Dabbling in Paint Therapy

Ghost of #2.

In winter, I heat only part of my house, and I often spend evenings in my warmest room painting wee small thingies on little panels. The panels rarely exceed 6 x 6 inches in any direction, but occasionally I substitute other   materials upon which to paint such as wooden bowls or ceiling tiles.  I "read" an audio book or put on a favorite movie to listen to while fervently not wasting time (as in watching bad television).  Like most artists who formerly worked a day job, "evenings for art" is a habit difficult to break, even now when I often paint all day as well. 

Tuxedo cat on tin ceiling tile

It's more than just habit though.  Making these little paintings relaxes me. By offering an outlet akin to journaling, I can translate my day or my dreams into images. And even if I don't create any masterpieces, I am working.  I am producing.  I am fulfilling my drive to create, which assuages "artist guilt" over time I might have wasted in the past. I can feel good about myself (wink and grin)!  The artists out there will understand.

There are no rules.  Depending on mood, I might portray anything from the little birds I love to versions of faces in my head, bits of dreams or imaginings. Sometimes I see images clearly and paint what is there. "What is there" has been on occasion, a manifestation of something or someone unpleasant, like an ex-husband's haunting expression of scorn or superiority (hah - see photos).  Painting it out works just like talking it out. I can rid myself of certain mental junk by examining and portraying what is in my mind's eye. When I can hold it in my hand, I have power over the image, memory, mood - and I can literally put it aside for later scrutiny, laugh at it, or banish it altogether!  The power of symbolism is extraordinary! 

Ghost of #1.

The apple cheeked lady.

I've found it helps to keep the palette somewhat limited.  Again, mood may determine the colors selected, but just as often I choose favorite combinations such as all the colors found in apples or lavender, celery and acid green with varied hues of white. When I am creatively upbeat, the paint will often have its own way; leading me to new interpretations of things recently seen, or even resolving old visual/perceptual difficulties.  Sometimes I don't even try to do anything challenging, painting cat faces or little dolls that I will never sew.  On these occasions, painting is like knitting or crocheting: an exercise to keep the hands busy while the mind refreshes with aimless wandering.

Sparrow #1.  Sold.

Some of the little paintings have never left my house.  Others become gifts for friends.  And quite a few end up for sale.  I really didn't exhibit them much until recently when I began a series of small works for my newly opened Etsy space.  I was surprised by how much others enjoyed them... even the creepy ones! 

Dolly with an ouchie.

What cats think.

Mr. Bland

Social Media: That Love/Hate Thing

When I opened up my blog this evening, I was shocked to see my last post had been in October of last year. My surprise stems partly from the fact that I'm often thinking about blogging - but apparently not actually blogging!  I enjoy the outlet and the effort of trying to post worthwhile or interesting bits, sharing my art and getting to know other bloggers and followers.  I'm embarrassed.  And thus, I hereby vow to post at least weekly unless I am at death's door or .... (can't think of another excuse).

One reason I've not been around is (yuck) Facebook.  That's where the love/hate thing is coming from.  Last year I met and spoke with Bradley Tyler Wilson, (his small and wackily charming bird paintings are below) at an area art exhibit and sale.  He asked me if I did FB and I made a face and said no.  In less than 5 minutes he convinced me I should do it - and use it strictly as a professional tool.  It's taken me weeks and weeks to figure out how to have a personal profile AND a page.  I just couldn't get the hang of it.  Not sure I have even now, but it's done.  I still think it's confusing and unless I get, say, a gazillion "likes", I still have to post everything in both places or it's just sitting there.  The only real advantage I see at this point is quick access to lots of my work for FB people.

Bradley Tyler Wilson's birds (now mine)The small one is 4 x 4,  6 x 6. 

They make me smile.

I have to admit to being distracted by finding old friends, lost friends, acquaintances and family members there, as well as seeking out artist groups (a recent discovery).

So I get my photographs posted to albums on my personal profile (Patrice Young) and then I set up my page (Patrice Lynne Young as that is my on-art signature) and re-post all the photographs.  Then I find I cannot change the name on the personal profile to match the page.  More confusion.

To top that off, another of my online artist friends posted that FB would soon stop letting those of us who do not pay to advertise link back to FB.  So what good is it to me if that is the case?  If anyone reading this knows more about this, please give me a shout.  Oh - nearly forgot.  My FB page is here patricelynneyoung.

I aspire to have as many likes as my heroine Holly Friesen, who at this blogging has over 1500!  But mostly, I hope to better understand marketing online.

