How does she know?

She seems to know exactly how I am feeling...Not a chicken with her head cut off, as the common expression goes, but rather
a woman with a chicken on her head, albeit confused. "How is it that I have a chicken on my head?" , she seems to be saying.

I've oft felt these exact feelings, especially of late. My one true calm amidst the head chicken is making art. In the studio I find that it not only calms me (and the chicken?) but also takes my mind off of the constant round and round of worries and concerns, running lists and issues.

"How is it that I have a chicken on my head?" I say to myself over and over through out the day, but cannot find the answer to this question.

Some sage might suggest that instead of asking why said chicken is on head, suggest to oneself to remove the chicken.

Sometimes it's the simple answer that is so obvious.

work is good

(passion series painting, in progress. 24x48")
Indeed. Work is good. Takes my mind off things, helps me focus on something other than me. The ID.

I am continuing my series of paintings begun last year at this time: the "passion" series.
People occasionally ask what the meaning of the passion series is about.

"uh...passion?"

I thought it was obvious, but what do I know..

Passion: (noun) 1. Strong and barely controllable emotion. 2. State or outburst of such emotion. (from dictionary.com)

1. a powerful emotion, such as love, joy, hatred or anger. (the freedictionary.com)

So much about making art is the act of making art. Not waiting for inspiration, reading books, grand life experiences.
In my opinion, so much about making art is the act of showing up in the studio and getting to work. Chuck Close said it best:
"Inspiration is for amateurs. Art is about showing up and getting to work."

Passion drives making art.

inspiration

"order from chaos" kate salenfriend
The word inspiration or the notion of being inspired, here in my happy valley, if not the universe of art, tends to be a word of romance.

At one time or another, we have all learned the back ground of a particular work of art: When he lived in Spain and ....
during the golden age of Paris... in his home in the French Quarter...

Of course I would be foolish to say that art in general is inspired by the romance of our lives. So much of art comes from tragedy and loss, insanity, destitute(ness?), lost love, seeking.

When I participate in art shows I am always struck by how many collectors are very interested in the "story" behind the art.

At the beginning of my art career, I scoffed at this notion that there was a story or an experience that "informed" the art itself, but over the years, I've thought through this idea and have come to the conclusion that yes, I do paint from inspiration. Sometimes from joy, sometimes loss and sadness.

But that is exactly what might be a difficult pill to swallow.

If a collector is considering a painting, does it matter that the story or inspiration behind it is one of happiness or sadness?

Does a cloud of doom somehow follow that art with the collector into their home, only to remind them of this story every time they look at the art, or does the collector base his or her feelings about the art on their appreciation alone?

focus and inappropriateness

(random image: "dancer" inspired by Degas. painting by me, photo by me)

So much happening in this wee land of Napa and my art business. Because I don't have an art subject to write about this evening and this is as a matter of fact, "my" blog, which is to say, a diary or journal, it is rather tempting to carry on as if you, fair reader are my "friend" or confidant. Just you and I and a cup of tea.

Skooch in closer and I'll fill you in on all the things happening in my, uh, personal life...

Or not.

I have, just behind this screen, another window opened wherein I am commencing online traffic school.
(I bow my head in shame)
I've been a successful and safe driver for over thirty years and I have always been quick to brag my chops. Not one ticket! None, never, nada.
Till two weeks ago: four way stop, on the way to pick up Q from school. Distracted, spaced out, lazy.
Rolled. Through. Stop.

The officer that pulled me over must have been seriously considering upping the ante when I couldn't stop giggling as I felt like this was a bonding moment between he and I: really, first ticket and all.

But alas, here I am, on the first leg of a alleged several hour course.
What can I not get out of my head in order to avoid writing inappropriate content in my blog?

I short song or ditty that I've known for many years, inappropriate from any angle.

(I dare say, I am unawares even of it's title)

Gee, aint it grand,
To have a girl so big and fat
That when you hug her,
You don't know where you're at.

Just take some chalk in your hand:
Hug a while,
Chalk a while,
see where you began.

Then one day,
As I was huggin and a chalkin'
And 'a askin her to be my bride,

Comes along a man
With some chalk in his hand,
Chalkin' up the other side.
Over the mountain.
Chalkin' up the other side.


My apologies to fat girls, chalk, brides and song writers everywhere.

As an artist, I should know better than to perpetuate such nonsense and I should be ashamed at least for having such a tune
still stuck like dried oatmeal spilled on cement pavement to my brain.

But there it is.

Art business is great, business is happening, art is being made.
No fresh posts tonight (unless you count this one)
Am hoping that by finally writing out that song I can once and for all purge it from my brain....?

If you see me at the studio, ask and I'll be happy to fill you in on the melody.

Well sing it together and it can be yours too.

no excuses!

Studio beautified, floors painted, smaller work table installed?
-check.


Larger number of canvases purchased, primed?
-check. check.



Paint palette scraped and cleaned? Paint brushes pulled out of turpentine soup and cleaned?
-check, uh...not yet, but really, I will.


Inspiration?
-check.



Wonderful things are bound to happen.

Four Stars!

The Saturday Gallery exhibition could not have been better! I.Wolk's staff was as professional and well prepared as ever, their enthusiasm and knowledge quite apparent.

Not only did all of the artists sell work, we also had a harmonious presence as each of us were able to talk with collectors about our work, explain the process of using metallic in the form of paint or leaf and generally inform and entertain the invited crowd.

Well done!

Sunday's "salon" at Ma(i)sonry Napa Valley (located a short fifty meters or so from the French Laundry) was equally impressive. The staff there as well was prepared, enthusiastic and welcoming. We had as great turn out as well as collectors who then made purchases so that the artists (including me) could sign or inscribe the paintings, take a photo and get to know the warm folks that came out to see the art and artists.

I truly adore the collectors who take the time to introduce themselves to me and are interested in what I have to say about my art. It also lets me inside their homes when they tell me what they have in mind regarding the placement of the painting, what led them to this purchase and what specifically drew them to my art.

It should be no surprise that most artists, myself included enjoy and have continued relationships with the collectors of their art.

what a difference some paint makes...

not in 24 hours, but a few more than that.
I've painted at G studio for three years and from the feet down, my space has been looking sorry and sad.

Since our theme collectively as far as the tone of the studio lately can best be described as "manic on steroids", and since I'd completed and delivered all of my paintings for the gallery exhibit, naturally I looked to the paint brush.

What did I see? Filthy, dirty, paint dribbled (and not in a Jackson Pollock-y way) floors.

I hit the paint closet and blended a color as close to the floor color as possible and of course like a good painter, cut in the edges and began.

Half way through painting my space, on my knees, I lifted my head and looked at what I'd done: Oh, shit.

The painting of the floor: all good.

The fact that I'd begun a project that would absolutely have to be finished to the end: Oh shit.

Well, I was in.

And this is no small task: Approximately 3,000 square feet of creative energy.

I have only two more areas to go, the conference room and the small gallery.

The floors look fantastic. and more importantly, clean.