Well, it had to happen. I had two little 11 by 14 canvases crying for some paint and yesterday I finally delivered. I have to be in the right "mood". I can't just crank out these explosion paintings. They have to come from emotion which is sometimes so depressed it is impotent and sometimes so agitated it is whacked out. Yesterday things turned out and I voted. I committed paint to canvas and the ideas rolled along.
I have been thinking about the roses that I loved so much when I first moved in here. Oh such pretty little roses...Ill encourage them and never mow them. So pretty! Then came the slow realization that they were creeping vines and took over everything in their path quickly and lethally. I began a war against them and yet they still thrive.
I have to admit I got inspired by two PBS painting shows. I plopped down in front of the tv to watch Gary Jenkins and Bob Ross paint and they seeped into my soul. So beautiful and happy. The paint was flying and I listened to their patter...they were joyous. Immercing yourself into a painting is a wonderful thing to do. It heals.
And yet I could never just paint pretty things. I have to acknowledge the horror. I went out to pick up some flowers to sketch from and they all fell apart as soon as I touched them. Petals everywhere. So fragile. So fierce and yet so vulnerable. I felt so sad piling them in a heap by my canvas and trying to make some sort of order out of the chaos.
I love to paint the debris and the air it floats in. We are all torn apart and only come together for a short time. I then tackled some exploding waves but since they are always exploding it is still a challenge to get the froth. These are just the first drafts of these paintings. I will probably end up torturing them to death but right now they are pretty. I like pretty with an edge.