Ghostly Dream

For the past couple of weeks I've been itching to do a charcoal drawing.  I've done several in the past and always enjoyed it, although it's not my primary medium. I'm definitely not as good at drawing as I am at painting, but charcoal drawing is definitely my favorite in that medium.

Last night I had a dream that I had done a charcoal drawing. It was so real that when I woke up I wasn't sure if I'd actually done it or not. I decided my subconscious we telling me it was definitely time to do one.

This is not the finished product, but I liked the ghostly surrealism at this stage so I decided to share it. It kind of goes along with the feeling of fall that is in the air.

Chaps

Growing up I always wanted my own pair of chaps. My dad never went riding without his and in my mind they were what made you a real cowboy. Until my son was in Fourth Grade I'd only ever heard that word pronounced /sh/aps - like shag. But then his teacher pronounced it /ch/aps - like it is spelled - like when your lips are dry. He tried correcting her and she told him he was wrong. Well, no one told my son that his knowledge of cowboying was wrong, so he had me go talk to her. I set her straight in a very gentle and diplomatic way - by telling her that's how my dad always said it. Since then I've heard other actual cowboys pronounce it the same way she did. So now I'm curious... is it a tomayto/tomahto kind of thing? Or is someone out there saying it wrong?

Rusted

The Rusted Truck

There’s a time in our life when we pass
what’s in front — those blocking our way
in the hurry of youth.
Motor flat out, foot heavy on pedal,
tires flaunt tread, freedom thrums in the night,
and sleek curves of chrome… shimmer.

Then comes the time when we hesitate —
maybe passing or maybe not,
when journey triumphs destination.
Grit rests on floorboards ‘round
hard knocks from difficult roads.
Features of youth still present, but fading
like romance in maturity … a savoring.

Next is the time when we stay in the slow lane,
just travel down roads that feel more like home.
The color of paint takes on a whimsy
as holes in the floorboard start small.
Rust scabs on wounds of scratches and dents
that heal into scars … of miles gone by.

Finally, the time comes to rest in a field,
respected for aging, and still in one piece.
Patina like velvet infused with the natural,
mirrors gone, oil clogged, seat worn,
fractures in glass dim like cataracts and,
dreams die in weeds by the barnyard.

Stories forgotten of travel and living —
regrets and decisions that landed us here.
Then off in the distance an artist approaches
who pauses and captures, in paint, what she sees.

This poem was written by Debra Simmons in response to my painting "Rusted III". We were paired randomly as author and artist for the Word and Image Project for the Hoffman Center for the Arts in Manzanita, Oregon. I feel that she was able to put in to words the thoughts I had when I first saw the truck. I knew that there were so many stories in all that rust, if only it could speak and tell them to me. I really appreciate the opportunity to work with her and look forward to more shared experiences. 

Sunday Dinner

Good Intentions

There was so much horseradish
in the cocktail sauce that
we couldn’t eat the crab…
my favorite.

Stray ashes from cigarettes
mingle with parsley and paprika
on crusty potatoes topped with cheese
and corn on the cob slathered in butter.

A spent matchstick hangs
on the old china platter
holding a brown crispy pork roast
bound up in white string.

The cake slips sideways
like Tommy’s toupee,
husband number seven,
as they pour themselves another drink.

My parents exchange looks
of disgust, then depart.
Such was Sunday dinner
at Grandma’s house.

This poem was written by Debra Simmons. She and I were paired randomly together for the Word and Image Project at the Hoffman Center for the Arts in Manzanita, Oregon. My painting is in response to her poem. She also wrote a poem in response to "Rusted III" that I will share tomorrow. This was a great experience and challenged both of us in many ways. The greatest reward was the newfound friendship we created in being paired together. As we met and discussed each other's work we found that we shared many past experiences, outlooks on life, and artistic styles. I don't believe in coincidence and am grateful that we were brought together. I look forward to future inspirations that will come my way.

Tacky, Tacky, Tacky

This painting is bringing back all kinds of memories. I used to love to hang out in the tack shed. I loved the smell of leather and dry horse sweat that clung to the saddle blankets. I can still smell it. If I thought I wouldn't get caught I'd sit on the saddles that were resting on the saddle horses. Running my hands along the long leather reins I would imagine myself the cowgirl heroine in a herd of stampeding cattle. Oh the places I would go in that tack shed... 

Pony Tail

I used to love having my hair in a ponytail. I would toss it and flick it and wonder if it really looked like my pony's tail. In my mind it most definitely did. I also wondered why pigtails were called pigtails... pigs didn't have two tails, and my hair didn't curl like a pig's tail did... 

But oh well. This horse doesn't have to worry about it. He can flick his pony tail all he wants.

Cattle Drive...

When I was young I always looked forward to the cattle drives. It meant I got to be on a horse all day long, with my dad, and out in nature... even if that meant eating the dust and smelling the manure all day. 

Painting cattle is a different story... I admit I'm having fun with this painting, but I just have to say it... 

Cattle Drive... me nuts! ;)

Moving Cows... or Cowboys...

I've spent a lot of time in my life on the back of a horse and moving cows. But today moving cows around the canvas was a bit different than it used to be. And that dear cowboy had to be moved three different times... I just couldn't seem to get him in the right proportion. I knew this painting was going to be a bit tricky, so tomorrow I'll see if I can move things around a little more.

Setting the Stage

I went to a play this week and was fascinated with the set. Everything about the play was wonderful, but as I painted today I thought about the set, the design, the style, and all the work that went into it. Without that set all of the other elements of the play would have been different. 

So today I set the stage for my next painting. It will effect everything that comes hereafter. How exciting is that?

Lady Slipper

This Lady Slipper was a special request from a special person in my life. It was fun to paint, but it was also fun to think of her and the impact that she had on my life. I hope that she will find beauty in the painting and see her own beautiful heart in it as well. Lady Slipper is very fitting for her because has always been a wonderful example of a very gracious lady.

Beach Cherub

Well, here she is at last... my hot babe on the beach... my bathing beauty... my cute little beach cherub. I do love children. To me they represent innocence, hope, potential, purity, meekness, and joy. I love to hold a child's hand, play with a child's feet, and answer every single "why" they can come up with. Painting them, apparently, is no different. I have thoroughly enjoyed every child I've painted. I may have to stick to this genre... 

Chubby Cherub

My beach cherub is getting chubby! I am really enjoying this painting. The flesh and fabric colors are very close, which makes it interesting. It forces me to really look at values, hard and soft lines, and all the elements that go into creating form. It is reminding me what great teachers I had in the art department at Southern Utah University.

Back in the Studio

I finally got back in the studio after almost a week. Breaks like this can be good for me, but they are hard on me as well. It's funny how much mental and emotional effort it takes to get myself in front of the canvas. And yet, to not do it is far more painful. 

So I jumped back in to Beach Cherub and got a good start on her face. There's more work to do, but too little time. I am off to a fun adventure today, though. So hopefully I'll have some great references to bring back to the studio.

Dinner's On!

Well, this is it. I finished the painting today and submitted it for the Word and Image Project. It's been fun posting my progress. This was a short amount of time to do a painting this detailed. There are many aspects I would love to go back and continue to work. I had a fun conversation today though, that reminded me to keep it in perspective. I told my friend that as a recovering perfectionist it is hard for me to take on anything that I don't know I can do perfectly. Painting is "perfect" therapy for that because a painting is never perfect. There simply comes a time when I have to say "Good enough." So while I could nit-pick this to death... it's good enough. I will post the final painting, along with the poem that inspired it, after the opening reception at the Hoffman Center. Thanks for tagging along with me on this one.