And because all blog posts are better with cats:  Here's Sugarbuns - adopted last year after spending her entire first 7 months in a shelter.  She's all cinnamon and sugar...

New Altar: From Every Dream - And it's SOLD!

Finished another.  I really love making these and I've only two more pre-constructed - er- constructions.  Can't wait to work up some new ones in different sizes and configurations.  I made twenty of these 28 x 23 x 2 - and all but those last two have been sold.

I continue to love grape tendrils as additions.  They are each so unique, spiraling and reaching out.  They can be bouquets, branches, decorations, twigs, and even tiny trees.  They are tough and paintable, and can be woven into quite strong and resilient forms.  I've even made jewelry from them... (now there's a post I should do).

Acrylic painting and mixed media including pine, cedar branches, grape tendrils, feathers, wire, found objects.

And being a person who loves poetry and recombinant verbiage (my term), I have made the piece fun to read out loud.  Listen, glean, glisten, gleam... Ideas come from every dream.

The painting in detail.  Acrylic on wood panel.

Back to the 50's, Images and Verse, and a tiny avian.

This picture is bigger than the painting!  It's a 4 x 4  - Singing of Spring (I hope).

On to thrift shop adventuring!!

I am rarely able to pass up the chance to rummage about in the books at a thrift shop or yard sale.  There's just something magical to me about finding a best loved author or a new discovery amongst the tons of Reader's Digests and Harlequin Romance rubble.


Last week I happened to notice the word Poetry on the spine of a shabby book.  Since poetry books of any kind are rare hereabouts, I eagerly pulled it out for a look.  It was a 1954 Public School Library book called the first book of poetry published by Franklin Watts, Inc., with pictures (charming line drawings) by Kathleen Elgin and poems "selected by" Isabel J. Peterson.

I wasn't yet in school in 1954, but I found a few of my favorite childhood poems included along with many unfamiliar poems and authors.  And I found that the illustrator, Kathleen Elgin, was a gifted, versatile and prolific artist working throughout the 1950's and 1960's.


 Here are a few of her drawings:

One of my favorite childhood poems - with a perfect illustration,

 

 

 

Watch Birds; Watchbirds

 There used to be a little balloon in certain magazines when I was growing up.  It simply stated: "I'm a little watchbird watching you."  At least that is how I remember it.  I thought it was a sort of private joke. Today, thinking how birds do sit and watch - each other; for predators, for food, for "a signal" that it is time to fly, I remembered that little illustration.  As I watch them back, and paint their images, perhaps I seek to learn the signal too. 

A Gathering In Winter;   acrylic on canvas, 12 x 12. 

 

 

 

Wow - The images are wonderful. Now I've found that these were created in the 1940's by Munro Leaf - and were often illustrated to impart morals and proper behavior.

Munro also wrote many children's books, and even collaborated with Dr. Seuss.  He was rather controversial during the war years and is most famous for his book Ferdinand..

Perhaps all those watchbirds crept into my subconscious.  I especially love the one who sits on the tree branch.

Mixed Media for March

Six Black Birds  30 x 20 x 3

Working on new pieces for myself and the shop.  This is part of my altar series in that the "frames" were originally designed for pieces based upon Mexican and Spanish altar pieces.  They've morphed into what you see here and below - though they still feel altar-ish to me.  I've got this thing for grapevine tendrils.  I'm sure it's related to my fascination with spirals Equiangular/Spirals (a posting of a couple years back.)  But it's also due to their nature if you will.  As a sometimes basket maker and fiber artist, I've great familiarity with the tensile strength and spring-back qualities of grape tendrils even after being stored for years.

A Singular Path (sold)

And they just make such interesting lines.  It's as if they are drawings in the air that take shape and form; no two alike. I've included a couple of others in the series:  A Singular Path and So Fragile A Fire - both done in the last two years in between bouts of painting. Another previously posted The Madonna of Our Season was done as a holiday mystery give-away purely for fun.

I built the original frame, then asked a woodworker friend to use it as the model for 20 more.  I've four or five left and the next one is taking shape in my mind's eye.

As for the glowing circular areas in the photograph of Six Black Birds - a friend of mine swears they are entities, presences of energy captured by the camera because of their interest in what's going on...  Sounds good to me.

So Fragile A Fire

Black Bird on Red

Often the paintings I like best (both mine and those of others) are paintings executed in a very short span of time. There is something both original and unique about the freshness of gesture or the surprise of a quick splash of color or line chosen by instinct rather than deep contemplation. Like one's own handwriting, these works are impossible to forge.