Sunday, February 27, 2011

describing nothing.

It's a grey day in Chattanooga. Unusually warm; 73 degrees in February. The clouds are moving quickly over the mountains, and spots of sunshine make colors that are normally left for springtime appear early.
It's a descriptive day today. My sister once got a great piece of art from her friend Michael that said "Practice Description" all over it. Ideal for a gift to a writer.

So it's grey. The branches here have gotten mixed signals from the weather, and are now starting to bloom tiny buds early. I'm scared for them... usually we have another freeze in March, and all those poor blooms will be veiled with a thin coating of ice.

I could find a lot of symbolism in this, but I'm choosing to not go too deep today. My insides feel a little soft, a little scarred, a little tired, so I'm going to stick to what I see and let you all imagine what you would like.

I live near two chicken factories. I'm not at all glad about this fact, but they make for fabulous scapegoats when I get sick (as I am now) and I have a tendency to blame everything wrong with me on them. It's not fair, but its satisfying none the less.

My house faces west, so the sun sets through my living room windows. Today it comes in patches, like right now. Living in the south has a lot of perks, one of those being warm winters. It's pretty quiet today... I can hear the highway in the distance.

I'm practicing description for a few reasons today. I've had a lot of time alone the past few days, and when my inner monologue gets a bit too out of hand, I have a tendency to try and just speak the things I see. Or paint them.
My street is lovely. Sandy "the flower man" is cutting the grass across the street with a cigarette in his mouth. Someone has porch chimes and they are going right now. A young couple is leaving in their car all dressed up. The birds are fighting over little berries. One of them is watching me type while sitting on a wire. A little girl just kicked a bottle of juice like a soccer ball to a friend.

hmm. I looked up my yearly horoscope and it said I would not have a hugely crazy year, but would find much peace in the daily joys. That was the gist of it anyway. I guess today is a bit of that. I feel a lot better when I do this... just take notice of the things around me. I feel like I have a place, I feel like I'm in this too. I see poetry and symbolism all over the place, see colors and shapes that could make someone cry if they were painted as they were.

I'm off for a walk. It's too pretty to be at a computer. Sorry my lovelies:)


Sunday, February 6, 2011

Happy Post (!)

So, I write a lot about serious art stuff. Zen, the art of balance. Who is painting what and why and when and the where's and hows.

So this is a post, maybe as a february blues-buster, dedicated to a few things that make me happy right now. Light, somewhat girlie at times.

This Video reminds me of people I love.

This Photo of La Durée Macarons. Mmmm.

Irving Penn's Still Lifes

Anything Issey Miyake always cheers me up:


gosh, um, I hate that I'm like this, but..... well, um.... it really DOES make me laugh.

yikes. I'm getting old. I actually typed "photos of baby animals" into Google images. I'm turning into THAT woman.

(insert roll of eyes here)

Please understand. ........this is how much I HATE february.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Robin Williams

Above are just a few paintings by a young woman in New York named Robin Williams . I came across her work this past weekend, when the director of the Robert Lange Studio , Carri, showed me her website. I was kind of amazed by her work, in a way. I kept thinking about her bizarre imagery, and how it is so outside of the box that I seem to be within. That she has allowed herself to go there.

One very kind reader of this blog posted on her own blog (Thanks!) about my past writing on Jenny Saville versus Will Cotton. In some ways, I guess I kind of felt like Robin was a little in-between these two painters. There is something a bit poetic, a bit uncomfortable in her work, and I'm pretty drawn to it. I wouldn't paint this way myself, mind you, but I was also stricken with the idea of decoration and adornment in her work. This is something I have been wrestling with myself, and I like her usage of its triteness.

Carri said it really well on sunday "I like to be pushed".
Me too, Carri. Thanks for introducing me to this young painter!