Melanie Stokes Art – Melanie Stokes Art

December 18, 2024

On My Easel in December

It is December 18. A week before Christmas. And I am painting geraniums. (Well, they are red and green.)

It has been awhile since I was able to get into my studio and paint! If I go more than a month without brushes in my hands, I get a little crazy. Yep. Anxiety, depression, lack of motivation…all seem to hover…as Snoopy in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown said, “I feel as if I must bite someone or I will go stark raving mad.” So, I’m sure you are as relieved as I am that I found time this week to paint geraniums to keep from going mad! Inhale paint, Exhale rest.

The painting on the left was a plein air piece, inspired by sitting on Susan Sterle’s front porch last Saturday. From the piece on the left, the other two were developed in my studio. I have frames for these 8×10’s and I think they would make a nice triptych. Or I might sell them individually. Which is your favorite?

In this Christmas Season, may you find time to rest, take a walk, ponder and do the things that bring you Joy! Thanks be to God.

November 6, 2024

Balancing Rhythm and Rest

When I taught elementary students in Art Education, the principle of Visual Rhythm was easily grasped when I connected it with Music. After the students demonstrated a variety of rhythmic beats with their hands and defined musical rhythm, then I pointed to a painting and said, “In musical rhythm we hear repeated elements. In visual rhythm we SEE the repeated elements of Lines, Shapes, Colors…!

As I painted this scene from my yard in October, I thought about those days of encouraging children to repeat patterns in their painting to suggest movement and activity. And, I thought about my days with the struggle of trying to balance the Rhythm of Days with the Stability of Rest. It’s a problem with which I think many identify.

The hay bales are gathered in a row, waiting to be used during winter. The fall clouds are rushing across the sky, blowing in breezes. The migratory birds are flying in patterns overhead, trying to get to the next place before dark. The hay bales remain static; waiting, resting, and taking in the peace of the moment.

This 24×30 painting was a favorite at the recent Austin Avenue Art Fair in Waco, Texas. I enjoyed talking with people about why and what I paint. The painting is in a floater frame, available through me at $900, as of this writing!

May you find Rest in the Rhythm of your days!

September 11, 2024

The Bird Feeder

During a recent trip, and stop in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, my husband and I came across this scene. The beach was almost vacant, but this one man stood among 15-20 seagulls, swarming around him as he tossed (what looked like Skinny Pop) popcorn to them.

You may remember that both of us enjoy observing birds, so we walked closer and took several photos. After returning home, (unpacking suitcases and washing clothes,) I finally got back to my studio and the image was still in my head, and in an iPhone reference photo.

The gulls soared and laughed that day, the clouds floated, the sand glowed, the man marveled, and we enjoyed watching The Bird Feeder!

July 26, 2024July 26, 2024

How Do We Measure Growth?

This painting will be in the ART EDU Exhibit at Art Center Waco, August 8 – 31. I am honored to be included in a show of Art Educators in the area (though I am retired from teaching school.)

When sunflowers grow, there is an irregular movement of lines and shapes to captivate the viewer. None of the stems grow in the same direction. The leaves curl and turn where they find space between the stems. The sunflower blooms may all turn toward the sun in the morning, but by evening they have turned in a variety of angles, some dropping off, and some new buds opening. If you tried to measure their growth, it would be difficult. They bloom at different times.

As Art Educators, how do we measure academic growth in our students? As a retired teacher, I have seen educators try to answer this question for years. And the teachers of The Arts usually struggle the most with finding methods to grade a creative, fluid subject in a concrete way.

Like the sunflowers, students in The Arts grow in irregular ways; some in one direction, some in the other. Some students rise to the top and shine above the masses, while some may become buried beneath layers of leaves and need more motivation to create.

How do we measure growth? I don’t think it can be thoroughly measured in numbers or letter grades. Growth in The Arts may be best measured in positive feelings, appreciative emotions, self-expression, self-actualization, and self-esteem. And maybe the one who measures it best is not the teacher, but the student!

