Flylady talks about the Midnight Editor. I have been writing on my prayer book this morning about a thought that came to me.
My coach asks me "What has helped you in the past?"
I was thinking about this question with regard to my present challenge of not being able to get myself to work 9 to 5 as if I am a paid artist. Another of his questions goes with: What is it going to take?
I listed things I have succeeded at before:
motherhood
marriage
graduated from college
superhero job at work
AIT
IBS
USPTA certification
working as a tennis professional
playing on a USTA team
working for BI for 4 years after my husband died
my first commissioned art project
D.Dewey's watercolor masterclass
11 years as a missionary, 31 years on staff of a mission organization
Here's what came to mind: all of the above had tracks to run on except marriage and motherhood.
Then I imagined my distance runner coach running in a race with no path set out for him, out on some hills and plains looking left and right, running this way for a while and then making a right turn for no reason whatsoever, his head going back and forth trying to think of which way to run, all the while running and spending lots of energy. There are weeds and rocks and uneven ground under his feet in this mental image. This makes me laugh. It is so absurd and it looks funny in my mind.
But truly, what makes it funny is it's absurdity. And it is way too close to the truth of what I have been doing. So why do I run around like a chicken with my head cut off?
And why am I trying to reinvent the wheel?
Next to each accomplishment on the list, I wrote what made me succeed? What made me get to the finish line?
Each time THERE WERE TRACKS TO RUN ON.
USPTA certification. I had a big fat notebook to study, hours of classes to teach (practice) and a pro to teach me how to teach.
college degree. It took 4 years, someone else decided the requirements, someone else gave the assignments and the grades; it was all planned out before I got there.
AIT (training to go overseas as a missionary) 3.5 months were set aside and we went to CA to sit in class, do assignments, play psyche games, study the Bible, turn in homework assignments and build team skills.
my first art commission. There were 30 pictures to paint. Each poem provided the idea for the painting.
Marriage--this one did not have specific enough tracks to run on, but the basic thing that made it successful was that we were both committed to making it work for the sake of honoring Christ, and I was committed to following my husband's leadership, so that I was not making up my own life route, that was decided by my husband (yes, I had input.)
4 years working after my husband died. I chose to help a specific person and just showed up and did what she wanted. There was no deciding on my part.
superhero stint. same thing, I showed up and did what the big managers asked. I was paired with a young woman who had administrative and leadership gifts and I said I don't care if I'm twice your age and then some, you decide, I'll help you do whatever.
D.Dewey's Watercolor Masterclass. I showed up and painted every day. He decided where we painted and using watercolor was a given and I tried to do what he told us to do.
So back to the coach running a race. No, he is not looking around wondering which way to run. He is on a specific track and you had better believe he's on the inside of the curve taking the shortest route to the finish line!
Then I wrote down: If you don't want to do the marketing part of your artist job, look for a gallery who will put up your work or hire someone to market your work on line and/or get a SCORE mentor who has done this before and ask him or her to do it for you.
Next I wrote: You know you are going to want a website.
Ron has said many times without a vision the people perish. It is scripture and the principle applies broadly to life. I am like that fire hydrant that has its cap off and the water is gushing out but there is no hose or nozzle attached to point the water at the base of the fire.
Why, I ask myself, have I gotten up and dinked around things at home since my mate died? I have given myself permission to grieve, that's a good thing, but not to the extent of allowing laziness.
I was overwhelmed and that was on top of already being a SHE (side-tracked home executive). So what I was dealing with was 30 years of living in Quadrant One (urgent plus important) as a mom, doing whatever seemed most pressing at the time to keep my family alive and well. Being in the helper role as a wife, almost 30 years of that. Suddenly he is gone and now my kids are almost grown and I'm not living to keep them alive moment my moment any more, they are almost independent.
When I was stressed out with fighting fires, I'd escape into Quadrant Four, time wasters like too much TV, sleep, and although I do not think tennis was exactly a time waster, yet I played any time I could because it was good therapy to crunch the fuzz right off the ball and get out all my frustration and hostility by getting physical on the court.
