“Water Media Art” rather than just “Watercolors” would be a better summary of what I love to do.  The above piece contains 4 different kinds of water media, all working together to produce interesting effects.

The twisted vines were created with Elegant Writer® pens, by SPEEDBALL.  These felt tip pens are incredibly fun.  You write or draw with them, and at this point your work simply looks like lines.  Then you go over the lines with a small damp round brush, and the lines activate into a painterly blur.  I bought the pens at our BEN FRANKLIN store, but any craft store which carries calligraphy materials will probably stock the Elegant Writer®.  I found black, green, blue, red, and brown pens. 

The watery blobs on the branches were formed by dabs of wet watercolor crayons.  I have a tin of 24 LYRA AQUACOLOR® crayons, and there are other brands. 

The dense clusters of magenta flowers (at least I think that’s what they are) were painted with gouache—an age old paint which I’m beginning to enjoy a lot.  Gouache is simply watercolor paint with white paint (which is opaque) added.  One can make gouache by adding white paint to any watercolor, but I purchased tubes from one of my online sources.  Most art paint manufacturers offer gouache.  The opacity of the gouache contrasts beautifully with transparent watercolor paints or crayons.  It can be used as is, or blended into watercolors for variations of tone and hue.  Not clear on this computer scanned version, but noticeable on my original, is the raised quality—rendering the feeling of velvet.  This texture appeared because I layered the gouache over applications of the watercolor crayons.  With gouache, one can build an impasto look, and even to a slight degree simulate oils  (Oils are forbidden fruit for me, due to lung issues.)

One “Buyer Beware” concerning gouache.  Unless you work in acrylics and have brushes set aside for that medium, make sure you do not buy an acrylic base gouache.  There are probably several brands, but the one I have seen is TURNER ACRYL GOUACHE®.  This would ruin your watercolor brushes.  However, any acrylic media can be used in connection with watercolors, watercolor pencils or crayons, and watercolor based gouache so long as you have separate brushes for the acrylics.* 

(I do use acrylics in my collages.  The permanent, stay fast quality of acrylic paint works well where many layers of paint and an assortment of extra materials are applied.  Many layers can be painted on without the danger of smudging.   I do my collage work on gallery wrapped canvas.  Rather than covering with glass, I apply 2 coats of acrylic gloss medium for archival purposes—and the piece will last.  Meanwhile, viewers can run their hands over the collages and appreciate the textures.)

Finally, the background in the above piece was dabbed with water and a few drops of watercolor paint.  Voilà!  Watercolor plus!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

*Note:  Occasionally I apply acrylic Interference® paints by GOLDEN, to add a pearlescent glow to a watercolor painting.  But I am hyper about keeping the brushes separate, as my watercolor brushes are beloved—and they should last longer than I will!

An ornamental crab tree twists and turns outside our south facing windows.  The first summer we were here, Mother Robin built a nest within eye level and it was easy to spot hungry little beaks poking above the intricate basket work of the nest.  That nest came down the following winter in a violent storm, and we wondered if there would be another in its place. 

When spring came, we heard lots of musical commotion in the tree, but could see no signs of a nest.  Yet there was chirping for weeks, and there had to be birds there.  When the leaves came down last fall, we discovered the nest—high in the tree where only a giant could see.  So our ornamental tree is definitely a favorite spot.

For decades I’ve been combing my long hair out of brushes and combs, and saving it to distribute under trees in the spring.  I begin saving the hair in August, when the birdsong has diminished and nesting days are over.  By the following May, I have a commodious bag of hair to contribute to avian ecology.  For years, the hair in my bird bag was red, brownish, or blonde for an obvious reason.  Now our resident Mrs. Robin builds with  a “crown of glory”, my hoary white hair.  I’ve given up on the Loreal® dyed coiffure.  The dye fumes were bugging my asthma. 

(My friend, Elaine, has a beauty salon in her home, on an acre which resembles a park with gorgeous trees and shrubbery.  Elaine saves all her sweepings from hair cuts, for the birds’ nests.  She says her trees contain the most gorgeous, colorful nests imaginable!) 

I have enjoyable reasons for wearing long hair at this stage of.  Long hair is far easier to manage and control than short.  Since I love being a girl, looking my best means more and more to me as the years go by!*  And suppling nesting material for spring housing projects provides additional rationale for hair.  Long hair is literally “for the birds”.  

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

*Note:  I’ve always maintained that, were I to lose hair due to illness or decrepity I would purchase a couple of long hair wigs:  one straight and Earth Mother Hippie-ish, and another curly and voluptuous like the hair on the old style Nashville singers.  Maybe I could get a Crystal Gale wig, with hair swinging between my ankles! 

Life is short!  Let’s have fun!!!

I believe I’ve made my last foray into the Back Pain Forum which I’ve visited online in recent months.  Initially, this forum was a valuable information resource when I needed it—before and after spinal fusion surgery.  It was good to connect with others who had gone that route.  After all, one doesn’t attend a tea party or coffee morning and begin the conversation with, “Have you ever had a Posterior Lumbar Interbody Fusion including a plastic cage and titanium screws?”  Or “What is your most effective post-op pain killer?”

I’ve graduated from the forum, because it has deteriorated to a mutual pity party.  People who were well informed on medical issues have left, and the remaining folks simply like to talk about their suffering—along with many other disasters which are unfortunately occurring in their lives.  The women complain about their husbands, and the men poke fun at their wives.  No thank you.  None of that appeals to me!

There are various threads on this forum:  one for actual medical issues, another for non medical stuff such as hobbies and pets, and a couple more which focus on recipes and natural therapies.  Moving from the medical thread to the other options seemed like it would be fun, but alas—the same people are discussing their same pain, drugs, and personal gripes on the allegedly upbeat threads.  Evidently complaining is a popular hobby!

Conversely I have friends (online as well as in “real life”) who experience pain and/or illness, yet choose to “accentuate the positive”.  These friends—plus my daily agenda of knitting, painting, piano playing, reading, soapmaking, etc.—provide ongoing therapy! 

Along with prescribed medication, a light diet, and reasonable exercise, art is one of my very favorite therapies.  I can paint sitting or standing, whichever the body requires at the moment.  (Freezing any body position or doing one motion for too long at a spell are both difficult for me.)  The joy of seeing wet paint spread on wet paper surmounts a lot of physical discomfort.  I frequently get up and paint at night, whenever lying in bed becomes too much of a challenge. 

The above rendering, titled “Lost Canyon of the Ancients”, is the product of a restless night.  Better than a “forum”!

Margaret L.Been, ©2011

NOTE:  for more about my nocturnal art adventures, see
http://northernview.wordpress.com/
  (THE MESSY PALETTE)

For many years as a writer I took issue with the saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words”.  But now my love affair with the visual arts has stretched my mind.  I realize that pictures can transport the viewer to a world beyond words. 

As a child I loved reading fantasy, but I have never been able to create another world in writing.  My writing has consistently reflected the world I know.  Even occasional forays into short stories have mirrored real life and actual people, often with circumstances and identities altered. 

Now I delight in seeing dreams and imaginations materialize in living color on paper—a world heretofore intangible.  Colors and creatures that elude verbal expression suddenly appear before my eyes.  Strange birds mount up and take off.  Trees, flowers, and exotic plants spring into existence and spread in all directions.  Paint on wet paper determines its subject, tells its own story, and opens my eyes to a new way of seeing. 

