Blog

It’s Saturday. I promised myself that I would leave more updates on my personal pro art site in the new year. So far, my promise is a bit empty, but for good reasons. Since we packed up the final 20 gallon container of Christmas decorations, I have been busy painting. Another promise I made to myself was to get going on my attempt to gain the highest ranking of letters in the Federation of Canadian Artists. I presently am in the middle with that ranking. One may be supporting (basic membership), active (able to enter shows), AFCA…able to enter shows and be a juror, THEN, SFCA…able to enter shows, beyond able to be awarded ribbons, required to be head juror for shows, top of the line status in the FCA.

I have mixed feelings about this kind of ranking within the art circles I live in. I have been a member of the FCA since I was a mere child, well…without as many crow’s feet as I now have. I recall how I felt about just being accepted as an active member. I believe it was my 5th attempt at being judged before I was accepted to be an active member. I remember crying over those letters that started… “We regretfully say….” yes, I remember that vividly. I took it all so seriously then. But when I look at the artwork I was making, it was pretty regretful for sure, along with pathetic-ful. Not a word, I know, but today it is. Anyways, in spite of the axes and advice to go back to the drawing board, I continued. I persevered because I truly believed I was good enough to be among my friends who were active members, if not better. Funny how cocky we are when young.

It’s been a long road, and journey, and excursion, getting to where I am now as an artist. I have never lost my love for painting. I hope I have shed some prejudices and cockiness, but not my love. All the declined paintings I have painted are gone now, but the memory isn’t. It’s important to lose. I tell my over zealous sports fan husband and kids the importance of losing to build character. Although, I must admit, paying billions of dollars on pro athletes to appear and lose is difficult to accept. Another blog, Mary Ann…remember?…this is your pro art side. Oh, right.

The SFCA submission that I am working on requires three original works, along with 10 GOOD slides of work to be adjudicated. We usually use the word “jury” as a verb in this context. However, my word processor refuses to accept that as a real verb, and judged is just TOO legal sounding, so I will use “adjudicate”. So far, I think my three originals that I had to paint for this submission (because I sold every new work I did this year..oh, woe is me) are decent. I decided to paint one BIG, 30 x 30, one middle. 24 x 24, and one baby, 16 x 20. (I wonder if I will ever stop thinking like The Three Bears author. ) Anyways, I feel good about those three bears up there in my studio. But like most artists, we never are truly sure we are done until they are gone and living somewhere else. I have told friends I am nearly done these works for a few weeks now, but every time I return to the easel, I am led back into creative land again, and improving things. So I say, “As long as I keep improving things, I keep painting” oh, good quote, Mary Ann. Thanks, feel free to use it anytime.

Some often ask me what inspires me to paint the way I do. I am asked why I approach landscapes like this. Most people don’t go to the woods and see blazing reds and purple against brilliant yellows and greens and blues. No. Most people go to the woods and see rich mossy greens against delicate greys and soft warm earth tones. When I am physically in the woods, I lavish in those soft tones. I breath in the smell of wet bark, listen to the sounds of forest music, and drift away between the tree trunks within that cathedral of nature. I know those “real” colours of the forest all too well. And they are beautiful and rich in their own sense. No one can outdo nature and God. They made the perfect masterpiece and I give thanks everyday that I can go there to enjoy it.

But when I paint, it’s more than just what I see in the forest. I have come to realize that what I paint is more than what I see. It’s even more than what I feel about the forest, although, that is the first and biggest push to paint. I gather my photos that I collect and return to those places I was in with my camera. Holy Doodle, who would have thought that once I caught onto digital cameras and computers, I would never go back to the show box of photos again. It’s quite lovely to sit here and look at those pictures with the light of the monitor screen illuminating the image. The psychological return to the woods is immediate. I don’t adjust anything in my photos like many do. Not because I am a cyber snob or anything, I just don’t. What I gather on my little Kodak is enough for me.