Now since I quit my BI job, and am about to terminate my present job and launch into full time writing and painting, it sure looks to me like I've been trying to reinvent the wheel.
I am making up a path for the first time. Others have had careers writing and painting and there is a way they have done it. I have a life purpose statement and I have made long term and short term goals but I lose sight of them (which must be why I paddle out a few feet from the dock and then stop)
Last thought: I have a love hate relationship with being single. I love the freedom and the thought of being someone else's follower is very unappealing to me now, but I realize that along with my freedom, only I own the responsibility for my life. If only I could find someone perfect who was doing exactly what I want to do and I could follow him. There is no such person.
I want to stay free and independent, but I am not yet able to lead myself successfully. I don't want to follow any more.
Well, none of this is really new. My coach and I have discussed these things, but the image of him running a race with no track....that helps me understand a little better why I am not winning my race yet.
Time to paint. I think I have more to say about this but not now.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Friday, August 25, 2006
To Tuumble
How did you find my blog? Tell me more about what you are up to. I presume you said your comment was spam because you sent it to lots of people.
Annie
Annie
Sandbox
I remember the big sandbox down at Mr. Neil's at the end of the street. All the kids in the neighborhood played there. Now my doctor has a tiny sandbox in her office for patients to mess with while they wait. It is about 10 by 10 inches and maybe one inch deep. It has two little wooden rakes, one with thick straight tines and one with longer, curvy spindley ones, a broom and several little rocks. She says it's a Zen thing. I usually clean up the spilled sand on the edges and on the table. I like the stones to be out from under the sand. I don't like the sand to be up to the edges spilling out. Then I just play with the rakes and make patterns in the sand.
And?
Why sandboxes? Some people play in them for a living and it's hard work.
When I played in the sandbox, I felt safe. Not even a problem with cats using the sandbox as a toilet. Well, possibly what we didn't know didn't hurt us....
Those who play in a sandbox in 2006 may or may not be safe. There are THINGS in the sand. Your job is to look at them and make sure they are not going to hurt you or your friends. If they threaten, your job is to neutralize them, or direct your party elsewhere. You couldn't pay most people enough to take on a job like this.
So I am going to get through this day and encourage my sandbox hero to do the same. One day, this one, this moment, actually, is all we have. We don't have 4 months. We have this moment. What are you going to do with it? Worry about how long 4 months is? Do my work the best I am able. Trust God. Smile. Paint pretty pictures and sell them. And sleep with a clear conscience.
And?
Why sandboxes? Some people play in them for a living and it's hard work.
When I played in the sandbox, I felt safe. Not even a problem with cats using the sandbox as a toilet. Well, possibly what we didn't know didn't hurt us....
Those who play in a sandbox in 2006 may or may not be safe. There are THINGS in the sand. Your job is to look at them and make sure they are not going to hurt you or your friends. If they threaten, your job is to neutralize them, or direct your party elsewhere. You couldn't pay most people enough to take on a job like this.
So I am going to get through this day and encourage my sandbox hero to do the same. One day, this one, this moment, actually, is all we have. We don't have 4 months. We have this moment. What are you going to do with it? Worry about how long 4 months is? Do my work the best I am able. Trust God. Smile. Paint pretty pictures and sell them. And sleep with a clear conscience.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
last day
Day Five Year Two
I forgot that if it is raining by 8:30 we are to call David and get instructions. A few of us turn up at the assigned place but no one is there. Last year we painted at this spot and it was raining. So we go to David's and get directions. They are in one of the local's studio. What a great place, windows on all sides and tables all around and a big center island. David is showing his book from Europe. It's wonderful to see and to hear him talk through his paintings. The owner has a yellow lab puppy named Lucy. After the class we look around the owner's home and see paintings everywhere and lots of windows looking out onto the water.
