I created sheets of color swatches many years ago. Mine are all for watercolor and the brand of paint I use is Winsor & Newton professional grade. The color swatch sheets always hung on the wall of my studio. Some are purely to show what the color looks like and its name. Others show what color combinations I get when I mix various colors. The swatches show combinations of two colors and of three colors. They may also show the color at full strength and pulled to the side, thinner and thinner, demonstrating its translucency, mixed with water.
Other purposes of the swatches are to show me what a particular color is called, in the event that the name has worn off the tube or the palette. It also lets me see which colors need replacing.
As a side note, this video and others were made when I owned a small film company called Log Cabin Studios. They are also under my birth name, Shelley Wilson, rather than my nickname of Ren. I sold off all of my equipment in order to travel full time. Now my videos are to help students with art. I teach art classes on my travels. It enables me to pass on all I’ve learned about drawing and painting. It brings me great joy to see my students discover their creativity and to see the world around them with new eyes.
This winter I taught “How to Draw”. It was rewarding, fun, and brought many new friends into my life.
The last house I owned was a log home; large with a wonderful studio, where I spent a good portion of my day. In that room, I edited film, did photography, read, painted, taught art, hosted Bible Study groups, framed finished art projects, watched movies, and spent a lot of time entertaining friends and family. The cabin was also a bed and breakfast. Many of the guests gravitated to my studio, where I often invited them join me at the long table and handed them some paper and colored pencils or art pens. “Lets do art”, I’d say. The room was comfortable and occupants immediately felt at ease. While learning some little art task, they would tell me about their dreams in life. I loved being there. I loved the people who visited. I was comforted by the place.
Now I’m a grey nomad. I didn’t decide to do that on a whim, although, once the decision was made, it was put into action quickly. A lot of thought, over many months, went into my decision. Thought and research. I talked about all that in previous posts.
When you get a good idea, it just sort of refuses to leave. Especially if it’s a great idea.
Here I am now, two and a half months into my adventure; my idea turned into a little home for myself.
Right now I, my little home, and Sophia are visiting friends in Ohio. This is our first trek and I admit I was a wee bit anxious at first. Okay. Maybe for the entire drive. Would I be able to find a gas station I’d fit into with my rig? How long would it take? Did I miss a turn, because it felt like nothing was familiar? Oh, look. I recognize that. No missed turn. Would I be able to back into the driveway at my destination, in the dark? But here, at last, we are.
Sophia
I’ll spend a week here, heading back to Pennsylvania Saturday. From then until early November, life will become a comfortable routine of campground life. I have a summer job in the office at the Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Campground in Quarryville, Pennsylvania. Yogi is a large, busy place with lots of amenities and guests. At one time or another every single guest passes through the office. The RV is parked at another campground nearby. Both locations are nestled in the woods, surrounded by Amish farms and roadways are shared with horse drawn carriages.
The comforts of RV life? I’m comforted by this small environment. My art/computer desk faces a large window that looks out on summer scenes serenaded by a plethora of birds. My art table itself is a comfort to me. It’s made from a table I bought from a second hand shop. The legs were discarded when it was put in here, but it fits perfectly.
Lately I feel ready to change the way I do art. In this limited space its more practical to work on small projects, using perhaps colored pencils, pastels, and watercolor. What I’ll do with the little projects, I have no idea. Art has been my voice, a way of communicating my heart to the world around me. The message has changed and it isn’t clear what new messages I’d want to paint. The bigger question – do I have anything to say that anyone would want to hear?
In the meantime, here I am. Cooking meals for myself in my little corner kitchen.
Spending time in my corner art studio
and gazing out the window at whatever scene is there at the moment
Comfort is a process; a niche to find and settle into. The sentimental, comforting things I keep must be settled on, keeping in mind the weight they add vs the joy they bring.
In the kitchen my mom’s recipe box sits next to the a favorite basket, on the counter by the window.
My rolling cart of favorite things
My library
My photo gallery
So there you have it. No matter where you live, you can be comforted by the little things in life.
I recall, as a child, having no doubt that I could successfully perform a cartwheel. I didn’t analyze the chances or consider all possible scenarios. Nor did I fret about potential injuries. I just ran and did a cartwheel. When I landed, it took a moment for a tiny dizziness to pass; to get my bearings (oh, I said “bear”-ings). Thinking about it, I’m suddenly flooded with other memories about the cartwheel. I was with other people. Other children. We were all doing cartwheels and laughing. It was summer and the air smelled of fresh cut grass, made even more fragrant by the sunshine. I can almost hear all the birds watching from the branches of the maple tree down by the sidewalk, having a whole twittery kind of conversation about the craziness going on in the yard below. My sense of touch is remembering the feel of the blades of grass and the softness of clover, the dampness of the soil beneath, my sun-warmed hair, and the feel of a drop of sweat trickling down my face.
This is a video I made quite a while ago, but the technique remains the same. Its ten minutes and twenty-three seconds long. I also address how to rinse your brushes and how to clean them.
Life Application
Sometimes I wish I could apply masking fluid to a situation in my life, paint over it, remove the mask, and see that the situation was not as bad as it had first appeared. Frisket/mask does not erase anything. It just keeps a spot from taking on color, taking on change you don’t want. It sort of preserves what is underneath so you have a fresh chance to do what you need to do.