Once I have begun my future painting, my painting energies adjust to another gear. I never know what it will end up looking like. I know I am not intent on it looking like the photo. But I keep the photo there, off to the side and about 10 feet away. It keeps me in a space with direction. I recall my early days of wanting to paint every leaf and branch, and frustrated that what I painted wasn’t exactly like my photo. And those were the little photos. Not much wonder I was not getting them accepted. I was painting inside a small world of restrictions that I put on myself that were just wrong. I had to let go of the restrictions. I had to let go of criticisms and advice. I had to let me go, and find myself again. So I did.

Now, when I paint, I can honestly tell you that what I bring for you to see in my window of what appears to be the woods is much more than that. I bring my life to my paintings. When I am feeling “blue”, I seem to concentrate on the darks in my painting. I go directly to my Ultramarine Blue and Alizarin Crimson and concentrate on the trees and shadows. I cannot lose my blue mood until I have sorted it out, and let some time pass. When time passes and my mood picks up, I hit those high colours again. There is nothing quite as exciting as pushing those brilliant colours up against the dark purples and blues. Like life, when the sun comes out, all that darkness is a memory, and I can dance again.

Then there is my music in the painting. While I paint I play music constantly. It energizes me and awakens my tired heart and body. I play all kinds of music, not necessarily one genre of choice, just whatever happens to say..”Hey, put me on.” If it isn’t happening for me where ever I am in the painting, I change it. But lately I am finding that those soulful ballads of great jazz singers is hitting the spot. Again, I am bringing Mary Ann into the work. The sad princess I remember some 40 years ago who would brood in her room to Henry Mancini’s Pink Panther album. Yes, like the far reaching range of colour and tone in my work, there is that range of moods that I remember, and still get to live through. What would a painting be without the sharp contrasts in tone and colour? What would my life be without the super HIGHS, and crashing LOWS? Maybe easier in some ways, but not nearly as exciting during those most colourful times. I appreciate the mid tones of life, they make the other things shine even more, but I am addicted to the highs, which also look extra good against the lows.

I think I have blathered on enough for today. I hope this will give me more incentive to come by and write some more. I am not expecting to get my SFCA. I am not expecting anything in life right now. I am trying my best to fulfil required things I said I would do, but “expectation” is a whole other blog. Actually, believe it or not, I could write for another hour or more. I have so much to say today, all good. I am blessed in so many ways.

I shall keep you posted on my present endeavor….thanks for listening.

Mary Ann

As I once promised when I built this site, I am taking my thoughts to the weblog window to share. I am not long awake, but I suppose enough to at least think, with the help of coffee that is. I am not a morning person. Well, not true. I am a morning person in the sense that I enjoy it before I go to bed to sleep. I am one of "those" who gets her second wind (and third, fourth, fifth) around midnight. My most productive creativity happens between then and 5am.

But this weblog isn't about my unhealthy sleeping pattern. No, this weblog is about today and the Sidney Fine Arts Show and tomorrow. All three of which never fail to confuse me. I am somewhat stunned again at my success with this show. I had to do some heavy and sleepless scuffling in order to get my three entries into the SFA drop off in early September. As usual, all those big ambitious plans of being ready well ahead slid out of order with the calendar, and I woke up one day in August with a huge "UH OH!!" My three potential entries were well started, but far from finished. I do like to have some pondering time in the final stages of painting a masterpiece (said with tongue-in-cheek). I like to have extra time to sit and stare at it, hoping it will call out.."For Heaven's sake, Mary Ann....sign me and put me into a frame!!" But alas, I had pushed myself into the corner again, my ponder time was cramped. In fact, my ponder time was so cramped, all of the semi-finished paintings in my studio were calling out to me.."Mary Ann, maybe you can finish and enter me instead." And while I sat there in a cramped ponder, I let my paintbrush dab randomly from canvas to canvas. I wonder if Vincent did this sort of cramped pondering.

I know with all my artistic soul that I need to be better organized. I never do put my painting time ahead of the mundane, yet important, things. You know, things like laundry and "tidying"( not much of that, this house is NEVER tidy) and cooking and driving and gardening and singing and all those other things that I MUST do. No, I shamefully say that the painting time is last on the list of things to do. Although, when I do find myself near drop-off deadlines for artwork, I insist I HAVE to paint. I never get any resistance from my boss around here, either. No, he tells me I have to do that as well, so I can't blame him for my procrastinating. Well, I could ask him to do the cleaning and laundry and cooking so I could paint, but after 31 years of me doing those things, the thought of having to teach him those trades is too terrifying.

