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WHY Small Paintings?

 Transition 48 x 60 “
I have always made art, painted, but just over thirty years ago I shifted into a more intense artistic focus.  I studied with master painters, read books, took classes and put in my ten thousand hours (plus!)

You would think the size of the paintings would correlate with the size of my working space.  Maybe a LITTLE BIT, but mostly they correlate with the size of my life.  The space for making art now is actually smaller than it was back 20 years ago, but my life has grown exponentially.

Spring Thaw 60 x 40″

I have six children, five have spouses or significant others, a boxer/ridgeback rescue, two cats, two horse brothers, and a husband.   Chaos and complicated is the status quo.  

As family and connections have grown so has the size of my art.  Three-foot square feels petite these days.  It is not unusual for a painting to take 40 to 80 hours to complete.    And that doesn’t count the research that so often accompanies a work of art.  I am not complaining, I love what I do.  Sometimes I wonder if there is a faster, simpler way to get the same result.  So often there are layers and hours of work that in the end are hidden.   Was that time wasted?  I hope not.  I think of it like the layers of our personal lives.  So much happens.  So much transpires that is never seen on the outside, but those are the things that form the structures, the framework of our lives.  (GREAT!  I am hearing the theme song for my Grammie Hannan’s favorite soap opera, Days of Our Lives.  I did not know I knew the theme song until I type those last few words!)

 Migration 6 x 4′
So, you may wonder, what?  I think humongo-sized paintings are awesome and work in quite small spaces, but not everyone wants a humongo-sized painting in their space.

A friend shared about a small works sale she did last year after Thanksgiving.  I wondered if I was even capable of working small.

I AM CAPABLE OF WORKING SMALL!    Yesterday 6.5 x 7″  

I started the late in the summer and finished up last night just shy of midnight.  Working small is like a bag of potato chips, “you can’t eat just one.”  I devoured several proverbial bags of chips and I finished over 80 small paintings.  My husband cut the matboards for the paintings and as of just shy of midnight Saturday, November 17, 2018 I have three left.  David informed me that he will not be cutting any more mats for a while.  (If you wonder why the watercolor paintings are not matted, this is why and we will never speak of it again.)  Thank you, David, for making these little gems possible.

Hidden in the Shadows 3 x 3″
I wanted to make paintings that would fit into intimate spaces.  Paintings that could hold a space for dreams and memories.  Maybe a conversation starter.  Possibly a respite from a weary world.  A harbinger of more.  There is so much duplication in the universe.   Part of the magic of original art is that it is original.  Unique.  One of a kind.

My Heart 5.5 x 5.5″  

Each one of these paintings was loving brought into the world.  The decisions per square inch ratio of a small work of art is stunningly more intense than working large.  I learned a great deal creating them.  My hope was that they would carry that forward with them into the world, the ability to teach.

 Emergency 3 x 3″

I have beautiful small things all through my home and studio.   Maybe too many small things, but they give me a place to pause and collect my thoughts.  I have a collection of glass paperweights.  I had one and when Jubilee was little she took an interest and started collecting them.

Faeries and Frogs  3 x 3″      

She lost interest and the collection has made it’s way to my studio windowsill.  I love the variety.   I love the liquidity of something solid.  I love the colors.   I love that someone’s breath, someone’s hand, someone’s training, someone’s creativity, someone’s moment in time has traveled through time and space to rest upon my desk and inspire joy.

 Beginnings 4 x 4″

For me these objects of beauty offer a space for my mind to quiet and my heart to settle and for my spirit to heal and hear.

Strides 6 x 6″

My goal in creating these small paintings is to hold out the possibility of rest and comfort to be discovered in a small bit of beauty.

For your consideration, The 2018 Holiday Small Works Sale.

Sincerely, Gwen

Considerations 4 x 4″

PS  Please sign up for emal blog while you are there.  If you do you will be entered for a free small painting giveaway and you will receive a digital access to a painting that is perfect for holiday cards and correspondence.

