Twenty years ago, I read Studs Terkel's' sizable book, Working: People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do.
I've had a lifelong curiosity about what people do all day and how they feel about what they do.
Here's what I've done so far today: exercise in my Strongboard class at the Y; prepare food; post and comment on Instagram; prepare billing for clients; plan meals for the coming week and write a grocery list; respond to comments at my blog; prepare lessons for tutees; try and fail to order postage stamps on line (didn't know my password and had no success with the process of establishing a new one); meet with a friend for a coffee date during which we sat outdoors; meditate, also outdoors; write a postcard to my dad; partially clean up my email inbox; research local sustainable sources for nutritious meat; read an article about bone health; read several chapters in a young adult novel; and paint.
I moved yesterday's mark-making forward—selected a limited palette, painted with my fingers, blended colors directly on the canvas. While I painted I was all in, nothing else going on but the exquisite choreography of hand/eye/canvas/paint.
Next up: meeting with tutees.
Tomorrow: more interaction with this patch-in-progress.
Showing posts with label limited colors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label limited colors. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2018
Friday, February 23, 2018
Off to the Races
Oh my gosh, did I ever have fun stepping out of my same-old-same-old over the weekend. No solitude in this studio! No indecision or precious grasping here!
While in Virginia, 8-year-old granddaughter Emmy asked, Gma, do you want to paint?
Next thing I knew she had a plastic cloth spread over the kitchen table; canvases set up for herself, me, and Caroline; paints and brushes out; three palettes in place; and a cup of water at hand for rinsing brushes.
Then we were off and galloping, no one holding any reins that I could see.
You want paint? Squeeze a whole bunch out of a tube.
You want a different color? Mix wildly.
Brush not doing what you want? Use your fingers.
While in Virginia, 8-year-old granddaughter Emmy asked, Gma, do you want to paint?
Next thing I knew she had a plastic cloth spread over the kitchen table; canvases set up for herself, me, and Caroline; paints and brushes out; three palettes in place; and a cup of water at hand for rinsing brushes.
Then we were off and galloping, no one holding any reins that I could see.
You want paint? Squeeze a whole bunch out of a tube.
You want a different color? Mix wildly.
Brush not doing what you want? Use your fingers.
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| Blueberry Trees by Emmy 12x16"; acrylic on canvas board abstract 2018 |




