Tales from Goshen

Eyes

painting 9:30 PM

They are the window to the soul. Mesmerizing...captivating...tricky.

I have spent the last 3 hours doing nothing but painting eyes. Wow, you're thinking...she is studying eyes! She must have painted lots of eyes!

Oh no.

Just one pair. For 3 hours. Ok, maybe 2 and a half hours.

After breaking the "painting" ice this weekend by doing a trial painting on a mini-canvas, I feel ready to tackle my first "real" painting. And portraiture is where I begin.

I have a photograph of Brooklyn that I took about a year ago and I love it. It's very zoomed in on her face and here eyes are enormous and golden brown and quite compelling. The value is not great - the flash just about sucked in her whole face, but somehow, that makes the overall picture that much more radiant.

So I spent this afternoon making a sketch of the photograph. And then I kind of got carried away and sketched Dorien who was sleeping beside me and then a photograph of August I'd like to paint and another photograph of Brooklyn. It was downright blissful.

I took those sketches with me to art class tonight and showed Endia, my instructor. She was very keen on the idea of my painting these portraits and was especially excited about my working on Brooklyn's eyes.

She gave me some undivided attention for a few minutes, teaching me (by demonstration) how to work on eyes. Wow.

I mean, WOW! First of all, Endia is amazing. And a great teacher.

After I used a projector to enlarge my earlier sketch of the photograph to my canvas, I began mixing paints (burnt umbers, black, oranges, etc) to get the right colors. Then blending and reworking....

And I am happy to say that by the end of class, I had two pretty good eyes staring back at me from an otherwise white canvas. And I do mean staring at me. These things are intense.

And I'm terrified of what comes next. Skin tone.

But most of all, I am amazed that I could spend so long just working on a pair of eyes. And have such an insanely wonderful time. (and I apologize for the dreadful pictures)

Inspiration

Life 8:04 PM

Where do you find inspiration?

Is it a person? A photograph?

A piece of music? An album? The way the sunlight filters through trees on the edge of the road?

Fat baby toes in the afternoon sun? The perfect stillness of a lake at dusk? A quiet house? When the air dips to a certain chilly temperature and leaves begin to flutter to the ground?

Is it a blog? A poem? A photograph of a recipe that makes you want to pull out your pots and pans and attempt it yourself? Design magazines? Beautiful landscaping?

And what is it that you're inspired to do? Sing? Write? Read? Run? Cook? Pull out your own camera? Knit? Sew? Quilt? Make hot tea? Learn to paint?

Inspiration comes in many shapes and moves us in different directions. I find inspiration in every single one of the instances listed above and I know those barely scratch the surface.

I am so overwhelmed by inspiration at times that it literally paralyzes me. What to do first? Second? Third? And more importantly...when? I have piles of projects just begging me to jump in. Photographs, baby books, knitting projects, sewing patterns....

As I mentioned before, my latest venture is painting. Thanks to David McCullough who opened my eyes to John Singer Sargent, I am seeing the world through different eyes. I have been infused with a burning desire to paint! I realize there are so many people over the course of history who've answered the call of paint to find its perfect expression on canvas and many of them have mastered it. Mastered it. And then new ones have come along and mastered different, but equally amazing techniques.

There are the Michelangelos and Rembrandts, the Picassos and Renoirs, the Rothkos and Kandinskis, the Van Goghs and Degas and the list goes on and on and on...and all those move me. But none quite like John Singer Sargent.

He not only painted portraits, he painted watercolors and landscapes in all different ways and they never cease to stun me, captivate me, awe me. I'm not saying everyone will or should react the way I do. But I do hope there is at least SOMETHING in your life that you do react to as viscerally as I do to his work. Something that you love so much you feel it must have been invented just for your enjoyment.

Because to be so moved and so inspired is fantastic and terrifying. It does more than sit there and look pretty and make me feel good. It tosses its head and issues a challenge to me. Ashley, join me. Try this.

So I've taken a great leap into the unknown to nod my head to the greatness that has gone before me and to learn to understand it. Attempt to find my own voice with paints. Will I be successful? Who knows. That's part of the terror, really. Because for some reason, it's not enough for me to just love Sargent's work. I want to understand the way he painted. The mediums he used. The thought that went into his compositions.

And I, two classes in, am so overwhelmed by a whole world of painting that I never knew existed. The wide array of brushes to choose from. Different types of surfaces on which to paint. Preparation of those surfaces. Acrylic or oil? Or water-soluble oil? Which medium to use? Water, liquid gel, soft gel, GAC, paste? How to glaze, dry brush, figuring out your natural brush style, sfumato, impasto, stippling...what to paint...how to put my own interpretation via my eyes, brain, arm, fingers, brush to canvas...and have it make a connection to someone else.

I have spent "my" moments, the moments when no other demands are placed on me and I'm just sitting nursing Dorien or reading while everyone else is asleep, pouring through books on the different techniques of painting in oil and acrylic, studying and thinking through the different texts. Reading books on John Singer Sargent and also, doing my own beginner exercises!

I have no idea where, if anywhere, this will take me. I just know that there is something magical about the brush, slick with paint, making contact with a quietly waiting canvas...

I don't care how busy you are or what you do with your time. You need to be inspired. We all do. Find that something and let it move you to something bigger, something that scares you. Sometimes walking into a room of strangers with nothing in common except a desire to wield a brush can be the best thing you can do for yourself.

Perfect Friday

Dorien 2:13 PM

September

Cooking 8:22 PM

Quoted

August 2:56 PM

I am a huge fan of Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman. The more I read from her, the more I cook from her stuff, the more I watch her, the more likable she is to me. Love her.

But I marvel at how she is able to do the things she does. She must have lots of minions in the background helping her keep things going. There is no other explanation. I'm not so much the piddly kind; I have lists galore and projects galore and I feel like my mind races 24/7 with ideas and thoughts and plans and lists and I'm always multi-tasking, but I still feel like things don't get done. My basil plants wilt because I forget to water them. My car needs vacuuming. My children need baths. Just kidding about that last part.

Knitting projects get worked on while I wait for yeast to proof. Books get read while my kids sleep. Finances get tinkered with while I nurse Dorien. I run for my Mommy break when Kyle gets home. Kyle and I lift weights together at the gym and talk about our days. I use his extra hands to go grocery shopping with me. I clean the bathroom when the kids are brushing their teeth and pottying. I squeeze every little drop out of this life I'm living and I still feel like there is stuff I miss. Or really want or need to do but just can't. On top of home-schooling. I'm the queen of "what can I get done while that is being done".

I'm not complaining one little bit. I love my life. And all of it is spent in the presence of my family and we're not "doing" too much. I just am a project gal. But sometimes I just wonder. Is all.

I can honestly say that adding home-schooling to the mix of my life has been really great. I get to spend more quality time with my kids. I get to have funny conversations with them!

Yesterday, I was teaching Brooklyn and August something very basic and practical - that when you meet someone, you look them in the eye, say hello and shake their right hand with your right hand. I emphasized their right hand by putting a stamp on it. They thought this was great. Oh, and just so you don't give me too much credit, this was all mapped out by my curriculum.

Anyway, I was shaking hands with August, teaching him how to properly grip and not do the loosy-goosy creepy handshake.

"The Right Hand, we shake hands with our right hands, don't we guys?"

"Yes, Mommy!"

Just to see how well August was doing with left vs. right, I held up my left hand and asked, "Which hand is this, August?"

"The Wrong Hand!"

We may need to recover some pre-basic basics.