Bon Voyage

This week I'm saying farewell again, to an old friend who left a year ago for a better place. She was one of my oldest and dearest - someone I could call up and tell anything, and she'd laugh with me, or get mad at whoever had ticked me off, or tell me what crazy thing happened to her that was nearly as good - or as bad - as what happened to me. You know, one of those rare friends. And call her I did, often enough, because although we shared a dorm one year in college in another century, we spent most of our lives afterward living in different states. A year ago, breast cancer took her farther away than satellite technology can reach, but I still talk to her anyway.

Back in the day, she could have made phone yakking an Olympic event. She was a great talker, but one of the rare ones who's equally skilled at listening - and also one of the few people I've ever been able to talk to while painting.

This one, Coastline, came along during one of our conversations. a few years back. It's all about rolling waves and turbulence, the curvature of the earth that separates, but also holds us together, and fragile boundaries that never really manage to divide anything important. It's always been one of my favorites, and last week someone had the very good sense, in my humble opinion, to buy it. Now it's back in the studio for framing before heading out to its new home.

Bon voyage.

Dear Students,

The day is coming... I'm teaching my first acrylic painting class next Monday morning, March 25th, at Saccarappa Art collective in Westbrook, Maine. 

OK, if you read my blog entry about teaching painting, you know that I have been too scared to do this until now, even though I've taught other stuff and a good many people have told me they’d like to take a painting class from me.

Why? Well, I was raised to never tell others what to do, for one thing. (Although my kids would probably tell you I’m pretty good at telling them what NOT to do.) But especially when it comes to creative expression. I grew up in the freewheeling 1970s, when the country  was all you do your thing, and I’ll do mine, and there was no wrong way in art.

And actually, I still feel pretty much that way. If you want a teacher to tell you, “First do this, and then do that,” I’m sorry. I’m not going to be that teacher. I’d rather give you a few basic tips and demonstrate my way of working, and then try to empower you to paint your own way. I’ll be with you for your questions and stuck places, but you’re not a passenger here, I want you to drive your bus.

So, that’s one of the things that intimidated me about teaching this class: the possibility that I might not live up to people’s expectations of what a painting teacher should be. 

Another thing that makes teaching difficult for me is that the art side of my brain and the talking side seem to live a good distance apart from each other, like across town and not on a bus line, so I have trouble articulating what I’m doing with paint while I’m doing it. I usually do my best work without remembering thinking about it at all – in fact, I love not thinking. So please bear with me while I stumble around searching for words to express myself about making art!

The one circumstance where I intend to tell you firmly what to do is when I think you should STOP painting, and look at what you have done. If I yell STOP at you, it won’t be because you have done anything wrong – it’ll be because it’s time to take a break and notice what’s working well with your painting and think about how to make sure you don’t overwork it. I’d like stopping and looking at our own and each other’s work to be something we all get used to doing a few times each session.

Materials

I have paper, paint and brushes for you to work with. I also have canvasboards that you can buy from me for $2 each if you prefer, or you can bring your own media, but paper is enough. I have old crappy brushes, because I like working with them. I find that cheap materials free me from fear about ruining things. You are welcome to bring your own nice brushes if that’s what you prefer. I have some tabletop easels and some boards and tape you can use. You’re welcome to bring something of your own to paint on if you’d rather. We have a terribly small sink to rinse our brushes in, unfortunately, but I have some fairly large water containers. PLEASE be very careful not to spill paintwater on the floor! And no throwing paint. Sorry, it would be fun, but there are too many paintings in harm’s way in the gallery.

Lesson Plan

This is pretty loosey-goosey, as you will no doubt come to expect from me. I will show examples of landscapes, both photographic and painted.

Then I’ll share with you a painting I did fairly quickly, and show you approximately how I did it - and how a painting can be changed on the spur of the moment.

We’ll do a bit of color mixing, and I’ll share a few basic tips about that.

And then you’ll paint, from a photograph (yours or mine) or from memory or imagination. When using a photograph for reference, do not copy it. Try setting up your reference photo across the room where you can’t see the details. Better yet, take a look at it and then turn it over or put it somewhere you can’t see it at all. Improvise, make it different; make it your own vision. Don’t like the color of a house, the ground, the sky? Change it. Tree blocking the view you want? Get rid of it. You can literally move mountains if you choose to.

The Sky is NOT Blue

At a party last weekend, the subject of teaching classes came up AGAIN. I have been planning a new class since late last year. I want to encourage people to paint beyond what they think, and into the realm of what they intuit - or what they believe can be. Or what they want. I want to impart a message that despite persistent rumors, the sky isn't always blue, nor does it need to be.

I want to teach people how to turn a square of canvas or paper into a window on a world all their own. I want each of my students to have a painting they've done themselves, that's ready to frame by the end of the course.

Once again, at the party - which happened to be a celebration of a friend's first year in a new creative business - people wanted to hear about this class. They wanted to take my class. Why haven't I begun teaching it after lo these many moons? Fear. Fear of not being able to communicate. Talking has never been my strong suit. Talking while painting - oy.

Ironic, right? I've said I want to encourage people, when I myself suffer from a lack of courage.

"You've just got to shut that b_____ up!" my friend advised. "She dogged me the whole time I was planning my new business. Now she's sitting right on your shoulder, telling you you can't do this."

I'm guessing you've made the acquaintance of "the little voice." You know, the one that says, "You can't do that - who do you think you are anyway?"

So. Determined to shake her loose, I have ordered tabletop easels for my students. Thrown down the gauntlet, as it were!

Classes will commence at Saccarappa Art Collective in Westbrook on six Monday mornings from 10 until noon beginning on March 18. Contact the gallery (link in the nav bar) or me to sign up. I'll need at least five students prior to Saturday March 15. $120 per person, basic supplies included. I'll start with a short demo and some examples, then a bit of color theory. We'll go from there.