The above rendering named itself:  “By the Fiat of His Word”.  The Master Artist created the world with words.  God’s material creation is so magnificent, that any attempt I might make at reproducing it on paper falls short.  But with a brush and a few colors I can explore the essence of worlds beyond words!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

I love the true story I read in a magazine years ago.  A man wrote about how when he was a child he visited his grandparents in New England every summer.  One year as his grandpa was driving him home from the train station, the boy saw a man just sitting on his porch and staring into space.  He asked his grandpa, “Who is that man?”

Grandpa answered, “I don’t know his name, but he just sits there and doesn’t work at anything.  He’ll certainly be on welfare come winter!”  Later they learned the name of the man on the porch.  It was Robert Frost.

Obviously, poets and writers need to sit and stare off into space because their minds whirl among a kaleidoscope of ideas while ever grasping for the most effective words to express their thoughts.  Many a summer day I lounge on the patio, gaze at the clouds overhead and—like Robert Frost—don’t work at anything but the mental process of wordsmithing.  I’m grateful that my all-time favorite poet set such a wonderful example.

Painters need thinking time, as well.  Many a night, when I’m tempted to get out of bed and go to my work table, I decide instead to remain cozy and warm under the covers and “just think” about what I will paint the next day.  I am blessed to have a visual brain.  Even though words have always been my forté, my mind instantly converts words and concepts into concrete pictures—Technicolor® images at that. 

I lie in bed, or sit on my patio or couch, and think:  Alizarin Crimson—and a touch of Cadmium Yellow.  Shapes dance in my brain, and by the time I sit down before a piece of paper I sometimes have a rendering in my head. 

Then the fun begins, as watercolors are like cats:  they have a mind of their own, and they insist on doing their own thing.  People don’t own cats; cats own people.  I think you get the picture.  Unless you are a Turner or a Constable—or someone of similar ilk—the watercolor medium exerts a lot of control over the artist.  Perhaps the required flexibility on my part is one of the many reasons I love water media.  Watching paint do its thing on a wet surface is fascinating.  

When concluded, a painting may be completely different from its inception.  Alizarin Crimson and Cadmium Yellow may turn out to be Opera Rose and Viridian.  The shapes may bear no resemblance whatsoever to their original design.  Yet I know that each painting is ultimately more interesting and varied because—like Robert Frost—I’ve allowed myself some thinking time!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

“Just in front of him he saw three beautiful white swans advancing towards him from a thicket . . . . ‘I will fly to them, the royal birds, and they will hack me to pieces . . . .  But it won’t matter.  Better to be killed by them than be snapped at by the ducks, pecked by the hens . . . .’ 

“So he flew into the water and swam towards the stately swans.  They saw him and darted towards him with ruffled feathers . . . .  But what did he see reflected in the transparent water ?  . . . his own image, but he was no longer a clumsy dark grey bird, ugly and ungainly.  He was himself a swan . . . . The big swans swam round and round him and stroked him with their bills.”

From THE UGLY DUCKLING, by Hans Christian Andersen

Ever since I can remember, Andersen’s UGLY DUCKLING has moved me to tears—and it does to this day.  I’m mopping my eyes after typing the above quotes! 

In 2005 I began my art adventure, and I’ve often thought of the UGLY DUCKLING.  Having always loved art and desired to participate in that world, I was totally unprepared for the reception I’d receive as an embryo painter from the REAL artists—those who have worked professionally at their calling the way I’ve worked at my profession of writing, from childhood on. 

I’ve been literally “bowled over” and stunned by the joyous attitude of acceptance on the part of artists!  When I began painting in 2005, I wasn’t completely surprised that family members and a couple of very gracious friends responded with enthusiasm.  The children never dreamed that Mother “could do that”, and since they love me they probably missed the fact that I really wasn’t doing very much at all at that point—just blopping some paint around on paper.  My choice of in-your-face colors seemed to resonate with viewers of those early renderings.

But I metaphorically hid in the woods, when it came to sharing with the real artists I know.  That would be going too far, I thought—just too presumptuous of me, to stick one of my paintings in the face of someone who knows what he or she is doing artwise!

Then somewhere, something SNAPPED!  I knew I’d discovered a fantastic pastime.  Since sloshing paint and glueing stuff on paper were so personally rewarding, so indescribably delicious, it suddenly occurred to me that the pleasure of doing art outweighed all other considerations and concerns! 

Finally, I began showing my work to friends who are real artists.  Rather than hack me to pieces like the UGLY DUCKLING thought the swans would do to him, these compassionate souls responded with approbation because I was doing something I loved!  They made constructive comments.  They welcomed me as if I were actually “one of them”, causing me to understand that there are many levels of art—and there is room for every one of us, no matter whom we are or what we can do!

Although there are volumes of rules concerning art making, we in the 21st century know that art can also be a world without rules.  That’s a huge part of the art charm and allure for people like me!  All of my writing life, I have been conscious of rules.  Not so, with art.  Every one of us is different—and artists know that.  Some are excellent, and some are “world class”.  I’m happily just “me”—ever learning but never driven, as I sometimes felt when I wrote for publications and competed for awards. 

For me, painting and collaging are arts without angst.  I never wonder, ”Is this clear and understandable?”  I love that element of mystery in art.  There is always the remote possibility that someone will view a piece of work and say “AHA”!   If not, I am still more complete for having created the rendering. 

I realize that my art is a subjective discipline.  When we go off half skewed in writing—or even more so in music composition—we are apt to lose anyone who is not as crazy as we are.  But in art, there is room for everyone. 

Part of the art acceptance which has totally warmed and won my heart may be based on the fact of COLOR.  In general, artists are colorful people.  We love to wear color on our bodies, we like to dress like one of our paintings, and we reflect color in our work.  No matter how skilled or inexperienced, we are bonded by a mutual passion for color. 

Artists are visual beings and that makes for an exciting lifestyle—a lifestyle where all are welcome. 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

NOTE:  My first edition of this entry was posted early today.  Later, I returned to “check it out”, and I discovered many errors.  In the process of correcting typos, I began hewing and hacking away at the content of the piece—and eliminating chunks which had nothing to do with the main focus.  This is the life of a writer!  Although I do make additions and corrections to my art renderings, I hope I’ll never edit them as ferociously as I edit my essays!

If you, dear reader, were caught in the midst of editorial changes to this essay, please refresh your browser and try reading it again so it makes more sense!  Thank you for your patience!  MLB

Winter is moving in, ahead of the calendar date.  This is “business as usual” in Wisconsin.  We normally have several extra weeks of winter before the December solstice and way after the March equinox.

Winter is beautiful.  Although I no longer “play outside” like I did for many decades, I still appreciate the winter landscape.  Winter walking is a bit treacherous here, on icy paths, but we have a sunny spot by our garage—sheltered from the North wind.  Here Joe and I can sit even on very cold days while our Pembroke Welsh corgi, Dylan, bops around beside us in his little play yard. 

Winter provides extra hobby time, especially when one lives in a compromised body.  I no longer drive across town to some event that I might have attended in the past.  The necessary pain meds limit my driving time and distance.  This equates to many more relaxing hours at home for painting, knitting, playing the piano, reading, blogging, entertaining family members and friends, and simply celebrating the wonder of being alive!  