June 22, 2024June 22, 2024

A Freshly-Cut Path

A Freshly-Cut Path 11×14 oil

I went outside, planning to paint the sunflowers. But the vastness of the land and sky was more of what I needed in my soul to process some BIG thoughts. Often, in my life, I need to be guided to look past the petty details and into the bigger picture.

Big shapes, and contrast in light and dark values, are what artists focus on to begin an impressionistic landscape.

And once the big things are in place, the details can be more easily added.

On a personal note, my younger brother has recently had a stroke which paralyzed the complete right side of his body. I am “his family” and I am four states away as he navigates being in hospital and physical therapy facilities, and is dealing with confirming a long term residency and “new normal.” I have been getting “caught up in the details,” spinning in anxiety, and exploring all the possibilities, as I try to be helpful by phone for lack of knowing what to do. After a good talk with him on the phone last night, this painting session came this morning, as I was reminded to keep my eyes on the “big picture,” the workings of all things together for good, and the grace of God in our lives.

I remind myself that it is easy for me to come to grips with his situation by painting therapeutically. Meanwhile, he is dealing with learning to use his non-dominant hand while navigating a wheelchair and finding some small joy each day in a new place. I empathize, but have no idea what he is really experiencing. My pain is nothing compared to his.

My hope and prayer is that a “freshly-cut path” will be cleared, and make it easier for him to navigate this complete upheaval of life. I pray that we can keep our eyes on the larger scope of things and not fret about the details.

As I paint, I first look past the small things and squint my eyes to see only the big shapes. Once the big shapes are blocked in, the details can be added with a grand pop of color in the end.

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 1Corinthians 13:12

June 8, 2024

Is it Early American? Or Industrial Farmhouse?

My mama used to call it “Early American,” when she described her decorating style. Our home had items with a history: the old buttermilk pitcher from her Fallin Homeplace, the flat irons that were used in the family before electric irons, and an old clay pottery butter churn that Nanny Miller used in my father’s North Georgia home.

That churn sat by my parents’ fireplace as decor. We never made butter in it. It just sat there with the flat irons and the fire poker, looking “Early American.” So today, it sits by the fireplace in my house, as well. But I call it “Industrial Farmhouse.”

A hearth is sort of a strange place for a butter churn. Maybe Mama put it there because it was too big to go on a shelf. When I see the vintage items on my own hearth, I think of my childhood home, where I grew up with one brother and both parents. The earthy colored glaze brings a familiar warmth to this place.

Warmth of Home was painted from a sketch and photo of the scene around this gas-log fireplace in 2020. The gas logs have gotten us through a few snow storms with power outages here in Central Texas. And the churn has stood sentinel through it all.

In Days Past was painted from a photo I took in the Pioneer Village of Corsicana, Texas. The way the light was coming in the window caught my eye. And the desks reminded me of the ones my father had salvaged from his elementary school in Plainville, GA.

I played school on those two desks as a child, and later my grandson did the same. We have the desks, similar to these, after moving them across four states to Texas.

So, what would you call my decorating style? Vintage, Antique, Farmhouse, or Early American? When I remember items like these that hold memories, I call it Home.

Both of these paintings are currently available at the Winnsboro Center for the Arts, Winnsboro, Texas through July 20, 2024.

May 25, 2024May 26, 2024

Headed Home, Again

A few years ago, I painted an evening skyscape with only a few tiny cows walking in a line on a ribbon of a landscape and called it Headed Home. So, when the title “Headed Home” came to mind for this new landscape, I named it Headed Home, Again. Then, I started thinking of the implications of that title.

Home is the place we return to day after day. We head home — again and again. And there is comfort in that. Home is a place to go to after a busy day. Home is a place where others greet you. Home is a place you can kick off your shoes and relax. Home is a place you can be. And, it also makes me think of the eternal, heavenly home that I believe in, through faith in Jesus Christ.

My home has never been on a country road. (Not counting the two years we lived in Sierra Leone.) I grew up in a subdivision, where all the kids rode bikes together and knew who lived in each house. My adult years have been in a variety of settings, moving in ministry with my minister husband. We have never lived in such a place as this — with wide open acres, surrounded by magnificent skies and cow pastures. This is now our “home.”

