Another Christmas Letter

We got our first Christmas letter a couple of days ago. It was from J.W. Marriott, Jr., Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Marriott International, Inc.

No kidding.

I had no idea he knew we stayed at his place.

We’ve gotten others since. You may have gotten them too.  They’re from close friends you haven’t seen in years, slathered with photos of people in matching sweaters smiling out at you. Images of favorite cats and dogs watch you closely, ready to lick the eggnog right off your face.

©2011 Patricia Scarborough  5pm Early December  8x10 oil

In a few letters we’ve gotten over the years, the animals actually do the speaking.  Who knew they watched their owners so closely? Imagine what they could accomplish if they had opposable thumbs. That’d be something Mr. Marriott would find interesting. Maybe he’d give them a free room.

This is my holiday letter to you. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short.

Thank you.  Thanks for buying art; my art, any art. And for reading my blog, and for liking me on facebook. 

Thanks for listening to me try to figure out what I was doing.  Creating is necessarily a singular activity, which means artists are alone a lot. It’s helpful to bounce ideas off others for a fresh perspective. Thanks for putting up with my bragging, complaining, whining and poking fun. You've been very kind.

©2010 Patricia Scarborough 12x12 pastel Winter Corn Rows, from the Square Mile Series

It’s been a good year.   HH and I have had some fun and put a lot of miles on the car. I’ve participated in exhibits in Lincoln, Norfolk, Grand Island and Kearney. I’ve done some good work, even took Best of Show honors.  I've also painted some stinkers but I’m still here, and I’ll be here next year keeping at it.

Happy Holidays to you, Dear Reader.  How was your year?

One More Week

Greetings Dear Reader-
Post # 99.
Remember? 
For those of you who neglected to stop by last week, I'll wait just a moment for you to catch up. tickticktick...it's toward the bottom...tickticktick...
Moving on . . .
The opening reception at The Burkholder Project was nothing short of amazing.  Nearly 800 people walked through the front door on a lovely spring evening in the Haymarket District of Lincoln, Nebraska. 
The first Friday of each month is set aside for the galleries and art spaces in Lincoln to open their doors for what becomes an amazing gallery walk. After a long cold winter folks were ready to head out and see what's been happening in studios and galleries in the state's capitol. They weren't disappointed.

Huge and sincere thanks to friends and family who drove long distances to share this event with me.  These folks have seen me through my doubts and dreams and I am truly grateful for their support. And of course, there aren't enough thanks in the world to describe the support I get from HH (Handsome Husband).  (Big X's and O's to you!)

@2010 P Scarborough, Late Night Whispers, 12x12" pastel

Finally, I am absolutely delighted to share with you that a piece from my Square Mile Series exhibited at The Burkholder Project, "Late Night Whispers", was purchased by Doane College, a private liberal arts college in Crete Ne., for their permanent collection.  What an honor.  I'm still smiling over that one.

The Fam relaxing after Lincoln's First Friday

By the way, comments for the Big 100 Posts Celebration will close on Sunday March 14th at noon.  That'll give me time to make a big production out of the whole hat-drawing thing.  I'll have to find some drums, maybe some dancing girls and line up a parade for the big winner.
As for your part, well, you've just got to say hellow.

When the Art Can't Speak for Itself

@ 2010 Cottonwood Study, 8x10 oil Private Collection

An Evening for Art Lovers, Graham Gallery, Hastings Ne.

In my last post I listed a few of the things a solo-preneur must handle. Creator, bookkeeper and marketer come to mind. I'm adding videographer to the list.


My pal, Canadian artist Mavis Penney, and I were discussing the many aspects of what it means to be an artist. Among them is the dreaded M word. At least in my world it's dreaded.


Marketing brings to mind balding used car salesmen in polyester pants and plaid shirts screaming deals from the boob tube. I imagine a late-night infomercial, touting the virtues of a little plastic thingy I can't live without, which will cost less if I buy them by the gross. Then there's shipping and handling...


Mavis reminded me that authentic, honest marketing, the kind coach Molly Gordon supports, is really no different than having a conversation. No shouting. No pointing. No free shipping if you order now.


I don't have a storefront, or even a late-night infomercial at my disposal. I do have a video camera. And a blank wall. A tripod for the camera. A website. I even wrote a script so that I wouldn't have to pause and stammer while trying to remember that terrific ... whatever it was I was going to say.


Thirty or so takes into the project my voice is shot and so is my camera battery. I'm beginning to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I feel like a complete idiot chatting away to myself in front of this unblinking eye. I feel even worse watching myself.


So this week I'll practice some more, refine my presentation and post it on my website. I'll share a conversation with my viewers about my One Square Mile project, how I start, what I've learned from limiting myself to a single tract of land. It'll be available to my newsletter readers only. Kind of a special gift to them. If you're interested, sign up here.


I'll squeeze it in between painting sessions, because after all, I am a painter.


When all is said and done, it's the artwork that speaks the loudest. That and a plaid shirt.

Lucky Square 13

Dear Reader-

It's been a bit of a long weekend, so I'll share another square mile painting with you and call it good.

Square 13 @2009 October Mist 12x12 pastel

This piece is one of those that had a mind of it's own, taking a different direction than I had intended. I'm learning to go with that flow, believing that my right "intuitive" brain and hand have a special relationship that my left "knowing" brain isn't privvy to.