I have the magnificent option of saying “NO”.  How about you?  Have you discovered the joys of a limited lifestyle?  What are your favorite winter pastimes?  Please share!

Meanwhile, I’m so grateful!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

Note:  Here is one more inspirational blog, written by another woman who is happily mining treasures in illness and pain –  
http://agirlandherbrush:wordpress.com/

Winter is beautiful, at least in Wisconsin.  Winter is a wonderful time for hunkering down and losing track of time while immersed in creative activites.  A winter walk can be enjoyable, when we are buffered in layers against the elements.  And the cup of tea or cocoa upon returning home is reason for euphoria.

I love to paint the seasons.  Above, you will see my rendering “Deep Powder” in watercolor on YUPO® paper.  Below you’ll find the same painting, scanned and digitally altered.  Maybe that one should be called “Deep Powder at Evening”.

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

I think I’m getting somewhere in the process of artmaking, because I’ve learned to think about what I’m doing and why!  Learning to paint has been something like my long ago experience on skis.  Our family went all out for skiing when our children were young.  My husband and children thrived on skis, but I did not.  I went along to be a good sport, but it was never my thing.  I was leary of the rope tows on Wisconsin slopes (if you can call our hills “slopes”) and absolutely terrified when riding the chair lifts in the high Rockies. 

The trip down the hill or mountain was no better, and I frequently descended on my butt.  When actually standing on skis, I was so intensely involved on just staying alive that I couldn’t coordinate what I’d been told do with what I was actuallly doing.  The only things about ski trips that I enjoyed were wearing my handknit wool sweaters and sitting by the fire in lodges.

Although I did not find art to be life threatening, and I didn’t have to brave the elements to do it, the same mindless approach was transferred from my attempts at downhill skiing to my first years of painting.  I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t know how to do it.  I just did it.  I never thought to pause and analyze during the “survival” stage, and I was always amazed when a painting pleased me or someone else—normally a very loving friend or relative!

Again and again, I read in the art tutorial books, “Stop and think!  Decide what your painting needs!”  Although most artists agree that a spontaneous spirit makes for fresh art, there is always a time when we should pause and evaluate.  I’m guessing that even Jackson Pollock had to pause and evaluate now and then.

For years this wisdom did not sink in—or at least I couldn’t apply it.  Then suddenly, whammo, I got the idea.  Working on YUPO® paper, with its glasslike surface on which paint can be applied and removed many times, has made the difference.  I can look at a painting and contemplate what could be added or subtracted to make the piece more aesthetic. 

A light has gone on in my head.  Metaphorically speaking I’m negotiating those “slopes”, be they Wisconsin hills or Colorado mountains—art slopes that is!  And unlike skiing, painting has definitely become “my thing”—one of my all time FAVORITE THINGS! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

The maples and sumacs have shed their glory.  That riotous circus of color is over for another year, and the muted shades of the oak leaves remain.  The maples and sumacs catapulted me into action.  Now those subdued autumn oaks quiet my soul, as a prelude to the season of rest.

Oak leaves are the last to turn, and the last to fall.  Some will cling tenaciously to their branches until the new leaves bud out in the spring.  I rejoice in the mellow oaks as they reflect the hues of many things I love:  rusty iron, tarnished sterling, faded bronze, weathered copper, ancient pewter, muted gold, and my late autumn paint palette—purple magenta, alizarin crimson, burnt sienna, raw umber, Naples yellow, quinacridone gold. 

Yesterday Joe and I set out on country roads for an end-of-the-season visit to an antiques shop in a cozy barn, COUNTRY ECHOES.  The atmosphere of this shop induces euphoria.  Retro music plays softly in the background, and every display sparkles in the sunlight which filters through the barn windows.  There’s a tucked away section for country primitives, an area reminding me of my mother’s kitchen, and a Victorian parlor—replete with English and Bavarian china, and American pressed and patterned glass in jewel tones.  

The shop features cases of vintage brooches, necklaces, earrings (mostly the clip-on variety), rings, and bracelets.  Attempts at reproducing these beauties are rampant, and supposed “look alikes” may be found everywhere—from Walmart, to hospital gift shops and the finest goldsmith establishments.  But none of the new costume jewelry can begin to match the quaint, subdued beauty of the old stuff! 

Barring special pieces containing precious gems, vintage jewelry is still very reasonably priced.  This will continue until a new generation discovers that old can be lovelier than new in many instances.  Meanwhile, since the prices are moderate, I’m buying the vintage treasures—for myself as well as for kindred souls who also enjoy “old”.  If I have a “signature look”, it’s that of vintage jewelry—the kind my mother and grandmothers wore.

Vintage housewares, vintage table settings, vintage costume jewelry—reminiscent of late autumn, when our souls are stilled by the shades of vintage oaks! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

I am not alone in my passion for most things old!  Again, I recommend visiting my favorite kindred-spirited author and photographer via her inspiring books—especially FOR THE LOVE OF OLD by Mary Randolph Carter.

The handsome gentleman pictured above is my dad, Ernst Longenecker.  The portrait was taken in the 1940s.  I think most everyone who knew him smiles over memories of this man.  He was an individual!  He was a mechanical engineer by degree, an industrial designer and manager, an inventor, a wonderful father, and a mellow story-teller.  Dad had a passion for life.  His enthusiasm influenced many people who knew him.

When Dad was 88 years old, I asked him if he attended the Retired Men’s Club at his church.  Dad’s answer was classic:  “I’m not about to hang around with those old geezers!”

Dad lived until age 102.  His last years were marked by an increasingly painful arthritis which slowed him down, physically.  But he loved books, and continued reading until just after his 101th birthday.  Suddenly his eyes would no longer focus, and the absence of reading broke his heart. 

My dad had a pet peeve:  people who spoke condescendingly to senior citizens.  He used to say (rather vehemently!) “Don’t call me ‘spry‘, and don’t call me ‘sprightly‘! “  My husband and I chuckle every time we mention those words. 

Why are some individuals young at 95 and others seem old by the time they reach 60?  Health often plays a role, yet I’ve known people with frail health who maintain that life affirming vitality to the very end.  Both of my grandmothers were youthful until they died, in their late 80s.  One suffered from arthritis (my dad’s mother) and the other had serious cardiac issues.  Neither of them let health issues interfere with their joy in living.  They were Christian women who knew where they were ultimately going, and had a lot of fun on earth in the meantime.

The common denominator in every person I know of who lives a vibrant old age is PASSION!  A passion for some thing, or things, motivates us when everything else hurts.  Dad loved travel, and when his body no longer traveled he continued to travel via books.  He was passionate about new discoveries and technologies.  He read THE WALL STREET JOURNAL assiduously, and he always seemed to know things the rest of us wouldn’t realize until years later.  Dad lived on the “cutting edge”.

In the 1950s, when many of us were cluelessly puffing and inhaling away on our cigarettes, Dad began sending me clippings (from the above mentioned news source) linking smoking with lung cancer and other respiratory ailments.  While most of my friends were still smoking, I experientially understood the dangers of tobacco.  In 1963 I quit smoking and never looked back.