It's time to have lunch at David's house prepared by Kathy and her friend from NJ. Again I look all over the house at all the paintings. I hate to think of leaving and I'm disappointed that we did not get to paint. Two women come and ask me if I'd like to paint with them after lunch. YES! Perfect. We say our goodbyes and David is planting "mwah!" type kisses on our cheeks. I am surprised when one of the men doesn't want to let go of my hand when we are saying goodbye, and he wants to know if I'm coming next year.....yikes.
At Thomaston Harbor there is lots to paint. The nice young ladies at the restaurant make us coffee even though they are closed. Joan decides the umbrellas will look good opened, so she asks and we go open all of them. We think Susan is painting the umbrellas and we think she will be happy, but apparently she wasn't painting the umbrellas at all. She didn't even notice.
She has her big ole lab with her and he's been swimming. I try to teach him to drink water out of my camelpak.
I think I'll paint something realistic, but my painting turns out primitive looking, something that doesn't look like my work. I paint another post card sized picture of a white house peeking over some tall grass.
Before driving back home, I spent an extra day with my hostess, my daughter's mom in law. She takes me all around and shows me the area. It is a perfect day and we eat lunch outdoors by the water. I can't get enough of fish sandwiches. On the way home we stop to buy lobsters. The last man in line pretends we are his good friends and asks the lobsterman if he will get us some lobsters. I don't think he fooled anyone but the nice young man goes out in his boat and pulls some right out of the water for us. He only has soft shell, so we get 4. Two each. Now that was a satisfying dinner! I used up all my melted butter too. Ahhhhh. Maine.
I forgot that if it is raining by 8:30 we are to call David and get instructions. A few of us turn up at the assigned place but no one is there. Last year we painted at this spot and it was raining. So we go to David's and get directions. They are in one of the local's studio. What a great place, windows on all sides and tables all around and a big center island. David is showing his book from Europe. It's wonderful to see and to hear him talk through his paintings. The owner has a yellow lab puppy named Lucy. After the class we look around the owner's home and see paintings everywhere and lots of windows looking out onto the water.
It's time to have lunch at David's house prepared by Kathy and her friend from NJ. Again I look all over the house at all the paintings. I hate to think of leaving and I'm disappointed that we did not get to paint. Two women come and ask me if I'd like to paint with them after lunch. YES! Perfect. We say our goodbyes and David is planting "mwah!" type kisses on our cheeks. I am surprised when one of the men doesn't want to let go of my hand when we are saying goodbye, and he wants to know if I'm coming next year.....yikes.
At Thomaston Harbor there is lots to paint. The nice young ladies at the restaurant make us coffee even though they are closed. Joan decides the umbrellas will look good opened, so she asks and we go open all of them. We think Susan is painting the umbrellas and we think she will be happy, but apparently she wasn't painting the umbrellas at all. She didn't even notice.
She has her big ole lab with her and he's been swimming. I try to teach him to drink water out of my camelpak.
I think I'll paint something realistic, but my painting turns out primitive looking, something that doesn't look like my work. I paint another post card sized picture of a white house peeking over some tall grass.
Before driving back home, I spent an extra day with my hostess, my daughter's mom in law. She takes me all around and shows me the area. It is a perfect day and we eat lunch outdoors by the water. I can't get enough of fish sandwiches. On the way home we stop to buy lobsters. The last man in line pretends we are his good friends and asks the lobsterman if he will get us some lobsters. I don't think he fooled anyone but the nice young man goes out in his boat and pulls some right out of the water for us. He only has soft shell, so we get 4. Two each. Now that was a satisfying dinner! I used up all my melted butter too. Ahhhhh. Maine.
Monday, August 07, 2006
John's
I think his name was John. Day Four, Year Two
He has a place out on the water where he tinkers. He has a very slapped together, very OLD group of buildings and lots of airplane parts, airplane photos with history in them, and other odd pieces of art and photos. He is there welding a bike part. Next to him is the body of a small plane. He has a little room where opera music plays. Going into the building where the bathroom is smells just like my grandfather's garage. I think it's the wood, plus the humidity, and all the STUFF, there is lots of stuff... and age of the place. Smells are so powerful to the memory. But he is David's friend and says we can come out there any time and paint. David likes places where there is ample stuff lying around to paint.
