My good friend and neighbor left these at my door as a thank you for a small favor.  She is an expert flower arranger and a skilled artist.  The vase she fashioned had a handwritten thank you note on it.  I think I got the better end of the deal on this one! 

I quickly put the arrangement in the refrigerator to keep it fresh for an afternoon painting demonstration on the Festival of Arts grounds.  The area around the Ceramics Booth, normally used during the week days and Saturdays for childrens' classes is open on Sundays and is the perfect place to set up a still life under controlled light.  I added a few pieces of fruit and began painting, enjoying the banter with Festival patrons and answering their questions about the medium of pastel.  Some of the Festival artists were very helpful in offering feedback and enthusiasm for the developing painting.  I have to paint from photos while working in my booth, but nothing beats the joy of painting from life.  It is a singularly fulfilling experience.  And it's also fulfilling to educate patrons on what I consider the ideal artistic process.  This piece took about three hours and was so much fun to do.

For the gift of these flowers and the painting it inspired, I offer my thanks in return to you, my friend!

Last weekend while sitting in my booth at the Festival of Arts, I was enthusiastically approached by Bonnie Russell, personal public relations consultant (http://www.personalpublicrelations.com/).  Bonnie had her Festival directory in hand and told me she had researched some of the Festival artists prior to her visit and I was one she had chosen to visit.  (Wow, how nice I thought to myself!).   She had some great marketing tips for me and then, out came the camera.  She panned some shots of the art in my booth and then the camera was on ME (yikes...).  She asked some great questions.  I was unprepared for the last question.  Watch the video and then come back to this page for the answer:

Interview by Bonnie Russell

The answer to what has surprised me the most?  People tearing up when viewing my work.  I have been utterly blown away at the intense emotion that my pastel still lifes have evoked.  I have been told by several people that the paintings make them feel closer to a deceased parent.  On another occasion, one painting made a woman feel some healing regarding the abuse of her mentally disabled son by a priest (tough one for me....as I am a devout (unconventional) Catholic..).  And just last week, a woman shyly said my work made her cry and she doesn't know why.  I have also been told that some pieces seem to recall fond memories that have been buried by other experiences.

I stumbled when Bonnie asked this question.  For a moment, I was blank, not sure what the most surprising thing is about the Festival. 

Deep emotion doesn't flutter casually on the surface.  It takes incubation and then thoughtful deliberation. As such, I am grateful to Bonnie for asking this question.  It forced me, in the hours following her question to define what is sort of indefinable.  I am surprised at viewers deep emotion....and deeply honored.

And also honored (and pleasantly surprised!) by your visit, Bonnie.  Thank you so very much!

"Improvement makes straight roads, but the crooked roads without improvement are the roads of genius", Poet and Artist, William Blake (1757-1827)

I read this quote in an article entitled "Lessons from Leonardo, What can the legends of art history reveal to us about painting today?" by artist Margot Schulzke in the most recent issue (August 2010) of The Pastel Journal. Margot writes about Leonardo DaVinici's high tolerance for uncertainty and ambiguity. Her research was based on the book by Michael J. Gelb, "How to Think Like Leonardo Davinci" (Delacorte Press, 1998). She likened the above quote by William Blake to the mindset and working methods of Leonardo where he was willing to venture into territory that was untried and unknown.

I'm sure that a genius-level mentality--seeing possibilities along the crooked path--made uncertainty and ambiguity more tolerable for a mind like Leonardo's, but I think there is also a reverse cause and effect reality here too, whereby "genius"--and I use the term loosely--is fostered by plunging onto the crooked path, out of the comfort zone, cultivating the development of creative possibility.

A visitor to an art fair or gallery may conclude that the artists there have it all figured out and are resting on rarefied laurels of artistic success. Certainly, that was my perception many years ago when I was a novice, just entering the professional realm. The truth is that for both artists just beginning and those who are veterans, the path in and through the festival season and beyond is fraught with uncertainty. Will the art pieces, created over the last year, find their way into a collector's home, or instead, perhaps into the back of the artist's closet? As an artist's vision naturally evolves and continually ventures into the realm of the unknown, onto the crooked path of new artistic discovery and creation, the questions never change. Will the new art work, work? Will it work, personally? Emotionally? Technically? Commercially? Navigating the crooked path is both anxiety-provoking and exhilarating. If it activates dormant brain synapses and fosters new clear straight-line vision, the artist feels immensely gratified. And to the extent that the artwork, undertaken by the artist with joyful risk, finds peaceful repose after a circuitous journey and into the home of a buyer, well, this is bliss indeed!