One incident involving my father looms large.  When our 1st child was a toddler, she fell against a space heater and burned both hands.  Laura’s fingers curled as she screamed with pain.  Without hesitating, Dad sprang from his chair, picked Laura up, and rushed to the sink where he poured cold water from the tap on Laura’s hands.  He held her hands under the cold water for many minutes.  Finally, he turned the water off.  Laura was peaceful and comfortable, and her burns never ever blistered.  This, in an era where most of us were still putting grease on burns!

In the 1970s, Dad got very excited.  He told me that someday infinited amounts of information would be contained in a little “chip” about the size of his thumbnail.  Quite frankly, I thought my father had crossed the line into science fiction.  But he had such a glow in his eyes, when he talked about an “information revolution”.  Today I recall that conversation frequently, whenever I load the photos from my camera chip into my computer, or when Joe’s cardiac technician holds a little disc in front of Joe’s chest where a pace maker/defibrillator is installed to record the activities of his heart.

A passion for living!  A passion for learning and a love of creative pursuits—as many as possible for as long as possible!  My body is following the course set for me by my dad and his mother.  I have inherited the orthopedic issues—disintegrating bones and arthritis which is becoming more pronounced, painful, and physically limiting every year.  But I’ve also inherited the passion gene.  With books, a computer, a piano, knitting supplies, and art paraphernalia at my finger tips my body doesn’t need to be an athletic wonder.

Meanwhile, I like to dress up in fun and funky attire, drape beads around my neck, and plug the holes—2 in each ear—with gems and dangles.  Just this morning, my loving and admiring husband said, “Oh my, you look spry and sprightly!”

I don’t mind those adjectives one bit! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

“In order for a woman to write fiction  she needs money and a room of her own.”  Virginia Woolf

While I agree that financial resources are necessary to pursue any of the arts—at least to provide the basics for living and supplies for one’s craft—I disagree with Virginia Woolf on the matter of “a room of her own”.  For many years I wrote (some fiction, and a lot of everything else) in various places around the home—starting with a kitchen corner counter where I sat on a stool and wrote for 2 hours most every afternoon while dinner simmered or baked, and our small children tumbled and bumbled around me.

From the kitchen, I graduated to a writing desk in the corner of our master bedroom.  Then came some interim years where I did have a spare hobby room in the home, and now I’ve happily returned to a desk in the master bedroom.  In this same bedroom we have a generous window sill and table for houseplants, and 2 work surfaces where I can paint and build collages.  A second desk with shelves and drawers holds painting supplies, along with 3 commodious stacking units of plastic drawers from HOME DEPOT. 

A room of one’s own can be a few square feet in most any multi purpose room.  Private space can be managed most anywhere, when we enjoy planning and accommodating our working needs to whatever is available.  It’s amazing how much furniture (and how many objects!) can be efficiently and attractively crammed into a given area, when one is willing (and in my case, eager) to be creative and somewhat “far out”.  I’ve always loved arranging my home in ways that would make most conventional ”interior decorating” gurus shudder—just as I thrive on decorating with stuff that the conventional folks would take to the dump, or toss out to the curb. 

The main challenge with private space is to create an area where projects may be left out while in process.  The drawback of working at a kitchen counter or dining room table is obvious; the writer or artist must clean up his or her act in order to prepare and serve a meal.  One artist said she was happy to finally move her art space out of the kitchen, because she was tired of getting peanut butter on her brushes.

I subscribe to art magazines and enjoy gazing at the spacious studios where professional artists work.  But I simply do not covet these studios one teeny bit.  The professional artist who hangs his work in galleries frequently does large renderings.  Gallery displays— especially of oil paintings but also of acrylics, water media, and collages—tend to measure out in feet rather than inches.  

At this point, I have not been motivated to “work big”.  My largest pieces are 11″ x 14″, matted and mounted in 12″ x 16″ frames.   The above pictured card table could accommodate a larger support, and will—if I ever decide to expand my paintings.  I’d simply have to move my palette and brushes somewhere else for the duration.  Meanwhile, smaller works are fun! 

Our entire 4 room condo (plus 2 bathrooms and great storage areas) could be called a “studio”.  A corner of our living room has been turned into a fiber arts studio, pictured below.  ↓

Joe’s den is his “sports viewing studio”, and it is his computer area as well.  There 2 things on earth which Joe and I cannot share:  1) a toothbrush and 2) a computer.  Joe and I each have our own cyberspace.  He has a recliner chair in his den, so it’s also a “napping studio”.

Then there is a ”music studio”, in another part of our living room. ↓

And finally, you might call the houseplant areas (3 places around our home) “horticulture studios”—or maybe conservatories.  Here is one of our conservatory/horticulture studios. ↓

Whether for writing, making art, reading, sipping tea, or just sitting and zoning out, every person needs a “studio space”—even if it’s only one small table and a chair in a corner of a room.  Private space! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

This somewhat diluted-by-sunshine teeter totter adventure features our 4 year old great-granddaughter Brynn and me (the old one).  The reason for the photo involves another great-grandchild, 5 year old James.

Earlier in the summer when James was still 4 years old, I took him and his 2 year old sister, Lyla, to our neighborhood playground.  James saw the teeter totter and got very excited.  He ran and sat down on one end of it.  Little Lyla followed, and stood with her hand on the vacant seat—obviously wanting me to put her on it.  I joined the children, so that I could give Lyla “a leg up” as they say in horse racing.

Meanwhile, James thought I was going to get on the teeter totter myself.  His face registered shock, disbelief, and consternation—and his comment was sweet and precious, as well as hilarious.  James said, “Oh no!  You’re too old!”

Joe and I have been chuckling about James’s concern ever since.  So recently, when we went to the playground with Brynn we asked her mom to take a photo of the old grammy teeter tottering—and then to share the picture with James since he and Brynn are cousins.

Kids’ words have got to be among the funniest and/or most touching and wonderful things on earth!  I hope I’ll never be “too old” to enjoy them! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

Note:  There’s an addendum to this adventure.  Last week James came to visit again, and we went to the playground.  I decided to really impress him, by swinging on one of the swings.  Back and forth I went, pumping higher and higher—like the child in Robert Louis Stevenson’s A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES.  My it was fun.  But later, I paid the piper with a spine that could scarcely move let alone straighten up.  I was gimped. 

Maybe James was right! 

I frequently hear negative comments about “modern art”, meaning abstract or semi-abstract art—which, understandably enough, doesn’t appeal to everyone.  The comments crack me up because abstraction is anything but modern.  It came into being from the late 1800s to early 1900s and peaked in the famous 1960s.  If there is such a thing as “modern”, it is representational art—judging by what I see as I wander around art fairs.  Barns, ships, still lifes, street scenes, landscapes, and portraits are as popular and sought after as ever before.  

The most commonly heard remark concerning abstraction is one I’ve often made myself—and still do:  “A kid could do that!”  This comment applies especially to watercolor paintings, and particularly to paintings on Yupo paper—where the paint and water do about 75% of the work.  

Sometimes I have to agree—at least concerning my entry level renderings.  Maybe a kid could do what I’m doing!  Kids do amazing art, because they are free.  We adults need to follow the Biblical injunction to become as a little child—not only in faith and trust but in the freedom required to make expressive art of any kind, be it realistic, semi abstract, or purely non-representational. 

