Progress Report on Shame

Many of my friends and acquaintances know of my struggles with this particular painting and the "Feeling Series" in general. To see the series go here When this idea was first delivered to my brain by some unknown force outside myself, there were to be 12 paintings. After number 7 (Fear) my life unraveled in a strange way, presaged by that lightning bolt, and derailed most everything in my life, espeically my art life.

Moving to Florida required me to start over, which I was unprepared for, since I naively thought that moving would simply be a matter of handing over my credentials and the doors would open. It was not that simple, I was to find out, and it took quite a few years to even find the doors (I am not sure that I have found them yet), and when I did, many of them required a good bit of lock picking. I had moved from a series of large and glamorous studios in Connecticut and Rhode Island to a 10 x 12 spare bedroom in our mobile home and it was folly to try to work in there. Between working to earn money to keep us going, and taking care of George, and worrying all the time, there was no energy left for dealing with these paintings....it was just too much effort and not enough time.

But eventually I did manage to get the Shame Painting underway. I had the props and during one of her visits Kit helped me set up the still life in the little bedroom, where it sat for about 2 years waiting for me to get the time and energy to start the painting. Finally it got started and I put in quite a few sessions in that tiny studio backed into the wall feeling as if the painting was attacking me.

I knew before George died that I would convert the living room into my studio and so last summer I began the project but did not realize that the still life would have to be partially dismantled to move it and reassembled in the new room. I am sure you can image that with a still life this complex this maneuver created a new set of problems!

It has been on my easel where I have poked at it on and off since last summer, but my enthusiasm to work turns into dread when I look at this painting and it sits on the easel shaming me on a daily basis for months at a time.

There have been moments when I considered abandoning the whole series, or at least this painting, but something keeps nagging at me, and I am still in the game.

A few weeks ago I went to the Pen Women Luncheon (National League of American Pen Women, of which I am an artist member)....it was the last meeting since we knock off for the summer and start up in September. Members were invited to share about "Inspiration"; where they get it, if any inspirations come from our meetings and associations, and how we manage our inspirations. When my turn came I found myself babbling on about my difficulties with "Shame". When I sat down, Staci Backauskas pushed a paper over to me with the following Haiku Poem on it, which I have now printed out in large letters and attached to my easel. It has helped me get motivated to finish the painting, and I made a commitment outloud to my Pen Women group that it would be done by September, thus somewhat kindling a fire under my butt.

Here is Staci's Haiku

When called to do what
You don't understand, let go.
It's not about you.

Here is a picture of "Shame" not finished yet, but well underway with Staci's poem on the easel tray.

Remembering George

Yesterday was the first anniversary of George's death. I was dreading the month of May and anticipated feeling horrible, but luckily my dear friend Kit Tobin decided to fly to Tampa to spend 5 days with me to get me through this tough time, and it has worked wonderfully well. We had a grand day celebrating George yesterday, May 21st, by starting the day with a chiropractic adjustment for me and a massage for her, after which we went to the Museum of Science and Industry (better known in these parts as MOSI) where there is a fabulous show about Leonardo DaVinci. It was a show that I know George would have loved.

I find that there is some level of acceptance going on for me but there is a permanent hole in my heart that will not be filled by anyone but him.

Life does go on....somehow we all seem to manage without our loved ones, but the memories linger on and the amazing life that we shared with each other and with people scattered around the globe, will insure that this man who was so important to so many people, will never be forgotten.

George was definitely a man who would always stop to smell the flowers!

More of Miss Puss

The Many Moods of Miss Puss

9B Graphite on Black Illustration Board

When you hold this drawing in your hands and move it around the graphite is very reflective and appears to be silvery. It is a very interesting effect, for sure. Can you tell how crazy I am about my new friend? yeah!

Meet Miss Puss

Miss Puss is a Korat. She is about 1 year old and all we know is that she was a stray and was at the Pasco County Animal Shelter when I found her quite by accident about 3 weeks ago when my friend Patti and I were cat shopping and we stopped by to see what was there. It took me about 5 minutes to make a decision to take her home with me that night. Korats are supposed to be symbols of good fortune in Thailand, their native country. This cat is so very different from my Siamese cats....she talks mostly in polite voice and so far I've not heard that strident yowl that characterize the Siamese voice. She mews softly and has a range of guttoral sounds that mean different things. Delightful. She is not a lap cat, at least so far, and doesn't want to snuggle. We had to establish rules from the start about not attacking my feet under the covers in the middle of the night! But she loves to play, and seems quite content with her toys and begs to be rubbed and stroked all the time. I see her eyeballing the door and worry about her bolting if I'm not careful to make sure it is closed all the time. We are establishing some discipline about the door zone in the house but still I see she has a big interest in the great outdoors which is why she probably was a stray. She seems to be very intelligent and learned the word "no" quickly. She came to me spayed and microchipped. I'm having a grand time, and I must say that it has helped to fill the enormous void that George left behind.

