I see being stuck in a corner as a good thing. Having the back turned to the rest of the world while I am being buzzy doing my own thing. Doodling about, painting, drawing or just being stuck with my own thinking. But I have learned. I have learned to turn around, opening up to people and to appreciate talking to complete strangers. I don’t fear getting a blank mind and I don’t hide at social events as much anymore. A have been the perfect bus girl at parties or events. I have sneaked around, dressed to party but instead collected glasses and empty bottles or whatever the quests are leaving around. So what is the difference now. The difference is A R T. The Art of Mingling when there is ART around. My own art, art of others or just art in general. Then there is always something to talk about. And that is why I now really love doing exhibitions. I open up. And then I can go back into my corner again.
There are some flowers that means spring to me more than others. Ranunculus. They are like sweet layered cakes of promise of a brighter more colorful time to come. I greet them with pleasure and I am thankful that days are finally longer, the birds are singing and it is time to get out of the wool socks and step into some sandals. And this year I have shaved my legs and I have some green nail polish on my toenails. All prepared for some new sunny steps.
Ranunculus. Oil on canvas. 30×30 cm.
I like my work as an illustrator and I love being a painter. Of course there is a little of me in my illustrations but working as a freelance illustrator means taking your clients needs and demands into consideration.
Painting (and drawing) is something I do whether there is money in the end or not. One might think there is an easy transition going from illustrating to painting. It can be, regarding the material, but the mind needs some time to free itself from “doing-good- getting-paid-state-of-mind”. So what do I do. I paint a face. Again. The same thing I do when I want to use up the left over paint on my palette. And as in the three dimensional world. Faces don’t repeat themselves. There is always a first time for every face.
Session is over. A painting is finished. And as always I have squirted out too much paint on my palette. Cadmium red, yellow ochre, burnt sienna and preussisk bleu. I can’t just leave these little piles of paint and go home and cook dinner. Dinner has to wait. My art teacher at The Colorado Institute of Art once said. “Being a little hungry is good for creativity”. One must assume she was just preparing us for the real world out there.
Anyway. There is always time for another face. Grabbing hold of a scrap piece of canvas. Stapling in corners onto board. Bam, bam, bam, bam. And as always, painting flows easily, no hesitation of which color to use, my hand and paintbrush seem to have a mutual understanding. I am just tagging along for the ride. And maybe, just maybe my art teacher was right. At least I stopped thinking about dinner.
… with my thoughts.
I am a slow thinker. Not mainly because I don’t have the capacity to think fast. It is just a little crowded in there so each new spark of a thought has a hell of a job to get to the finish line. And when that happens everybody left and I have no one to share my thoughts with.
Title of painting: I was left alone, and thought that I first and foremost should find out where _ _ _ _ was going. (Oil on canvas, 40x40cm)
In my last post I wrote that I paint the dark. That was before Christmas, now it is a new year. The winter solstice has passed and I am letting the light and color enter.
Pitch black outside the window. Daytime, grey sky. The nature vaugely showing of a distinct color. The cold air leaving skin and lips in a pale purple tone. Everything outside is turned down.
So what do I paint? Lavish green landscape with bright red flowers and orange, yellow flower buds full of promise! Colors madly running over the canvas.
I paint what I am in.
And enjoying it. There is a huge variety of values to be found in a toned down painting. As most swedes do when the dark season is over us we go inside and so do my manner of painting. It is still life.
Det finns dagar som är allt annat än ljusa och fantastiska. Det kan vara sol ute men mörkt inne, det kan vara kul på utsidan men deppigt på insidan, det kan vara full fart ute men inne har allt stängts ner. Idag var en sådan dag. Deppigt värre. Nu målar jag damer i vanliga fall men att låta penslarna forma fram en glad och uppsluppen kvinna är inte tal om. Är då denna bara för mig? Är ledsen konst något man känner igen sig i men inte köper och hänger upp i sitt hem? Att denna har ett värde för mig är självklart, både i själva görandet och även som målning. Men har den ett sämre marknadsvärde? Är ledsen konst svårare att sälja?
There are days that don’t shine at all. It can be sunny outside but inside it is dark and gloomy, it can be fun outside but depressing on the inside, it can be action outside but stillness inside. Just a day like that. I paint a lot of ladies but a day that is “that kind of day”, it is not possible to let my brushes shape anything fun and joyful. Is this art then just for me? Is “sad” art something people feel connected with but never would by and hang on their own walls? This painting has of course a value for me, both in the making of it and also as a finished piece. But does it have a value on the market? Not necessarily this one, but as a whole. Is sad art bad business?
I min förra post så hade jag huvudbry över en målning som hamnat i ett vägskäl. Utan att jag själv hade tyckt till om det, anser jag. Och som alltid när jag målar, och många känner nog igen sig i skapandeprocessen, så kommer vägvalen, sluta eller fortsätta, papperskorg eller vägg. Jag åberopar magkänsla, grannen som går förbi eller sonen 10 år som ska säga de magiska orden som får mig att förstå att jag gör “rätt”. För mig är nog ändå alltid det rättaste att våga, att våga göra fel, att våga skrota timmar av arbete och att våga gå en annan väg en den jag trodde i början. Jag intalar mig att jag vinner på det nästa gång, eller åtminstone någon gång.
Nu tog jag valet att ge kroppen ett annat huvud. Det var rätt beslut. Tror jag. Denna gång.
In my latest post I had a decision to make. The body didn’t match the face, or was it that the face that didn’t match the body. Anyhow, I had to do something. This is what I did!