Re-re-start

Good golly. I’m coming up on my 8^th anniversary of writing this blog. Eight?? Can that be write, er, right? Correct?

Whaddya mean it's time for another post?

As I peruse the list of posts from so many months I come away with a feeling of self-contentment I didn’t expect. Some of my posts are pretty darned decent. 

This knowledge makes me a little sad that I’ve not written regularly the last 12 or so months.

 It’s not that there aren’t lots of things to write about. For instance:

There’s the time I dropped my exact-o knife off the table and into my calf, miraculously landing so as to merely separate the skin from the muscle underneath. (More blood was shed when the Dr pulled the wound apart to see what the heck I did.)

Or the day I crashed my pastels all over the floor in my studio. No, not this time, another time. (Yeah, there have been several crashes over the years. Some are more blog-worthy than others.)

Or the day a dear sweet gallery employee apologized for dropping a painting, and made up for it by Super-gluing the corners back together…almost square. Now that I think of it, there are several stories to be told of wayward gallery employees knocking my artwork off the walls. A little paranoia may be in order.

Or the day a gallerist I admire told me she hated the painting that was the centerpiece of an exhibit I was in the process of hanging in her shop. 

In fact, I’ve got a whole list of things to write about, having written a page or so of items for consideration…last February.

So what gives? 

Laundry needed doing; a window needed staring out of.  I fell off the wagon, lost my mojo, ran out of ink.

It appears the world did not slip off its axis, nor did the polar ice cap turn to mush on account of my absence. And neither will either of those things happen if I continue to write – maybe that’s why it was so easy to let another day…week…month slip by.

And yet…

like broccoli, writing regularly is good for me. Reading my posts is good for you. I’ll get back into a proper routine again and write more often.  Laundry can wait. I reserve the right to continue staring out the window.

Spirit at the Museum

It's been an amazing busy weekend, and about all the energy I've got left is to poke the 'upload' button to share some photos with you.

Every couple of years the Museum of Nebraska Art in Kearney, Nebraska (where else?) hosts a very classy fundraising event.

Over 50 artists from Nebraska are invited to participate by making a few pieces of their artwork available through either a silent or public auction.  Two things make this event pretty great. The first is that at least half of the invited artists are women, thankyew very much, and the other is that the artist is offered a respectable percent of the final price.  This puts the Museum of Nebraska Art in the forefront of classy fundraising events.

A few highlights of the weekend:

The museum itself was decked out beautifully

A gourmet dinner was provided in the big tent outside.

Handsome Husband and I clean up pretty good in anticipation of the evening's event.

Cherry County pastel Sold!

Rumble, 30x30 oil Sold!

Proceeds will help continue the great work of this gem of the plains. Do I have to tell you how proud and delighted I am to be a part of such an event?

Huge thanks and appreciation to the entire staff of the museum. It must have taken many dozens of dedicated people to keep track of the millions of details required to keep the evening running smoothly. Every one of them was kind, patient and very helpful.

Here's to the next two years of magnificent exhibits and outreach from the Museum of Nebraska Art.

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Change is a Monster

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” 

 ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

This quote came to mind recently. As you may know, I experienced a great and sudden change last week when my carefully laid-out trays of pastel sticks leapt off the table and scattered themselves across my studio floor.

Imagine confetti during a parade down 5th Avenue in New York City, only not nearly as much fun.

I’m usually fairly careful about the way my pastel trays are organized; like hues in one area, arranged lightest to darkest. That way I know that if I’m looking for a dark dull warm red, it’s going to be in one small area, maybe 20 square inches. If it’s not there, I don’t own it. No time is wasted pawing through blues or yellows; lights or brights, scouring acres of potential for just the right color.

Locating a particular stick of pigment became automatic, just the way I like it. No time for distraction, there’s a painting waiting for attention.

It has been proven that the brain loves patterns and habits. Over time certain movements are hard wired into the circuitry of our grey matter so that no time is lost thinking about, well, everything. This explains why Frankenstein’s monster walked so oddly. Where your brain and mine take over the complex task of placing one foot in front of the other, balancing and coordinating hundreds of muscles, the monster had to figure it out on the go, so to speak. If he’d had a chance to practice just a little longer before his official debut to the public, things might have turned out differently.

A hundred years or so later, Henry Ford, industrialist and car collector, said, “If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got.”

Since Doctor Frankenstein made a monster and that didn’t go so well, I’ll listen to Ford and accept some change. My pastels are now, rather brazenly I think, arranged in a manner that has my brain saying, “huh?”

Look out Madame Frankenstein. There’s a new bride in town.

My brain’s circuits are humming with change. I reach for a habitual warm blue and find a brighter, greener color in its place. A tangy scarlet has replaced a more humble red - why not grab it and see what happens? What, am I going to create a monster?

2016 Patricia Scarborough    Promise   12x12 pastel

Well, sometimes yes, but more often than not, my brain is pleased with the new activity.

I'm not suggesting that you go all Doctor Frankenstein and start making great and sudden changes, but a little tweak to the usual can get you to new and interesting places.

Me and My Town

Channel 10/11 News stopped by a few weeks ago to hang out in Geneva and see what makes this community so special. I was privileged to spend a couple of hours with Lance Schwartz and yak a little about my life here as an artist.

Here you go!

2016 Patricia Scarborough  First Light  9x12 Pastel

This is the final painting, started while Lance was breathing over my shoulder. To see what else happens in the life of Geneva Nebraska, check out Our Town Geneva on 10/11 Now!