New Year's Resolutions

Then January got away.  I had that (or some other) nasty-assed virus that laid me up for like two weeks.  Very unlike me, taking to bed.  It kind of tore down all my resistance and then swallowed up my new year's resolutions.  Will power does not fare well in the face of chills and paroxysmal coughing.  But you know what?  None of the resolutions pertained to blogging anyhow.  I resolved neither to do it more frequently nor give it up altogether.

I painted at Heritage Square last Saturday.  I usually don't take the painters to places that cost money, but I'm kind of a fan and supporter of Heritage Square.  I also think on a typical Saturday HS has a really great ambiance; like you've gone back in time 150 years, and there aren't any cars or leaf blowers or plastic bags.  It's quiet and lazy.  They have recently installed a reproduction of an old timey pharmacy, filled with a huge collection of  antique pharmaceuticals, beauty supplies, prophylactic devices, liver pills and snake oils that were amassed over the years by a family of pharmacists.  I looked for, but could not find, Colonel Green's elixirs.  But I could have missed it.

There's something a little strange about this painting, and I can't quite figure out what.  Someone suggested the shadows were a little ominous. There's a kind of pointed absence of people in broad daylight.  Suggesting that a shoot out could be imminent. You wouldn't know it if I didn't tell you, but that's my red car just beyond the gates.

Like Home

I painted at Alhambra Park yesterday.  This is the second painting in an incidental Palm Avenue series -- Moving Day and Trash Day.  The trash cans and the red curbs were factors in my choice to paint this scene, offering some immunity to big trucks parking and blocking my view.

I'm addressing two personal shortcomings I pointed out in the last post -- tardy blogging and bad car painting.  I've skipped ahead several paintings, and I'm giving you something fresh.  I'm pretty pleased with the SUV parked on the left-hand edge.  There's actually even more of it -- the entire rear wheels, but the photo of the painting wasn't well framed so I had to crop some.

I've said several times that I like houses, but I think probably what I really like is homes.  Houses that are lived in, and wear personal touches of quirky, exuberant and fragile lives.  Blue stairs, flags, potted plants and stuff.  I love interiors too - the infinite different ways people nest.  I thought about going on a house tour yesterday afternoon, but instead wound up visiting family members at their new home.

Hale House

This was painted at the Heritage Square Museum, which is kind of like a retirement home for old houses. The Hale House was its first resident - a gorgeous and quirky Victorian; I chose to paint only this small detail of window, because I know my limits and because I was attracted to the colorful sun-catching planting.

My first foray into gardening was indoor potted plants when I was in my teens. I had only to find a nice spot for the plants and water them, and they rewarded me with life, lush greenness and oxygen. I branched out into flowers next. It was much trickier to keep plants alive outdoors, with a variety of weather conditions and herbivores. Yet it was more than just keeping them alive; I needed to encourage beautiful blossoms as well, possibly even fragrant and colorful blossoms. when I took up cultivating fruits and vegetables, there were new areas of concern: my plants needed to produce in quantity, and my fruits and herbs should have a pleasing texture and flavor. My prizes should grow to a proper size and juicy ripeness.

Art has been quite a lot like gardening for me. A painting consists of subject, composition, lines, values, colors, and technique. Sometimes I can't get any of those to work. The more I try to paint, the more respect I develop for painters. Paintings that I once would have written off as bland or trite, now show me a level of mastery I know can't even touch. Wish me luck. And water and sunlight.

View from My Porch

One day not long ago I sat on my porch and painted. It's a nice place to sit and paint, and if the view were a little less unvarying, I would do it often. It's not a very good painting/sketch (I'm troubled by the mustard-like blobs of yellow and jaggedly window frame), but I find it like a catchy tune, and I like to look at it. Maybe that's the magic of composition and color. Or maybe it's because the scene is so embedded in my head. I photographed the painting in the afternoon, and caught a bit of my own shadow in the corner that I didn't notice until later.