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.

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.

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".

Wow! A great many people accessed this blog yesterday, and the vote is in: Everyone who voted said they preferred the painting "Dumped", and many said they liked that painting very much. Very nice to hear.

For those who asked, "Dumped" took a bit longer to paint, but was done in a shorter amount of time than I would have taken before my Michelle Torrez class, which emphasized fast, gestural painting. I have discovered about myself that creative the fast, gestural sketch is pretty easy for me. Applying the paint as quickly is, apparently, still a developing skill. Always something to work on, isn't there?

Is "Belly Dancer" more pleasing? Or is "Dumped" more interesting to the eye? I would really like to know. If you don't like either of them, at least be kind!

Check the post below for the other painting - "Dumped"

Have been struggling with the idea of painting faster and looser versus not quite so fast but still looser than I have been painting. One of these paintings took me longer, but still not as long as before my latest art class in gestural painting. The other was done very quickly, looks OK ... maybe.

Tell me which one you think is a better painting. I would love the input.

Just got back from a four-day art workshop which was wonderful. Michelle Torrez' work always rocks my boat, so I attended her recent class in Pueblo, Colorado. Hard work, but loved it!

But now, who am I? Artistically, that is.

I don't want to paint "just like her", as if anyone could actually do that. But, I want something different out of my own work now ... just don't know exactly what. Looser, yes. Faster, yes, yes, yes. And I still want the exaggerated gesture in my work, because that is what I love. I guess it will just have to evolve.

Back in my real estate broker days I would get phone calls asking for names of good roofers, plumbers, and so forth. I still get calls like that, but now I also am asked who I like to use for various art services, so I have added "Favorite Links" to the navigation bar at the top of my website. Click on this and you will see some of my favorite sources for various services, or websites, or whatever grabs my attention. Just started it with a local Tucson photographer whose work is good, fast, and priced right. His name is Wilson Graham, and he does not have a website, but I included his email address. Great to work with.

In a previous blog I talked about the "ugly" stage during the creation process, likening it to the visually unsavory stages in making sausage. Since then I have heard from other artists who agreed that they hate others to see their work before it is completed. I, however, posted my rough sketch several days ago and also the "sausage" stage of my most recent painting. Today I am posting the finished project for the world to see.

Leaving in a couple of days to attend an art workshop by Michelle Torres (look her up - her work is loose and fabulous!) Hope to have new insights when I return.

I have been talking by email with a fellow blogger artist, Karen Cooper.. She commented on my last blog about "sausage paintings", so I asked her what drew her to read my blog. Mostly, I understand, it was the title and how it relates to the process of painting. That makes sense to me as a good title certainly grabs my eye. (Incidentally, my aforementioned "sausage painting" has graduated to full-fledged finished painting status. It will be photographed today and put on my blog in a day or two in case you are interested in seeing a "sausage cum laud").

Titling works of art in an interesting manner can be important also. The title for the image shown on today's blog was meant to hammer home the fact that the tango dance is a gorgeous, sexy dance,  unlike what we saw in old movies - tango dancers lunging across the floor, cheek to cheek, and then abruptly changing direction when they ran out of space. That would have been "Our Father's Tango", I guess. However, I never saw my dad dance like the guy in my painting. Probably a good thing, too. Would have been too much information for a kid.

Did you ever hear the old saying that you should never watch sausage being made? Apparently it is such an ugly process that you would never eat sausage again.

I liken that to the early stages of painting an oil painting - at least the way I do it. Maybe other people can create art so that it is a beautiful thing from beginning to end. Not me. In my mind's eye, I can see the beauty that I assume will result, but what is actually on canvas looks pretty bad. To prove it, I am gritting my teeth and showing an image of the blocking in stage I did yesterday on the sketch I showed in my last blog.

I will be honest: I cheated a bit and took it one stage further today just to make sure it actually would turn out at the end. Looks OK to me now, so I will display the "sausage" I created a couple of days ago. Finished product either tomorrow or the next day. Or the next day.

Phew! This sketch was tougher than I thought it would be. My photo source was unclear and not squared up properly, so I had to search around for another ballerina image. After finally finishing the sketch, something just didn't look right, so I went to bed. After sleeping on it, my brain's eye "reset" and I could immediately see what needed redoing. Of course, adjustments like this will take place numerous times during the process of painting this piece.

Why does the canvas look pinkish in spots? I usually sketch my paintings in oil paint thinned with Gamsol, and when I erase lines I don't like, I use a paper towel moistened with Gamsol. Since I was sketching with alizarin crimson with a touch of ultramarine, a pinkish residue is left behind.

Next, I get to really paint! However, maybe not until after Easter.