A kid could have dropped the various colors of paint on the above pictured Yupo® paper and watched an abstract rendering develop before their eyes.  But would a kid have the patience to go back to the piece many times, removing blotches of paint to restore parts of the paper to its original white?  Would a kid have considered the contrast of complementary colors, and softened the transition between them?  Would a kid have plopped increments of rubbing alcohol from a medicine dropper, to create the circles which are scattered hither and thither?  Or added small details after the initial work dried?

Yes, I think some kids might do any of that.  Not every kid—and definitely not the kid whose heart is forever on the soccer field, or dependent on his or her peers.  But there are kids who could do that, providing they have the motivation and materials! 

Meanwhile, I’m thankful to be a kid at heart!  Perhaps the thing that distinguishes us kids from the rest of the world is that when it comes to making stuff we simply love to play.  I think it was George Bernard Shaw who said, “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing!”  If that’s true, then my art—whether an attempt at photographic realism or a plunge into way out abstraction—is a virtual “Fountain of Youth”! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

Now we’ve had a light frost in our county so these warm, euphoric October days constitute the beginning of Indian summer—and what is more lovely?  Springtime and summer are as lovely, but what is so poignantly beautiful as Indian summer?  Mums in an array of analogous shades offer color dominance—while lemon thyme, lavender, mint, sage, garlic chives, sweet basil, and last year’s tomato plants fool us into thinking we still live in a green world.

Indian summer is a time to pause and luxuriate in the sun, but it’s also a time to say our last farewell to summer.  Today I gathered my “garden art”, to be stored in the garage until spring.  I have four garden areas.  This project took over an hour as so many funky treasures either tower over or hover beneath our perennials and bushes.  The items had to be hosed off and transported to the sanctuary of our garage.

Farewell to summer!  Farewell to those derelict chairs (1 cardinal red, 1 hippie era orange, 1 saffron) which sat in various gardens for months—holding bounty such as a blue granite pail, a broken English porcelain teapot, and a tarnished silverplated pitcher.  Farewell to the vintage croquet set.  Farewell to the clay warty toad with a baby toadie on its back—so ugly, it’s cute!  Farewell to other stone and ceramic critters:  the chipmunk, froggie, hedgehog, and rabbit. 

Farewell to the fairy house and the diminutive horses that fairies might ride when no one is looking.  Farewell to those wavy, stick-in the-ground thingies on (now delightfully rusted) metal poles:  ducks, road-runners, gnomes, sparkly plastic balls, weird insects, and whiligigs.  Farewell to the cobalt blue bottles which I insert on bare branches and poles into gardens every spring.  Farewell to the brown bottle, and the green bottle as well. 

Farewell to the fake flowers which filled spaces where real flowers forgot to bloom.  Farewell to the copper coffee pot, the stainless steel perc, and the enameled dippers and pitchers.  Some of these will take refuge in our home over the months ahead. 

Even as I bask in the euphoric Indian summer sun, winter whispers icy insinuations to the periphery of my mind.  Winter will come.  Winter always comes to Wisconsin.  Winter with its pristine beauty and recreational delights.  Winter, with its time of testing.  Winter, the proving ground for true grit. 

Farewell to summer and the funky garden accoutrements.  Spring will return, and another summer will follow.  God willing, I’ll be here in 2012—to put summer back together, garden art and all! 

Meanwhle as I surveyed my gardens, now devoid of manmade “art” yet still abounding in live growth, I saw an exquisite piece of real art:  a delicately patterned monarch resting on a flowering hydrangea. 

The garden stuff is fun, and I’ll probably always enjoy “planting” it.  But God’s art is best of all, and it’s with us in one form or another—no matter what season we are experiencing! 

↑ Afternoon of Hope — Margaret L. Been

Recently my friend Patti* visited and we enjoyed a morning of chatting about the arts.  Patti is an inspiring writer, poet, and photographer with a sensitive artistic soul—and she always stimulates my grey cells.  She asked me to name some favorite artists, and I could not come up with a firm answer at that moment.

Since then I’ve spent a lot of time asking myself, “Who are my favorites?”  Now having pondered, I have such decided favorites that it amazes me to think I ever hesitated over Patti’s question.

Of past artists, Henri Matisse (1869-1954) and Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947) lead the pack.  Both are masters of intense COLOR.  Both capture moments of everyday life—views from windows, breakfast tables with dishes of food, and domestic landscapes.  These artists worked in various media.  Their color concept translates well to my penchant for thick applications of watercolor, watercolor pencil. acrylic, and water soluble ink and crayon.

  “Crockery on a Table”, Matisse

  “Dining Room in the Country”, Bonnard

You may think me somewhat cheeky to include my art on a page with two great French masters.  Well, I’ve always been just a wee bit cheeky.  There are degrees and degrees of artists, and since I work at my avocation nearly every day (and often into the night) I’m getting even cheekier when it comes to sharing my work. 

Of the stacks of art books and DVDs I’ve acquired since 2006, I’ve gleaned a few contemporary “teachers” whose tutorials I study over and over.  These books and DVDs never grow old because they are not only ”how to” material; they also delineate the authors’ views on making art while thinking out of the box. 

Some “how to” is essential, but artists who focus only on step-by-step instructions are simply not my favorite.  Their instructions resemble a knitting pattern book or a cook book:  necessary now and then, but not all that creative as far as awakening the muse and stretching the imagination. 

Let’s face it; step-by-step in itself can be inexorably boring, whereas analytical processing is infinitely exciting.  More is gained everytime I read and re-read the books and view my DVDs by a few contemporary artists—who are as following:

Charles Reid — an American master at alla prima (direct, all at once rather than layered) watercolor painting, who (like Matisse and Bonnard did) paints scenes through windows, friendly landscapes, tables laden with dishes/food/flowers, and amazing portraits.  Reid uses color flamboyantly, juxtaposing warm and cool.  His work is often characterized by droplets and spritzes of paint and painterly blotches here and there—drop dead gorgeous!  I have 3 of Charles Reid’s books plus 2 of his DVDs where he demonstrates his method of painting.

Barbara Nechis — an American fine painter of exquisite landscapes and floral paintings bordering on abstraction, and wildly imaginative.  Barbara Nechis is a genuis at transparent layering and painting wet-on-wet shapes.  She creates a mystique with every stroke.  I have 2 books, and 1 demonstrational DVD by Barbara Nechis.  She’s an excellent writer, as well. 

Cheng-Khee Chee — a Chinese American expert skilled in many forms of watercolor and ink painting including marbling and calligraphy.  I have 2 of his demonstrational DVDs:  1 on marbling and 1 on the use of Japanese masa paper to achieve a crinkly, fractured sizing effect—a wonderful way to do a background of trees, branches, and flowers.

Claire Harrigan — a mixed media Scottish artist who employs combinations of watercolor, acrylic, water soluble crayons, goauche, and oil pastels in her abstract rendering of recognizable subjects.  She paints still lifes, landscapes, domestic interiors, gardens, and portraits in bold color, with a distinctively aggressive style.  I have 1 book by Claire Harrigan, and it’s a re-read as she details the thought processes that go into her painting. 

Taylor Ikin — a watercolor artist who has developed an amazing technique for painting on YUPO®, that synthetic surface which has captured my heart.  I have her DVD, DANCING WITH YUPO, and I watch this at least 2 times every week—gaining more information and confidence with every viewing.  Taylor Ikin is a genius at capturing woods, water, flowers, and landscapes in a spirit of natural exuberance and freedom.  Currently it appears that this artist’s workshops are limited to Florida or other places South.  If she ever comes anywhere near Wisconsin to teach a workshop, I’ll try to figure out a way to attend!

