Artist in Residence

DECEMBER/JANUARY JOURNAL

This will be my last journal entry. I’m writing it on January 5, looking forward to the arrival of a truck to pick up my twelve paintings on January 14, and to the exhibition’s opening celebration on January 17. I put down my brushes, as far as these paintings are concerned, the day after Christmas. Now all that’s left is to wait a couple of weeks for the paint to dry enough to be varnished.

But before I go any further writing about my last-minute activities, I want to describe the origin of the final painting. Actually, there was another painting that I’d intended to be the last, but it got away. You’ll only see it here.

The first conception, the first idea, was a small (8 x 12 inch) watercolor and crayon drawing in my sketchbook. The picture shows a woman experiencing a vision or a dream, while guarded by a circle of animals who are perhaps helping her. Along with all the other ways that humans can relate to animals—already illustrated in my paintings—I wanted to add the idea that animals can also be our spiritual and emotional companions, perhaps even our guides.

I was happy enough with the sketch and excited enough by the rich possibilities of the subject matter to go ahead with the small oil painting (16 x 24 inches) that I usually complete in preparation for the very large paintings destined for the exhibition. But, when the time came to begin the large painting, I realized that I wasn't ready. The composition was fairly well resolved, but I wasn’t happy with the colors—they didn’t match my emotions about the event or about the landscape setting. Of course I could have worked towards further resolution in the small oil painting, and at some future time I probably will, but I was afraid of running into my end-of-the-year deadline still struggling with a puzzle that had no clear solution.

So I put the painting aside and looked around for another idea. What I came up with was a Christmas card I had made in 2006 for my extended family to send. (I do this every year.)  It showed a flock of birds flying high in the sky against a backdrop of people and animals in a snowy evergreen forest. What I liked about this image was the way it put the humans (and other mammals) into the background, made them small and almost insignificant from the birds’ eyes’ view. I enjoyed the feeling of liberation it gave me.

The original card (7 x 10 inches) was constructed out of cut paper laid down on a white background, almost giving it the dazzle of an optical illusion. I knew I’d be losing some of that dazzle in the painting, but I hoped to deepen the emotion through a broader, richer range of colors. The initial watercolor and crayon sketch (8 x 11 inches) went well—luckily, considering the time constraints.

I made the small oil painting larger this time (24 x 34 inches) just because I was feeling confident. My only trouble came in discovering the color of the birds’ outline, which started out lavender and gradually changed to a warm gray

When I turned to the full-size canvas (48 x 68 inches), everything fell into place easily again, except this time I had doubts about the color of the border. (If I got into trouble on the big painting, instead of risking a false step at this late date, I turned back to the smaller version and experimented on it.)  When everything was looking very good and I was beginning to feel celebratory, I suddenly realized that, although snow was falling in the original card, I had forgotten to paint any snowflakes in either of the oil paintings! Once again I experimented on the smaller painting, covering it with white dots. I liked what I saw. (Unfortunately I forgot to photograph either painting before adding the snow.)  So snow is falling in the large painting too. The painting is titled Snowbirds and will serve as my holiday card to you. Happy New Year!

Now, for the next ten days, I’m just trying to keep busy while the paint dries. I’m returning to some old projects that I put aside when the time came to work exclusively on the Paine exhibition. During breaks from painting, I’ll be completing last tasks on the canvases for the show, like installing wire hanging loops, signing and titling on the back, and applying the picture varnish. I’ll also be taking slides and digital photographs of each painting for my records.

But in the quiet moments when I have no other preoccupations—perhaps when I find myself lying awake at night—I often try to imagine what it will be like to hang all these big paintings in the grand gallery at the Paine Art Center. Again and again I rearrange them in my mind, wondering which ones will look best next to each other, whether disharmonies of color or scale will make some combinations impossible, which—if any—will hang over the fireplace. Most of all, I try to imagine what will be the combined symphonic effect of twelve paintings that I have never seen all together in the same room.

As you may realize by now, I’m looking forward to the exhibition with great excitement. I hope to see you there.