Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Watercoloring for a Friend

So doing commissioned artwork can be a weird thing:  I get an email or a phone call from a stranger.  They send me pictures of their home or their dog, or their alpaca. And I'm asked to create a painting based on a flat, 2 dimensional image.


It usually works out fine, especially if the client sends me several shots of the same subject and I can really get a feel for a place.  If I can't get a good read on a subject, I'll ask for more pictures or politely decline the work.

While painting I think a lot about the people who live in the house, or who own the dog --or the alpaca or the horse-- and I wonder about them:  What are they like? Did they play soccer or bacci ball in this yard with their kids like we did with ours?  Did the dog know any tricks or have any weird habits like my little basset hound, Roxy does?
The cool part about creating a painting for a friend, as opposed to a stranger,  is that I'm usually pretty familiar with the subject.  I've been to the house, explored the yard and petted their dog.  I have a more personal feel for the place or the animal.  And if I haven't seen it in person , I know the owner and often have heard stories about the house or of their beloved pet.   

This is a coworker friend's home and the resulting painting I made for her.  I don't know her that well, but I feel much closer to her after having rendered a watercolor of something beloved to her.  I've found it's true with many friends for whom I've done home or pet portraits:  I pay close attention to all the details of their home or of their pet and come to a more profound understanding of what's important and dear to them.  

It's a lovely keepsake for a friend and also a gift to me to have learned more about her.

Friday, December 2, 2016

Christmas Card

I offered my home parish one of my Christmas prints, "Holy Family" to use on their Christmas card this year.  I just got it in the mail and am very pleased with how it looks!
Cards and prints can be ordered at http://www.redbubble.com/people/mbrhapsody/works/11057918-christmas-nativity-watercolor?c=479919-christmas&p=greeting-card&ref=work_collections_grid


Monday, November 7, 2016

5 Brainy Tips for Artists With MS

I found this sketch on Pinterest and wish I could credit it but it had no link.  I really like it.  Every time I look at it I think "Yep." Because it pretty much shows what it feels like inside my brain most days.  My brother unceremoniously-- and by his own admission, politically incorrectly coined the term "Art-tard".

I'd like to blame it on being creative---so maybe that's why I like the image so well.  It gives a strength - based explanation for what has been recently diagnosed as a cognitive disorder due to multiple sclerosis.  Though a much more frightened part of me whispers "You're getting old...  You're probably getting senile"--and perhaps I am,  I prefer to think it's a grown-up form of undiagnosed attention deficit disorder, and that I've always been like this. But as my sister often reminds me "Denial isn't just a river in Africa". I have to face reality, whatever the reason, my brain is getting increasingly untidy.

On any given day there are a lot of images and words, ideas, musings, plans and memories blowing around loose in my brain, like an untidy house.

 I have some great brainy closets just stuffed with creativity, future projects and plans. There are also dust bunnies of thoughts and half-formed ideas rolling around in dark corners up there.

And rummaging in various drawers and cabinets in my brain long enough I often come across things I just knew were in there but couldn't get my hands on when I needed them; Like remembering where that box of colored pencils is that someone had asked to borrow last week.

There's also a whole pot of simmering vocabulary words that used to be much easier to retrieve. But I guess my brain's word strainer has bigger holes because now I have to wait til they float to the surface to get them.  That "on the tip of my tongue" feeling maddeningly nags at me.  Then that word that I was trying to remember yesterday to describe a painting ---"CHIAROSCURO!"--- bubbles to the surface, unbidden, hours later: Not that I need the word anymore, but I'll shout it out with relief, randomly, to my husband  or my dog or  a passing stranger.

Under that simmering pot is a whole oven of half-baked ideas:  Dog portraits, sloth cartoons, caricatures and flower mosaics.  On any given day there are a half-dozen or so  unfinished concepts, schemes and designs.  Some come to fruition.  Most don't.

I used to chase after these sloppy notions only to be distracted by another one.  I flitted from one thing to another. It was taking precious energy from my already high fatigue M.S.days and I wasn't accomplishing much.  I was frustrated and worried that my thoughts weren't more organized.

 I've  worked really hard to make up for this untidy artist brain, MS-related cognitive disability, adult A.D.D., senility, or whatever it is.