Sometimes, most times, painting is a process of discovery, the understanding that occurs when play is allowed to overtake the plan. I took a "what would happen if" approach. Sometimes that process works, sometimes not, but it's always worth trying.

Thanks to those of you who checked out Brian's music. Pretty amazing, isn't it!

I see that before long we'll be celebrating 100 posts here at Skartz. Probly time to have a party!

Check your inbox, invitations will be coming soon!

Shadows and Other Delights

@ 2009 P Scarborough Square 10 12x12 pastel

Greetings Dear Reader-

This is the 10th in a series of square paintings I'm doing based on a single square mile north of my town.

I am fairly inspired by greys. Look closely and you'll actually see a universe of color in the subdued hues of green, blues, violets and yellows in the trees and shrubs and grasses in fields nearby. I prefer to think of grey less as a lack of light as it is an allowing of subtlety to rise unencumbered from the wash of the sun. There's alot of loveliness in the shadows.

Speaking of shadows...

It is said that behind every successful person, there is another soul standing behind them. It's a good day to honor Handsome Husband. Today he calmly peeled me off the ceiling after I got tangled up trying to keep too many plates spinning. (I know it's a slightly mixed metaphor, but if you had been here, you'd understand.) Everyone needs a cheerleader, that one person who helps them believe they can do anything. I've got mine, and I'm very, very grateful.

Who's in your shadow, and do they know you know they're there?

Great Moments

@2009 P Scarborough Square 9 12x12 pastel & graphite

Last post I promised you a very cool surprise. The plan was to unveil it this weekend, and as creative endeavors often go, it had a plan of it's own. Since it's important to make certain that this project is the best it can be, we'll just take a little bit longer to cross all the t's and dot all the i's.

Be patient. It'll be worth it. I promise.

The piece at the top of the post is another in my Square Series. It's a pastel and graphite, which is a combination that I've never used before. This time, it just felt right. Using a pencil to lightly cross-hatch over the soft tones of pastel helped created a tension that gave me what I was after. It's a loose application of both media, less a memorial to this small dot-on-the-map community than it is to that time when dusk becomes daylight in a working class town. It's about that moment that exists in a person's awareness, in the midst of all the lists of things to do and worry about, that instant when the brain is awakened to sunlight breaking through early clouds. It only lasts a second before being washed away by more lists and worry and the detritus of life. I think about this stuff when I paint. It's important to share, somehow.

In other news, I just got the nicest Christmas gift ever. Twice.

A very nice lady said to me the other day: "Since I've gotten to know you, my view of the world has changed. I see so much more color than I ever have. I see shapes and textures I've never noticed. Now, when I see a field of grass, I see so much more!"

And just this morning, on our daily constitutional, Handsome Husband said very nearly the same thing. "I enjoy our walks so much more than I used to", he said. "You've helped me notice things I would have overlooked before."

As an artist, it's my goal to touch another with my view of the world.

To actually hear that I have, in some small way, done that is, well, just really nice.

I understand that my kind of art will not cure cancer, nor will it stop people from fighting. The globe will warm - or not, and there'll be no magic cure for reality. That's okay.

If my small accounting of a flash of sunlight on a dusty grain elevator early in the morning can
snap your overloaded brain out of it's daily grind and give you pause to be refreshed, that'd be lovely.

It's an honor to know that what I create can give someone a sense of peace.

It's delightful to know that what I paint can give somebody a reason to step outside of their oh-so busy life and see the world in a fresh way.

Bring on the holidays, I'm ready. The nicest gifts ever have already been delivered.

Christmas Letter

@2009 Patricia Scarborough 12x12 oil

It's that time again!

Tis the season for the Christmas Letter. (Cue the theme from Jaws.)

Like the Boogie Man at Halloween (in my neighborhood it was the Hairy Scratch), or your neighbor at the back door with her arms full of zuchini in September, it's the time of year our mailboxes fill up with long-winded missives from those dear close friends we didn't know we had.
Shiney as a new Sears catalog, these perfect families and their charming escapades, vacations and championships dazzle us with their, well, dazzling-ness.

I surrender.

The only cruise I've been on is up Highway 81 to hit the Walmart store.

The only gold I've received is the gold cap I got for the tooth I broke on last year's peanut brittle.
I did find treasure. It was the last piece of pumpkin pie hidden in the fridge after Thanksgiving. Too bad it was 2 weeks old. (At least I think it was pumpkin pie.)

So, my Christmas Letter to you, Dear Reader, goes something like this:

Thanks for stopping by.

Thanks for your comments. It's always nice to hear from you.

Had a great year painting. Snagged a couple new galleries, taught a few classes, made tons of friends.

Hope you had a good year too.

Happy Holidays my Friends-

Oh, and come back next week. I'm going to reveal a very cool project initiated by a very cool fellow. Consider it your Christmas gift. You're gonna love it, I promise.

Monumental Bovine

@2009 P Scarborough Square 4 oil on canvas

After a fairly busy week moving artwork from place to place in hopes of snagging a happy patron, I'm settling down to a quiet Sunday evening. For me this means taking the evening off, for you this means you are treated to Number 4 in my Square project.

Pared of all extraneous information the shape and the value that remains gives the sense of a monumental beast. She's just one cow of many in a field that falls within my selected Square Mile.