Pieces & Parts

My two favorite parts of any painting are the beginning and the end.  The exhilaration of the start, replete with all the wonderful ideas I see so clearly in my mind, and the satisfaction of the end, when I can finally say that the work is done, are two great feelings.  Unfortunately, it is really the middle portion: the labor, the endless decisions, the edits and the re-dos that mean the most.  Time consuming and less thrilling, this is the work that determines the nature of the piece.

I explain this because I am currently in this middle section on several paintings that have sat around during my recovery and are now whimpering for attention.  I have pulled them out because they are small enough to work on with my hand and don't need extreme use of my right arm.

Here is a pencil drawing I did on a 10 x 8 canvas from a photo taken in Florence.  It's a rather common shot so I need to think of an uncommon way to finish it up.  I could go to strictly black and white, letting it resemble an old photo or maybe do it in tones of blue, like night?  Or what if everything but the lamp post is merely suggested and not detailed?  I'm just not sure....and I've forgotten why I started it, seems ages ago and I really hate to put it back into the TBF (to be finished) pile.

Here is a pastel that I am not satisfied with.  I remember why I started this one however.  I was standing on the bridge on a very cold day after a snow and was just mesmerized by all the color this "white" scene offered.  I was most amused by my own shadow in the water from the bridge where I was standing taking photos.  None of the photos captured the range of colors I could see with my eye.  The earth beneath the not fully frozen stream, the clouds reflected behind me and the sun beaming off the snow.  So its back to the drawing board for more work.

From the Bridge

pastel, 8" x 8" on paper

matted in white to 14" x 14"

(available here soon)

I think this works a little better and feels a little colder than it did before.  

I am sharing this because when I tell people I am an artist, they usually get a moon-y look on their face, sigh or swoon and then say, "oh, that must be sooo relaxing."  And I just smile.  

So this is my answer: not always!

Relaxing is when you wash up and step back and like what you see.  Work is everything before that.

Now, excuse me, I have to get back to work.

Have a "relaxing" weekend,

Cindy