The texture of "faith"

"Faith," 5 x 5 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas, palette knives only

I grew up believing faith was what I was told it was, what I was taught. It was a definition, supported by  scriptures in various ways and and those you agreed with.

That was perhaps fine in youth and early adulthood, but it seemed to easy, especially when you studied the people of the Scriptures, learned stories of what the "faithful" of all beliefs endured through the centuries. 

I'm a slow learner, it's taken decades of questions and doubts and reading and failures and lessons and  fewer answers and living through ups and downs to even write this.

I don't pretend to define the word--I'm not sure that is possible. There are metaphors and comparisons and examples of those who are and were people of faith. 

But after I finished my morning reading today, I could say that faith has texture, texture acquired in a journey, experienced by living in the face of eternity. That's vague, I know.  It's only my description, not an answer or definition, and not peculiar to any belief. That's difficult for us Americans, used to being in control and children of exact answers in a computer age of science.

Another--universal and not just religious--description, not a definition, is in  Hebrews 1:1 "...faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen."

Thus today's painting, using only a palette knife to add physical texture to my attempt. Available Edmond Vibes, at The Vault April 6, and thereafter at  In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

Great Plains Drama

"Drama on the Llano Estacado" 11 x 14 acrylic on canvas panel

"Paint for yourself," advised a Taos landscape artist in an art magazine I bought yesterday.

The advice came at the right time, as I had started a painting twice and stalled. Sometimes art has to brew or stew, like good coffee or chili, needing more ingredients.

On my computer screen was a photo I'd taken a couple of years before on one of my many trips into and across the Texas Panhandle, heading west. There's always something to see out there on the Great Plains, in the sky, in the wide open spaces, in the weather, in the ever-changing light..

I've tried painting it in watercolor before and been too fussy. But I wanted use it as a reference for what I love to paint, what inspires me...the skies, the open spaces, the old buildings, the stories.

I made a value sketch, still stewing. Then I began mixing paint with a palette knife, experimenting, forgetting, or ignorant of, any rules, having fun.

Today's painting is all palette knife work, except for the two grain elevators and buildings. The sky is mixed with variations of only three colors, plus white--Ultramarine and  cerulean blue, and burnt sienna. The little foreground is yellow ochre, azo yellow, and burnt sienna, plus the blues for shadows

I took the photo driving about 75 on I-40, east of Amarillo with storm clouds rolling in, and abandoned elevators capturing my attention. Obviously I used my artistic license on composition and color.

I've noticed since trying to learn acrylics that most of my work is vertical, compared to most of my horizontal watercolors. I don't know why. This was easy though, to show the immensity of the sky, the open spaces, and the smallness of humans. 

Notes: I'm having trouble with a title that fits the painting I'm happy with, that I painted for myself. The photo darkened that main cloud a little more  than it is. This is also, I just realized, essentially a study in complementary colors, adding to the interest and contrast.It will be available soon at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

The Colors of Western Skies

"Western Skies, " 8 x 10 acrylic on canvas panel, palette knives, brushes

"I love mixing paint," I told a friend recently.

Long ago in my first watercolor class, one of the first lessons was that you don't need many colors, that you can mix the ones you need.

Then an artist in an oil painting workshop I attended said he could have entire lessons on mixing colors.

When I started trying to teach myself acrylics, mixing colors became essential, but there was a difference--palette knives.

I've always admired palette knife paintings, but picking one up and mixing colors became a new tactile experience. You can get lost in trying to get the colors you want, and feel for a painting, even before touching the canvas..

Just as when you're painting, the rest of the world goes away. These are problems to be solved, to my satisfaction.

Those a some of the stories behind this painting, trying to capture the mood of the skies in my beloved Southwest. And then, something else happened  that I didn't intend, but came from mixing colors because you never know exactly what you'll get. . As with previous paintings, I ended up using complementary colors, emphasizing opposites--yellows and purples, blues and oranges.

This has resulted in brighter colors and contrasts, and will also influence my future watercolors as well. No wonder I love mixing colors.  

Against the odds

"Against the Odds," 11 x 14 acrylic on canvas panel

 "Time's A'wasting," was oft repeated by one of my childhood comic strip heroes, Snuffy Smith. If you remember that, you're as old as I am. And aware that time is passing, and we're wasting it.

I am more aware of that sentiment in all phases of my life than ever these days as a new year and a birthday have passed recently.

My previous painting on this blog, a watercolor entitled "Time Was," was spontaneous, and fluid, like time. I'm fortunate and honored that Andrea Byers, Hawk's Landing, and  The Hideout, of Canyon, Texas, loved it and bought it.

As time has passed this year, I've been experimenting, learning acrylics, and that scene demanded another attempt, for the same reasons.

This painting is the result, while of the same subjects, vastly different. The watercolor was fresher, more fluid, proof to me of its beauty and originality.

This one is not a copy, but done with different emotions, palette knives and brushes for the textures of the subjects, different effects, capturing the essence of time past on the Great Plains.

I had trouble with the title to this one, but they embody survival, against the odds.

Adobe Sunset...art lessons the hard way

"Adobe Sunset," 8 x 10 acrylic on canvas board

 My do-it-yourself art schooling is a story of step by step learning, from lots of mistakes  and trying new things, based on ideas from books, videos and talks with artists.