New Genesis Series Painting

Genesis: Plum 6 x 8 (currently unframed) $450

This is number 17 in the Genesis Series of Egg Tempera paintings

to see the rest of them go here

and when you are there make sure to check out the excellent article about my series by Evelyn Bless, published in the Carrollwood Cultural Center Newsletter.

Mr. Mallery's Legacy

In Memory of David Mallery

we all are sad to say farewell

This painting was done to celebrate David Mallery, a teacher I was fortunate to have in 11th grade at Germantown Friends School. He has stayed close to many of us through the years and we were his last official class, after which he became an international consultant for Schools and Teachers. We gathered in Philadelphia to celebrate David's 80th birthday and for the occasion I painted this still life. This party was so important to me I made the tough decision to leave my husband in Connecticut who was teetering between life and death in intensive care and on life support. The comments below were read the night the painting was presented to him and will explain how this man impacted my life. Most of us in the class of 1959 have similar feelings about him.

I seldom give my paintings as gifts. Frequently it creates a wall space crisis and then there is the problem of one family member loving it while others really hate it. Even though I recognize these problems, and apologize for them in advance, I’m giving David and Judith Mallery this painting anyway, and hope that the associated problems won’t be too difficult for them to surmount.

During the famous Mystic dinner party a year ago, this painting arrived in my head nearly as you see it here tonight. There were a few changes along the way but this is what I “saw” in my mind’s eye. When this happens to me I am compelled to paint what I "see". Various busy things happened to me during this year and I had several commissions to complete before I could start work on Mr. Mallery’s Legacy. In fact the time line of the creation of this painting was a textbook case of procrastination and in some kind of weird mystical synchronicity the painting was painted in exactly the same spot where the idea for this party was hatched and the painting was conceived, 1200 miles from my home and studio. Working at my easel I stood in the exact spot where the chair had been that night at the dinner table. I didn’t realize this weird coincidence until today.

Mr. Mallery’s class in English followed what was a nightmare year for me in Miss Barker’s tenth grade class. She made us read books that were dreadfully boring and filled with symbolism that I felt were stupid and pretentious and she and I wrangled over books like Ethan Frome until she was compelled to give me a grade that just squeaked me past failing. I had heard rumors that Mr. Mallery’s class was something else again. I remember the first day of school when a somewhat frenetic Mr. Mallery barged into the classroom, a few minutes after the bell, his arms loaded with books, exuding high energy and creating a trail of excitement in his wake. It was probably my very first glimpse of passion in a human being. And his passion was something I could identify with, because it was about ART.

What this party is all about tonight has to do with David Mallery’s unique ability to reach into people and change them, in the same way ART does. I was changed that year, because Mr. Mallery was able to convince me that I was not stupid and lazy and that I had something to say that was valuable, and therefore I was valuable. He was the first teacher who listened to me and supported my opinions and ideas. He was the first teacher (beside Mary Lou Scull) who encouraged my creativity. I adored him for that.

Many years later David Mallery saw some of my paintings and he sent me a hand written note telling me how much they moved him. Once again his faith in me allowed me to keep on keeping on in my profession, which is often lonely, brutal and filled with shallow politics. I thought to myself “it doesn’t get better than this”. To have someone who I admire, admire my work is enough. I don’t need to be seeking New York critics and museum curators to give me more rejections. My job is to keep on creating what I create and leave the politics to others.

My painting is a thank you to David Mallery for expanding my narrow world. The big ah-ha experience of eleventh grade English was about the living, breathing human being who held the pen to write those words who created the stories we read. It was about passion, and about people who were passionate souls with words in their hearts who could transcend their lives and leave a legacy. I always wanted to be an artist. The notion was terrifying and unattainable, until one day in class Mr. Mallery said to us “do you think that this book was written by the author in an ivory tower?” I was changed that day too by that idea and the discussion it engendered. Suddenly the notion of being an artist was about work, discipline, craft honing, and not about having the title conferred upon me by some remote committee who decided these things. I could self proclaim myself as an artist. The notion was wildly exciting to me, and literally started me on my journey, which continues to this day. My medium is paint, but it could have been words, music, dance, film or clay.