Mart, Texas is about twenty minutes from Waco, Texas. So after going shopping, or banking, or to get a haircut, or to church, or to attend an art event, the ride back home goes from the congested craziness of downtown Waco, to the endless Loop 340, to rural roads like this. When I turn off the Loop onto Elk Road, I notice that I inhale with a relaxed breathing and almost a sigh of relief that I am back on “country roads.” Obstacles in the road, and rude drivers, can be accepted better when they come upon you one at a time on a deserted road!

Maybe it’s because I am older now. Maybe it’s that in 45 years of marriage, my husband has helped me see that there is much to enjoy in the quietness of nature. Maybe it’s the place God speaks to me the most, when I look at these vast skies. Maybe I have finally become a person of contentment. (No, probably not. I’m still working on contentment.) 🙂 But, when I travel a fence-lined road in the country, I’m headed home.

May 17, 2024May 17, 2024

On the Edge of Town

Still Standing, 11×14 oil

It’s a landmark. I always look for this house when I drive from Waco to Clifton. Something about the stark architecture and the white paint, contrasting with the surrounding trees, always gets my attention. It sits on a slight hill and overlooks the vast Texas landscape across the highway.

When the Bosque Museum changed their annual Wildflower Art Show to include, not just “sights” but “sites,” I knew I wanted to paint this one. I stopped one day in the empty drive and walked around to take some photos.

The curve of the stone fence is unique, in that it adds a gracefulness to the straight lines of the two-story house. And at close view, I spotted the lantern lights, rusted with an aged patina.

The house is empty. But the yards are cared for. The grass is always cut when I ride by. I am intrigued about who lived here and who still cares for it.

Though, this year, the Bosque Museum is not having the “Sights and Sites” Art Show, the painting is ready. I enjoyed painting it and thinking about this place. My Clifton Historian friend, Bryan Davis, tells me it is called “The Olson Place.” If anyone knows the family, please pass this post on to them.

March 26, 2024March 26, 2024

Pause and Ponder

Although a Solar Eclipse is often a “once in a lifetime” experience, it is a phenomenon known in all continents around the world. For centuries, people have pondered and wondered at the heavenly spectacle.

When the Art Center Waco announced their exhibit, Eclipse: Shining Shadows, to coincide with the 2024 Eclipse over Waco, I immediately thought of a photo from years ago! My son, Mark Stokes, had photographed a powerful image of a child viewing the 2001 eclipse in Mozambique. I remembered the impact of light and shadow in the photograph and the inquisitive expression on the child’s face. I asked the photographer for permission to use it as a photo reference for a painting. (How could he turn down his mother?)

The message of this painting is a celebration of humanity’s sense of wonder, and gratitude for the gift of sight. We, who behold, bond with emotions of awe and reverence as we pause and gaze into the unknown. We remember the day that we saw the eclipse and paused to ponder the unfamiliar sight. (Sure, there are clear scientific explanations we can give.) I choose to see through the eyes of a child and be amazed!

February 6, 2024February 6, 2024

Morning Light

Painted during the late summer when the hay grass had turned a Naples Yellow, this landscape is currently on my guest room wall. I walked in there today, noticed it, and said to myself, “I had forgotten about that one!”

I don’t know how I forgot about it, except that it was painted at a time when I was in between shows. It wasn’t dry enough for “From the Ground Up.” And then, life got busy, so I just put it out for sale on my website today!

I love the finished painting as much as I loved the morning light when it hit that yellow hayfield one summer morning. It was one of those mornings that grabbed my attention and said, “Paint me!” I probably had a coffee cup in my hand, walked out on the porch to breathe, before the Texas heat took over by 10:00 a.m., and used my cell phone to record the scene, for reference in a painting.

The painting, Morning Light, is in my guest room, for now. But, if it gets your attention and you are interested, be my guest! The paintings on my walls are often changed. (And I wonder if my husband notices.)