He paints a dock with an aircraft carrier and a lighthouse off on the horizon. On the shore near where we sit, it looks like someone has dumped bales of hay into the water and they have become all soggy and are rotting. But on closer observation, I see that they are Maine rocks covered with some kind of sea weed --- something yellowy brown and stringy looking.
I consider trying the same scene he chose, just to see what would happen. I had tried to copy a couple of his paintings out of his book the week before I left.
It takes me a long time to settle on an idea. Using my camera lens, I finally decide, but I think I have decided just because I feel pressure to get going, not because I like my idea. I use big paper today. I know I need to learn to work bigger. I prop my new board up on my knees and use my rolling backpack to support the other end. Big sketch. It's gray and overcast again. I lay in my big washes. After several washes the paper will start buckling, but I can't get what I want. I mix too many colors and it look muddy to me. I paint a dock and a tugboat as one shape. I have poles framing the sides leaning into the picture. The water gets muddier. I put reddish brown into the sky to balance the dock and it looks awful. One of my classmates had told me he liked the sky right before I did it and he said "I'd leave that sky alone."
While waiting for my washes to dry, I paint a little sketch of the cement silos, one square and one round. It takes only about 5 minutes. They are HUGE and they are fascinating, especially since we are situated right at the base of them, making them all the more dramatic in size. There is a ladder way up there leading from the top of one to the other. I wonder how you get up there. I paint some very small windows in the sides of them. I take some photos.
Several people walk by and comment on my dock painting. I say I hate it and want to rip it up and start over, but I must keep going and see what happens. This is another thing David has taught us. If you have an idea, and it doesn't seem to be working, keep going anyway.
David comes by and I say go away. He makes some helpful comments and I am sorry that I am being childish and letting myself get upset with my work. I brought a sandwich today so I don't have to take time off to go buy food. But it starts to rain a little. In fact it dripped all over David's demonstration and he talked of some artist who has a painting in a gallery in ...was it San Diego? and the painting has spots like this all over it.
I put all my things in a little carport like shelter that has a lawn mower in it so that I don't have to pack it all into my car and I drive off to find Dunkin Donuts. When I get back and drink my coffee the rain is over and we resume painting. Some are finished. I still don't like my work, but it did improve. People said they liked it. It's hard to accept a compliment when you yourself don't like it. I guess it was mostly the muddiness of the color that I disliked. And to define the pier supports, I had to go darker and darker till there was no darker left to go.
My 2 poles on the sides like parentheses look dumb to me.
One person who is not in the class this year came by and told me she thought it was David's demonstration painting. Now that is a high compliment to me and a grand insult to him.
It's Lobster Pound night and we all go out. I bring my Red Truck wine and share it with my table mates. We drink out of little paper cups but I see someone at the other table has brought wine glasses. I have on my plastic bib and someone must have gotten my hard shell because she comes out with only one lobster left and it's soft shell. OK I say and they refund me the difference in price which I put into the tip jar. It's good but it seems like I only get about 6 or 7 bites. The corn is not very good. But it's lovely sitting out there by the water and there is a beautiful orange lambswool sunset over the heads of my tablemates. One guy says hey we should rent one of those boats and go out on the bay. I say yeah, but we don't do it. Everyone breaks up and I drive home.
He has a place out on the water where he tinkers. He has a very slapped together, very OLD group of buildings and lots of airplane parts, airplane photos with history in them, and other odd pieces of art and photos. He is there welding a bike part. Next to him is the body of a small plane. He has a little room where opera music plays. Going into the building where the bathroom is smells just like my grandfather's garage. I think it's the wood, plus the humidity, and all the STUFF, there is lots of stuff... and age of the place. Smells are so powerful to the memory. But he is David's friend and says we can come out there any time and paint. David likes places where there is ample stuff lying around to paint.
He paints a dock with an aircraft carrier and a lighthouse off on the horizon. On the shore near where we sit, it looks like someone has dumped bales of hay into the water and they have become all soggy and are rotting. But on closer observation, I see that they are Maine rocks covered with some kind of sea weed --- something yellowy brown and stringy looking.