This painting is about that year, 1958, a turning point in my life. No longer were ideas in books something that I had to know in order to have something to write on an exam. This was about ME. Those authors, poets and playwrights were saying something to me, personally. And more importantly, I was allowed to dislike and reject what I didn’t like. I could write an exam on how much I hated and disagreed with the author and David Mallery celebrated me for that! This amounted to a revolution of my spirit. I wonder sometimes what I would be like had I not had these experiences. I wonder what I’d have become if I had not encountered Germantown Friends School and those gifted teachers who showed me possibilities, directions and pathways. Mr. Mallery’s Legacy has to do with inspired teaching, which is about reaching people’s hearts as well as their minds. That we are here, incredibly almost half of us, says that each of us had some kind of personal experience of Mr. Mallery. Merely saying thank you isn’t enough for such a huge gift. That kind of inspiration requires inspired thanks. It is my hope that you will be able to look at my painting from time to time as you go about your daily life and know that you left a legacy, that as a teacher you affected our lives, and the world is a better place for it.

October 4 2003

Monotypes

I was invited by NTAL (North Tampa Arts League) to do a monotype workshop which was held yesterday. It was so much fun! Everyone went home with great prints and a desire to continue to do monotypes on their own. It was a great workshop for me too since I didn't have to teach anyone how to paint!

Back in the good old days of life in Westerly I did lots of monotypes and practically everyone I made has sold over the years. I'm happy to have lots of space in my new studio now so I will be doing more monotypes in the days to come. It felt so good to be back into such spontaneity and away from the intense work I do in Egg Tempera.

Here is the print I made yesterday.

Shenay the Cat
Shenay is an American Bobtail Cat who owns my
friends, Patti and John Smith

W I N T E R

I can't resist telling you all that at this very minute ice pellets are falling on my head! This is information you can not live without.

My sympathy to all whose livelihood depends on the non-existent fine Florida weather. I hope that you all can recover from this soon. In the meantime we will live for another six to nine months with everything burned and dead-looking until crews can remove all the dead palm fronds and cut down the tropical foliage that didn't make it.

And to all my Florida friends who may have forgotten what winter is really like I send you this little painting I did years ago. I have forgotten what that was like too, but today I am freezing in my house where I am trying to save power by setting the thermostat at 65 degrees and dressing with 3 or 4 layers of clothing. Ugh....who needs this.

Latest in the Genesis Series of Egg Temperas

Genesis: Peach............. Egg Tempera..................... $450

People are now asking: "When are you going to stop?" This is number 16 in the series and I have no plans to stop. But who knows when the energy and obsession will peter out.

check them all out at http://www.gainor.biz/genesis%20series.htm

Portrait Commission Completed

Anne Pastel on Paper Commission

Articles Section on my Website

I have posted an "Articles" section. The first article that I added to the section is a 15-page essay on Impressionism. I call it a "Little Essay on Impressionsm", the "Little" emphasized because most art writings are neither little nor very informative. I know mine is little, but I'll leave the "informative" part for you to decide.

My aim was to give my students an overview of the Impressionist movement and to trace my own Impressionist "heritage". I felt it was also important to know what was happening in the world at the time of the first Impressionist show so I added a section that picks various inventions, political events, and discoveries that helped form the climate of the times.

www.gainor.biz/articles.htm

Celebrating George G. Cranston

George was my soulmate, friend, confidante, pal, and artcritic. He died May 21st, 2009. My life will never be the same; he was funny, bright, opinionated, and passionate about life, sobriety, art, music, food, friends. I did this pastel of him in 2003 during a rare time in the past 10 years that he did not have an oxygen hose in his nose. He will be missed by everyone, especially me. Many will remember him fondly as they have had life changing stories of him impacting their lives. More about George is on http://www.georgecranston.com/

An Interesting Blog

Exactly two months have passed and I have not posted anything on my blog. I keep thinking that I need to finish the five or six paintings and drawings in my studio so I can get them on my blog and website. I have been very involved in a totally absorbing non-art project that used up most of my creative juices. I'll be back soon.

In the meantime I want to share with you a blog I have found and enjoy very much.

http://artinconnu.blogspot.com/

This blog celebrates the little known and under appreciated artists through the ages. It's wonderful to see how many unsung genius artists there are out there.

