Whether or not you are an artist, have you ever created something that you pretty much liked, but ... there was just something that was missing? This is my most recent experience.

About a year ago I commemorated the first ballet recital of my granddaughter Chloe by painting six little dancers, all in a row, each in her own little world. The dance instructor had taped a line onto the stage floor to get them organized, and I suspect she was in the wings calling out the steps they were to be doing. As I remember, this particular instruction was something like "Put your right foot forward and tap, tap, tap." The little girl on the far right seemed to be close, the one next to her had the wrong foot, two others were oblivious, and the girls with their arms in the air had already sped way past that part of the choreography and were already into the "Ta Da!" part of the performance. How adorable!

Unfortunately, I was not as pleased with my painting of this event. Loved the little figures, but something was not right. For several months I couldn't see what I needed to do - until last week. To my eye at least, even if the image was accurate, the background was just too dark. I warmed it up and lightened it with a bluish green and I was transported back to that audience, applauding the dance divas of the future.

To see the original painting before tweaking, scroll down to the next entry.

This is the first version of this painting that I referenced in the blog "A Eureka Moment" blog above.

I often wonder why artists gravitate toward certain subject matters. I am sure there are many reasons, such as a love for the outdoors inspiring landscape paintings; a love of sailing leading to a love of painting seascapes; western subject matters for the cowboy enthusiast, and so forth.

Or, sometimes, the artist just finds he is having more "fun" when painting a certain type of painting. For me, it's color and motion. More exactly, I love painting people in motion (sometimes animals are exciting also). And, since I particularly love painting dancers, I almost always have the extra benefit of luscious color - in the dance costumes, or in the decor or lighting. Maybe it's the influence of the many dance contests on television.

And since I have found that people enjoy my paintings of dancers, it is a win-win situation. The image for today's blog is my second painting of a particular dancing couple (see previous blog for the first painting). I love their dance positions, their facial expression, and the color of the clothing. Fun for me, and, I hope, fun for the viewer.

OK, that is not a quote from me. That is what the young lady at UPS said when she saw this painting, which I had just handed to her to ship to a California buyer several months ago.  I guess that comment meant she liked it, right? Actually, two buyers wanted to purchase this one. I am very grateful and I would love to be that lucky again.

I love painting dancers, tango dancers in particular. The exaggerated and elegant movements are glorious to watch and great fun, if somewhat difficult, to paint.

So, I am painting the same couple again, in a different dance position. I will put it on my next blog in a few days

Just finished a new painting, displayed with this blog entry. I am continuing with my efforts to loosen my brushstrokes, experiment with colors, and resist the temptation to fiddle too much (my natural tendency as an ex-portrait painter), while still enjoying the process. In a previous blog I opined that we may as well enjoy our efforts at painting just now, since most of us are not enjoying the process of raking in money in this time of consumer frugality.  Don't they understand that art is a necessity!!

Contrasts: warm vs cool (colors); light vs dark; loose realism (figure) vs abstract (suggested forest greenery in the backgroup, just blocked in as abstract shapes).

So little time, so much to discover. Play on.

This phrase is attributed to Proverbs, and we artistic types, including myself, could stand to live by that one!

Why is it a truism that one negative comment (or even only slightly less than positive than the comment expected and desired) about something we have created can just set us down hard on our rumps for days? Creating even more negativity, of course. And much less energy to create, especially in these tough times for artists.

However, one sweet confirmation of what we are doing lifts us up on a cloud of happiness and creativity that needs to be nurtured and coddled, because it is so fragile. (Thanks for the kind words from dear friend and wonderful artist, Sandra VanderWall, www.sandravanderwall.com).

Since I am sure that this applies to more than just the artistic types, I vow to verbalize more often the many positive feelings I have about the actions, words, creations of others. Light the candle and pass it on!

I define a study as a small version of a larger painting I contemplate doing, and I have mixed opinions about the value of studies.

Studies are good for:
1) Working out color and value issues on a small scale and in less time, using smaller amounts of paint before laying out larger and expensive amounts for a larger painting.
2) Working out size issues - what size and shape canvas, where to put things  on the canvas, what should be completely removed from the painting, etc. (The study for the image on this blog used to have a wall behind the figure. Removing the wall made a much better image).
3) Having studies on hand for the many requests artists get to "donate a piece of art" for auctions, charity sales, and so forth. (That topic may be the subject of another blog down the line. Would love to hear from other artists on this subject).

Studies also have some negative aspects:
1) If you like the way the study turned out, it is a temptation to sort of "copy" the study, rather than respond afresh to what is being painted. That could be deadly.
2) Some of the "thrill of the chase" is missing, when the image has already been painted and you are doing it again, only larger.
3) You can't really transpose the image of the study onto a larger canvas exactly; some things read better in a small format, some read better in larger spaces. Colors are an example.

Don't know how many artists habitually do studies before a larger work. I like to do one when I am trying something new, but usually it just seems to be more fun to dive right in and trust to my instincts.

Am I imagining things? I know conventional wisdom from the "really-up-there" artists is that one should never drop their pricing on their work. Offer smaller works that more people can afford, market harder, keep in touch, yada yada.

However, I just perused the Oil Painters of America catalogue of the recent national show, and I think I detect a lowering of prices. At least on a few of them.

Input?

This painting just sold, which is always great news, of course. What is also interesting to me is that, for the entire time I painted "Into the Enchanted Garden", the paint practically "flew" off the brush. No indecision, no second guesses, no do-overs. Just mix it up, slap it down, hum a little melody, and have fun.

Lord knows it is not always - or even often - like that. I am not going to question it, just enjoy the rare event and hope that it happens again soon.

Have fun!

Summer and this economy: all the artists I know are cutting back on entering shows because of the cost factor, sales are down in the galleries and galleries are closing, and, anyway, people are traveling. So much for the doom and gloom.

I choose to look at this as a time to play. Play with paint.

Without any preconceived notions of what my style is, without any restrictions by buyers, galleries, art contests, I am free to experiment, and I am having so much fun!

"Blossoms and Boots", which is shown on the front page of my website, is an exercise in bright, primary colors - a lot of hot and bright on hot and bright. Lively, and certainly not restful.

"Sitting Pretty", which is at the top of this blog, contrasts a lot of cool colors against a pop of warm color. Kinda nice.

More to come. I'm thinking cool on cool. It would be a trick not to be boring, I am guessing, but that's the fun of "playing in paint".