I probably should have mentioned first in this weblog (I hate the word "blog") that I like to write in cyberlands. If anyone should type my name in Googleland, they'f find my inane ramblings in many places. If you do, just know that I am not a complete nutcase, nutcase in the serious sense that is. I waited a long time to welcome a computer into our home. When that happened about five years ago, I rediscovered my love of writing. It was back to those days of long ago, sitting in class writing notes to friends, essays to teachers, letters to myself...aaah, the old days of writing my thoughts. What fun! And what a bunch of meaningless digressions I have gone into once again in writing my thoughts. Uh, right...sorry, get back on track, Mary Ann.

SO...I did get my three ready enough for entry. One large-ish one I hoped to finish just wasn't going to make it, so I grabbed a smaller one and put it in a beautiful frame I luckily already had. I sprayed my varnish and pondered and signed and framed. I booked my boss/cabbie/drum major/darling husband to drive us out there, me and my three works. I felt accomplished. I did it. In the dawning light of painting my tired brains out, I actually made it. I also thought to myself that one time I won't make it, and that might teach me to do things well ahead next time. I thought that as long as I keep "making it" within the realm of my own lack of time managing, I will never change my habits. Uh, right.

Okay, I must jump ahead and stop digressing. Good news came. My three were accepted by the jurors. One day I must write my thoughts on jurying. Now there's a triple edged sword to write about, being that I once am one who gets to judge. Anyways, those wonderful and brilliant jurors accepted all three of me. I was delighted. During my silent celebrating, I thought about my good luck with the Sidney Fine Arts event. In all the years I have entered, not once have I had a painting declined, not once. AND....only one painting in all those times has not sold. My luck with this show is so unbelievable, I supersticiously am afraid to think about it. I tend ot think that bubbles burst and jinxes are real. I have little rituals I go through like baseball players. Count to three while putting on socks, and six while putting on shoes. Actually, I am kidding, I don't count. But I never do put on the left one before the right. Anyways, while thinking about my past success, I was sure that this time, that bubble would burst. I was convinced that this was the time.

The artist's reception came. I attended with my good friend Margot Clayton (check her out on FCA Victoria Chapter..lovely stuff) and got there late, who'd a thought the Pat Bay Highway would be so trafficky???.. but we managed to get a seat. The talk by Robert Amos was interesting, I already knew all of what he spoke about since he was one of the first artist's speeches I ever heard waaaaay back when, but still very interesting. The awards were given, and I didn't win again. But since I am a jinx believer, I don't want an award, that might break the streak that I have going. When the presentations were done, they released us into the wild. Slowly we were hearded out and as we passed one of the main organizers she said to me..."You know you are sold out already??" I said.."Yeah, right." ..thinking she was kidding. But, of course, hoping she was serious. But certainly not going to jinx myself by doing any mental celebrating before I saw the works with red dots on them. No, I am good at being supersticious. Not sure if I am good at spelling it, but am good at being that. I made myself calmly shuffle along with the crowd. I turned right in the gym and went with that flow of returning art salmons. I didn't race to see a thing. Not me.

Well, my friends, to make a long weblog short, I did sell all three. They sold during the patrons preview. I met one of the people who bought mine, the last minute one that got added to the three instead of the big one that needed more pondering time. She told me she lined up to get the painting, had her red dot ready to stick. She probably was kidding about that. So not to jinx myself or burst any bubbles, I won't go into how my three were taken immediately. That patrons were lining up to get mine...YIKES, I am suddenly having goosebumps, and a hot flash. No, I don't want to say that and jinx myself, or burst this bubble. I better put some socks and shoes on, maybe count this time.

I am constantly thankful for being able to paint. I am even more constantly grateful for those who reach out to tell me they love what I do. It is the ultimate complitment, not to mention inspiration to paint more, to have our works sell. I love the kind feedback. No, I don't have anything around here that is available. But I am painting, and maybe I will show Master G how to work the washing machine and stove in order to get some new work done soon. Good idea, Mary Ann!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you......

I hope to write regularly here about my thoughts on art.