Obsessions

Let's face it, we all obsess at some time or another about something. It is easy to obsess, but not so easy to avoid the trap of replaying tapes in our head over and over again. Eventually, enough is enough, and we move on.

I frequently have obsessions in subject matter for my art. Seems I fall in love with something, and paint it over and over again, changing the size, the palette, or the composition. I don't fight this obsession; I just go with the flow, until something else catches my attention.

For a while, it was beaches - beaches in the day, at dusk, with people, with dogs, natural beaches, grassy beaches, Hawaiian beaches, beaches with palm trees, and beaches from different perspectives. Then it was river grass - in pastel, in acrylic, big format, small format, long paintings, small paintings, multiple panel paintings.

I have "moved on" to forsythia, and I can feel it developing to other colors besides yellow - small panels, big panels....you get the idea.

I don't dwell on why this happens, and why I succumb to these "obsessions". Perhaps they are not obsessions as much as explorations. The more I paint, the more I want to explore the subject matter in different ways, until I tire of it and move on. It is not that I think I have mastered anything, or caught the essence - usually, something else just catches my psyche, and I find myself going down a different road.

Life is about taking winding roads, and roads that sometimes seem to go nowhere. But usually a road goes somewhere. And just maybe that pot of gold is down that road. Usually though, I just find cool stuff, stay for a while, pack my bags, and drive on.

Life is a journey, and the more roads we explore, the richer our lives can be. Perhaps that explains why I have so may art supplies for ideas on roads not yet traveled. Thank goodness in life journeys, there are no rising gas prices, no expensive cars, no traffic lights, and no accidents. But there is also no insurance that we make the "right" choices, because there are no right or wrong choices. There are only the choices we make.

Happy traveling,
Cathy

Surface protection

Lately, I feel like I have been inhaling a lot of chemicals - fixative and varnish, mostly. My daughter painted a huge oil about two years ago, and I am just getting around to varnishing it. Her thin layers of paint needed protection against the ravages of time, handling, and framing. While spraying is the easiest approach, I can tell I am a novice at this stage of a painting's life.

This is truly a labor of love. While oil paintings endure for years, conservators know that protection of the surface is vital for insuring a lasting treasure.

As I apply the sixth coat, I think about what humans need to do to protect our environment. We seem to be able to protect our valuables - we insure them, we make sure we lock our doors, we clean them regularly (well, not so much, maybe). Some of us try to take care of our bodies and souls. Then why is it so difficult for us to take care of our natural resources? Why do we continue to practice destructive behaviors, by driving gas hogs, by not carpooling, by leaving lights on, by eating lots of red meat, or by applying more fertilizer than we really need? Is it that we think our world is so vast and unlimited that mother nature can clean up after us forever? Or perhaps we are simply at a loss - we got ourselves into a lifestyle that is at odds with nature, and we don't know how to get out of it.

As I varnish this gem that my daughter created, I think about how we can protect the gem we live on. My art work tries to capture the beauty that we now have. But the very act of making artwork also creates pollution. So ironic. I am glad I don't think about this stuff too frequently, or I would be crazier than I already am. But I do my best - turn off lights, shop at nearby locations, buy local produce, hire local repair and service companies, and keep my thermostat at uncomfortable levels. And I reuse frames, glass, canvases, and recycle paper and plastic.

This is what happens when an artist works in solitude for too long! Back to varnishing, and preserving a part of my daughter's legacy. Hopefully, her descendants will have an earth to enjoy as much as we do.

Peace.
Cathy

Photographing Artwork

Although I am on sabbatical for a few weeks, I could not stay away from my computer! So, I thought I would share some not-so-novel revelations about photographing artwork.

While working in watercolor and pastels, I was able to take reasonable photos of my work, for note cards, small prints, and show submissions. Then came the acrylics - what a different ball of wax!

One of the things I like about acrylics is the juicy, glossy texture that is easily created. That very property makes photographing acrylic paintings a challenge. Since the work is often too large for me to scan, (which doesn't seem to work well either), I have tried to photograph my work in a variety of conditions and settings. The result is that the glossy areas are glaring, almost daring me to capture their likeness.

Now I understand why photographers and giglee printers make the big bucks! Since my acrylics are still in the experimental stage, I am reluctant to spend a lot of money on professional photography of my pieces. So, while explaining the shortcomings of my own expertise behind the camera, I humbly post new work with the warning - "you just have to see it in person". Lame, yes. But it will have to do for a while.

Any advice will be embraced. I have considered a mat finish, which will make the task enormously easier, but I just can't bring myself to tone down my work. Eventually, I will have to find another way.

Enjoy another beautiful day in paradise! Cathy

The circle of life - in memory of Glen Spaid

This has been a sad week. The founder of my husband's company passed away. He was loved by many, and he enriched so many lives in so many ways.

I just want to take the time to celebrate Glen Spaid's memory. An avid fisherman, he took my husband on many trips in the Chesapeake Bay, on the "Ace of Spaids". Glen always caught the largest fish! Just last weekend, he went fishing twice with friends. Even at 80 years of age, he came into the office, and talked with many employees, joking around, and spreading his happiness for life. He went out doing what he loved.

I met him when my husband first started working at the company, more than 23 years ago. He and his wife, Alma, took us out to dinner. Glen always made us feel at ease, and always had a smile on his face.

