A Day In The Life: Artist At Work

My search bar reads "between custard and ice cream" but that couldn't possibly have anything to do with art, could it? Maybe it does. Maybe. A day of painting is perhaps, to an artist, like the smoothness of custard and ice cream. Rich, full, soothing. Yet, a day of painting is *hard* work too. All day, I worked outside on my front porch studio, on my feet standing. It rained, the sun came out, it rained some more. Breezes drifted. Heat settled. My glasses fogged up. The feet hurt. Stop! Stop, they cried. The dog snoozed near them. As I usually remind 'normal' folks who actually might read this blog, artists work hard. It's not our 'hobby'. Or worse yet, the age old question...."How do you REALLY make a living?" I've heard it all, as well as any artist that ever has existed. Rembrandt probably heard it. An artist is at work, whether there's a paycheck involved or not.

One of the many stages of this piece. I *love* this, but took the orange bit at the top out, then kept going. I believe this would have been a great abstract finished painting, though!

This week, I told the dog and cat they at least have food, so that's good. We like to eat around here. It's not an easy existence, but when you do what you were born to do, somehow you find your way. The universe is listening, and someone out there's going to find your art. Annie Dillard writes: "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living. Each day is the same, so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern."

I thought you might like to see the journey of a painting, along with what I did today: on a rainy/sunny/August day. Yes, my feet still hurt, the dog is still near them: we're inside now at the computer screen while I take a break to sit down and share this with you. The life of an artist.

Painting in the rain.

By now, this piece must have 50 layers. Some get removed, some added to. It's symbolic of life. It's taking a new direction, isn't it?

This is the painting in its most recent stage, it of course belongs to my long-time series "Esto Perpetua", yet feels different. This one is titled "Time of Mist: All is Not Lost". Right now, it's going to dry for a few weeks before I decide "Finished!" or keep going. I let paintings lead me. All is not lost....I keep looking at the abstract version I like so much, yet I love this too! It'll happen. The universe will speak. And I'll keep on painting. Tired feet and all, the dog near by.

And that is a day in the painting life.

Seasons: Art & Life

Back from New Mexico, Art Trek open studio weekend over, (although the gallery exhibit continues through mid-month), I'm home working on new paintings, one a commissioned piece. Other than the hot water heater flooding the basement, life continues around the old Art House. River was glad to get me back, and lies on the front porch, easels spread around as we paint. More like he basks in the sun and I do the work. Dogs really are smarter than we give 'em credit for! Butterflies flit, hummingbird stragglers sip at feeders--they'd better head off to warmer climes soon. I'd like to myself! New Mexico swirls through my mind: blues, terra cotta, sap green, dusky purple, gold. You'll see a few pictures from the visit, along with Patricia Carlisle Fine Art on Canyon Road--it was a pleasure to visit Chip, Patty and crew, and see my work hanging in such a beautiful space. There's also a picture of a painting I'm working on. New Mexico is bound to seep through the layers!

“Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled—
to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.” ~ Mary Oliver

Summer Paths & Art

"Guard within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how
to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how
to acquire without meanness; know how to replace in your heart,
by the happiness of those you love, the happiness
that may be wanting to yourself." ~ George Sand

Late July brings blankets of heavy humidity and heat to the small town of Saluda: here in the mountains of Western North Carolina. There's a magical shimmer to winding roads, a veil of dense green, the cathedral of trees and vines. This is life: a sense of primal. Ancient seas once covered these mountains, now a soft blue sea of sky unfolds to the horizon, where far seas kiss the earth's feet. While I don't love the extremities of summer, I do love the landscape, the feel, the remembering of childhood spent outside on long, lazy days. Lately, I've had to move most of my larger painting projects inside. Some remain outside, such as a bee hive (no bees in it yet!) and small things, but large paintings are now worked on inside unless the temperature drops under 80. More interesting for you might be how I've been working on them at night...even at 10:30 which usually is Netflix movie or good book time before bed. I turn the year-round Christmas light strands on in the vintage kitchen, kick-up WNCW tunes on the stereo, and paint in almost darkness at the old wood kitchen easel. My eyes don't mind the dim yet colorful glowing lights: wonderful surprises happen when I let go of having to have 'enough' light, or wait for the 'right' time to work. There is never going to be the perfect condition. There is no telling what passerby may think...the glow of Christmas lights peeking from old house windows. An artist lives here.


