Demo Part Two

Greetings Friends -

A few weeks ago I shared a piece that had been part of a workshop demo for the Sandpainter's Art Guild in Valentine, Ne.

 

When all was said and done - or at the end of the workshop anyway, I had a pretty decent start on a pretty decent painting, at least enough to give the students some sense of how I progress through a project.

 

I had reached a point where several things needed to happen.  It was time to make serious decisions about certain things; for instance, does my original idea of putting a road in hurt or help?  Second, what to do with all that background space? Third, where's the bathroom?

 

It's been a few weeks now. I've forgotten some of the original plans for this piece and can look at it with a fresh eye. The first decision is to put that road back in. 

 

 

Include a few hay bales up front to fill some of that empty space...add some interest into the foreground with some small birds...

 

©2013Patricia Scarborough Valentine Demo

 

 Touch up a few places and voila! 

... or, almost voila.

As I've said before in this blog, seeing a painting in a different context gives clues to solutions you may not have known you needed.  And so it goes with this one.

This demo isn't over yet. Stay tuned.

Studio Genetics

 

I have a genetic quirk handed down from my father, and probably his father's father. This dent to my DNA makes it nearly impossible to buy a product which is actually made for a particular purpose.

 

In a painter's studio a taboret is a must. It holds paint, brushes - all the miscellaneous stuff you need to focus on your creative endeavor.  However, due to this recessive gene, purchasing such an item proved impossible.

 

 

My chemical quirk took me to a consignment store, where I found a perfect substitute and paid a hefty $5 for it. Another $5 for paint and I'm ready to roll. The suitcase was used to carry my pastels  until my collection outgrew it.  Now I keep it around for storage and quick get-aways.

 

 

Speaking of pastels, these are boxes I made from foam board. Originally I went against my genetic code and actually purchased a real box made to hold real pastels from an art supply store. The box was named after a noted pastel artist, and I was certain that if I owned a Famous Artist Pastel Box that I too would become a famous pastel artist.

 

 Evidently the simple hijacking of a name does not imbue quality in a product.  Taking that as proof positive that my genes were fit to survive this challenge I used the soon-to-be returned box as a template and made several trays of my own...

 



to fit inside this handy dandy plastic box which was purchased at an office supply store.  ( So far my boxes have outlasted the original by nearly a decade. Yay evolution!)

For a quick brush holder I've been known to fold over a piece of corrugated cardboard. Mine fits exactly where I want it to, unlike a real live brush holder which fits where someone else thinks it should fit.

 For larger collections of brushes a potato chip can works wonders as well. Extend it with some sturdy paper and 'presto', you're good to go.

 

The advantage of making your own brush holder is that you get to determine the size you personally prefer, and the survival of your project is sustained by it's own food source.

 

My drying rack is a re-purposed wire shelf ... sensible and handy since I wasn't using that shelf anyway...

 

and equipment blossoms from containers of all sorts and sizes - each one perfect for its contents.

 

I'm sure that scientists around the world are currently employed by art supply warehouses and are working to fix this genetic glitch.

Even as I type this, petri dishes in laboratories from east to west may be full of genes growing to circumvent this chromosomal crisis.

I've got an idea for them...

Plunk

I've already shared this juicy item on FB, but in the event you haven't poked the 'like' button yet ( ahem ), here's the scoop -

 

This little gem of a painting, a donation to Make-A-Wish Nebraska, recently fetched over $400 at their 30th annual auction and fundraiser.  Hoo-ee!  I am thrilled and honored that someone thought enough of my artwork to dig out their pocket book and plunk down such a pile of hard earned cash.

Of course, it's not just me. The individual doing the plunking is pretty special too.  In fact, the onus of raising money at these fundraising auctions falls on the plunk-er. Their generosity allows the money to pile up in the coffers of groups who need it. To my very own plunker goes a heartfelt hug.

I'll admit, I'm not high on sending my art to just any group who wants to use it for raising money. 

Auctions are held by those who want to sell something; household goods, golf outings, art. 
Auctions are attended by folks who are interested in buying something for less than its retail price.
It  becomes a hunt for the bargain, to edge the price up by mere nickels and dimes in hopes of getting a deal rather than plunking down a sizeable amount right off the bat for a higher purpose. It's human nature.

And thankfully it's human nature as well to want to help those who truly need it.  Make-A-Wish is a foundation devoted to generating funds to create experiences for children who are dealing with life-threatening medical conditions.  Jeez, who wouldn't want to help with that?  Plus, Kearney is my home town. Plus, this foundation asked in an appropriate and professional way, and that means a lot.

Congratulations to everyone involved; Make-A-Wish Nebraska, the annual event's coordinators, and all the good plunkers who raised over $100,000. I'm tickled pink to have been asked to participate, and to have helped make a few moments in the life of a child just a little bit easier.

Hearts To You

Greetings Dear Reader,

I recently spent a challenging and delightful weekend in Valentine, Nebraska sharing a workshop with the Sand Painters Art Guild.

I say "sharing" because this group of dedicated artists already spends hours each month honing their life drawing and plein air skills. It's not like they needed teaching, especially.  My job was to simply demonstrate how I start a painting and convey clearly and concisely what I was doing and the why behind that. 

Yeah, that makes me laugh too. 

Those of you who have tried this exercise know how tricky it can be. Keeping track of shapes and colors while stringing words together in some semblance of language is challenging to say the least.

 

I think my first sentence was something about ... the thingy... and the delie-o ... whatchamathinger ...gahhhhh...

 

 

Once the words started flowing however, some terrific discussions ensued about color and brushstrokes, creating atmosphere and the challenge of values. I had to be on my toes with this group.

 

It's so easy when leading a workshop to inflict one's own style on everyone else. Do this, then this, then that and ... voila! The entire class ends up with an imitation Scarborough! Trust me, one of me in the world is plenty.

 



It seems infinitely more useful to share some basic concepts and at the same time, use those ideas so they can be understood in their proper context.  Cool colors recede, warm colors appear closer, texture and line can be used to help compose are all simple, yet powerful devices for painters to understand. 

 

Painting while verbalizing the why's and how's put those theories into action.

 

 

 

And then...

 

... their turn. 

 

The challenge for an instructor in my humble opinion is to get out of the way and empower each artist to figure things out for themselves. They'll (hopefully) keep painting long after I've scraped my palette clean and gone home. That's when the hard work begins, and the most exciting potential for discovery occurs.  

 

That is what the instructor's job should be. To honor the potential of each person in their class, and to find ways to encourage each individual's journey of discovery. 

 

Sand Painter's, it was a blast hanging out with you. Thank you for your attention, your bravery and your willingness to step up to a challenge. Now ... go paint something!