graceful embrace

Entwined; casein on panel; 8" x 10"

It took seven beets to finally find these special two.  The leaves of the first three never had the turgidity I was looking for - too limp from the start.  The next four had great leaves - but two were missing their long tap roots - a feature that is so enticingly graceful to paint.  So these last two were the winners.

In design, one usually looks for odd numbers of things.  For that reason, I was skeptical about setting up this still life.  So I kind of just plopped them down not thinking much would come of it.  If you'll remember, I had already become beet-weary at this point :)  But after their unceremonious placement the magic started.  I saw the amazing gradient in the shadow where it went from a deep mixture of blues and maroons to a cerulean dazzle.  Graceful lines showed themselves everywhere - most notably in the left beet's stems draped gently over the right beet. 

I still may go over my signature with cerulean blue mixed with white.  That would settle it down on a plane with the beets.  As it is, it juts forward - as if it were painted on the glazing of the painting.  Something to think about as I pack for Cincinnati - and grate beets - recipe to follow soon: Super Slaw.

many peppers

Mini Peppers - as of 3/5/2018; casein on panel; 8" x 10"

Started and finished tonight - now off to bed - goodnight.

 

Mini Peppers; casein on panel; 8" x 10"

 

edited: Apparently, Mini Peppers wasn't finished Monday.  Last night, while painting a still life with a sewing scissors, I added a red line next to the lower left edge of the table cloth.  That edge had gotten out of whack when I added a lighter key there to help round the edge of the cloth.  At the time, I knew there were variations in the line due to the cloth - so I tried to push the skewed line out of my mind.  But it kept nagging at me - until I "red-lined" it.  Feeling better now.

falling down

Cascade; casein on panel; 12" x 9"

My book is coming along - rather, my booklet is coming along.  It will be 20 pages in length and will outline in seven steps how to make a casein painting.  Since this is my first foray into writing anything bound, I thought I'd start small.  My next book will be longer and more in depth.  My hope is this first one will show me the way.

One of the steps in how to make a casein painting is the spark.  By that I mean the seed for the painting - the moment you say 'aha' and begin to realize your creation.  The spark for Cascade was the gorgeous fall of the carrot top leaves and how they gently rested on the counter.  Everything else in the painting supports this idea and gives emphasis to it.  The way to actualize this, is to keep the spark ever present in your mind as you construct your painting.  Hold the spark like an ember and gently fan it into a blaze until the painting is finished.

more sprouts

The Onion Bulb; casein tempera on panel; 10" x 8"

The glass bowl is my new Christmas present.  It will be home soon to a Betta fighting fish.  I don't expect him to hold still and pose for me so I will have to use some photo reference for his paintings.  It's good, though, to spend some time painting the bowl from life so I can learn its nature - how it responds to light and color. 

The harlequin aspect of the blue background paper along with the color of the wall really intrigued me in this scene.  That and the way the light was magnified on the little onion bulb's roots. 

It's a tiny thing - but so necessary - the bit of greenery with the starkness of winter outside.  Speaking of which, I'll be trudging through soon with camera in hand.  Snowy scenes and a fish-in-a-bowl are in my future.

the cabbage-let

The Late Harvest; casein on board; 6" x 9.75"

This is my first year growing cabbages - and now I'm hooked.  There are so many things to love about them.  I grew red cabbages because they're a little more nutritious.  In general, vegetables with vibrant colors have more micronutrients - with cauliflower being the exception.  But back to cabbages - they're an absolutely gorgeous plant, they get ENORMOUS and they're oh so tasty.

All of my cabbages are picked now, eaten and digested - by me.  But my cabbage plants won't quit.  Where each large cabbage was removed there are now several little cabbage-lets.  They're the reason I made the painting above.  They're so adorable they were simply begging to be painted.  It took me about an hour to find a suitable setting for this one - and about four hours to complete the painting.  If anyone's counting.  This is both painting number 66 and 10 as I painted over 10 in an effort to reuse materials.  You can see the process here.

zero waste

process images of creating one painting on top of another

There's always a stainless steel straw in my purse - as well as a spoon-fork-knife-combination-thing.  That is to say lately these tools are always on hand.  2017 was my year to discover zero waste and I've been slowly working on minimizing my contribution to landfills.  At this writing I have two items on a Buy Nothing Facebook group.  These groups are specific to neighborhoods and allow people in your community to offer up items they no longer need.  No money is exchanged and all transactions are done in a friendly-folksy manner.  Everyone wins - except maybe the waste management companies.

Tomorrow, I'll post the finished painting from the process you see above.  But I thought you all might enjoy seeing some of the steps I take when creating a painting.  This is the first time I've painted over another painting and I thought it would be difficult to mentally block the first painting out.  But it turned out not to bother me at all.  Once I get in the zone, I'm focused entirely on the still life set-up I see before me.  All that matters is depicting it as faithfully and honestly as I can and all else melts away.

fertile grounds

Radishes; casein on board; 8" x 10"

New supports (panels upon which to paint) arrived today - complete with treated grounds (surface treatment of the panels - usually gesso of some kind.)

These panels are Aluminum ply and are extremely rigid and stable.  From my research, they are the most archival surface upon which to paint casein because of their rigidity and resistance to swelling with changes in humidity.

The supports I've been using up to this point (Crescent cold-press-watercolor board) are also extremely archival.  The major difference is that the watercolor board needs to be framed under glass - where the Aluminum panels can be framed with their surface exposed - much like oils.

The radish painting above is the 58th in my 100-Painting Reboot.  I'm looking forward to the last 42 - and the eventual secrets these 100 paintings will reveal.

garden gems

Eggplant Love; casein on board; 6" x 9.75"

avocado pit

The Avocado Pit; casein on board; 9" x 7"; 2017

 

You're supposed to push toothpicks in a peeled avocado pit and suspend it over water in a glass.  When the pit puts down roots you know it's time to plant it in soil.

 

I forgot about all that and instead just plopped my unpeeled pit in some dirt.  Apparently that works too.

 

from the garden

Greens and an Eggplant; casein on board; 5" x 8"; 2017

The lettuce had fallen over in the mud after the storm last night.  First thing this morning, I went out and picked a bunch and cleaned it off.  There were also little eggplants and Hungarian peppers ready to go.  That's how today's models were chosen.

Registering Radishes

Radishes, water-based ink on Fabriano paper, image: 3 x 4 inches, paper: 4.5 x 6.75 inches

Like my other prints, this one is based on an earlier oil painting (2006.)

The registration (centering of the image) on the paper isn't perfect and is a product of my deliberate-yet-simple printing process. When the print is matted and framed, the slight tilt won't show at all - so perfect registration isn't a problem for what I'm doing here. Still, I fight the urge to do-over and straighten things up. Printing brings out different responses and teaches new lessons.

My lesson for today? Delight in Imperfection

From the Garden

On the Vine, charcoal on paper, 8 x 9.5 inches

These aren't from my garden, but in a week or so they could be.

I've been building frames here lately. Five small ones and thirteen large - for a show of twenty seven paintings next month. The 20 x 16 size will go unframed while the 10 x 8s seem to need a bit more presence and the 30 x 24s more structure. Please email me privately if you'd like to know more about this exhibition.

During this time, I'm making quick sketches with charcoal. It's a nice diversion.

From the Garden

On Being a Bean, oil on canvas, 10 x 8 inches

in progress

Being a Bean (in progress - and sideways), oil on canvas, 10 x 8 inches

My poor cactus. It got bent over that way when it outgrew the small bay window in front of my kitchen sink. To compensate, it started growing an offshoot. I just noticed another tiny offshoot bud. This cactus is unstoppable.