Esto Perpetua: Silver Light, Bonnie Joy Bardos (available at Patricia Carlisle Fine Art, 554 Canyon Road, Santa Fe NM)

Painting the Life of an Artist

June arrives in a spill of roses, blue skies, sparkling daisies and birds flitting all around, plus late evening showers that paint green velvet throughout the landscape. I work steadily, sometimes working on sculpture in between bouts of painting. Mornings, I'm out front on the porch, listening to the fish pond fountain trickle peacefully while River dog lazes in the sunshine close by. Evenings, I often move to the back deck, paint awhile, then take time for a glass of wine and peaceful sunset. Today, I finished up a large black and white landscape to ship out to the gallery in Santa Fe. When the gallery 'wants it yesterday', I'm on it. Whether it's someone wanting a small piece or a large one, I don't hesitate or put it off. Serious artists do that: they're doing their best to earn a living, as meager as it may sometimes be. They don't wait until they feel like it. They pull out the paints, the canvas and set about a new beginning. As ever, no matter how exhausted I may be by the end of the day, how sore the feet are, the hands...how covered with paint, I'm just grateful to do what I was meant to do in this world. There's truly nothing I'd rather do more! For those who spend their lives wishing they were doing it, whatever it may be, I say: don't wait. Do it. Do it now, while you can. Make a difference. Give yourself the gift of time, even if 15 minutes a day to do what you love. Now.

Esto Perpetua: Solace Bonnie Joy Bardos, available at Patricia Carlisle Fine Art, 554 Canyon Road, Santa Fe New Mexico

Painting Journeys on Life's Road

One thing I know, as an artist, is that art is life, and life is art. In many ways, the process of creating art is a metaphor for life itself. We may struggle, smooth-sail awhile, and face challenges despite the blood, sweat, tears of it all. A true artist is compelled to make art, to put their soul and spirit in each work. The large piece I've worked on since last fall has just been completed. Would you believe I had it 'finished' four times at least? Those who saw it here in my house/studio would say, oh it's done! Yet....I would question it, be driven to go back to it even when I thought it done too. Hauling a heavy 4' x 5' painting inside and outside, wielding the heavy floor easel in and out, days of paint-covered hands...the piece started taking a life of its own. The final round came after it seemed complete: I was driven to scrap paint off, add some in, to add in the energy I felt it needed, along with hard sweat in the afternoon sun. At that point, I felt it had the vitality and energy of my art client's life in it, along whatever I bring to the table in my art in the creating of it. In all that, the painting came around to the very beginnings it started from, full circle in a way. Just like life. Along the arduous journey of the making, I would repeat my mantra while working on it: TRUST YOURSELF! In life, as in art, we MUST trust our deepest self. We may not know the end destination, but we must trust that we will find the path, the way despite the many convolutions life (and paintings) take us. Stephen King wrote in his book "Writing" that it's like driving a Buick along a foggy road. It is. You cannot see your way clear some days. The point is, you do it. You get out there in blazing sun, freezing days, and paint. Or write. Or make the music. You do it because there's no other way for your spirit: it's not about the money you may need, or the groceries you long to buy--it's about the art. Trust yourself. You know the way if you listen. You do it because your soul beckons you, and that light is there: it's up to you to capture it and be the conduit of something much, much greater. Trust yourself.

Spring & Art: New Paintings

"Earth laughs in flowers." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Spring returns this month of April, daffodils, pink cherry blossoms, tender buds of green unfurling in a field of blue sky. River dog has spring fever: we both do--so grateful that ice and snow (are hopefully) disappearing. Spring brings life renewed. Over winter I worked on a large painting (4' x 5') on days that would allow it. Now, with warmer temperatures and sunshine, the piece really is coming together: it'll go live in San Francisco once it's finished. I'll be doing more open studio Saturdays from 1-3 when weather cooperates.