If you like to walk on paths adjacent to trees and brush, you may hear what sounds like a large animal rustling the leaves. This has happened to me time and again and I am always amazed at the small orange bird with the black head that appears, scooting backward and making a racket fit for a coyote. This is the way the towhee looks for food, lunging forward and then quickly hopping backward, scratching at the ground with both feet as they go.

This behavior is not unlike that of an artist scratching for ideas. In her book, The Creative Habit, renowned choreographer Twyla Tharp explains this creative process. When she is asked where she gets ideas for her dances, she suggests that ideas really are everywhere, and that perhaps the more meaningful question is how she gets her ideas. She implies that all artists have big ideas, which are tied to goals or dreams. But, she goes on to explain, that big ideas are built and shaped by strings of little ideas--that without little ideas, there are no big ideas. This is where scratching comes in. She explains that "scratching is not about control and repose. It's about unleashing furious mindless energy and watching it bounce off everything in your path. The hope is that a spark will fly from all that contact and combustion--and it usually does." A robin elegantly cocks its head and silently pulls a worm from the ground. The towhee, in all that furious and wild scratching, while calling attention to predators, manages to expose and pounce on the food that it needs.

I identify with the scratching of the towhee because arriving at the little ideas can be fraught with a bit of peril and often, a lot of noise. Once, when setting up a mirror on the deck railing where I often set up still lifes to capture the natural light, I gasped at the reflections I saw and managed to jiggle the set up and the mirror toppled off the railing and fell into the leaves below. I've knocked over vases, quickly mopping up the water that threatened to leave water spots on the wood table. In walking backward to analyze a setup, I have backed up into my easel (ouch!). In another case, my cats decided that the warmth of my illumination lamp was worth crawling over the many objects to find a nice place to sleep, knocking the entire setup to the ground. (You can't imagine the deafening crash...nothing broke but the good part is that the cats are now highly suspicious of my still life setups and stay away). All of the chaos and peril is worth the delight at the discoveries that unfold.

I'll give you some examples with some paintings you my have seen before in other newsletters. In the painting "What Is, Was, and Ever Shall Be", I was analyzing some hydrangeas and thinking about how the blossoms change as they mature. I was also thinking about an oil painting that I completed years ago of Rodin's "The Kiss" and the combination of those ideas led me to think about the profundity of eternal love to stand the test of time. "What Is, Was, and Ever Shall Be" was born.
"What is, Was, And Ever Shall Be", 18 x 24, Pastel

In another case, I had been analyzing the paintings of Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675). I could not get the cool light, emanating from the left side of his paintings out of my head. That light, bathing the interior, is both soft and dramatic. And so, using the Delft blues of Vermeer's neck of woods in the beautiful clean cool light from my window I scratched out "Tribute to Vermeer".
"Tribute to Vermeer", 16 x 20, Pastel

In "Water of Life", the painting I referred to in last month's newsletter, I kept thinking "draping white flower". I thought of a diagonal drape and water, water water. Imagine my delight when in the course of draping a stem of white dogwood across a shallow vessel of water, I caught a light reflection of some of the petals! Scratching is good!
"Water of Life", 20 1/2 x 26, Pastel

Finally, my latest painting is the result of envisioning a see-through veil of cloth partly obscuring a set up of misty white and blue. The simultaneous revealing and the hiding of the veil, the clusters of white roses from my neighbors garden, dropping petals on the cloth, all gave rise to "Vale of Tears". And I loved the play on words for the title as well.
"Vale of Tears", 16 x 20, Pastel

All of my paintings came about through scratching, scratching, scratching through much emotion, back and forth, and lots of resulting noise. Scratching for the idea that flutters on the breeze or one that loudly hounds my thoughts for months finds its final orchestration through the play of light. Just as the towhee pulls its food into the light and then pounces, the idea is scratched out and exposed to the light and the plot, the narrative, unfolds.

This painting was absolute joy to paint. I almost hate to see it end. The title is a bit of a play on words and points to paradox. As such, it is a painting about life....and I invite you to find your own story.

This was started outside at the Art and Garden Party in Laguna Beach on May 22, with the final touches added in the studio. What a great time was had by all!
  The set-up

The start!

The painting underway!  See Sherry Ford painting in the background!

  Having a ball!