Thank you, Patti, for getting me to analyze and verbalize about my “favorites”.  I’m sure I’ll gather more favorites on my bookshelves and beside my DVD player as time goes on.

Meanwhile, please visit Patti at her webpage, listed in my blogroll as Patti’s Amazing Photography and Essays on Life—on the URL listed below.  You’ll be glad you did!   

http://wolfsrosebud.wordpress.com/

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

I named the above rendering “Autumn Creeps In”.  There is a subtly to September, even considering that this year the air is prematurely snappy.  We’ll will undoubtedly have some warmish, golden Indian summer days in October.  Yet autumn is creeping in at a consistent pace. 

Beauty!  Color!  Invigorating Days!  Bittersweet Reflections!  All of these characterize the season at hand.  Recently I’ve been wrapped in bittersweet reflections—recalling the riches of the short summer from which we are emerging.  June remained chilly, and I kept a handspun, hand knitted hat in the car until early July.  Then summer began in earnest.  How languid, how lovely—except for about 5 unbearably hot, sticky days when we had to turn on air conditioning which we absolutely hate to do!

Summer guests, summer afternoons on the patio, summer evenings with frog serenades ringing from the gardens beneath our windows, summer rains (not enough of them, however), summer ice cream outings, summer, summer, summer!  We grab hold of summer in our souls, stash it in our cupboard of poignant memories, and dream of it in January when it’s 10 below zero in Wisconsin (or 30 below zero up north where we lived for 8 years).  Summer!

This week I’ve been thinking seriously about autumn creeping in, and I’ve responded accordingly.  House plants have been moved from our patio to a spare table in Joe’s den.  Most of our house plants never went out for the summer, as we have doors and windows open nearly around the clock and it’s like a garden indoors.  African violets stay inside all year, relishing their eastern exposure and the shelter of our living room.  Most of my jades, Christmas cacti, orchid cacti, and aloe plants stay indoors in our southern windows.  But a few jades and cacti have been hanging out on the patio for the last 2 months, adding to the decor.  Now all have been garnered in.  Soon the Christmas cacti will be stashed away in a dark closet, resting and preparing to bloom.

Today I dismantled our sweet little patio fountain, as those inevitable early frosts are advancing from the north.  Any night now, icy fingers could move in—snipping here, blanching there, and freezing the water in fountains.  Our fountain (with a hidden electric pump) consists of 3 levels of pretend rocks (actually fiberglass, but very realistic and rocklike) over which the water tumbles—plus a small girl and a family of ducks.  Carefully I dismantled the 3 sections, wiped the pieces dry, and transported them to our garage on the seat of my 4 wheel walker.

Now the little girl and her ducks have been re-assembled (but not in the operating mode) in a far corner of the garage, where I keep treasures:  seasonal wreaths, decorative odds and ends, junk from rummage sales, etc.  It’s fun to wander and browse among stuff in our garage.  And even during winter’s bleakest period there are sunny days when Joe and I can bundle and sit inside our garage on comfy chairs, while pretending we’re staring into a New Mexico sky.

We have a large fountain in our community pond.  Soon it will be shut off for the season.  I’ll mourn the loss of moving water, while knowing the fountain will resume it’s refreshing showers next April.  I’m thankful for the small indoor fountain which graces our living room table of African violets.  The sound of water tumbling from this diminutive ceramic “friend” will cheer many winter days.

Along with bittersweet reflections, comes the anticipation of additional hours for indoor pleasures—including extra time to knit, and spin gorgeous wool on my spinning wheels.  During the colder months, I keep a spinning wheel in front of our surrogate (electric) fireplace.  What a cozy place to sit and spin. 

Stacked in my corner studio are many paintings and collages in progress.  And for every piece waiting to be completed, more paintings and collages are lined up in my head—just waiting to be born on paper or gallery wrapped canvas.  Even when the autumn color fades, indoor color will prevail!

A new piano book of easy-version Scott Joplin rag tunes has arrived in the mail, and I’m getting a handle on “The Entertainer”.  “Maple Leaf Rag” is a bit more challenging with 4 flats, but (God willing) I’ll learn to play that as well in the coming weeks.  There are 18 rags in the book—enjoyment forever.  I have music for each day and every mood.  I love Mozart Beethoven, and Chopin.  And I also love ragtime, especially Joplin’s works!

Soapmaking is ongoing in my kitchen, as I supply many family members and friends with my beautiful facial (and body) soap.  The thrill of a creating a new batch of soap never grows old.  Our home is redolent with rose, wisteria, sandalwood, patchouli, and (for occasional novelty) soaps scented with of coffee and chocolate fragrance oils. 

(When we moved to a condo 2 years ago, a friend was shocked to hear that I was still making soap.  “You make soap in a condo?” my friend asked.  I answered something to the effect that I will always want to go on living, no matter where!  Maybe this friend thought that I should just zone out and twiddle my thumbs, since I was advancing in age and now living in a condo!)

And then there are books, books, books, books, and more books!  Within a few minutes of our door are 2 libraries, in different directions.  Although we don’t fancy many of the newer books due to their inferior writing quality and mediocre content, we love the used book sales which are frequent at the libraries.  These sales never let us down.  As we come home with bags of “new to us” used books, we add to the leaning towers of books against the walls of our home.  A KINDLE® or NOOK® would never be welcome at this treasure trove of tattered covers, coffee stained pages, and people who are passionate about real books!

So you see, as autumn creeps in my bittersweet reflections give way to downright enthusiasm.  Spring and summer will return.  In the meantime, what a wealth of joy!  Each day is an adventure to be embraced and celebrated—regardless of the season!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

 “Never give in–never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small . . . .”  Winston Churchill

Although the implications of the above quote were radically serious in the autumn of 1941 and England’s darkest days of World War II, I’ll apply that great statesman’s principle to a totally lighter setting—that of making art for fun!  After all, Churchill did say “in nothing great or small”—and in his postwar years he pursued a hobby of painting!

I have learned to “never give in” to discouragement over the most ridiculously messed up, failed renderings.  I’m experienced in painting failures, as I only actually succeed to my personal satisfaction on about 1 out of every 5 pieces.  To begin with, that is. 

While the 1 out of 5 gets framed or at least matted and preserved in an acid free plastic sleeve, those remaining 4 get stashed in a “think about” drawer.  Later, they are reclaimed and usually recycled into something that I can live with.  Thus the 1 out of 5 ratio of success becomes 5 out of 5, simply because I refuse to give in! 

How do I reclaim the cast offs waiting in my “think about” drawer?  I sometimes can recycle the work by additional glazing with transparent paint, to soften or liven colors or distract the viewer from some clutzy shape.  Sometimes I can new shapes on top of the ones I don’t like.

If transparent glazing doesn’t do anything redemptive to my would-be masterpiece I then get out my Japanese papers, decorative paper napkins, gauze, and acrylic products.  Japanese unryu paper is great for softening colors and diffusing those shapes.  It’s semi transparent, with plant fibers in it, and it comes in shades of white and off-white.  When the unryu is secured with acrylic polymer it dries to a clear surface, easy to paint over—especially with acrylic paints, preferable at this point because they are waterproof whereas the underlying watercolors are not. 

