In my last blog I featured a little painting called "Rock Band". MY painting method got me out of the creative dry spell I had been in -  thick, fast, and loose and not much attention paid to details. In fact, I literally "painted what I saw" without much regard to what each shape and color was. I am telling the truth when I tell you that, until I was halfway finished with the painting, I did not identify the guy at the keyboard in the center of the painting as my own son John!

This is not a bad thing. As many agree, a bad painting habit can be to get overly caught up in details without letting the painting do the deciding, and letting the creative side of the brain take over. And, here is another example: my original purpose for writing today's blog was to extol the virtues of painting a series on a single subject, or of a single style or atmosphere. And, actually, I do think that this is a fine idea - to thoroughly explore whatever it is that has caught your attention as a creative person. After viewing "Rock Band" last week, several people asked me if was going to paint more works in my "new style", which they said they loved - loose, liquid and swooshy. And I will, and the attached painting "Cowboy on Bourbon Street" is the first of a series I am calling "Night Lights". Two or three more paintings will probably be in this series, and I am tweaking my materials or methods or subject matter each time. It's a learning experience for me and very enjoyable.

But my secondary purpose for this blog has turned out to be an encouragement to artists to allow themselves to veer off the path most traveled (by them) and to experiment with letting their "fingers do the walking" to see what happens. It might be a happy surprise!

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 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.

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.

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".

In talking with other artist friends and family members, I am always surprised and strangely comforted to find that, like me, they have days of supreme confidence in their artistic abilities and days of wondering why they even bother, and, of course, many middling days in between. One of my wonderful daughters-in-law, Skaie Knox, whose voice is so powerful and beautiful it is astounding (go listen for yourself at www.bigbuglunch.com), said she agrees and feels it is because "We artists are an emotional bunch..Yes?!" Yes. Probably true.

However, I am guessing that our product, whether visual art or music, is so damned personal. We can't help but put a part of our soul into what we create, and it is hard to think that someone might stomp on our soul.

And, if an artist does not put any soul into his/her work, I wonder if it is really art at all.

Excited about a new painting I completed yesterday. It was fun to paint, and I think maybe that comes across to the viewer. Art should move you in some way, not just be an academic exercise. With this painting, I am hoping a person might be moved to happiness - always a good thing! Do you agree?

Aside from choosing a painting to match a theme, such as western for western, landscapes for landscapes, etc, etc, I think that choosing a painting subject to please a judge or to tempt buyers is often a bad idea and often artistically deadening. I spent two hours this morning combing through my photographic sources to decide upon what I should paint for an upcoming show. Not unusual, correct? It is a western themed show, and I looked though the images I thought would be appropriate and that I could find exciting to paint.

Here is the problem: I found several that fit all the criteria , but then an evil thought came into my brain: "They like cows and mules right now, better paint a cow. Horses are out." Or, "Roosters! That's the ticket! They always buy roosters."
Problem is, I don't feel like painting cows and roosters. So I won't!

Another of my favorite artists, Kim English, got me started thinking about this issue. In an art class of his that took place in Stratford, England, he took a photo of me leaning against a row of newspaper dispenser boxes (don't know what else to call them), each one a different color - red, yellow, white, even lavender. I said to him, "Good Heavens, Kim, who would want to buy a painting of a person sitting on a row of newspaper boxes?" Like the master artist he is, he said with a smile, "I don't choose subject matter so that someone will buy my painting . I try to paint the subject matter, whatever it is, so well that it pleases me. If someone wants to then buy it, that's great." Doesn't hurt that everything he paints is fabulous, of course.

I admit that I did not take notes when he said this, but I am pretty sure I got the gist of his statement correct. Now I have to remember to live up to its meaning.

No cows today.

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.

Good news! John Simon of the Steinway Gallery in Tucson wants to hang an oil painting of a Steinway piano with a lovely ballerina leaning over the top of it - in a classic ballet pose, of course. He has seen my tango dancer paintings , one of which I displayed on this blog, and thought this would be a natural for me. It is!! I am toying with the idea of showing the progress of the painting on the blog. A bit scary, but I will see how the first day turns out. Come back tomorrow and see if I get up the nerve to show the first day's work.