Invention

Necessity really is the mother of invention. If you have been following this saga about the animal eraser paintings, you will know that there was a two month waiting period for me before the permission form was returned. During this time, I did move on to other animal paintings, created from "real" animals. But I also had this concept for my upcoming solo show ("Real and Imagined: A Collection of Animal Paintings"). I wasn't quite ready to throw that concept out the window. A friend had suggested I create my own imaginary animals. Of course, I had considered that already, but after she said it, I knew I had to try.

First, I did a couple of one-line drawings in my sketchbook. Then, I decided I needed to have something three-dimensional. I bought some Play Doh. I made a rabbit out of Play Doh. I didn't like it, so I squished it and made another. I did another drawing. I made ONE LAST Play-Doh rabbit, lighted it and photographed it. Then I painted it. I wasn't too happy with my rabbit painting, so I did the same thing with a tortoise: drawing, play-doh, squish, drawing, play doh, photo,... And then I painted it. Now that I have begun to once more paint the Iwako "imaginary" animals, I am finding myself more and more satisfied with my own "imaginary" animals. They will make it into the show in April.

a preliminary charcoal drawing

Play-Doh rabbit

Play-Doh tortoise

Here is my tortoise painting:

"Tortoise." Oil on canvas, 18 x 24 inches. ©Karine Swenson2013

What do you think of my "imaginary" animal?

The Return

One Moment.  Charcoal on paper, 14 x 11 inches.

 Back in the desert once more.  When you've been gone a certain amount of time,  things all seem to have shifted slightly.  Or perhaps it's because you have been gone, you have shifted, and so the way you see familiar things is new.  Dry heat instead of wet heat.  The green here seems dusty and faded - bleached.  The house and yard feel neglected, despite the care of a dear neighbor.  The stack of mail, overwhelming at first, is nearly sorted through.   The air is sweet smelling, after the olfactory onslaught of the city.  I welcome it.  I would write the proverbial "it's good to be home," and in some ways it is.  In other ways it feels unfamiliar and empty.

The face I was overjoyed to see.

I still wake up in the wee hours.  I stay in bed, tossing, thinking if I lay there long enough, I will fall asleep once more.  But I do not.  I finally get up and watch the sun come up.  I gaze out the window, waiting for the familiar rabbits, jackrabbits and quail to make their morning appearance.  They come every day for the water I put out and to nibble on my carefully watered garden.  They have learned ways to sabotage my fences and chicken wire, in my absence.  Part of me is disappointed that my flowers are in some fuzzy bunny tummy, but another part of me can't help a small smile.  If I were a rabbit, I would eat them, too, especially the lemon yellow flowers that are now nothing more than brown sticks, nibbled to the bare.  Here is the first rabbit of the day, cautiously hopping to the water where a small finch splashes.  The rabbit is too skittish to actually take a drink, and has already left in a hurry.  I don't remember my windows being this dirty.  Maybe it rained.

I finished reading Musa Mayer's book Night Studio, about her father (the painter Philip Guston) on the airplane.  A worthwhile read, especially if you are an artist or if you live with one.  It illustrated quite well how obsessive the urge to create can be for an artist.  In this passage, Ms. Mayer writes about what her father put her mother through:  "His work habits were erratic, consuming.  No moderation there, either; no regular schedule for her (or me) to count on.  Often she'd barely see him for days when he was working late at night.  He would paint all night long, sleep in the daytime, and hardly see the two of us."  For me, the most compelling chapter was the last chapter of the book, where Mayer struggles to come to terms with being the daughter of an artist like Guston. I won't give anything more away, in case you read it.

Untitled (the helmet).  Charcoal and pastel,  7 x 5 inches.

Time to return to the studio.

Painting, drawing and a lizard

The weekend approaches with high humidity and the promise of rain.  The desert holds its breath, waiting to see if drops will fall.  If they do, you can be assured that I will be out in the rain, soaking it in.  I am reluctant to get my hopes up, but there are clouds... 

