My Art Journey

 For years I tried to paint and draw just like other artists. It didn’t matter if the artist was famous or not. I painstakingly tried to copy what I saw, I used grids and photocopies and light boxes to give me an edge. Perhaps in this way I could learn perspective and details and realism. I ended up being sorely disappointed most of the time.  

I saved many of my old attempts at being a master artist. I am not sure why I did this; I surmise that in a way it is honoring the process of trying and failing over and over as an artist.  

Many times, I was so hesitant to start that I got a headache and sick to my stomach but I kept trying. I cursed the heavens in frustration and begged for guidance and asked why my art is so bad. There was no reply. I believed I had no Heavenly Magical Genie Muse.  

I have painted in oils and acrylics but I really love using watercolor paint. Watercolor seems to have a mind of its own especially when I experimented with different kinds of paper and volume of water.  

One day while practicing a miraculous thing happened. I placed green and gold and sepia on a cut up store card and burrowed the colors into a very wet piece of Fabriano twenty five percent cotton watercolor paper. The colors melded and exploded and moved and I saw shapes of trees and lakes and sky.  

The picture took on a life of its own; I carved out the tree trunks, popped leaves on the canopy, splashed blue gray into the sky and water. There it was, like a dream, I was the facilitator of color, and I was the channel though which the colors came alive.  

But something was different this time, as I took a good look at my painting the subject matter was not realistic but abstract and impressionistic. I realized at that moment that I am an abstract artist not a failed realist artist.  

I was elated and I continued as an abstract artist and never looked back. I am not sure why I didn’t realize this before but I know I am so very lucky to have realized exactly where my art practice needed to go.  

Turns out that my Heavenly Magical Genie Muse had been looking over my shoulder the whole time to make sure I kept practicing and not give up.  

I paint every day to make up for the time I spent trying to do realistic art and with every new painting I am reminded to keep practicing and finding awe in watching watercolor dance and swirl and sing on very wet Fabriano twenty five percent watercolor paper.

Georgia P.

5.7.2021

De Aardappeleters- The Potato Eaters (by Vincent Van Gogh)

 

The Potato Eaters, was the culmination of many studies that Vincent Van Gogh had done previously on the subject of peasants and peasant life. Painted in earth tones, the painting was the only group portrait ever done by Vincent in his career. The work was meant to be a showpiece to display how he had grown as an artist. The de Groots were chosen to be models for the piece as they were a farm family that tilled the earth to eek out their meager existence from hard work. Vincent intentionally used the dark earthen colors that would be found in the fields for his depiction of this family of farmers. Their strong bony hands and extreme muscle tone showed through the worn-out peasant garb. The determination on their faces mirrored the difficulties in their lives. The use of light in this painting was of particular interest as the burning candle was the only light source in the otherwise pitch black cottage, and illuminated the Eaters from this central point.

Although born to means, Vincent had always been fascinated with the lives of the less fortunate, and it was a major theme of his paintings throughout his career. Vincent’s younger brother Theo was a successful art dealer. It was Theo who sustained Vincent in his career as an artist. They communicated through many letters.

The Potato Eaters was painted in Nuenen, Netherlands between April thirteenth and mid - May 1885. 

Soon after this work was completed Vincent painted Peasant Woman Cooking by a Fireplace.
The woman in this work has the same face as the second character from the left in The Potato Eaters. It can be seen in Gallery 825 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in New York City. This painting by Vincent Van Gogh shows the potential for art all around us in the mundane experiences of everyday life, if we are receptive to its presence, and can be captured in paint, words or other mediums.

 

Jim

May 2021

The City Sleeps

THE CITY THAT NEVER SPEEPS SLEPT

PIGEONS SANG SWEET LULLABIES SOFTLY COOING

TAXI DRIVERS PUT  FEET ON THEIR DASHBOARDS WITH NOTHING DOING

THE STORES BOARDED UP TO AVOID ANY LOOTING

RESTAURANTS CLOSED WITH NO ONE TO FEED

THE UNEMPLOYED STOOD ON EVERY CORNER  SHOOTING THE BREEZE

DOORMEN SLEPT IN CHAIRS WITH NO DOORS TO OPEN

THE SUBWAY CARS WERE SENT FOR A DAY AT THE SPA AS A WAY OF COPING

PIZZA RAT WAS REDUCED TO EATING NUTS AS THERE WAS NO PIZZA TO EAT

 HE BECAME THINNER AND THINNER FROM THIS CULINARY RETREAT         

FINALLY THE SCIENTISTS IN THEIR LABS  JUMPED UP AND YELLED!

“WE HAVE IT WE HAVE IT, A CURE FOR THE VIRUS!”

THE CITIZENS REJOICED AND YELLED FROM THEIR ROOFTOPS

"WE HAVE OUR CITY BACK. THIS IS MOST DESIROUS!"

THE CITY RETURNED TO LIFE OVER THE WEEKS

THE ACTORS, ARTISTS AND BALLET STARS DANCED IN THE STREETS

Jim

May 2021

 

        

Tomorrow's Bouquet

I woke to a boom of the lilacs in bloom

By the door to the street a perfumed meet and greet

bringing hope for the day and courage I pray.

Red petals blew away but do not dismay 

Now worms roam around under soil so dark brown   

Turning graves into gardens so swallows may play.

Come Violet, bring Daisy, Ivy and Rose 

It’s time for the world to remember your nose

Tomorrow’s bouquet today making way for those who grow faint to wake up and paint.

Yvonne A

5/2021

In Your Pictures

Good-bye, my love

How many times have I said I love you to the air, over and over for hours and hour and you will never hear it.

I say goodbye

As I clasp my hand and shed a tear

Forever in your beating heart I remain

Now I am only in your pictures. 

Georgia

5/2021

Glitch

 

The air is crisp

The dark is beckoning

I look up at the clouds

Searching, always searching

For a glitch in the mundane

A tear in the fabric

Something out of sync

And not of this world

Sighing, somewhere between wonder

And disappointment

I go on home

Maybe tomorrow night…

Jessica S.

Apr 2021

The Keys

 They let me in, they let me out, nevermore to be without.

 They let me open, they let me close, misplaced where who knows!

Common place, you ignore me. Until work beckons, you implore me. I’ll gladly appear, if you shed a tear and promise from your heart to keep me near.

Cathy

4/2021