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!
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.)
How Do We Measure Growth? 24×30 oil
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!
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.
Pause and Ponder 12×12 oil available at Art Center Waco
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!
Morning Light 24×30 oil on gallery wrapped canvas $700
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.)
“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.
Don’t you love roadrunners? Because I watched Bugs Bunny in childhood, I am conditioned to laugh when I see one run past me! (beep beep)
But after being in the Saguaro Desert and watching roadrunners saunter by without quite as much enthusiasm, I realize living in the desert is not all fun and games.
This thinking has been magnified as we have had a HOT summer in Central Texas. Those days of over 100 temps have been too many to count. The ground cracks and water becomes precious.
Cracks in the earth are all over our property in early September, after months of no rain.
My mind goes to all the ways we symbolically have “cracks in our earth,” times of what we think is unbearable suffering, times of anguish and spiritual drought. Roadrunners know how to thrive and endure, how to find the food and water they need, how to keep running… do we?
Spiritual drought creeps in slowly. Our minds become overwhelmed with too many problems and we forget where to go to sort it all out. Our lives crack, unless we keep adding the Living Water, keep searching Scriptures, and allowing His Spirit to renew us so that we can continue to thrive, in all circumstances.
Steve and I have been married 45 years! (yikes, I know) And we try to go somewhere special at least every five years. Now that we live on the West side of the Mississippi River, I requested a trip to Sedona, Arizona. Steve was on board so we took a road trip through Arizona and New Mexico in early June.
One of his requests was to go on a jeep ride with Safari Jeep Tours. We chose the one at sunrise to see animals waking up to a new day. Both of us are happy with cameras in our hands!
We barely slept, in order to be there at 4:45 a.m. (yes, you read that right). As it turned out, we were the only ones for the tour and had our guide, Cowboy Bob, all to ourselves. He was a jewel, a rough diamond in a cowboy hat. Bob had lived in the Arizona Mountains all his life and was a wealth of knowledge about plants, animals, the early inhabitants, and local folklore.
As the sun rose over the red rock mountains and brushed the tops with golden sunlight, the scenes were magnificent! We bounced along on the rugged terrain in the crisp morning air, holding onto the open jeep with one hand, and clicking cameras with the other.
Back home, weeks later, with all the photos sorted and stored on my computer, I went to my studio and chose the largest canvas I had (a 30×40). I didn’t really get the perfect photo to use as a reference for a sunrise painting. But this one evolved from several photo references and the memories and emotions of color in our experience.
And that’s the Story Behind this Painting.
This one will be available in From the Ground Up! September 23-November 4, 2023 at the Cultural Activities Center, Temple TX.
How I sign my name on a painting and why I sign it this way…
Signatures in the bottom corners of paintings
My handwriting has certainly changed over the years. From the curly cued letters of childhood, through the teen phase of dotting my i with a heart, and into the mixture of capitals and cursives that quickly come from my hand today, the style has changed much.
One reason my signature has changed is that I am often signing with a paintbrush! (Go ahead, try it! It takes some practice.) For that reason, most of my early paintings are signed with a black Sharpie pen. Future generations will look at the paintings and say, “Ah, it’s from her ‘Sharpie Period’ – when she didn’t know how to sign her name with a paintbrush.”
Now, there are two variations of the signature that you might see. If my first and last name is signed, it is a large painting, most likely done in a studio. But when I am painting outside, en plein air, I am in a hurry. The 11×14 canvas or smaller lends itself to a quick “MStokes,” scratched into paint with the tip of a palette knife… if the paint is heavy enough there. When my mother named me, she was thinking more about the melodic sound of the three syllables and the sweetness of Olivia de Havilland’s character in Gone With the Wind, than how long it would take me to write it with a paintbrush!
And here is the inside story of the Story Behind the Paintings — Looking at the signatures, you might notice that the cross piece of the t in Stokes is rather accentuated. I do this purposefully. Crossing the t is the last thing I do in my signature. And when I cross the t, I try to place it higher and wider than the other letters. As I cross the t, I remind myself that I am painting for the God who loves me enough to submit to death on a cross. I am reminded that I am painting through His grace. I am reminded that I belong to Jesus. And that my name needs to reflect His name.