  Sherry is giving me her expert critique.  Lorenzo George is painting Paulette.  Doesn't this have a sort of historical Laguna Beach look to it? 

I was a bit shocked when I saw the model come out of the bathroom, ready to pose, in this costume. But was it ever fun to paint!

Please come on down to The Artist's Eye Gallery in Laguna Beach this Friday afternoon/evening for a book-signing reception of the recently released Art Lovers' Cookbook!

  

 

And on Saturday, you are invited to one of Laguna Beach's most beautiful garden cottage's for an afternoon with a few select artists.  Watch them work and enjoy the magical ambience of Laguna's best kept secret!

 
 

This was the demo piece from the workshop "Creating beautiful art through still life painting" held at San Clemente Art Supply May 15 and 16, 2010. One of my students purchased the piece and it happened to be her birthday present to herself so it was fittingly titled, "Celia's Roses". Happy Birthday, Celia!

I was saddened to hear last week of the death of Donald Owen.  His sister, Vickie, emailed me to let me know. 

My association with Donald came over two years ago when I was walking on the San Clemente pier in February of 2008.  I saw this man in a pinkish shirt, faded blue jeans, and a straw cowboy hat fishing off of the pier.  His quiet attention to the task at hand--fishing--and his overall peaceful demeanor were compelling.  I shyly asked him if I could take his photo.  Without a word, he quietly turned his head and gazed at the camera.  I snapped a few quick photos, thanked him and then went on my way.  When I got home, I was struck at the sunlight on his face and the color bouncing and reflecting off of his hat.  The portrait begged to be painted.  It was one of the paintings that painted itself and I felt that I was able to capture something serene and strong in his eyes and posture. 

Imagine my surprise a few months later when a man happened by my booth at the Sawdust Festival, stared at the painting, and said to the woman who was with him, "That's Donny".  I was able to learn that this man's name was Donald--he was known as Donny--and he fished every day.  He had developed a special relationship with the pelicans who frequented the San Clemente Pier.  I was thrilled that I had managed to capture his likeness.  A few days later, I received a call from a relative who had heard from the man about my painting and wished to purchase it.  Was I ever amazed and thrilled!

Last week, I received the sad and touching email from Donald's sister.  She found my website and contacted me and shared stories and pictures of Donald.  This is one of her favorite photos of him.




Click here to read an OC Register post about Donald:
http://www.ocregister.com/news/pier-243950-pelicans-owen.html

Here is the announcement about his death:
 
In Loving Memory of
Donald Victor Owen
July 15, 1947 – March 11, 2010

Our Beloved San Clemente Pier Pelican Man

Memorial services will be held
Sunday April 18, 2010 at 10:30am at
Park Semper Fi Memorial
(located above the parking lot overlooking the San Clemente Pier)

After the services concludes we will take a walk on the San Clemente Pier to honor Don Owens memory and dedication to all the Pelicans he so loved and where he stood fishing for the past 20+ years.

Don was always sharing all his exciting daily sea adventures with so many people passing by for a walk along the pier.
This included all the beautiful sea life he encountered each day and the magnificent pelicans who would sit beside him with so much trust, love and admiration for him.

Don had a way with animals like no one else and especially with all the pelicans on San Clemente Pier. When they were injured he would always do his best to help them get better. They would always enjoy some of his fish he had caught that day.

Don Owen contributed so much to all of us, our environment and all the animals he so loved. His somewhat quiet gentle presence as we walked by him on the pier with all the pelicans sitting next to him seemed to make our walk just a little more special each day. His beautiful spirit and soul will always be forever overlooking the ocean of paradise from the side of the spectacular San Clemente Pier he so loved. Donny you will be missed by so many of us and will be forever in our hearts.

The family requests that contributions be made to:
Chao Family Comprehensive Cancer Center
(checks made payable to The UC Irvine Foundation)
Mailing Address:
Debra Finster, Sr. Director Development
UC Irvine
333 City Blvd. West #605
Orange, CA 92868
Please indicate your contribution is to support Dr. Lewis Slater in memory of Donald Owen

I simply cannot overstate how humbled I am to have captured this amazing man in paint and am honored that this painting was carried to the pier for his remembrance.  He died on my birthday.

And so in closing, I offer my own tribute and thanks to you, Donald, for your quiet, colorful presence.  Rest in Peace.

  "Cowboy Fisherman"--Donald Victor Owen--July 15, 1947 – March 11, 2010

You may purchase prints of Donald at my print website:  Mary Aslin's print website