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Missing Denial

Dear Ones, Have you noticed how sometimes life is funny? Sometimes it is not.  And sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.  When I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, I just do both. There has been a lot of both as Winter gives way to Spring. Spring tends transition for me. The North Texas winds always stir up something that is best not stepped in.

So, I was remembering when Jubilee was little.  When she was little  EVERYTHING was family.

“Oh, a family of trees.”“Look a family of clouds.” “Yummy, a family of broccoli!” “Awe, cute, a family of rocks.” You name it, if there was more than one, it translated into family.  This ability to transmogrify just about anything was likely the result of being the adored youngest of six siblings.  24/7 there was someone waiting in line to hold Jubilee and we did not set her down for six weeks after her arrival. Thus, she saw the world as family.

Humans love to personify everything.  We give animals, particularly those closest to us: dogs and cats, personalities.  While they DO have personalities, sometimes the motives we assign to their actions and expressions push reason

Does that cat truly hate me or is that just resting cat face?

Inanimate objects garner personhood.  MY PHONE HATES ME!  My car has it out for me.  Heck, there are those in our government who deem corporations people, too!

Denial has been a HUGE part of my life.And you know what?I miss denial.I am not certain if I miss denial as a person or a place.Either way, I miss her.
OH! A person.

Lately, I have been considering, reconsidering, and restructuring my relationship with denial.  Denial was a safe place to visit, but I planted stakes and built a home.
Ah HA!! A place.

Thinking I was doing myself and those I loved a favor, I camped out (place) with her (person) for far too long.The trouble with living in or with denial is that denial is not a real place nor is she a real friend.

Denial is a protective mechanism, but a false defense.  Eventually, the edges fray and it all begins to unravel.  (Wow, a thing!I wonder how many metaphors I can incorporate into this sordid tale?)

A recent Friday resulted in a complete unraveling of my delusion.  No more pretending.  It was interesting because I had already begun gathering my things from Camp Denial.  The first draft of the break-up missive had been composed.I was steeling myself for a new reality when the phone rang.  I usually cannot find my phone.T  his particular Friday it was in dang my pocket.

While I am no longer living in denial, every now and again I remember something and I run back to collect it.  The soundtrack of this breakup is Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” which begins, “Hello darkness, my old friend…”Paul Simon said, “…we have people unable to touch other people, unable to love other people. This is a song about the inability to communicate.”

“Alexa, play The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel.”  “Alexa, play it again.”  “Alexa…”It reminds me that things are not hunky dory and that the reality of NOT hunky dory is still better than the delusion of denial.

Denial, person, place, or thing, is an inability to communicate clearly with one’s self.  While I miss the pretense of safety and well-being of denial, denial crippled me, estranging me from myself and from people who love me and from people who might love me.

Processing what I miss, I am discovering that what I miss was only a vapor.  I am enjoying discovering me.  I don’t know how this me interacts with the world.  I am nervous about how the after break up me, in a new location, will paint.Like so many artists, there is discovery in the process of painting.

Spring has sprung here in North Texas.  The windows are open.  The birds are singing.  I just saw the largest coyote I have ever seen (my heart claims it was a wolf, but google searches say there are no longer wolves in North Texas).  The family, my family, and a dear friend are meeting for a birthday picnic at the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens.  Maybe I don’t miss denial after all.  HAPPY SPRING, ALL Y’ALL!  Much love, Gwen

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2048 Distractions

Hello, Dear One,
I hope that you have enjoyed the reprieve from gray skies and welcome rains.
(At least the rains were welcome in my neck of the woods.)

I have been SO busy! Two thousand and forty-eight distractions eating away at my time and vitality.

Two thousand and forty-eight.  A rather specific number.  Did you catch the reference?  If you did I am quite sorry because if you did it is also quite possible that you also have 2048 distractions sucking the brains out of your head.

For those of you who have yet to succumb to the addiction- DON’T!  There is a computer “game” called 2048 Tiles.  A small box in the top right-hand corner of the screen tracks your high score.  The high score sits, in the upper right-hand corner, TAUNTING me!

