texas artist – Melanie Stokes Art

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.

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!

January 29, 2024January 29, 2024

Clearing the Fog

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.

November 8, 2023November 8, 2023

Protection and Provision

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.

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.

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.

August 22, 2023August 22, 2023

Sedona Sunrise

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.

July 28, 2023July 28, 2023

Reminiscence

Magnolia Trees! As I stood beneath the huge magnolias and breathed the scents of the South in this arboretum, the place took me back to memories in Georgia: the shade of the sturdy leaves that grew low in our Perry, GA yard when my sons were two and four; the trees that gathered around Sweetheart Circle on the GA Southern campus, watching students come and go; the ones that adorned every Southern home of more than fifty years of age in my hometown; and the ones that I saw scattered along I-16 with white blooms beaming in the Georgia sunlight! As I reminisced, not specifically, but with an overall general sweet feeling, I realized that I missed painting magnolias…and hydrangeas…and camellias and azaleas.

And yes, as a matter of fact, I do live near Waco, Texas –home to “Magnolia Silos” and such. But a single magnolia, planted in the yard of a newly renovated home has a long way to go to reach the heights and depths of these ancient magnolias of a more southern latitude.

You have seen me painting cacti and prairie grass and wildflowers in these latter years. And I am loving the varied perspective it brings to an artist to be in a new location. ( Be on the lookout for the next solo show – September 23 – November 4 – in Temple, TX. It is entitled “From the Ground Up!” and the paintings are all Texas inspired!)

This painting was just something I had to get out of my system. A painting of a magnolia, or a seagull on the coast, or a tree covered in Spanish Moss connects me to my roots. And I breathe deep and reminisce.

July 24, 2023July 24, 2023

What’s in a Name?

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.

A good name is better than great riches,

and good favor is above silver and gold.

Proverbs 22:1