I didn't get too much feedback on the first painting I posted of the new series.  So maybe most of you didn't like it, or maybe you just didn't want to leave a comment.  If you'd rather email, like many of you often do, that's okay too.  But if you don't want to give feedback, that's completely fine.  I will still love you, just because you read my blog.  Here is the first painting I did in the new series.  I posted a sideways photo of it last week, still in progress on the easel.  I have changed it only slightly, and it may not even be finished.  But here it is.  I was hoping the next paintings would be more like this one, but so far, each one has its own idea of how it will look.  I am not in charge, apparently.

"Consolation."  Oil on linen.  40 x 40 inches.  ©Karine Swenson 2011

I have also been making an effort to draw more, since it fuels all of my other work.  I didn't draw as a kid - what I loved was to color.  I don't know if Crayola still makes that giant box of 64 crayons with the built in sharpener in the back, but for me, that was one of the most beautiful things ever made.  Seeing all of those colors, lined up with their perfectly formed tips, slightly flattened on top - that was about as close to heaven as I could imagine at the age of 6.  Then, in Junior High, I decided I wanted to be a gymnast, just like Nadia Comaneci.  The crayons fell by the wayside.  It wasn't until college that I visited a friend taking an oil painting class.  I took one sniff of the fumes, saw the paintings and then, all of a sudden, I knew what I wanted.  TO COLOR!!!!  Paint, that is.  Since I didn't consider myself an artist, I decided to learn how to draw, because then, THEN I would feel like a real artist.  That was the ticket to the world of art, in my mind.  I have worked really hard at my drawing skills, and I still have a long way to go.  Drawing is now an integral part of my art practice.  It is the strand that holds all the parts of my work together.  It is also the part that makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I can be a real artist.  (If only I could get the proportions right...)

"Seated Jack."  Charcoal on paper, 14 x 11 inches.  ©Karine Swenson 2011

  I leave you with some photos of the desert iguana that I often see cruising around outside the house.  I see him so often, that I have decided to name him "Iggy."  (after Iggy Pop.)  Let's just hope the roadrunner doesn't see him.  (Well, Iggy might be a female, but I think it's okay to call her Iggy too.) 

Iggy is about a foot and a half long, with tail.

My dear blog readers, I thank you for reading my ramblings, such as they are.  Have a gorgeous weekend!

News

My husband left last week, rather suddenly, for Thailand.  A job opportunity had presented itself.  I am thrilled that he is going to be flying the 747 again, but Thailand is SO FAR.  All of the responsibilities that he had taken on have now become my responsibilities.  I am glad that I can help, but of course everything places a demand on my time - time that would be spent on my art.  (oh, and this blog!)  We had a few precious months of him being home, which is something we have rarely enjoyed in all of our years of marriage.  Just as I was getting used to having him around, *poof* and he is gone once again.  We are not sure when he will be able to come home.  It is a contract position for 5 months.  FIVE MONTHS.

Whew.

I take deep breaths.  I give the Pono dog lots of hugs and kisses and probably more attention than he is really interested in.  And I do whatever I can to be at home near the computer at 5 pm, so that I can talk to my husband on Skype.  That is how I will continue.

Here is a page from my sketchbook.  Studies of the antelope ground squirrel - one of Pono's favorite desert creatures.  (They squeak!  They dig holes!  WHAT could be more exciting?!)

We have a winner!

My friend Marjorie came over today and helped me choose a winner for the drawing.  Marylinn Kelly, you have won your own copy of Carla Sonheim's book, Drawing Lab for the Mixed Media Artist!!!!!  Congratulations!  Please send me an email with your mailing address, so we can get one sent off to you.   Thank you, everyone for stopping by, and for your comments.  I do so love the visits!

A hot, dry wind is blowing today, keeping the temps just a bit cooler (86 degrees Fahrenheit at 7:41 pm.)  The sun has just set, and I still have an unfinished painting on my easel. 

So, quickly, a jackrabbit from the sketchbook.  8 1/2 x 7 inches, Charcoal and gesso.  This was a study for "Surprise."  from last week's post.

Happy Thursday, everyone, and congratulations to our winner, Marylinn Kelly!  Thanks to everyone who participated.