It is insidious.  Was my high score a fluke?  Luck?  Skill?
If it was skill then – surely – I can do it AGAIN.Go ahead, PROVE that it was more than luck.  “Do BETTER and THEN you can quit.”   Each time I fail to achieve or best my “high score” my ego punches me in the gut and snarls, “IDIOT! Can you NOT do BETTER?”  Sometimes there is only the internal, “Grrrrrrrrrrowl.”

It.

Mocks.

Me.

The “game” is not inherently evil, but it is akin to the Amazon Book Addiction Wraith which perpetually asks, “If you like THIS book, surely you will love THAT book.” (Okay, so the exact wording may be a little off, but if you have ever hit that button to look at that next book, well, my sympathies.)

What does this have to do with art?

Everything.

Forrest, my eldest son, was paid $150 for a t-shirt design: I have not yet begun to procrastinate.

Tree.
Apple.

Truthfully, while Forrest can indeed procrastinate with the best procrastinators, he is, more often than not, laser focused.

Apple.
Tree.

I, too, am capable of both.  World class procrastination and laser focus.  When I had six small children at home there was no time for procrastination.  Twenty hours a week painting and the rest of the time was mommying, homeschool, horses, the occasional friend, and the sacred nap.

Thinking is harder than doing.  With so many precious ones underfoot, all I could do was DO.  There was no time for second-guessing.

Now with only a single middle school daughter at home and there is time to think.  There is time for second-guessing.  Oh, and second-guessing is brutal.  Brutal and paralyzing.

Rather than deal with self-doubt and second-guessing, I self-medicate.  Enter 2048 Tiles.  There are myriad of self-medicating procrastinations available to us all.  The only question is, “Which poison?”

Preparing for Centering Abstraction on the heels of the holidays kept me focused.
Preparing for the DTS show in Dallas kept me focused.

Then I sat down to catch my breath.  Catching one’s breath is a good thing.
Picking up the computer mouse is not a bad thing.
Playing a couple games on the computer is not a bad thing.
Playing more than a couple games…
a.
bad.
thing.

So I stalled out for a few days.  Spun in the breeze like a wind-sock on the end of a pole.  At the end of the pole, spinning in one of our infamous North Texas thunderstorms, I saw the heart of my particular form of procrastination.  Fear.  Fear of “what if?”

What if my parents are right?
I will never amount to anything.  No one will love me.  I will never be good enough.
What if my sister is right?
I am a talentless c#%+.

THIS TIME I was armed.  This time I had answers to the question, “What if….?”
The answer is, “It was never about me.”

This past week I pushed through some procrastinations.  I reworked my artist statement for two different venues.  I applied for a scholarship and asked for a job.  I have not heard about the job – yet- but I did get a magazine cover and the check is in the mail!  There were successes that I pooh-poohed because I “could have…”

I caught myself and I took time to sit back and see that, while I flitting away too much time on the computer, I had actually spent six to eight hours a day painting and writing and following through with responsibilities and possibilities.  I also made it to bed before 1 a.m.   FOUR TIMES this past week- just call me Susie Sunshine!

The last Sunday of the Gallery 414 show included a closing reception and an artist panel discussion about artist journeys and creating the Centering Abstraction exhibition.  The panel discussion took a turn and our fearless leaders, John Hartley and Barbara Koerble, laid down some serious wisdom.  It was the insight that I sincerely needed to hear.   Insight made tangible because I was standing in a gallery space with my work hanging with the other three artists.  So, what if my degrees are in computers and statistics.  I have put in the time and I have studied with master artists.  I am qualified.  I felt something shift.

This week self-doubt wiggled in but armed with a new understanding of where I am in my art journey I wiggled free.  I have plans for next week, but I am holding them loosely.

Art is so weird  Artists are so weird.  What is art?  What makes a person an artist?

Like the proverbial Facebook status: It is complicated.

I will not attempt to answer either question EXCEPT that one knows it when one sees it.  If the art tugs at your heartstrings, it is art.  If it calls to you might need to take it home.  Art in an investment in your soul.

May your heart find joy this week.
Joy in art.
Joy in nature.
Joy in the smile of a stranger.
Joy.

Peace out, Gwen