Last fall, he and Alma bought two of my paintings at a little show I had in West Annapolis. I was just so honored to have them come out on such a rainy night. Last evening, Alma commented how my artwork makes her smile when she looks at it everyday. I cried at the notion that I could bring happiness to others, by marks and strokes on paper. It made me realize that we all have the capacity to touch each other in ways that are a uniquely human experience. What we say and do ultimately has so much power to make someone smile, laugh, or cry.

Funerals give us the opportunity to see people we haven't seen in a while. Although the occasion is somber, the sharing of stories and memories helps to ease the pain. Kids grow tall; we all get gray hair; we all are a bit older, and can't help but think that this is our opportunity to make a difference in the world. It also shows us that we really need each other, and how important it is to "just be there" for someone, when life throws us challenges.

Glen and Alma's five capable children, and grandchildren now run the company. My sincerest sympathy goes out to all of them and their family, as they come to grips with his unexpected departure. I hope they all know that many people are here to help them through all of this. My husband is working hard at the office, to help out as best he can - and I will continue painting, perhaps to bring a smile to someone's life. I am humbled by the circle of life. And with each passing, the realization of how precious life is really hits home.

Bless everyone with love and happiness, Cathy

Changes and souls

Life is all about change. Seasons change, dreams change, technology changes - and we change.

Just when you think you got it all figured out, life changes in ways that we cannot predict or control. Doors close, and other doors open. Sometimes only a window opens, and we have to leap through, trusting that we will land on our feet.

Why is a painter writing about such things? Because art is all about change, and change is necessary to grow. Our art reflects our growth, not only as an artist, but as a person. Each piece of art I produce has a part of me in it, a part of my soul. My art visually reflects my journey.

This past week has been a week of intense reflection. I have had some notable changes in my life, and around me. Paintings are flying around in my head, like butterflies - doors opening, doors closing, people running, people hiding, and people leaping for joy. Visions of whirl pools, with birds flying out, and grasses blowing in the wind. This is the kind of art that only we may fully witness, whether in our heads, or on the canvas. Others may or may not "get it". Humans are also gifted with the written word, and although a painting may speak a thousand words, for some, translation is needed. Art is a language unto itself.

It has also been a week of sharing thoughts with family and friends. One of the conversations involved souls - tender souls, wise souls, old souls. Each of these souls handles change in a different, yet important way. Our souls are our essence, and are revealed in everything we do.

I am happy to share my soul, through my art and actions. And when others share their souls - that part of them that is most precious - I am humbled and grateful beyond any expression than art or words can yield.

I had a show in March I titled "Journeys with Nature". (Some of the work is featured on my website.) Each piece had deep meaning for me. And some of the work touched the souls of others.

Back to change - the March show artworks were created with pastels. As I begin a new chapter in acrylics, people are asking why. I have plenty of practical reasons (the dust, the framing headaches, the problems in shipping), but the primary reason was that it was time for a change. Time to leap out the window, and hope for a soft landing - only then, can the new journey begin.

This has been an eclectic post. I found that I could not separate the topics, because everything is mixing together. Eventually, something new will come out of it. Stay with me for the ride!

Paint yourself a great day,
Cathy

Solitude and Rainy Days

It is pouring here today. The trees are dancing, and the vegetation is an intense and lusty green, like the kind of green that art buffs tend to dismiss as "not realistic". The birds are at our feeders, so it will probably rain most of the day. (During brief showers, the birds hunker down under bushes and lawn chairs.)

I love days like these. I feel a universal permission to enjoy the sound of the rain, and paint my heart out. The rain becomes my music, a constant in the uncertainty outside in the world. No matter how much technology changes, the rain always sounds, well, like rain. The trees take on saturated colors, and the earth is cleansed of dust and grass clippings. Rain is like a bath for the earth.

We humans can take a cue from this natural experience, to slow down, and bathe ourselves in silence, and refresh our souls. Part of my renewal is painting. I hope you may find a renewal that feeds your body, mind and soul, and partake of it often. It is there for the taking! peace, Cathy

Messy Painting

Last night, I had the privilege of giving a talk to seven eager Girl Scouts about being a professional artist. The young ladies are working towards a visual arts merit badge.

It has been a long time since my daughter was that age, and I had obviously forgotten how interactive and uninhibited children are. So, when I launched into my brief speech about how I became a "professional" artist, their eyes glazed over with that distinct "boring" look. So I started to ask questions, which led to more questions, and one youngster asked if I would paint for them.

So, I grabbed a blank canvas, laid out some yellows and blues, and started mixing. As I put swatches of the different greens on the canvas, a big-eyed girl asked if they could paint, too. "Sure", I said without thinking that acrylics don't come out of scout uniforms. I nervously told the moms that you gotta crack some eggs to make an omelet, and they relaxed. I gave each scout a small panel, a bit of direction, and just let it happen.

The night was transformed into a self-esteem building workshop - all from some messy globs of paint. I talked about the joy of the process of painting, how there are no bad paintings, just "starts", and that we all have creativity built into us as human beings. Each of us has special gifts, just waiting to be discovered.

We laid all the canvases on a big piece of Kraft paper. I was floored. The colors and imagination were beautiful. As the masterpieces dried, the girls followed me like baby ducks into the utility room, so we could clean the brushes (and ourselves). The apprentices watched me clean the brushes like I was doing magic tricks. It reminded me how much like sponges are children are.

What started as an opportunity for me to give back to the community, ended up being more food for my soul than I could have ever imagined. As I tidied up the studio after they left, I felt like a child myself, eager to make a new "start", and engage in some messy, satisfying painting.