Time passes

"Sunset," 5 x 5 acrylic on canvas

Time passes, for all species, as change is constant, whether we want it to be or not, so today I tried something new.

To me, there's nothing quite so symbolic of passing time, of life, of change, of extinction, of survival, of freedom, than the American bison.

Today's painting, an introductory self lesson in painting with acrylics. I found myself playing with art again, experimenting, learning. I will get better.

The Colors of Feelings

"Anger," 5 x 7 watercolor, 

"Paint what you feel." "Paint your reaction to what you see, not what you see."

"Peace," 5 x 7 watercolor

Those comments and their kin from many artists underly what is supposed to be, and hardest to apply for an old type A, fact-based journalist like me...though I know my best writing always came from stories I was deeply engaged in.

And now that I think about it, my best paintings have been those where my feelings seemed to guide the brushes.

Then this week, I read this comment from Austin Kleon in his weekly newsletter on Creativity:

"I write to know what I think, and I make art to actually know what I feel."

Kleon lives in Austin, and has written four dynamic and short books on creativity, all of which I've bought at  Best of Books in Edmond. 

"Hope," 5 x 7 watercolor

You can check him out on his website austinkleon.com, and even get his weekly email newsletter which brims over with comments and ideas to jog your mind on music "Ear Candy,"  art, writing,  books, multiple links  and much more with 10 tips each time.  That quote was under the section, "What to do with your feelings."

His prompts translated into three watercolors, where I tried to visualize some of my personal feelings. The first was "Anger" and he noted there's plenty to be angry about these days.

Then I thought about  the opposite, "Peace," and then "Hope." For "Peace" thought of my reaction to a gentle rain falling on a forest, probably the Amazon rainforest. "Hope" was not as abstract, the possibility  of rain and life in an arid landscape and time. All are 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper.

Where time ends

"The Shores of eternity," 5 x 7 Watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

Against the endless expanse of the universe and eons of time, I can't help but dream of far away places, of roads not taken, of the vastness of oceans to be crossed. 

This travel-deprived year and more has taken its toll in so many ways on our  plans, wishes, physical and mental existence. I resent most missed opportunities to travel, to discover.

Time flows on, though actual survival has been a journey in itself, one I'm thankful for, aware that thousands have not taken it, instead slipping into a different journey to eternity where time ends. 

I think of standing on a beach watching oceans crashing against the shores of eroding lands, how small and insignificant we are in  creation, as we stand on the shores of our lives.

Thus the story of today's watercolor,  where eternal waves drench the sand and seconds cease to exist, the shores of eternity. 

The colors of time and eternity

"Fiery End," 5 x 7 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

"Twilight of Time," 5 x 7 140 lb, Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

"Genesis of Color," 5 x 7 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

Strange thoughts form when you watch science shows about the universe and creation, combined with horrifying wildfires scorching the West and much of Europe. Eternal, changing time juxtaposed (I've always wanted to use that word) with present tense.

Though according to Yahweh, there is only present tense, "I am that I am."

How do you paint time? What are the colors of time? Time began with light, either scientifically or spiritually, the source of life. And light is color.

The overpowering image that came to me is the inferno of those fires in this long hot summer, making me think of the end times when Sol  ends the earth, or when eternity begins.

Then I thought of twilight, before it happened, and then  when time and color  began, in creation.

So today's 5 x 7 abstract watercolors, moving backward in time, from the end, to  twilight and decay, to the beginning.

The Season of Green

"Season of Green," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

"Green Leaves of Summer," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

 Greens are not my favorite color, but...

Don't know why. Only one room in our house has green walls, a muted green at that.

It's odd, since I grew up in the arid Southwest, in New Mexico, you'd think green would matter more to me.

Yes, green stands out in that landscape, because green occurs where there's moisture, water, source of life. But then, so is green.

I am attracted to all shades of turquoise, including the green, but blues are my favs, as you can tell from most of my paintings. There are five blues on my palette, and I rarely have any greens, because you can mix almost any green with yellows and blues.

But as August deepens, and the heat will soon turn much of our landscapes a brown, I was thinking of that favorite song, them of the movie, The Alamo, "The Green Leaves of Summer."

Another connection especially for us Okies is the song "Green Grow the Lilacs." While on a fellowship in France in the late 1920s, Lynn Riggs wrote the play "Green Grow the Lilacs." It provided the basis from which Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II created the musical "Oklahoma!" Riggs was inducted into the Oklahoma Hall of Fame in 1948.

I remember long ago, heading south from Iowa in the spring, we could see the country getting green and greener the further we went. Springtime, then summer, the season of green.

Much of our country, and parts of the world,  is burning up, literally already, and green is disappearing.

It's no wonder that green is a symbol of life, of spring, of rebirth. We should all be concerned too, about deforestation...especially in the Amazon. Green represents the lungs of the planet. No green, no oxygen. The Amazon produces 25 percent of the oxygen on earth, and if it is destroyed, as is happening, which 25 percent of humans will suffocate?

It's another reason I love that passage by Joseph Conrad in Heart of Darkness, where he is going up the Congo in the middle of the jungle:

"Going up that river was like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the the earth and the big trees were king. An empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest."

So here are two watercolors for today, color studies in green, one with green colors from five tubes and two yellows, and the other five blues  and two yellows,