'Sometimes, you just have to let it slide'

or ...
'No sense fretting about it'
~a-work-in-progress~
6" x 6" acrylic on canvas panel

I haven't decided if this one will be for sale or not.

Morning light filters through our window blinds on a few of Brian's guitar slides. 

(For those of you not familiar with what a guitar slide is,

here's video of Bonnie Raitt playing guitar with a slide.)

Placed on your finger, you make notes by sliding it on the guitar neck. They create a very distinctive sound.

Brian's got about a dozen slides, each one unique, and I think they make cool subjects for still life paintings.

I love the reflections in the metal slide.

This painting is almost done. I still need to finish bringing the sunshine in with highlights here and there, as well as a few minor tweaks on the metal slide.

I can work on these small canvases in the house, without being too isolated from Brian while I paint, so you will probably be seeing more of these smaller works from me for a while, although I am still working on the giant canvas 'Matheson Hammock Memories' too.

"Men plan and God laughs." ... old Yiddish proverb

I started this year with a plan. To chronicle, 'A YEAR IN THE LIFE' , a year in my life as an artist, with a focused plan to grow my art business and expand my art endeavors. I looked forward to seeing where that new, more focused approach would take me.

Then, on a dime, in March, the plan changed. Brian's lymphoma returned and I had to put my 'YEAR IN THE LIFE' project, along with a whole lot of painting, on hold.

Being there for, and taking care of this man, my best friend, my husband Brian, is (happily) getting almost every bit of my attention.
So, in the spirit of this painting's title, I'm learning to let (the less important) stuff slide right now. And it's ok. It's been necessary to help me these last 6 months.
My (overgrown!) flower beds are actually pretty, in a wild untamed sort of way, and adjustments with what chores are really necessary everyday, has allowed me to still find small snippets of painting time.
Using these small canvases allows me to paint near Brian, to be close by if he needs me.

This newest Non-Hodgkins lymphoma journey has certainly had it's ups and downs.
The most recent up- the chemo is working! (as per PET scan results).
The most recent down- Brian, weak from chemo treatments, fell and broke his back last Sunday night.
Our whole journey, thus far, is chronicled on my blog page, B's journey.

Thanks for visiting.... and please consider becoming a blog follower while you're here. (Click the blue 'Join This Site' button found in the right margin just above all the little thumbnail images of blog followers so far.)
My (somewhat lofty) goal is to perhaps hit 50 followers by years end.

Matheson Hammock Memories

A peek at the process.

I found time to paint today and was able to get the sky almost done on this big canvas. It just needs some minor tweaking where the black gesso is peeking through the highly textured areas a bit too much. Otherwise, I like it. My apologies, as this photo is not very good. It was taken tonight and the colors, brushwork and texture are lost in the poor lighting. It's much prettier in person.

As I was working on this big canvas, I got to thinking about some of the beaches I used to visit in the late 1960's as a teenager growing up in Miami.

One of them was Matheson Hammock Park.  A man-made atoll on the Biscayne Bay, near my hometown of Coral Gables. It was built in the early 1930's,  a part of President Roosevelt's Civilian Conservation Corp that helped put unemployed men to work during the depression.
Back in the day, it was a beautiful place to spend a day at the beach. I hear it's not quite as nice now, which is too bad, but I'm painting it as if it's still in it's heyday.

The only photo I have of me as a baby, was taken at Matheson Hammock Park. I'm in the water, being held by my mom. I've always been fascinated by that photo, probably because it's my only baby pic and because my mom looks so happy. All heck broke loose in my family a few years later, and I pretty much rarely saw my mom happy again. Heck, I rarely saw my mom at all.

Reminiscence emotions got a hold of me and I decided to change the random location of my original beach painting, to this beach at Matheson Hammock Park.
I love it when I have an emotional connection to a painting I'm working on. It takes the painting experience up a notch.
This change of location meant I had to add the sea wall/sandbar and a few palm trees and I had to make the water calm. It's almost like a tidal pool at this beach. The water softly meets the sand, so the big waves I had started in my original layout had to go bye-bye.

Before I added the sandbar and trees to the canvas, I used a technique I learned from artist Robert Vickrey. He painted with egg tempera. When he wanted to add an element to one of his paintings, (such as a hat on a child) he would often place a piece of clear acetate on his (dry) canvas, painting the idea on the acetate first, to see if he liked it. He could move the acetate around, helping him with placement, perspective and such, before he actually painted the new element directly on his canvas.
He, of course, did not use the acetate on wet paint. So, if you use this idea, let whatever medium you are using dry first. Because I use acrylic paint, which we all know, dries in a nano second, I usually don't have to wait long if I want to use the acetate.

I use 3M Transparency Write-On Film. Sold in a box of 100 sheets (8.5x10.5) for about $22. Another neat thing about these sheets is they will static cling to the canvas. Just rub the sheet around on something to activate the cling. No tape needed.


Here are my trees, sketched on an acetate sheet to see if I liked the idea or not. I put the sandbar where one of the original waves was. You can see the lights in my studio shining on the acetate sheet.

The reference photo for my original beach/umbrella idea is one I created by mashing several photos together with photoshop.

I had a photo of a plain umbrella on the beach. I wanted a patterned umbrella, one of my own design, so I replaced the plain umbrella with a polka dot umbrella I found in an advertisement. Fortunately it's perspective jived pretty good with the original (plain) umbrella so it fit in nicely.

The polka dots became perspective reference points for me so I could create the patterned umbrella correctly. I wasn't worried about copyright issues using a published photo, since it was going to be SO different from the original. It was just a perspective tool for me.

 Here's the painting from my last blogpost, before I added the sandbar and trees. I'm glad the silly cartoon clouds seen here are gone now.

Brian's latest battle with lymphoma has kept me out of the studio quite a bit, so my painting updates will be sporadic for a while.
I can't wait to find a chunk of studio time again soon as I'm really having fun with this painting.


Thanks for visiting!