Hydrangea 5

Hydrangea 5 (oil pastel on canvas, 7" x 9", 2004) is one of many works I have done from photos of my gorgeous hydrangeas. In 2002, the soil pH must have been perfect; I've never seen such deep, intense violet in the blooms. This particular composition was pulled from one of the photos that year. I zeroed in on one tiny segment of a flower and was fascinated by the beautiful shapes and colors swirling around that intensely white center. It had an other-worldly feel about it which I explored further in sequential works. Tune in next week for a very special post from that series.

Iris Leaves

Iris Leaves (10" x 7", oil pastel, 2004) is one of my first works using oil pastels over an inkjet print. I had a lot of fun with the colors; it was something of a challenge to make a tangle of iris leaves into a colorful composition.

The iris bed itself is quite a challenge. What made me stick a flower bed in a long stretch of yard? Must have been temporary insanity. Not only do I have to mow around it, but the irises went wild and multiplied all over the place, and then the wildlife moved in (bunnies everywhere), and weeds sneaked up on me, and now a six-foot pine tree and two comparable elms are in there, shading out the irises. They must have grown while I was out to lunch. Fortunately I photographed the leaves before entrophy set in.

Iris Leaves is in the collection of First Charter Financial Center in Concord, NC.

"Hosta 2"

Hosta 2 (oil pastel, 11.5" x 7", 2005) is what resulted when I tried to compose from the helter-skelter cascade of hosta leaves in one of my flower beds. The plants always start small and everything fits with everything else, but give a hosta an inch and it'll take over the whole bed. When I was photographing the plant, I noticed a tiny head peeping out from behind the leaves, and then the whole critter (a skink) inched out and posed for me.

This hosta is huge. On warm weather nights, my dog delights in mouthing toads (bad for her and not so good for them), so I do "frog patrol" in the fenced yard before she comes out. The ones I rescue are tossed over the fence onto the cushiony hosta. Sometimes there will be several tiers of the warty things, probably wondering how they got there!

Butterfly 2

Butterfly 2 (9.5" x 5.75", oil pastel, 2005) is probably not a prize-winning painting, but I really enjoyed doing it, mainly because I love the way the colors sing against the black. When I was in school, using pure black was not in vogue. Not much I was doing was "in vogue" anyway, so when I graduated I decided to make a conscious effort to put at least one area of solid black in all my art. That worked pretty well with the architectural subjects that I painted for so many years. I still love to use it, though the initial need to rebel is long gone. The Tiger Swallowtail is one of my favorite butterflies - this is my tribute.

Caswell Series, #2: Rules Were Made to Be Broken

Caswell Series, #2: Rules Were Made To Be Broken is another gouache on paper, 9" x 12", from 1981. It is part of a series from material gathered on Oak Island, NC, at Civil War era Fort Caswell. I loved the old buildings and the wide open area they occupied, and did many paintings from the photos I took on several visits there. One time I went down with an artist group for the weekend. We had a short workshop on basic composition; the only thing I remember from it was the leader's stern warning: "never put anything in the center of your picture." That rubbed me the wrong way, since I had recently graduated from art school and was pretty tired of being told what to do. There was also plenty of historical precedent to show that she was wrong, so I decided to deliberately stick a chimney in the dead center of this painting and make it work. I think it does.

My students are told that I don't give artistic "rules" - only "suggestions."

Caswell Series, #2 is in a private collection in Raleigh, NC.

Winter Squash

Winter Squash (8" x 7", gouache on paper, 1977) was one of the first paintings I finished. I was still in art school, and my brand of realism was not highly favored at the time, at least in the Art Department. That was OK, since the little painting received fifth place in the first juried show I entered. It also has the dubious honor of being the only one of my works that was stolen, from Village Smith Gallery in Winston-Salem, NC, in 1979.

There was an abundance of winter (butternut?) squash that year, so I used them as subjects in three paintings.

In case anyone wonders, "gouache" is opaque watercolor, similar to tempera. I used it almost exclusively until 2000.

Crocus 2

Crocus 2 (10.25" x 7.75", oil pastel, 2005), is the second work in my crocus series. The sunlight was so bright on the tiny flowers that the centers appeared to be floating above the shimmering petals. I have several other versions of this one in my UFO (UnFinished Object) pile.

Crocus 2 is in the collection of CT Communications in Concord, NC.

Crocus 1

Crocus 1 is a 10" x 7" oil pastel, done in the spring of 2005. I had a lovely clump of purple crocuses last year. They were the only thing blooming at the time, so I took many photos and as a result have quite a few paintings of them.

This one is in the collection of The Independent Tribune, a newspaper in Kannapolis, NC.

For some reason I seem to be in a Purple Phase of my art. Nearly everything I do lately has at least a little "royal" color. I like it.

Good Intentions....

And we all know what those are worth. I started this blog as a way to talk about my work, or get some response as to what others might think of it. If a picture really is worth a thousand words, maybe I should just post the paintings and see if anyone has any words to say about them. Maybe. But sometimes there really is a story behind a painting that needs to be told. The jury is presently out, but will return shortly.

About "Black Gum"

I thought it might be interesting to post the photo that Leaf Abstract 1: Black Gum came from, to see if anyone can spot the original material.
Warning: you really have to pay attention!

The leaves were so beautiful here in November. We had some wonderful warm sunny days, so I managed to get in some late fall shots of the brilliant gum leaves. It was obvious that there were some paintings waiting to be found. Usually I start with a photo like this and zoom 'way in; then I cruise the image with a mask until I find something interesting.

Why "Bear Dances & Bird Songs"?

According to French novelist Gustave Flaubert, despite our noblest and best attempts to express ourselves artistically, human effort is all too often "like a cracked kettle on which we can tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars."

Pablo Picasso, whose unique way of looking at the world was often a magnet for criticism, once addressed the comment that his work was difficult to understand with this reply: "Why does art need to be understood to be enjoyed? When you hear a bird sing, do you need to know the words in order to appreciate the music?"

My artistic career began with work that was in what I call the "Southern Schlock" category - solid, realistic and well-composed, familiar nostalgic subjects - but most were not particularly challenging. Eventually I moved on to more "abstract" realism, which is how one would describe my new work. This is where the "bear dance or bird song?" question arises - have I translated my vision well enough to make it sing a lovely song, or does it lumber like those bears, dancing to my kettle-tapping? So, here is my first offering in this venue - have at it! The title of the above work is: Leaf Abstract 1: Black Gum. It is oil pastel over an inkjet print. Love it or loathe it - let me know what you think! Anyone can be a critic.