Emotions in Motion

Every painting that I complete has a certain amount of emotion within its frame.  Some a little more than others.  Some pieces are what I call "emotion paintings."  In this process, the paint, the boldness, the swirls, tell the story of how the composition is laid down.  It's almost like going into a trance and allowing the paint to come alive.  This can change depending on mood, surroundings and other external forces.  These are some of my most favorite paintings because not a lot of thought goes into the finished product.  I also use other ways of getting the paint on the canvas, such as paper towels, fingers, cotton swabs, and very seldom, a paintbrush.  These paintings are free flowing, and a lot of them, I can complete within a day (6-8 hours).  These paintings are a great diversion from trying to compose a landscape or an intricate floral.  The sky is the limit, and you definitely need to know when to stop blending for the end result to have the greatest effect.  I myself am hesitant to title any painting, as I feel that the viewer should take in their own meaning and title it themselves if they wish.  I try hard not to put my influence other than my creativity on the canvas.  Doing these emotion paintings are one of the few times that I can really get in and feel my work taking shape.  This to me is extremely enjoyable, as all my art is, but I feel a greater connection to this type of free-flowing art. 



"Untitled Abstract"



This painting is a great depiction of what I'm trying to explain.  Each swirl tells a story and each color connects with emotion.  From the top of the canvas to the bottom of the canvas is the completed movement.  The movement creates its own energy, and its as if you're sucked into the vortex of the essence of the painting.  This, just like any other piece of art, you can either love or hate.  But in my experience, the connection made with these emotion paintings is immediate. 

Splatter and 3D

Every time I sit down and try to start a new painting, I continually try to think of new and inventive ways of putting the paint to the canvas.  The first time I tried to do a Pollock-esque painting, I came up with my own individual splatter techniques.  I start with a solid color background, and then basically just continually try and create a composition.  The boldness of the colors and the composition is what makes the painting.  This I found to be quite fulfilling, as I never knew what the end result would be. 

"Untitled"

Eventually, I wanted something more challenging, and decided to try my hand at 3D works of art.  I start with a blank canvas, and rather than applying paint right away, I work with a clay substance called Sculpty Mold and put down a foundation of trees, mountains, streams, etc.  This proved to be quite tedious and time consuming, as the clay was the same color as the canvas.  So not only did I have to find again the sculptures that I made, but had to feel them before I painted them.  I would then go in and put background color on, usually a sky or any type of water (if the landscape required).  Then I'd go in and create the mountain, which the clay itself helps it to look like actual rock.  I surround a lot of this with dark color, which makes the color in the forefront pop, giving it more of a 3D effect. 

"Moonlit Mountain Pass" - 3D Sculpted Art

Currently, I have several of these paintings, one is for sale at Artistic Expressions in Wisconsin Dells, WI.  The others are in my archive collection, and unless they currently exist, I'm only doing these on a commissioned basis.  These two techniques totally help me to stay creative, be constantly challenged, and strive for a better quality in my art.  The end result is always amazing to me, and I can't wait to see how this gets incorporated into future paintings. 

Full Circle

Many years ago, while attending an NFB meeting, I was told by one of the patrons that I was considered in the blind world what was called "a partial."  This basically means that I don't have enough eyesight to drive or function fully as a sighted person, but yet I have too much eyesight to be considered fully blind.  Again, I see peripherally, which means to the sides and up and down rather than the use of the central vision, which is where all your acuity lies.  This is why in many situations, I have learned to use a cane whether I need it or not.  It answers a lot of questions, especially in places like airports.  Several times, while travelling to art shows, I have been looking for a specific concourse and could not find it.  One particular time, I asked a lady behind a customer service counter.   She sheepishly looked over her right shoulder and pointed to the huge "D" marking the concourse, as if to say "duh, there it is..." Instead of responding like "oh, sorry I didn't see it, I slowly raised my cane and she went "oh."  It's situations like that that keeps life amusing and very interesting at times. 

Another thing many people don't realize is that when you are visually impaired and travelling through an airport, they put you in a wheelchair.  At first I was taken aback at this, as I am quite capable of walking, but again, the wheelchair actually speeds up the process of getting from one end of the airport to the other.  It's like getting the rock star treatment, or in my case, aging rock star!   My escape from the headaches of these situations is working on my art.  There, there are no rules, no limitations, and no restraints that hold me back creatively.  If I start a painting, and it doesn't quite work out, oils are very forgiving.  I can wipe it clean and try it again.  I've done this many times, and I call it "mushing."  Its' amazing how out "in the real world" not having good eyesight causes many different problems.  The escape to my studio alleviates all of that. 

"A Floral Frenzy"

Getting Started

One of the hardest things for me as an artist is similar to a writer staring at the first blank page.  Generally, I have an idea of what I want to create in my mind's eye, but more times than not, the painting takes on a life of its own, and I basically fill in the blanks.  During the process, I have to keep tabs on where my colors are.  I mix my own colors, and only buy the primary colors, which are red, blue, and yellow.  Not being able to see these, I keep them in a very orderly fashion in my studio.  Many times (more than I want to count), I've mixed the wrong color and came up with a "happy accident," which could consist of a purple tree or water that is not as blue as the Bahamas. 

It isn't unusual for me to be working on several canvases at the same time.  When an idea pops into my head, I like to get as much done as possible, then continually come back to it and refine the painting.  I have been called very prolific and eclectic when it comes to my work.  It may take me several weeks to several months to complete a project that I started in this way.  It mostly depends on the content of the painting. 

Over the years, I have been my own worst enemy in overworking some of my art.  Knowing when to stop is just as important as knowing how to start.  The completed work usually speaks for itself.  I am my own worst critic when it comes to knowing when the piece is finished.  It's not unusual for me to place a finished piece in my drying rack for several months, then learn a new technique, and then go back and rework a finished painting.  The abstracts obviously are the easiest, but I work really hard on their composition.  The florals seem to come relatively easy to me, and I have been told they look like Van Gogh rip offs.  The landscapes are the most detailed and take the longest, but in the end are the most fulfilling for me as an artist.  It never ceases to amaze me seeing all my works at a show and thinking, "wow, I created that," especially knowing how they got started.