New shapes can now be applied over the unryu paper.  If the new shapes are still clutzy and yucky, I can paint more new shapes over the dried acrylics—building relief and texture. 

Meanwhile, I tear up drifts of cotton cheesecloth—distorting it into interesting lines and patterns, and secure the cheesecloth here and there across the painting (again with polymer or with glossy acrylic gel medium).  The cheesecloth adds still more texture.

At this point I frequently get out the molding paste—another acrylic wonder.  Molding paste looks something like plaster, and it can be sculpted into raised designs forming mountains and rocks.  Often I smooth some molding paste over a surface, and then imprint it with a flower or leaf design from a copper stencil—or comb ridges into the paste with a hair pick.  The molding paste is white—not exactly my favorite color—so I nearly always brush over it after it dries, with something wonderful from my acrylic paint supply.

Sometimes I raid my stash of decorative paper napkins.  Every pretty paper napkin has at least 1 layer of backing, and often 2.  Very carefully I peel the backing pieces off the napkin, leaving a lovely see-through print.  When the napkin is applied with polymer, the effect resembles stained glass.

Finally, my piêce de resistânce—acrylic Interference® paints.  Interference® is a line of paint which is pearlescent in nature.  It comes in several different color combinations which shimmer and change as the painting is viewed from various aspects in changing patterns of light.  I have green/lavender, green/orange, and blue/lavender Interference® paints at present.  These, along with my copper and permanent magenta metallic paints, add touches of glitz.  And how I LOVE glitz!

The above picture is an example of a painting failure turned into a collage.  This one happens to be on gallery wrapped canvas, a good support when you think you may end up collaging with heavy textures.  I can’t recall what it started out to be:  perhaps a mountain, a tree and some flowers, or maybe our front door.  Whatever it was, I’m delighted with what it has become!

There are many wonderful products available and reasonably priced at online sources.  I love having time to play!  And I’m especially grateful that Winston Churchill has reminded me to “never give in”! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

I frequently meet for lunch with friends from high school; now we are talking about friendships of 60 plus years!  Old friends are comforting and comfortable.  One never needs explain oneself to old friends.  They know who you are.  They know who your parents were.  They recall your youthful endeavors and dreams.  If you’ve kept in touch with old friends as I have, they’ve tracked with you over the years.  They still know who you are today!

New friends are delightful as well.  Often they come from different locales and family backgrounds. New friends share our interests while widening our perspective and understanding of other places and traditions.

My wise mother once said, “Throughout the years you will have a variety of friends.  Each one will be unique in a special way.”

How true!  I have a friend who shares my love for gardens, rummaging, and English cottage decor—and another friend with whom I could literally spend a long day into the evening, discussing books and films:  not only the plots or subjects of books and films but the characterization, character development, character changes, psychological overtones and undercurrents, humor and pathos, irony and subtle innuendoes, historical significance, literary allusions, and metaphorical content.

I have friends who share my love for God’s Word, friends who are fellow fans of dogs and cats, friends who identify with my passion for nature and the out-of-doors, kindred poet-friends who savor gathering for a morning of reading aloud, friends who entertain me with tales of their travels, knitting friends, spinning friends, music-loving friends, friends who relish meeting for a day of making art, friends who share my passion for Israel and Ireland, friends with whom I can laugh, and friends with whom I can cry. 

A friend is one who knows your heart, and encourages you in those creative pursuits which mean the most to you.  A friend is never sarcastic.  A friend desires what is best for you, and responds accordingly in actions and speech.   

Daily I pray that I can always be a friend! 

©2011, Margaret L. Been

Painting is like writing in some ways.  A writer learns the technical aspects of his or her language—but the actual school for writing is reading, reading, reading, reading, and reading some more.  A beginning artist studies various techniques, learns some principles of design and color theory, and experiments with the tools of the craft.  But the supreme school for art is viewing.  Observation of sights, shapes, colors, and nuances of light and shade is a major factor in “art school”—along with studying the works of competent artists past and present.

Through reading widely and thoroughly, a writer develops a personal sensitivity to content and style.  From reading, a writer grows to discover his or her very own voice.  And from concentrated observation, a would-be artist instinctively learns what appeals.  We often change as we grow, but I believe that even our changes are in sync with that ongoing discovery of a personal “voice”.

Early in my art quest, I realized that I’m not cut out to produce photographic realism in painting.  I certainly admire those who choose that path, appreciate the discipline and skill involved, and cherish many works of realistic art.  But from early on, I knew that I would probably never paint a barn that looks exactly like a barn I have seen—or a garden which can be recognized as some specific garden.  My southwestern mesas and buttes may remotely resemble a specific mesa or butte in New Mexico, but I believe there will always be a touch of imagination or fantasy therein.  Likewise, the above-painted carnival glass may be identified as carnival glass—yet it is different from the actual carnival glassware which I set up for a still life model.  And the sky outside the window did not look anything like my rendering of sky!

Finding my own voice has been a very exciting thing for me as a writer—and also, I’m realizing, as a beginning artist!  I know that barns don’t have to look like barns, skies can be any color I choose, and flowers can grow upside down if I so desire to paint them that way.  So long as I strive for effective color and design I’ll never be bored with my work, and I’ll never make two paintings exactly alike—or at least I hope I will never do that!

Contemporary fine artist Barbara Nechis has said that if we try to compete with nature, nature always wins!  How very true!  I’ll happily leave nature to the Master Artist who created her, while endeavoring to capture my take on the essence of nature or whatever else I paint!  Freedom goes a long way—at least toward pleasing this dabbler in art!  

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

Note:  The top watercolor painting was done on 140# watercolor paper.  The last two were done on Yupo® paper.  I don’t know if my current fascination with this synthetic surface will be a lasting love, or just a passing fling.  But oh, what fun!

What is more fun than sharing a hobby with a friend?  As well as getting together for painting sessions, my friend Barb and I frequently exchange our home grown “art” cards, proving that (for us, anyway) the U.S. Postal Service still provides the most enjoyable kind of mail!

I’ve saved all of Barb’s personalized creations over the years!  She began messing around with paints, scissors, and glue long before I did, and she’s tremendously accomplished at all she puts her hands to.  I consider Barb to be the mentor of my Messy Palette studio!

Above is a shot of my birthday card to Barb, a watercolor on Yupo® paper, ready to be mailed for her early September birthday.  Happy Birthday, Friend!

©2011, Margaret L. Been

September 2011 marks the third anniversary of my online writing adventure.  Northern Reflections began when we lived up north by the above-pictured wild woods and water.  Shortly after that, I added God’s Word is True, Grace with Salt, and Riches in Glory.  A year later Joe and I moved to the (not-so-wild) woods and water of Southern Wisconsin and I added Northernview (now The Messy Palette) to the mix.

Obviously, Northern Reflections leads the pack in number of readers.  God’s Word Is True and Grace with Salt are close to each other in numbers of viewers, amounting to second and third place respectively.  Riches in Glory comes next, followed by the “new kid on the block” Northernview/alias The Messy Palette.

It’s fun to go back to square one and view the search terms used to access these sites.  The stats show which entries are most frequently read.  Blogging is rewarding for me as a free lance writer, because things I wrote online many months ago are still being read. 