I consider trying the same scene he chose, just to see what would happen. I had tried to copy a couple of his paintings out of his book the week before I left.
It takes me a long time to settle on an idea. Using my camera lens, I finally decide, but I think I have decided just because I feel pressure to get going, not because I like my idea. I use big paper today. I know I need to learn to work bigger. I prop my new board up on my knees and use my rolling backpack to support the other end. Big sketch. It's gray and overcast again. I lay in my big washes. After several washes the paper will start buckling, but I can't get what I want. I mix too many colors and it look muddy to me. I paint a dock and a tugboat as one shape. I have poles framing the sides leaning into the picture. The water gets muddier. I put reddish brown into the sky to balance the dock and it looks awful. One of my classmates had told me he liked the sky right before I did it and he said "I'd leave that sky alone."
While waiting for my washes to dry, I paint a little sketch of the cement silos, one square and one round. It takes only about 5 minutes. They are HUGE and they are fascinating, especially since we are situated right at the base of them, making them all the more dramatic in size. There is a ladder way up there leading from the top of one to the other. I wonder how you get up there. I paint some very small windows in the sides of them. I take some photos.
Several people walk by and comment on my dock painting. I say I hate it and want to rip it up and start over, but I must keep going and see what happens. This is another thing David has taught us. If you have an idea, and it doesn't seem to be working, keep going anyway.
David comes by and I say go away. He makes some helpful comments and I am sorry that I am being childish and letting myself get upset with my work. I brought a sandwich today so I don't have to take time off to go buy food. But it starts to rain a little. In fact it dripped all over David's demonstration and he talked of some artist who has a painting in a gallery in ...was it San Diego? and the painting has spots like this all over it.
I put all my things in a little carport like shelter that has a lawn mower in it so that I don't have to pack it all into my car and I drive off to find Dunkin Donuts. When I get back and drink my coffee the rain is over and we resume painting. Some are finished. I still don't like my work, but it did improve. People said they liked it. It's hard to accept a compliment when you yourself don't like it. I guess it was mostly the muddiness of the color that I disliked. And to define the pier supports, I had to go darker and darker till there was no darker left to go.
My 2 poles on the sides like parentheses look dumb to me.
One person who is not in the class this year came by and told me she thought it was David's demonstration painting. Now that is a high compliment to me and a grand insult to him.
It's Lobster Pound night and we all go out. I bring my Red Truck wine and share it with my table mates. We drink out of little paper cups but I see someone at the other table has brought wine glasses. I have on my plastic bib and someone must have gotten my hard shell because she comes out with only one lobster left and it's soft shell. OK I say and they refund me the difference in price which I put into the tip jar. It's good but it seems like I only get about 6 or 7 bites. The corn is not very good. But it's lovely sitting out there by the water and there is a beautiful orange lambswool sunset over the heads of my tablemates. One guy says hey we should rent one of those boats and go out on the bay. I say yeah, but we don't do it. Everyone breaks up and I drive home.
Day Three
Day Three, Year Two
We go to Drift In Beach. It's supposed to be 98 and extremely high humidity but the clouds keep us comfortable until at least afternoon. It's pretty stifling in the port-o-potty. I stay under the pine trees because I know the sun may come out soon. I am working on two trees making a shape with the shore rocks. He had painted a beautiful buttery yellow shape in the sky and the blues and grays framing it, but I didn't really see it until he said buttery and put it into his painting.
I went to the General Store at Port Clyde and have a sandwich and I find another bottle of Red Truck wine. A new tradition has started. It is for Thursday night at the Lobster Pound.
We comment to each other how much information comes out of David as he teaches us. It feels overwhelming. You want it all. I take notes. Others do too, and some are sketching or painting while he demonstrates. But I realize that although he gives out more than I can understand, more than I can assimilate, he goes over some things many times, and that eventually I will learn if I just listen and watch, and then try to do it. I realize I understand better this year than last when he talks of building a painting from the back forward. I get his "architectural footprint" a little more this year.
