A New Painting

I've been trying recently to get into a steady rhythm of painting every week. It's been interesting. Sometimes I can just get it perfectly--the painting looks exactly how I want it to, or pretty close anyway. At other times, I just get a painterly mess. But, as I've read in some of my painting books, mistakes are not failures. I'm going to try to go into thinking of my paintings and other artistic endeavors as not the end result of my abilities, but rather just another steppingstone to get to the next level.

When I think about it, I'm not sure why I don't always think of it this way. I started drawing as most everyone else did--as a little kid with a piece of scratch paper or a coloring book with a bright crayon in my little fist. I remember being annoyed that my colorful scribbles looked absolutely nonsensical when compared to the clear cut lines in the coloring book, or the Big Yellow Bible Story Book (I loved that thing!), or even the simple drawings that my older siblings drew. Mine looked so confusing and strange and so unlike what I was trying to draw--a flower or a person or a dog--that I got frustrated enough to try and fix the problem by studying the objects and people around me. I clearly remember standing in my hallway one day having just made the breakthrough of realizing that I did, in fact, not need to draw scribbles for hands and feet, but could aspire to actual fingers and toes. It was no doubt a very little breakthrough that day, but nonetheless, it was a breakthrough, and I remember is with joy, since it was the first steppingstone on my journey in art.

I have gone to a few classes by a few artists, and learned a good deal from them. I have read books on art, books for art and the artist. But I think, in the end, the really learning is from trial and error. You learn from the artists who have gone on before you, and then you try something of your own. That is why I like the art books that I read--or the Create artists with their half hour programs--they bring up completely novel ideas to me that I would have only discovered after years of working on it. They are inspiration and teacher to me. But time is my teacher also, but only the active times, where I go over and over, learning from my mistakes.

But let me show you some of the stuff I do, the process of bringing an empty piece of paper to a colored, shaded, carefully shaped lines piece of art. This is my project that I did yesterday.

This first one is of the actual bottles themselves. I was going to do the blue one alone, but I like the other ones too, so put them in.



I love this part! To avoid making the paper buckle (official term here--it means warp), you wet the whole thing and tape it to a hard surface.

It's all taped down here, and looks nice and straight--perfect!

 

I started adding in the background first. I wanted a textured look for the background, so that it wouldn't be too dull. You can add all sorts of things, like big chunks of salt, droplets of clear alcohol, or, like I did here, moisture absorbing balls. (I don't know what the proper name is, but they really did the trick.)

Here's a closer look at them when they're wet.

Now I have a couple of the bottles painted, and you can see the result of the moisture absorbing balls. It creates a sort of abstract wood effect.

And here it is, all done. Well, sort of done; I might do a few finishing touches. And crop it some.

I filled in the background to created a table, since it looked a little like the bottles were floating midair.

 Well that is the process behind this painting, and little of my thinking while working on it. I'm not totally satisfied, but then I'm a perfectionist. And in any case, it was fun making it, which is, I think, half the point in art. If you don't have fun making your art, then it'll show, and it'll end up being less great, less true, less honest than it should be.

Well, now onto the next bit of art in my life--in this case, fiber arts--and I will say goodbye and,

Shalom