Thus far my charming little blog has been about my passion for all things writing related. So you were probably all wondering where the Art part of my blog title came from. Or didn't wonder. I suppose you all have your own blogs . . . and lives . . . Anyhow, I digress. Yes it's true, I also have a passion for art. See this post here if you are interested enough to see when I last mentioned art on the blog.
In fact you might say art is my first passion going back well before college, high school or even grade school. Never mind that I was pulling enough cobwebs off my oil painting brushes earlier this week to decorate my entire house for Halloween (as well as lint, hair and the occasional dead spider), or that I needed an entirely new set of paints (the ones I'd purchased and used religiously ten years earlier were not willing to open for anything). I love painting. I can't say that I'm very good at it. My paintings always come off as mere shadows of how I'd imagine them, leaving me severely disappointed and frustrated until I throw my brushes down in disgust and refuse to look at it again for months. Other people say they're pretty good but I suspect that they're just trying to be nice. In fear of proving this suspicion correct, I am going to share my latest project. Bear in mind it isn't finished. The remaining details will be furbished by the end of the week when the paint has dried some. I will post it with some pride then (or perhaps with a big, black frustrated X across it).
Earliest pic taken in my elegant art studio . . . Okay, fine, it's my laundry room. At least the project inspired me to clean it to death and then put a lock on the door barring Thing 1 and Thing 2 from messing it up or making paintings of their own. One week down and it's still clean.
I wish I'd turned off the flash. It totally screws up the colors not to mention putting a big, bright light right in the middle. Still getting used to the new phone/camera.
Work done today (ahem, without the flash).
I will be posting the final picture sometime this weekend. People say, "the picture just doesn't do it justice." I will agree fervently with this caveat: The photograph doesn't include the feeling of paints streaking together under my pallet knife, the merging of colors on the canvas under my brush, the image acquiring depth with a few well-placed strokes of shading, and (my all time favorite) the pungent and nostalgic smell of the oil paints seeping from under the door or striking memories into my brain as I enter the room. But alas, I wax poetic only for brush and canvas. Stop me now . . . no really, I mean it! This is getting ridiculous.
Just in case you're wondering, this painting is for my dad's latest book in his American Dreammakers series (also see above link) which I have been privileged to do the cover art for. Flypaper will hopefully grace my bookshelf sometime next year. Until then . . .
Stay tuned for the final, um, I want to say draft, but that's a writing term. Just stay tuned. There.
P.S. Dad if you're reading this, this is your boost to finish those edits and send me the manuscript.