Stress Relief

According to an article on page 22 of the latest issue of AARP magazine, there is evidence that people's stress hormone, cortisol, dropped when they visited an art gallery during lunch. The article also tells people to chew bubble gum instead of stress eating. I like the art gallery idea better than the bubble gum, but that's me.

So how about it, friends and neighbors....are you visiting your local art gallery to relieve the stress of not being able to pay your mortgage and car loan?

While you are there, forget about that stupid loan and buy a smashing painting to help out a starving artist.

Remember that art is always a good investment in hard economic times....or so they say.

Andrew Wyeth

All week I have wanted to say something about Andrew Wyeth.

I have read blog posts, magazine and newspaper articles, reviews, catalog entries, and so on since it was announced that he was dead at 91 years old.

His images are part of the collective unconscious I think....even the most unaware know about that painting of the crippled girl in the field, even if they don't know the name of the artist or the painting. Sadly the only thing many remember about him is the Helga series of paintings; the aura of the eccentric painter holed up with his naked blonde beauty is nirvana-land to many who can fantasize plenty about such a life of luxury.

I have always adored Andrew Wyeth's work. I confess to a fascination with the entire Wyeth clan, from NC to Jamie and the work of Henriette and Peter Hurd, as well some paintings I have seen by Carolyn (I think that is the correct spelling of her name), who spent much of her life in mental health facilities. I recall a particular painting by Carolyn that I could not get out of my mind for months after I saw it.

My great-great aunt, Ellen Wetherald Ahrens, was part of the group of artist/illustrators who studied with Howard Pyle and she knew NC Wyeth, according to unsubstantiated stories told to me as a child by my grandmother and mother. The name Wyeth was known to me through the magnificent illustrations in countless books that peppered my youth. A trip to the Brandywine Museum in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania, is like a reunion with old friends; an incredible collection of Wyeth paintings, illustrations, drawings, are on display, some resonating familiarity through the stories I vaguely remember, but the images are embedded in my brain cells for my lifetime.

And it is the same for all of the Wyeth paintings and illustrations; etched on my brain cells as icons that represent the best of the best in painting and illustration. These paintings are technically immaculate and remarkably conceived; a throwback to the 19th century realists and a throwforward to the most sophisticated contemporary visionaries.

An article many years ago in American Artist Magazine inspired me to try to use egg tempera. I started out by using my watercolors in the manner described in the article, making small cross-hatched strokes, over and over until the white was gone and the pigment was layered and layered, something that is not typical of watercolors. After many years of trying to make watercolors behave I finally arrived at a technique that worked. I had Andrew Wyeth to thank for that and finally I took the plunge into raw pigment and egg yolks, and every time I crack an egg I think of him.

The articles about him this week all mention his exclusion by many museum directors, critics and other wheelers and dealers of the art world, the part of the art world that I find totally objectionable. To say that Andrew Wyeth was trite and sentimental as an artist says much more about the critic than the artist. His major paintings represent the quintessential artform; transcendent and beautiful, evocative, mysterious, and somewhat disturbing....they get into you and don't leave.

But this week I have thought more of Betsy Wyeth than I did of Andrew. He was a lucky man, a lucky artist. At the age of 20 Andrew Wyeth had a show at McBeth's Gallery in New York City and sold out. You and I could not have been so lucky. We did not have a father like NC Wyeth. Nor are we lucky enough to have a Betsy running our lives, keeping he public at bay, while dealing with the wheeler/dealers and the collectors and auction houses. No, we have to do all the marketing and PR ourselves. I think of Betsy Wyeth when I feel sorry for myself, and long for a Betsy who could do all the nasty art stuff for me, protect and serve my muse and give me the biggest gift of all, privacy and time. Lucky Andrew! She said she didn't pry into his life, but run it she did!

One of his paintings that lingers in my memory banks was painted from the top of a lighthouse. I have not looked at the painting recently and so it is hazy, but the image is a powerful one for me, as it is the essence of simplicity, direct, and beautifully composed, and technically nearly perfect, as most of his paintings are. I would love to know the details of his pigments, his working methods, and would prefer to know about his favorite brushes rather than his favorite models. That lighthouse painting had a luminosity that was astounding....it glowed from within. So many iconic images, blowing gauzy curtains, spare winter landscapes, empty rooms and amazing portraits of people that are everyone's neighbors....Andrew Wyeth is my friend and mentor, although he doesn't know me, I know him, and my life and my art are enriched by the amazing art that he produced over his 91 years.