The Leaf Metaphor Won't Leaf Me Alone!

Monday night I went to my book club meeting where we discussed The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry.  Great book, by the way.  One of the themes we discussed was how Harold's journey was a metaphor for life.  I am always enriched by the other group members thoughts and comments.  One of the side topics turned to pain and suffering in this life.  And again, my little leaf metaphor wouldn't leaf me alone!  I had hoped to spare you, but it was too persistent! 


This fall instead of the landscape, individual leaves called me to paint them.  Right now I'm having a hard time finding the time or desire to even pick up a paint brush.  But I've learned from my journal that small paintings are not demanding and can be just what the doctor ordered.  So as I painted tiny paintings of individual leaves and found that each one had a story.

How amazing were these little drawings and paintings of single fallen leaves!  Each leaf different. Some withered and curled. Some ravaged by the elements or bugs.  While painting the leaves I found the imperfections to be my favorite part.  They gave the leaf individuality and a fragile beauty.   The scars, gals, bug bites and tears all added character to the leaves and then to the drawings.  As I drew each leaf I hated covering the drawings with paint at times.  The color, so bright and bold, became secondary. And I didn't paint a few, so graceful and beautiful was the line of the drawing. And have you ever seen a leaf decomposed with nothing left but a web of veins?  Truly a wonder.

 Not one leaf I brought home was untouched by the elements in some way.  If nothing else it's life was ended by a gradual change in daylight.  Even those that looked perfect had still weathered the same storms and weather that those less fortunate had, they just managed to escape personal injury!  That is true of people too.  Just because they bear no discernible scars we shouldn't assume they have not had pain. 

 

                                                                                                                                                 
But the leaves that were the most beautiful to me, those with the most character, were the twisted, dried leaves.  Those ravaged by the elements.  They were fragile and their lines were graceful.  And here comes the metaphor!  None of us gets through this life without scars, whether others can see them or not. It's the things we go through that give us character and strength.  It's age that brings wisdom through living. 

 

So while this fall was ablaze with stunning vistas of grand color, the muse I found was on the path (literally) right under my feet.  One at a time I painted single leaves.  And I realized I'm right where I need to be, focusing not on what is further down the path, but instead on the beauty right where I walk today.  In the single thing and not the grand expanse.  And that in the imperfect is where we find the story.  

 

More Leaves

 

Sometimes journaling or small works like this are all I have time for.  Working small also helps encourage me to paint again if I'm in a slump.  Just by getting the paints out, then with the drawing I find the urge to put the brush into the paint and then touch the paint to the white paper and then adding water to watch the mystery and dance that is painting with watercolor!  

My favorite season is fall, and it's almost impossible for me not to pick up a few fallen leaves.  Who can resist all that color clinging to baring branches, floating on the breeze and carpeting the path underfoot?  And always impossible not to paint at least a single leaf!  

Here are two approaches to the same leaf.  Because I used a looser technique on the right with splatter, the color became darker and more red.  The actual leaf looks more like the one on the left.  ( I should have included the leaf! ).  Have you ever really looked at the delicate nature of a leaf?  Each is different and by this time of year, few are perfect. (Hmmm, there's a metaphor there!  But I'll spare you today! ) 

Enjoy the day and find some time to really look at a leaf! :) 

Expression with Line

Definition:

Line in drawing refers to a type of mark that contains both a direction and a length.  Line is an art element.  There are numerous varieties of possible lines, including curved, bent, thick, wide, broken, vertical, horizontal, burred, or freehand.  Lines are frequently used to delineate shapes, forms and spaces.  The representation of volume, edges, movement and patterns can all be created using line.  Lines can create both 2D and 3D objects and figures.

                                        

I have a fondness for line.  One of my favorite teachers taught me the sensitivity that can be shown with simple line.  A soft or light line seems delicate while a hard or dark line may feel more solid or sturdy.  You pick the adjective, but you get my meaning.

