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?
Geranium 1Geranium 2Geranium 3
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.
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!
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!
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
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.”
Warmth of Home 12×9
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 9×12
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.
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.
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.
I hung a new triptych of sky paintings over our mantle this week. (Actually Steve hung them. I directed.) I have been working on this 40 x 52 project since Christmas. The January weather, with its cold and clouds, had covered me in a literal fog… and brain fog. I didn’t feel motivated or clear about a new direction. So I pulled out my sky photos and decided to use the canvases nearby and just paint for days, off and on, throughout the long month of January. There were a few other paintings going on at the same time, but just things to check off the to-do list. Nothing I felt passionate about painting.
Here are close-up views of some passages of this painting – I paint clouds with Ultramarine Blue, Cadmium Red, Cadmium Yellow Light and Titanium White. There is some Cerulean Blue in the background sky.
It was appropriate that we hung the triptych on Saturday, the 27th of January, because it was the FIRST day of sunshine we had seen in at least seven days! Socked in for a week with steady rain, mud puddles, cold temps, (and I was recovering from a root canal on top of that!)…I was debating whether or not I suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder (it’s a thing) …SADness for sure!
And then… the rain passed on to our friends in the East, the clouds were blown away, the sun came out to dry the mud, and our cows were happy. My spirits were lifted, like the edges of the clouds that drift upward in lacy tendrils. Hope in spring returned to us!
Once again, my painting was therapeutic for myself. I didn’t know the impact, until I saw it on my wall on that sunny Sunday! It had filled days in the studio, as I listened to music, thought about life..and eternity. And, it had soothed my soul to mix paint and pull it around on canvas.
No one likes to listen to a complainer. So, I will move on into spring. Even though we still have to winter the month of February, the clouds hang above our fireplace to remind me that the fog will lift, spirits can soar, and light comes to us, again.
Sunlight filtering through windowsThe paintings “in situ”
After a long, hot Texas Summer of no rain, we (as in the collective, whole county “we”) were thrilled to see the storm clouds of September rolling in. The dark clouds and hailstorms came, but we all were glad to see the parched earth become covered in green again.
Protection 12×24 oil
The water in the tanks, ponds, lakes and streams began to rise and the cattle did not have quite as far to stretch into the mud to obtain a drink. Now in November, Lake Waco is able, after a few years, to supply water to all the households which depend on it.
Provision 12×24 oil
The photo references for these paintings were taken on a walk through our property. Both images were striking enough to make me want to paint them. And as I painted, the titles, Protection and Provision, came to my thoughts
How many times have I used those words, as I prayed for my own or another’s needs? “Lord, grant us Protection and Provision in these days.” Two “P” words that sound poetic, but are packed with power and meaning.
I hope the images speak. The titles speak. But my words will also speak of the Protection of an Almighty God. I see this in a variety of circumstances, in amazing miracles that have happened, and in retrospective realizations as I live through these years. I live in gratitude for the Provision of daily needs, as I continue to trust God. Just when we think the water is as low as it can go, the rains come. We are restored and ready to move ahead.
“From the Ground Up” – implies beginning on ground level,
where the only direction to go is up.
If you have been following my paintings, you will remember I have been painting big Texas skies for a few years. I decided to switch perspective and paint “from the ground up.”
One reason for the theme, From the Ground Up, is an effort to tie Carvings and Canvases together for the next big show. Sculptor Kevin Rackley and I did not know each other before it was suggested that our works might pair together in a duo show. What did we have in common? Artworks, inspired by this beautiful earth on which we live, and a mutual appreciation for the Creator and all that is created “From the Ground Up!”
I’m sure we all have had times when we began a new venture and literally did it “from the ground up.” It can be daunting, and also exciting!
Almost five years ago, my husband and I sold or gave away many of our possessions and loaded a Penske truck to move from Georgia to Texas, in order to be with our Texan son’s family. We bought/built/renovated a home, learned to landscape in the Blackland Prairie, traded our little Prius for an SUV that could handle dirt roads better, made new friends in a new environment, managed to maneuver the road constructions of Waco, constructed an art studio and workshop, and became acquainted with this place we now call “home.” All, from the ground up!
I wondered what this move would mean as I was just getting a good start in Georgia with a second act career of being a full-time artist, after retiring from teaching. I wanted to keep painting, but would need to start afresh with clients and prove my abilities “from the ground up.”
The collection of work in this upcoming show represents the first five years of my painting in Texas. As a plein air painter, I have enjoyed exploring new places and becoming familiar with the western landscape through artist observation. This time, the perspective shifts to the ground and the plants growing from it. Several of these landscapes were painted from my porch (near Mart, TX). Some paintings depict the western environments, seen through recent travels through New Mexico and Arizona. The presence of cows in my paintings are influenced by animals I have made peace with on our property. And the beautiful Texas Skies continue to lift my eyes upward to more heavenly realms.
The show is for you to see and enjoy. But it is also for me, to put a marker on the last five years of painting: my experiences, my communication, my therapy, my artworks.