When the sun comes out in the afternoon, it wants to change the look of my painting. David can remember the look and keep to his original plan, but I am a novice, and I want to keep changing my picture as the light, colors and shadows change. Again I do a tiny 3 by 5 painting while waiting for the bigger one to dry. There are lots of people on this small beach, lots of kids. I want to paint them but they are wiggley. David says make them wiggle, but the day is almost over and I finish my painting.
At critique many of us have tried to do what he is talking about rather than just going on painting the way we always do. I see more economy in others' paintings. He says mine is like yesterday's in this way. He talks about the negative space and shows how he would draw the painting outlining the negative spaces. I think, yes, that is how I did draw that painting, so I guess I did something right. I put buttery yellow in my sky too, but I think I was planning to go and add something else when it dried, but I never did. The water was too dark, but people still like it. They comment on the composition and tell me they like the one I did yesterday a lot.
The Lobster Festival started today, but I have no desire to go this year. Too crowded in the midway.
We go to Drift In Beach. It's supposed to be 98 and extremely high humidity but the clouds keep us comfortable until at least afternoon. It's pretty stifling in the port-o-potty. I stay under the pine trees because I know the sun may come out soon. I am working on two trees making a shape with the shore rocks. He had painted a beautiful buttery yellow shape in the sky and the blues and grays framing it, but I didn't really see it until he said buttery and put it into his painting.
I went to the General Store at Port Clyde and have a sandwich and I find another bottle of Red Truck wine. A new tradition has started. It is for Thursday night at the Lobster Pound.
We comment to each other how much information comes out of David as he teaches us. It feels overwhelming. You want it all. I take notes. Others do too, and some are sketching or painting while he demonstrates. But I realize that although he gives out more than I can understand, more than I can assimilate, he goes over some things many times, and that eventually I will learn if I just listen and watch, and then try to do it. I realize I understand better this year than last when he talks of building a painting from the back forward. I get his "architectural footprint" a little more this year.
When the sun comes out in the afternoon, it wants to change the look of my painting. David can remember the look and keep to his original plan, but I am a novice, and I want to keep changing my picture as the light, colors and shadows change. Again I do a tiny 3 by 5 painting while waiting for the bigger one to dry. There are lots of people on this small beach, lots of kids. I want to paint them but they are wiggley. David says make them wiggle, but the day is almost over and I finish my painting.
At critique many of us have tried to do what he is talking about rather than just going on painting the way we always do. I see more economy in others' paintings. He says mine is like yesterday's in this way. He talks about the negative space and shows how he would draw the painting outlining the negative spaces. I think, yes, that is how I did draw that painting, so I guess I did something right. I put buttery yellow in my sky too, but I think I was planning to go and add something else when it dried, but I never did. The water was too dark, but people still like it. They comment on the composition and tell me they like the one I did yesterday a lot.
The Lobster Festival started today, but I have no desire to go this year. Too crowded in the midway.
Collective Sigh
Day Two, Year Two
We went to Fisherman's Pier with the smell of fish and the air full of gulls. This is where I painted a lobster boat last year, the first painting I liked, the one David said I should frame and put on my mantle.
His demonstration is of a red building that seems to be in a lot of his paintings. The sky is gray and he makes the window seen through the open door effectively part of his composition. He is so good. I forget to take pictures of his demonstrations. My camera battery is unreliable too. While he is painting someone comes and tells him that we might want to move...they're bringing in a truck to pick up a huge mast. They offered us 20 minutes. 20 minutes was ok anyway. David handles pressure well. I think he likes it. But I never did see them come get the mast.
I paint a small ship head on. I don't know what kind it is or what it is used for. The air smells like dead fish and I want to go near the lobstermen and listen to them sounding like Mainers, but I go to the same spot I was in last year. The boat is attractive and is painted dark green and red, my beloved Seattle colors.
It takes me a while to decide how to set up my composition. Composition, that is what I really wanted to learn about this year. I cannot remember anything I may have learned about composition in art school. Perhaps I should have played less frisbee and done more homework. To frame pictures I look through my camera lens and move it around until the grouping pleases my eye. I have learned that you can move things around any way you like when you are making art.