 Here are some tips I can share with you that, while not necessarily making my brain a more tidy place, have led me to at least accomplishing more:

1. Keep a sketchbook of inspirations, ideas and projects that interest you. Write them down or sketch them out.

2. Use resources.
Pinterest or other Juxapost are great ways to gather, organize, categorize ideas , which can be shared or kept private.

3.  Make an Art List and put it somewhere you can see, like on the fridge or taped to the side of your calendar or computer screen.
Making lists seems seems like a no-brainer, and many people already do it for groceries, appointments and errands.    Make your art ideas just as important .  Instead of just having a bunch of cool ideas floating around in your head, put them down on paper, either in the form of writing or pictures so you have a visual reminder.

4. Update your art list  and make a new one at least once a week.

  •  Give yourself a pat on the back for anything you've accomplished from your last  list.  
  • Toss out any ideas that no longer seem feasible or that no longer ignite artistic passion in you. 
  • Check your art idea sketchbook and add new projects you'd like to work on.

.5. Put yourself on a flexible Artist Schedule and stick to it.
 Fixed times to do stuff don't always work with multiple sclerosis , because the need for a nap is a real and powerful thing. Include some time in your high-energy moments---whenever they are--to do artwork.  Don't try to fit it in at the end of a day when your energy is flagging.

I need to go now.  I have some stuff to do.
I think.




Sunday, October 16, 2016

Draw Me

My dad was an artist.  He doodled and sketched and once sat each of us four kids down and drew our portraits one by one.  He’d sigh and grumble and erase and re-draw, and said he wasn’t pleased with the outcomes. But my mother loved them and framed each one and hung them all up. Sometimes I’d find a little picture he’d drawn for me (a bee, or a cat or a flower) on my napkin in my lunchbox.  I’d tell him later how much I liked it and he’d grudgingly smile and say something touching like “Hmmmph.  Good.”

Sadly he didn’t have money to attend college and he made his living through various office jobs to support his growing family.   Maintaining a stalwart façade and not one to share his feelings (You went to to your room if you were going to have feelings), Dad didn't complain.  But I knew he really wanted to become an artist professionally.  It was the early 60’s, and in the backs of many magazines, including Life and The Saturday Evening Post, there were ads to “Win a Free Scholarship to Art School”.  Each contest would have a picture of a pirate, or a pretty woman, or a cowboy, with a challenge to “Draw Me”.  It promised your work would be evaluated and you could possibly win. 


These advertisements promoted the art correspondence course called The Famous Artists School.  According to Wikipedia The Famous Artists School was “..in operation since 1948. The school was founded by members of the New York Society of Illustrators, principally Albert Dorne and Norman Rockwell.”  I’m not sure which character Dad drew to enter the contest, but I know he did enter.  He didn’t win,  but a salesman came to the door and  signed him up for the course, telling him that-- though he didn’t win-- the instructors at the Art School did see some talent there.  Whether they did that to every entrant I don’t know but Dad signed up.     


Looking back on it, it seems scammy and cheesy.  And though they probably gave a lot of people false hope for becoming a professional artist, the lessons were surprisingly good.  The Famous Artist School Binders began arriving at the house and Dad worked on them during his limited spare time . 

When he finished an assignment he would mail it in and someone at Famous Artist School would evaluate it and send it back to him with comments and suggestions.    Viewed from today, such a slow, clunky method as the Postal Service to get an education seems incredible but that’s the way it was done.   Here is one of his finished assignments, which my mother framed and hung in our house:


When dad wasn’t around, I’d  flip through the binders filled with art lessons.   The drawings were amazing and I especially liked the ones on cartooning and portraiture.  There were lessons on composition, value, and color theory.  It was really quite comprehensive.  Though too young to read all the words, I’m sure I gleaned some good information from those lessons.  



My siblings loved looking at them too.   My older brother remembers dad eventually having to hide the binder with Figure Drawing.  It contained nudes, and he’d caught my brothers giggling over them .  

Dad never finished the Famous Artist Course. I’m not sure why, but, as it was with most things back then, we probably just couldn’t afford it. He never did realize his dream of becoming a professional artist.  I’m sure he was gratified that my eldest brother ---from whose hands he’d removed the binder of nudes, did go to school for art and now owns a successful design firm.  

He dabbled in art his whole life and later made me laugh by taking a watercolor class that I taught where he’d sit in the back and sigh and grumble while he worked.  And he’d bring home his pictures and my mother would frame them and hang them up.