’s true or false. Of course, if I posted someone else's self-portrait and avatar, who would know?—what a great subterfuge...that'd really throw the bad guys off...
4) I was 5’ 8” until the disks between some of my vertebra turned to beef jerky. And I probably wore a size 5 when I was 5. I mean did you get a look at the feet in my self-portrait? Okay, 8½ to 9 isn’t that big.
5) Pratt Institute? In my dreams!
6) Dating the sailboat racer guy… I’m glad that didn’t seem so farfetched, but, alas, it was pure fabrication. I thought I might get away with it because my novel has a nautical theme.
7) My family is simply too under-motivated to do the whole genealogy research thing, but the story handed down is that my great-great grandfather Peter was Swedish royalty (I downplayed him as nobility because it’s unverified, as yet) who fell in love with a commoner. Consequently, they fled to America and settled in Iowa.

Finis!

I can hardly believe I actually finished it! Overall, I’m pleased with the result, despite its overworkedness. Normally, I would have focused as much on the background, i.e. the window trim, but Todd told me to leave it alone already—‘the focal point is the subject, not the woodwork!’

One of the problems with allowing a watercolor to sit for over a year, before finishing it, is that the masking tape doesn’t want to let go—and, in a couple spots it didn’t. (And masking fluid has to be gouged off--not good.) Not to worry, I’ll simply matt up to the edge…

I'm being very brave, now, posting the real Susie...(this is where I start feeling very critical—can I call the discrepancies ‘artist prerogative?’)

Now, it’s time to start querying—while I do the big wait between the rejections—perhaps I’ll finish another painting...

It Won’t Be Long Now

It’s getting close for sure. I’m pretty much over the panic mode, mostly because if some one who knows her looked at it, they’d say, ‘Oh, sure—that’s Susie!’
When I say that my biggest motivation, at this point, is just getting it behind me, I guess no one would be shocked—I seem to fall into the angsty artist profile.

More on the Face

Okay, I’m not going to whine this time; I’m just going to post it…
I will say this much—I’m scared of giving her raccoon eyes…

I Haven't Quit Yet...

A little more progress…It actually looks pretty good under dim lights.

Okay, you may as well know what I'm shooting for. See how much darker the face needs to be?

And see how tricky I am, using a much smaller picture so you can't quite tell if the eyes are right?

Some Progress

Okay, I know it doesn't look like much, but it is something—and I won't say how long it took me, and yes, I know I'm overworking it...
And I know I said she's a beautiful girl; granted, she doesn't look too good right now, but I'm hoping to improve that today...
To be honest, this is another one of the panic stages for me. I’m afraid to lay down the dark colors to get the depth I need… and if I don’t get the eyebrows right…and the exact curve of the lips…and I don't even want to talk about the nostrils...and then I still have all that background to detail…

There's a part of me that feels like canning it, but I'm in too deep. Just stop whining and get back to it.
At least it’s something like progress—better than a week ago…

The Begining of The End

It is true that some of my paintings have won awards. This one, Bowl of Cherries (as a writer you would think I could come up with a more imaginative name), won a Best of Show award. I was allowed to glance at the little notation, written by one of the judges. I wanted to stand there and memorize it, line by line, but I hated to appear self-absorbed; all I remember was “technically precise”, and it is that.

In that same show, I also entered this imaginatively titled work, Lauren Sketching. She took the Peoples’ Choice award. In all honestly, though, I think the poll was rigged. Lauren is a friend of mine with a very large extended family, and I wouldn’t put it past some of them to stuff the ballot box. But, who am I to argue with the numbers? Besides, the prize was something like $50.00, enough to keep me in paint and paper for a year.

Before you get all impressed, I should tell you that it was only a county fair. Yes, it's true that the art show was separated from the pie contest, veggies exhibits and cow stalls, but the blue ribbons did look exactly alike… Okay, in all fairness, and out of respect for fellow entrants and administrators, I should emphasize that there were some very accomplished artists, in fact the show had an amateur and professional division. I entered the amateur division for years (in my opinion, I did not meet the 'professional' criteria: sells or teaches art). The last year, before we moved, the administrators 'forced' me to enter under professional.

The hardest part of those shows was claiming the awards, and retrieving my paintings. That could be done only within a brief window of time, during which all the other artists milled about.

When no one was looking, I removed my paintings, hoping to claim my money-laden envelopes and flee.

“Oh, J.B. Chicoine…” that’s how I sign everything, but my name, Bridget, was right on the entry form in front of the woman at the claim station, announcing my presence. I cringed at how pretentious J.B. sounded, and suddenly I had an audience asking me questions.

“How did you get that texture on her jeans?”, and “I would just love to stand over your shoulder and watch you paint...”

‘Really?’ I thought, ''cause I’d rather be stripped naked and chased down Main Street by an angry mob, than have someone watch me paint.’ I smiled and said nice things back, amazed that they actually thought I was an artist.

Oh, what the heck, just call yourself an artist for Pete’s sake. So, I did. Thus ended possibly the most prolific painting spree of my life. I think I started and finished nearly 10 painting in a year’s time, most of them in a span of weeks.

Now, when I pass a favorite, hanging on the wall, I pause and wonder? Did I actually paint that?

I wonder if I can ever paint that good again.

Something Old! and—well, more exciting than …

Okay, I’m really tired of having no recently completed paintings to post. This blog is truly a disgrace, and, I have to say, a bit demoralizing. Therefore, in the interest of preserving a modicum of dignity, I am shamelessly posting one of my favorite works. Never mind about how long ago I completed it…

It's Called: Deb's Kitchen