While my big painting dries I do a sketch of the same scene on my post card sized paper. While that dries I go back to my big painting. I like my ship but I'm not done when it's time to go to critique.
I talk a little with some of the other class members.
He goes through all the paintings and I like a lot of them. When he gets to mine it is the last one and when he holds it up there is a collective audible response. I am shocked. They really like it, I guess. I do, too. It is totally different from the bright and primitive work of yesterday.
He says he hates to use this word, but this is an almost perfectly painted picture. I am shocked again. I know I am trying to get a basic shape to make a piece of art on the paper, and I feel I understand a little better what he means when he talks about this, but wow. He uses the word economy, which means I am not overpainting and being fussy. Good thing I ran out of time, I may have gone there.
I decide I'm not touching this picture, lest I ruin it, though I decide I must try to repaint it and finish it with just a little more 'information'. David tells me how HE would finish the bowsprit (or whatever it's called, the thing coming up off the front of the boat like a trumpeting elephant) and I make a mental note. I think this class is a little better than last year.
No Disappointment
Year Two of David Dewey's Watercolor Masterclass Workshop.
Since last year, my first experience, my feet hardly touching the ground all week, this year I was trying to keep myself from being too psyched up, lest I set myself up for a feeling of let down.
Ah, no.
I drove up to Bath to stay with my good friend, the mom of my daughter's husband. It takes about 12 hours. Next morning I'm up very early to make the hour plus commute, but I'm still late. I misjudged how much time it took for the commute to Owl's Head, forgot about the slow moving trucks on the two lane road, and did not remember to review the details to David's house, and I couldn't find 73 at first.
So I felt badly because he held off starting until I arrived. Although I saw many familiar faces, they didn't seem all that welcoming. He says we were just chatting. I apologized sincerely.
We stay right there in downtown Owl's Head and he does a demo of the back of the general store. I paint two kyacks on a rack and it looks like a banana and a frisbee. Very bright. He says it's hard not to like this painting at the critique. (My subconscious is wondering, is this a way of saying, you shouldn't like this painting!?) He says that my painting says: "I'm up in Maine having a wonderful time."
Christie, his assistant, had told one of my classmates nearby to come look at my picture. I'm not afraid to use my darks and make my shadows deep. That is why I chose to paint the kyacks, the drama between the garish yellow and red and the deep shadows. But again, just like last year, it looks like 6th grade prang paints to me and it is bloppy and full of too much overflowing paint.....
I am not so concerned about the critique this year though. I am here to learn.
Since last year, my first experience, my feet hardly touching the ground all week, this year I was trying to keep myself from being too psyched up, lest I set myself up for a feeling of let down.
Ah, no.
I drove up to Bath to stay with my good friend, the mom of my daughter's husband. It takes about 12 hours. Next morning I'm up very early to make the hour plus commute, but I'm still late. I misjudged how much time it took for the commute to Owl's Head, forgot about the slow moving trucks on the two lane road, and did not remember to review the details to David's house, and I couldn't find 73 at first.
So I felt badly because he held off starting until I arrived. Although I saw many familiar faces, they didn't seem all that welcoming. He says we were just chatting. I apologized sincerely.
We stay right there in downtown Owl's Head and he does a demo of the back of the general store. I paint two kyacks on a rack and it looks like a banana and a frisbee. Very bright. He says it's hard not to like this painting at the critique. (My subconscious is wondering, is this a way of saying, you shouldn't like this painting!?) He says that my painting says: "I'm up in Maine having a wonderful time."
Christie, his assistant, had told one of my classmates nearby to come look at my picture. I'm not afraid to use my darks and make my shadows deep. That is why I chose to paint the kyacks, the drama between the garish yellow and red and the deep shadows. But again, just like last year, it looks like 6th grade prang paints to me and it is bloppy and full of too much overflowing paint.....
I am not so concerned about the critique this year though. I am here to learn.
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