Lessons from a Workshop

Last weekend I had the distinct priviledge of spending 3 days in St. Paul Nebraska at a workshop set up by the amazingly talented painter Linda Welsch, hosted by Miletta Vista Winery, and taught by Hal Haloun. All at the same time.  It was a heady brew, and I'm not just talking about the wine.

Hal has been one of my favorite artists for a very long time.  To be able to study with him, even for a short time was a real honor.  As you can see, we're all hanging on his every word, each of us hoping to discover for ourselves some tidbit of information that will answer all our questions.

The view from Hal's easel

In a conversation with friends after I returned home, one asked a simple question, "So, what did you learn?"  There are the obvious answers, of course.  I learned how to mix a fabulous green from Prussian Blue, Indian Red and Cadmium Yellow.  I learned several recipes for mediums for various phases of a painting.  I learned that Miletta Vista's Work Horse is a delicious red wine, and that owner Mick is a heck of a photographer. I even learned a few ghost stories.

Loup River at dusk

But what else? 

There are deeper things, more subtle ideas working around in my head.  It's not about recipes or lists of items to be ticked off as they get wiped off a brush. There were recipes and guidelines, of course, but it goes beyond that. It's the using of the information, making it one's own, developing those recipes in ways that make them personal. 

Highway 281 heading north of St. Paul and  Miletta Vista Winery

What I learned is that I will always be learning.  Regardless of what color mixes I understand today, there will always be others to be learned tomorrow as I learn to see more clearly, more deeply. Even though I paint successfully today, tomorrow presents its own challenges and with them a new set of questions to be asked and answered.  

Oh sure, you were hoping for the answers, weren't you?  If I could give them to you, I would. 

Hal's 2010 Miletta Vista Winery class

My best answer for you is to ask your own questions and see what you find out. What is it you want to know?

That's me, looking for the answers at my easel. Photo courtesy Linda Welsch. 

Handsome Husband Plots a Sneaky Plan

It's time you all knew the truth. 
Sure, he's cute and all innocent looking, but behind that innocent face he's a tricky fellow, sneaky and very nearly wicked.
As I was packing my bags to travel to visit my mother recently, HH was preparing to sneak around behind my back.
In fact, he repeatedly asked me what me travel plans were, especially the leaving part. Because he's a clock-watcher by nature, I, who am deficient in that area, didn't think his attention to my departure was all that out of character.  Now I know better.
While I was away, returning to my familial roots, HH was plotting. 
You're gonna wish you were me.
To celebrate Mother's Day, my tricky, sneaky very nearly wicked husband contacted my all time favorite living artist, Hal Haloun, to plan a visit to his studio by yours truly.  I've gushed about Hal before.  His paintings are gorgeous, rich, textural, beautifully executed.  I've stood before his paintings at Kiechel Gallery in Lincoln, Ne. with my nose nearly touching the paint layer, trying to divine his methods.  And now, thanks to my tricky, sneaky very nearly wicked husband, I get to spend a few hours with him.  W o w.

Copyright 2004 Hal Haloun 

An artist, especially this artist, appreciates all the support one can muster.  I've got it. 
So while the Mother's Day gift that I received from HH is incredibly fabulous and amazingly wonderful, it's the kindness and support I get from him in reaching my artistic goals that is the truest gift of all.  And I get it every day.
Didn't I tell you you were gonna wish you were me?

Thanks Dr. Z

I shared a Grateful List for my birthday, and it really hasn't changed much. I'm a pretty grateful kinda gal. To that list I've got one more addition to honor the holiday.


It's been a frustrating couple of weeks in my studio. Some ideas that have been floating around in my head don't seem to translate onto paper or canvas. Inside my noggin, they're beautiful renditions of the acres of birches we saw in the U.P Michigan. On paper, well, it's another story. It's been frustrating, to say the least. Especially since I saw a really beautiful exhibit by Hal Haloun at Kiechel Gallery in Lincoln, Ne. Achingly beautiful.
Deep sigh.

So many people have said to me "Oh! It must be so much FUN to be an artist!" And I smile and mumble something about it being better than kick in the pants. Satisfying, certainly. But fun? Playing cards with friends is fun. Sharing a meal with family is fun. Being an artist? Mm, not so much.

When I was in college, I had an instructor who was refreshingly honest with me. During our last conversation, while I picked up the last assignment of the year, I asked him whether I should pursue an art degree, or get a 'real' job. Of course, I was hoping he would smile sweetly and tell me how wonderful an artist I was.

He didn't.

What he did say has stayed with me all these years (and it's been alot of years).

He said, "You've got the talent. You can do it if you want it, but it's going to be hard work."

Oh.

I didn't understand the hard work part. For me, just like those people, painting was FUN! I hadn't yet spent hours trying to make the perfect mark that would hold a painting together. I hadn't spent days working on one small painting, wondering how to get oil paint to look like air. I hadn't yet spent hours in a studio, alone, facing the fear that I had no idea what I was doing. And doing it anyway.

I get that art is not like hauling rocks from one site to another, or saving babies from burning buildings. No one has ever used a canvas of mine to protect themselves from an assassin's bullet.

I'm grateful to Dr. Z for being honest with me, and telling me that being an artist is hard. Not saving babies hard, but ego-bruising hard. Not back-breakingly hard, but intellectually hard. Inventing a new language hard. Sharing your private thoughts and hopes with strangers hard. Had he not been honest with me and shared that little nugget of truth with me, I'm pretty certain that I'd be working in the food service industry, or the local Shop-n-Drop. It may yet come to that. But until then, I'm going back into my studio and face that canvas one more time. Dr. Z will be standing with me, shoulder to shoulder.

I'm grateful for that.
Happy Thanksgiving.