This painting began as a pure indulgence, a reveling in hues of green and blue. Of movement across the canvas. I let my brush go where it wanted, mixing combo after combo of blues and greens. I tried to keep my mind at bay and let my spirit take over. A teacher once commented, “Creating abstract art is 10% painting. The other 90%? Study your canvas. Go away and come back to it. Listen to what it is telling you before you pick up your brush again.”

I didn’t intend a month’s absence from the painting, but that’s how it worked out.  Before I left I noticed a vague shape in the canvas’ lower left hand corner.  Someone’s torso and legs perhaps? Was she bent over? Perhaps hunched against an oncoming storm? Were those rainboots on her feet?  During my weeks away, she danced in and out of my memory.

When we finally reunited, I felt a bit pelted myself. Re-entry from a long and wonderful trip inevitably concludes with piles of laundry and mail. The light and joy of the first night of Chanukah this year brought a father-son hunting trip with Jews in their crosshairs. Rob Reiner and his wife murdered by their son.

I needed to lose myself in something. The vague shape was taking form in my mind as I filled my water bucket and began squeezing paints onto my palette. Brushstroke by brushstroke she came into being. She didn’t need facial features, did she? And why not paint her face and hands blue? If Franz Marc could paint a blue horse, my figure could certainly have slate-hued skin.

Is this painting done? I’m not sure yet. The umbrella’s handle a bit misaligned. I’m sure my teacher would find plenty of teachable moments for me to remedy.  Part of me wants to “do more.” Another part is setting this painting aside for the moment and turning to new work.  Stay tuned. Stay dry. Weather the storms as best as you can.

 

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