When I was growing up, holidays were bustling times with lots of people and lots of food. Prior to sitting down at the table to eat, the group was often divided by sex. The men were out in the garage looking at the newest car, or in the den watching the football/baseball/basketball game. The generations of women crowded in the kitchen. Sometimes there was room for little girls, too. We watched the rolling of dough, the snapping of beans, the give and take of advice and community. I loved those times when I got to wear an apron and help. Participating in the company of women made me feel grown up and special. The grandmothers have long passed away. Some of the mothers, too. The little girls have grown up and some of us have families of our own. And I am a grandmother now. But inside the heart of this grandmother is still the little girl with flour on her fingers, trying to pinch pinwheels from the leftover pie crust. Cat Stevens "Oh Very Young."
Today I have been layering and mixing and experimenting with acrylic paint to see what can happen. I added the black lines with Sumi ink and then knocked some of them back with more paint. I enjoyed the freedom of play and only at the last did I massage it a little to strengthen the composition.
While I was painting today, I was humming this old Cat Stevens tune, "If You Want to Sing Out." I realize that he is now Yusuf Islam, but when I first heard his music and bought the album (to play on my record player, thank you very much), he was known as Cat Stevens.
I admit that I had many bad experiences with English classes. But, in my first great experience in English class, the teacher printed out the words to "If You Want to Sing Out" and "Moonshadow" and used the lyrics to teach us to appreciate poetry. We had only to turn on the radio to hear the songs, and many of us knew the words by heart. She bridged the gap and made poetry (lyrics) cool and meaningful and contemporary. No dusty urns. No lovers counting the ways. No electric bodies. Just lyrics. And more lyrics. And more lyrics. And, when we understood and developed a hunger to understand the ideas behind truncated expressions, she knew we were hooked. Well, some of us were hooked. I know I was. Still am hooked. I don't even mind the urns, lovers, or electric bodies!
So, today, if you have a voice in your mind (or nearby) that is telling you that "you can't" or "you won't" or "you'll never" ... listen to Cat Stevens. And if you want to sing out, SING OUT! And if you want to be free, BE FREE. You can do what you want. Really.
Lilies and Hydrangeas, 8 x 10, oil on canvas panel
Plugging away at my assignment from Elio Camacho. Number 20 above. 180 to go. As I prepare to apply each new stroke, I ask myself, "is this lighter or darker than what's next to it? cooler or warmer?" and I mix the color on my palette to match what I see. This is one of the more successful all white still life studies. But, more to come!
And, it seems that Cat Stevens was right, even Carly Simon thinks so. Everything's emptying into white!
Whenever I am at a museum or art gallery, I enjoy looking at floral paintings. I look for composition, texture, and a sense of beauty and poetry in the fragile tissue of the petals. Fechin, Van Gogh, Renoir, they all do a great job with flowers, but it is Manet who steals the show every time.