I use line to draw my subjects when I paint in watercolor.  I find myself conflicted when I've drawn something I like with line but I know that the drawing itself will be lost when it's painted.  The subtleties expressed with a simple line are so beautiful to me!  

This is a little watercolor sketch I did today.  Inspired by the beauty of the brilliant colors this fall, I brought leaves home from my walk.  I tossed the leaves on my white table.  They were bathed in sunlight while I sat and sketched the contour of a brilliant red-orange maple leaf.  I went ahead and painted the drawing, but I felt I had to photograph the line drawing before I did!  

                                       

Drawing and line are definitely a big part of what I love about watercolor.  

Dormancy

I apologize for not putting much of my art up lately, but you have to make art to show it and that's the problem.  I've been, shall we say, distracted and not painting.  This too shall pass.  I've noticed that periods of dormancy are followed by periods of great productivity and creativity.

In the past, I would try to force the creative process or coax a painting or two from the dry well of my creative self.  I would put into place an appointed time to paint each day believing that the practice would elicit the return of the creative impulse.  Sometimes this worked.  Most times it only produced technical paintings without spirit.  The idea being that if I faked it long enough the spirit would return with the practice.  But here is what I've found later in life and in this cycle of my life.  That "pushing through" the dry spells with work that was uninspired was wasted energy.

What I've understood lately is that periods of dormancy are as much a part of my creative experience as winter is to the perennial flower.  Instead of fighting the seemingly harsh weather of a creative winter, why not enjoy the beauty of the stillness and clarity the winter season brings.  A time to reflect, see the creative landscape unclothed and naked. Listen to the silence. To appreciate more fully the spring of renewal that awaits beneath the cold and seemingly dead surface. Are periods of dormancy any less important to the cycle of creativity?  I now know they are every bit as important for renewal.  But for years I have feared them and fought the inevitable.  Read the books and practiced the "cure".  In the end, its a cycle.  I can fight it or settle into it and learn to weather the season!

Thanks for waiting and reading!

I Speak in Color

As artists we have a lingo.  You know, "Art speak", so to speak!   We talk about composition, values, texture and so on.  Those unfamiliar with our language are confused by our vocabulary.  Some of my Facebook friends post amusing things that have  "math" or "grammar" that sometimes I don't get, because I don't fully understand their "Speak".  We all know and use some language that only those in the know, know!  Some specialized speech with words fully understood only to those who are familiar with their words and ideas.

Within the language of art, I've noticed I speak a particular dialect.  I speak color.  No, not the language of color.  Analogous, primary, hue, chroma, tint are terms used to describe different properties of color.  I mean I speak actual color.  "Look at the Ocher in that wheat field" or "did you see the Viridian shutters on that house?" And "those geraniums are the perfect shade of Scarlet Lake!"  Other artists who paint understand me clearly.  They nod their head in agreement or sometimes chose their own descriptive paint color to further narrow in on the exact hue.  Then we all murmur "oh, yes, much better choice!" As amusing as it may seem, it makes perfect sense to us!    

Yes, I speak in color.  I used to say things like "that's a lovely shade of blue".  Now I use the exact name that corresponds with the tube of color:  "what a lovely shade of ultra marine."  Once when a young lady working for an Italian cruise line told me her name was Azura, I knew not only what her name meant, but that her eyes had inspired her parents to name her that.

But beyond its many names and hues, Color allows us- the visual artist- to express themselves without words.  Color itself speaks.  Besides my speech, I use it to speak through my art.  I use color to reflect a mood or I change natural colors to intensify or exaggerate an element or else dull it to give it less importance in the painting.  Color evokes emotion and sets the tone for a painting.  The many ways and uses for color are too many for this short post, but such a powerful tool needs to be understood to be used well. Like a spoken language we do well when we learn how to use it to communicate our intent as clearly as possible.  I am still learning!  

Just a thought.