This one completed today, a 8 x 10 acrylic on canvas board,"Adobe Sunset," was an attempt to paint with palette knives on a larger surface, compared to the small one posted about earlier, "Blue Tempest,"  when I wrote about by fascination with palette knives.

Main lesson learned: Don't use knives where exact details are needed. Go for the impression and texture. I know now why knives work best on  abstract and impressionistic work I put finishing touches and a few corrections on with brushes, and the rough texture made that difficult. I also need to mix more paint as the piece progresses to be able to duplicate what I'm after. 

But, I'm fairly happy with this. I'll put a varnish on it in about a week, and get it framed for sale at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo Arts District. Another lesson--I will probably go back to brushes.

The Texture of Blues from Palette Knives in a Stormy Year

"Blue Tempest," 5 x 5 acrylic on canvas

I've always admired painters who deftly use palette knives for texture and impact, but never attempted them until recently. along with acrylics, it's a whole new learning experience

There were always palette knives in our house when we grew up. Dad used them mostly for mixing colors, and I've done plenty of that in oils and acrylics. 

Regina's palette knives, Dad's book

 I didn't know how much they meant   to me until I saw and bought the late   Regina Murphy's knives of Paseo   Arts District and other materials   after  her death. They sit here in my   painting room, icons of creativity.   Then I found an old book of my   Dad's How to Paint with a Knife, and   began studying.

 So this week, I picked up about three   of them, began mixing colors and   applying them to the canvas. Since   my favorite colors are blues, and   we're in the midst of  storms--fires, hurricanes, floods, war, ignorance, worsening pandemic and politics  once again, here's the result.  

This is the last day of August and the year is two-thirds gone.  This semi-abstract sci-fi painting with violent  texture matching the moods of our country and world, roughly applied to the canvas, seems to fit.

Rediscovering America, and self--books of January

I rediscovered America this month with six books completed, especially reading a condensed version of the Journals of Lewis and Clark edited by Anthony Brandt, begun in December.
Having traveled some of their route in years past, I found myself discovering much about America, provoking my imagination and admiration, and thinking about the huge changes wrought on other peoples, on other life forms and the country by our so-called civilization in the mere 214 years since they made that fantastic trip.
It was a month of self discovery too in the other books I completed.

My Do It Yourself art school education completed How to Paint with a Knife by Coulton Waugh, and then yesterday I read the inspiriting The Watercolors of Winslow Homer by Miles Unger, provoked into attempting more change.
I reread Ray Bradbury's last novel, From the Dust Returned, which I bought in 2001. That first edition is now worth about $100. From Bradbury I discover more about writing and the beauty of words.
The same is true of finishing House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday, wonderful lyrical novel  set primarily around Jemez Pueblo, where I've been and can visualize the country and people.
Finally, in exploring, I read Chakra Healing, by Margarita Alcantara, which provokes thoughts and ideas about self and the connectedness of all things.
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February Discoveries? Yesterday I began reading Mark Manson's The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F#ck, a different view of themes I find in Thomas Merton, Richard Rohr and others. And echoing advice from the last book completed in 2019,  Embrace Your Weird by Felecia Day

I've ordered, from Best of Books in Edmond, Te Ata, Chickasaw Storyteller, American Treasure, by Richard Green. Richard is one of the people I have breakfast with once a month at Classen Grill, most of us old journalists. I showed the group my watercolor portrait of Te Ata, and found out he'd written the book.  Discoveries.

So many stories to tell

"Navajo Dawn," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

"There are so many stories to tell--how dare we not tell them!" --Clark, after rereading Ray Bradbury's From the Dust Returned, 1991, first edition, last night.
So many ways to tell them. 
I am also reading the late Coulton Waugh's book, How to Paint with a Knife, first edition, 1971, a book of my Dad's that I've started exploring after buying the late Regina Murphy's palette knives and exploring oil and acrylic painting.
And I'm almost through with reading The Essential Lewis & Clark, their journals edited by Anthony Brandt, rediscovering America's stories a mere 200 years ago.
So today's watercolor play time resulted from that stew of ideas, that compost as Bradbury would say. 
Waugh's instructions included some stark and simple black and white illustrations of Newfoundland cliffs to teach light and shadow, which gave me the idea for this painting in  New Mexico and Arizona.
There are so many stories to tell, and so many ways to tell them...

Different strokes

"Taos Dreaming," 12 x 12 acrylic

The annual Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition 12" x 12" art fundraiser will be Sept. 20 this year at 50 Penn Place.
Having joined and been invited, I agreed to participate, but the challenge doubled down, because I haven't figured out watercolor on canvas yet.
The result was an adventure into acrylics and palette knives on canvas, trying to create in the huge shadow left by the late Regina Murphy of the Paseo Arts District. I'd purchased many of her art materials earlier this year and just had to try. I now have more admiration for her than ever before. 

Regina Murphy's palette knives

Palette knives hold a special place in my memory because I'd seen my Dad and others paint with them in oil. I just had to buy her collection for that reason, and then the challenge loomed over me, every time I looked at them.
Different strokes, squared. Painting with knives and acrylics demands new techniques and imagination than with watercolor and brushes. much learned, much more to learn.
Here's the result, after weeks of work, to be dropped off today, on deadline.