Communication is my whole purpose for writing!  For many years I wrote articles and essays for magazines and newspapers—not nearly so satisfying as web writing because:  1)  When writing for publications, I never knew if anyone actually read my published pieces—feedback was rare; 2)  Magazines and newpapers get discarded, whereas cyberspace writing lingers on!  Writers have to LOVE this technology! 

Here are the topics most frequently accessed, per search terms, on my blogs. 

1)  Northern Reflections:  Life before Antibiotics, Polio and Dr. Salk, English Country Decor, Flea Markets and Garage Sales, Edith Schaeffer, Circus Lore and Circus Topics, Decorating with Junk, and Joyce Kilmer’s Poem about Trees.   2)  God’s Word Is True:  “Converge Worldwide”, Purpose Driven Apostasy, The Emergent Church, Israel/God’s Chosen, and Psalm 23.  3)  Grace with Salt:  Scriptures about Forgetting, Scriptures about Pressing On, Dealing with Toxic Relationships, and Dealing with Verbal Abuse.  4)  Riches in Glory:   Most People Don’t Understand Chronic Illness and Pain, Invisible Illness, Introverts and Extroverts, and (this one cracks me up!) Humphrey Bogart Smoking.  5)  Northernview/The Messy Palette:  English Country Gardens, Garden Junk, and Soap.

What a great adventure!  I enjoy the contacts I make through my sites—the responses from family members and friends, and comments received from new kindred-spirited friends as well.  WordPress is a fantastic web host!  The support people are ever-ready, and have helped me wade through a lot of my cyber confusion. 

Thank you, readers—and thank you, WordPress! 

©2011, Margaret L. Been

Due to weather concerns, Saturday 27th activities are being held at Martial Posture Studio, not Upper Merion Dance and Gymnastics. Workshops have been moved to 10am on Saturday.

email vincelemuel@gmail.com with questions or concerns

I’ve attempted many new-to-me painting techniques in recent years, and one of them is painting negative shapes first.  Most every art teacher will, at some point, recommend beginning a work by concentrating on the spaces between objects rather than the objects themselves.  This helps us to stretch the grey cells and comprehend what is easy to overlook—the area around whatever we are looking at. 

Negative painting reportedly expands our view to focus on shapes as entities in themselves.  The goal is to forget we are painting a window or a vase (or whatever), and instead hone in on the essence of the window or vase by considering these to be simply shapes surrounded by other shapes.

Being a forthright person, I must admit I don’t totally quite get this concept.  Is the shape of a window more essential than the window itself, especially in what is fast becoming a favorite style of mine—realistic abstraction, where one endeavors to make things recognizeable yet changed or distorted from reality?  Does it actually matter what I paint first:  the abstract trees above, or the spaces between the trees?

Yet I understand the negative painting rationale for two reasons:  1)  When focusing on the space between objects first, we make those spaces as appealing or even more so than the objects within the negatives.  The areas between windows, vases, or trees, become “art” in themselves rather than just filler, and 2)  Painting the negative spaces is FUN!

I’ve named the above watercolor and acrylic on Yupo® paper rendering, ”Autumn Skydance”.  I drew the basic tree forms with a pencil and painted the negative spaces first.  An experienced artist will frequently skip the pencil sketch and immediately paint spaces, so that objects (or the shapes of objects) emerge spontaneously.

Canadian artist, Linda Kemp demonstrates and teaches negative painting in her beautiful book:  WATERCOLOR—painting outside the lines, a positive approach to negative painting—published by North Light Books. 

Margaret L. Been, ®2011

One of the many delightful adventures involved in finding a new life passion, is researching its history.  Since I’ve been steeped and schooled in literature and the English language from little on, I’m no stranger to the craft of writing.  But art history provides a whole new world for me to explore.

Especially fascinating to me are the various art movements of the 19th and early 20th centuries.  Many of us love the French Impressionists, and the Post Impressionists who followed.  Nearly everyone is familiar with reproductions of Monet’s gardens, Degas’ ballerinas, and Van Gogh’s sunflowers.  The fact that these works have not become clichés testifies to their enduring, classic appeal.

The Impressionists came into being with the advent of photography.  For centuries, the artist (along with the scribe) had been the keeper of documentary provenance and the servant of history.  Painting frequently focused on detail.  In the mid 19th century, Paris was considered to be the art hub of the world.  Art accepted for display by the jury of the Louvres Grand Salon was subject to strict guidelines as to technique and subject matter.  Detailed representations of religious, historical, or mythological scenes dominated—with no room for deviation, individual choice of themes, or experimental methods of painting.

Into this stulted environment came the Impressionists, let by Monet.  Camera technology was capable of capturing detail but at that point photographs were in sepia, or black and white.  The Impressionists were inspired (and also aggravated!) to explode in color.  In contrast to the subdued Northern European palette in vogue at the time, these pioneers introduced a vibrancy of color which shocked and angered the art establishment. 

Freed from the boundaries of detailed representation, Impressionist artists explored the frontiers of subjective creativity.  Painters began to develop the essence and effects of outdoor light, en plein air.  The Impressionists also violated the standards of Parisian exhibitors and patrons by spurning traditional topics and painting everyday life—boating parties, gardens, gatherings at outdoor cafés, etc.

Because the reaction of the Paris art community was so vitriolic and violent, the Impressionists (named “Les Refusés” by their critics) had to stage their own showings which were not well-attended.  Patronage was virtually non-existent for years, and the Impressionists—so loved today—were probably the world’s first “starving artists”.  Judges proclaimed Impressionism to be “highly unsuitable for the public—the result of mental derangement.”

Finally, in the 1870s, the French Impressionists found a kindred soul who believed in them.  Gallery owner/art connoisseur Paul Durand-Ruel began buying and selling Impressionist works, largely to American collectors.  Durand-Ruel is quoted to have said, “The American public does not laugh; it buys!”

The Impressionists were followed by more experimental schools, theories, and “isms”, one of which grabs me by the throat:  Fauvism.  Introduced by Henri Matisse in the early 20th century, the Fauvists emphasized the free and arbitrary use of that element which I love best:  COLOR.  Les Fauvists not only wrenched themselves loose from accurate color representation, but they also forayed into the wonderland of abstract (or at least vaguely recognizable) shapes. 

Again, the Parisian art world reacted in anger.  ”Les Fauves” means “The Wild Beasts”—humorous because the initial Fauvist, Henri Matisse, was every bit a conventional, family-oriented, balanced, and stable individual in contrast to many great artists before and since. 

Art and the raging isms . . . such fun to read about!  For the untrained and amateur hobbyist such as I am, one motivation predominates; I will paint what I want, however I want!  I’m not painting for an Academie des Beaux Arts, not for patrons, not for a teacher, but rather for myself.  Whomever wishes to come along and enjoy the results of my freedom is welcome! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

Note:  I’ve never had a desire to “copy”, but I’m open to inspiration from some areas of art making.  I identify with Les Fauvists, although I’d never even heard of them when I began sloshing brazen color all over the place!

I fell in love with New Mexico—especially Santa Fe and Taos—years before I’d ever heard of Georgia O’Keeffe.  Above is one of my Southwest-themed renderings—digitally enhanced with suns, moon, poofs of cloud or whatever, and an explosion of light created by a program called Home Photo Studio. 

This software is great for art as well as photos.  Quite possibly, I qualify as a “wild beast” for venturing into digital enhancement!