New Year, New Paths: The Life of Art

A New Year has come...and of all the resolutions I could stand to make, only small ones are on the list. Be kind. Blow iridescent bubbles into the breeze of life and let others find that magic. To take joy in the smallest of things: watching bees work among the garden flowers, fresh paint on a new canvas, smiles from strangers, the warmth of River dog's soft bear ears. To keep making art in this world that needs it; this is my journey--not an easy road to walk. It's full of rocks and obstacles...but the easy path has not been for me. Those small joys and the love of many people get me by: we do walk each other home, indeed, to paraphase Ram Dass.
“I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I found joy in the things that made me happy.” ~ Neil Gaiman, from “The Ocean At The End Of The Lane"

“In ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.” ~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer

November brings scarlet, gold, saffron leaves to earth: a Turkish carpet beneath my feet on quiet walks with River dog, who greatly enjoys pouncing through those papery-thin leaves along the roadside. Dogs love simple things, and while I watch his utter joy in the moment, I realize there's a lesson for us all in this. To dance in the fall leaves with the heart of a child, to kick them back up into the sky, to see the saturated colors on the palette of wonder. Life. It's so fleeting, so short, too precious to be spent all day on cell phones, computers, inside. How grateful I am to be here, to have so many people be kind to me along the journey. To see those scarlet dancers, to love so much, to need less and less: to be imperfect and right here to make art, to write, to keep reminding others of all that is within our hand.

The Landscape: New Work

“In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.” ― Rumi......This painting has taken me almost two years to finish: although I'll admit I let it sit for months on end during that time, and would return when it called me. A few minutes ago, I applied the final layer of cold wax as the final finish, gently buffing the painting with a soft cloth and love in my heart: knowing it was 'there'...the place it was meant to be. I'm just the conduit. Paintings and art transcend to higher places when they're from the heart and soul....... OPEN STUDIO: I'll have open studio here at my 1895 Art House, Saturday, February 16 from 1-3 p.m., open to the public. Lots of parking available across the street at Saluda Fire Department!

The Landscape in Autumn

"Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. " ~ Rachel Carson ~ October is here in the mountains, leaves slowly changing to gold amid the emerald shades above: now and then a lone leaf drifts to earth. Fall tends to be a creative month for me: the temperatures cool from sultry summer, glorious crisp afternoons are meant to paint, to sculpt, to inhale...as if you could hold the moment forever. This is an "Esto Perpetua" landscape from the long-time series I've worked on for almost ten years now. It remains a perennial favorite, although I fall in love with them all, like children, and send them out into the world to create good energy wherever they may land! In the beginning, a golden fall afternoon is where it all started: I painted the first one. A leaf fell to earth, then another, and another. Open Studio at my Art House will be Saturdays throughout October, from 1-3 p.m. Drop by or by appointment at other times.

Esto Perpetua: The Landscape

Late summer afternoon with blue sky: butterflies and hummingbirds sparkling in flowers keep me company while painting. I've got several pieces in progress, the color of the day seems to be a rich emerald green: jeweled and deep, hints of vivid blue, soft lovely golden-ochre whispering in the background. I paint on intuition, not a pre-planned formula, so each painting becomes what it's meant to be...it leads the way. If you force something, or use a set pattern: it shows. My work, for me, is of the soul, the depths. I'm only the messenger. When someone 'finds' my work, be it painting, sculpture, or writing, and connects, then I feel that I've accomplished my job while here on the planet. There's more art to make, more butterflies to watch. Time is short, do what you love. 'The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.' ~ Rabindranath Tagore

Esto Perpetua: The Landscape

July brings intensely hot weather to the mountains, and even hotter temperatures at lower elevations. Life slows a bit, although I take advantage of the heat to leaf through painting books, novels, and slow down a bit myself. Underfoot, the new puppy sleeps. My heart is full, in love. Rescue dogs rescue us, every time. A bouquet of fragrant lilies perfume the air; I found them just marked down from way-too-much to the take-me-home price of .99. All they needed was fresh water, stems trimmed, and an elegant crystal vase. Even the smallest things bring pleasure in this world. A puppy snoring, and lily sweetness. These aren't going to last forever, but live on in the heart. This landscape is one that recently sold out in Santa Fe at Patricia Carlisle Fine Art on Canyon Road. I hope it's in someone's home, bringing pleasure to another heart.