What kinds of things can you do in your life to keep a situation from permanently changing your life? A good night’s sleep? A cup of hot tea? A walk? Talking with a friend? What other things could you do?
Potato Picker 1 – watercolor on Bainbridge Alpharag Board
I came across this painting tonight. Its in my leather portfolio case. It was framed and hung on my studio wall in a previous location. It hung there for years and years. The frame was a metal frame, the color of her apron. During all the many moves in my life, the frame got scratched. It was a custom size and would be expensive to replace. It wasn’t in inches. It was in centimeters. When we were stationed in Germany, I found the photo of two women, potato pickers, from right there in my village. I wrote to the photographer and got his permission to paint from the photo. I decided I would put each of the two women in their own painting.
The painting above is, by far, my favorite. I can’t part with it. It isn’t just a painting. Its an experience. The board I painted it on had a thin coat of something (sizing, I imagine) on it that caused the pigment to lay on the surface and dry, looking rich and alive. It was an experiment and something told me it would be amazing. I took photos of each step of the way. Painting it was almost a sensual experience. The brush laid the paint down as if it couldn’t help it; as if compelled to create a masterpiece. I’d say it was even as if the painting was already done and the board and brush and paint knew what it was to become and they performed a symphony of color, shadow, and light. Every brush stroke went down as if it was already there and the brush was just painting water over it to bring it to life. I’ve never experienced anything like it again. It was my only piece of board like that. I don’t know if its even made anymore.
mi teintes paper
I say all this because I have found an art board made by mi teintes. I have used papers by the same company. The example is one I did on a gray mi teintes paper. When I went to the store to purchase some black art board, I saw the white art board that is made to take watercolor. I’m excited to try it. One piece was approximately $6 and when the cashier handled it, I was so afraid she’d get oils from her fingers on it. She didn’t realize the significance of that. Do you?
I long to try it out. Not yet, however. I have three commissions to finish before Christmas. If I were to sit down and just get them done, it wouldn’t take long. They happen to be quite difficult. Three pieces, each containing numerous people. The pressure is on. I find myself working for a few minutes on the faces and needing to leap up from my chair and pace. I suddenly feel the urge to wash dishes or sweep the floor. Anything. I long to do anything at all, except work on that face.
Something to look forward to
When the three commissions are completed, I’ll get out the white watercolor board and see what I can come up with. Maybe by then I’ll have some idea what the subject needs to be. Is it like a carving, where the whole process is just releasing the thing trapped within the wood? Or like the painting of the the woman picking potatoes? I don’t know.
I found the photograph of this woman in an out-of-print book while living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I wrote to the publisher, asking for permission to do a painting of the woman and received a letter from the photographer giving me permission to use any of his work I’d like. He closed his letter with “Keep your powder dry”. I looked that up and it means, as a photographer in the past, it was important that the powder used for a flash to be totally dry. Otherwise it wouldn’t make its flash.
Truth or Consequences, New Mexico
This particular photograph was taken of a woman in the small town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Maybe you’ve heard of a game show called Truth or Consequences. Quite a long while ago, the game show folks put out an offer to pay a town to change their name to Truth or Consequences.
Applying Masking Fluid / Frisket
I did this painting later on. The photograph in the book was an old-looking black and white image. I did a draft painting, making the woman’s scarf look rather like a wet on wet mish-mosh of blues and purples. Hated it! For my second attempt I found a piece of cloth in my sewing box of fabrics. I decided to pretend it was her scarf. I imagined her son giving her the beautiful scarf as a gift and decided right then to call it The Gift. The cloth has so many little flowers and curly stems that it was going to be a challenge. I remembered that I had some masking fluid (frisket). I drew out the flowers and stems lightly with a hard pencil and then dipped a toothpick into the masking fluid and drew over the faint lines again with this fluid. I did a nice bluish watercolor wash over the whole scarf. I had also drawn the hairs with the toothpick dipped in frisket.
Removing the masking fluid / frisket
Once the watercolor was dry, I gently rubbed the frisket with my index finger, lifting it off the paper. I didn’t want to damage the paper. Sometimes if you leave the frisket on too long before doing the paint, it will be impossible to lift off without taking some of the paper with it. This time I removed it right away and it came off easily. As I removed the first bits, I used those to rub on the frisket still on the paper to lift it off. Using a fine tipped brush, I added the colors of the pattern on the cloth.
The first piece I’d done of the woman was actually far more work. The pencil work needed to be done in tiny little circles so that there would be no tall-tale signs that it was shaded with pencil. The upside of pencil is that it can be erased. The downside of using watercolor is that it can’t.
Finishing Touches
When the woman was fully rendered, I did a quick wet on dry wash for the background to set off the white of her beautiful blouse. For the final touches, I used a toothbrush, dipping it into some Burnt Sienna, to stipple across the white background of the painting. I laid some torn pieces of paper over the white blouse to protect it from getting splatters from the stippling. Next, I held the brush in my left hand, pointed towards the painting. I raked a toothpick across the bristles gently to see how much splatter it would create. Where it was sparse, I added more.
What do you think the gift would be?
Once the painting was finished, I decided that the scarf wasn’t the gift. The woman’s smile was the gift…in my mind. I named the work The Gift, but intended for the viewer to decide what the gift was.
