One day after painting Plein Air at Blithewold in RI, I tried to match up the blue hue I had captured outside in the garden (complete with tiny dead bug carcasses) with the blue sky captured on my camera at home. Right away, I noticed a stark difference. The observation strengthened the notion that artwork embodies more than just a visual process; involving intimate conversations with innkeepers, tiny creatures and fragrant smells like magnolias, and a goofy hat to lessen the brightness of the sunlight. My painting was a culmination of it all. Often, painting from a photo just regurgitates what the “camera” interprets. That original hue was vibrant and a representation of an intimate encounter with nature. 

Besides the first-hand experience of it all, I believe painting on scene also pushes an artist to capture the "essence" of the subject, knowing that time is limited, and that in just a few short hours, the sky and light will change. It forces one to really "capture what makes the moment." Much in life is precious and we often take time for granted. When you are using a photo for reference you can get lost spending too much time in the details and lose what makes a piece uniquely yours.

Personally, the greatest thing that painting Plein Air did for me, was helping me to face my fears. I tend to be a perfectionist. I even covered my work when onlookers tried to catch a glimpse! When I am comfortable at home, I can "perfect" it... The catch with that is, is that if I want to perfect it, I might as well just have snapped a photo. Under time constraints, I had to be choosey with what I decided to work on or emphasize and be confident with my strokes.

In the end it really is worth getting out of your comfort zone, while truly living life and recording your first-hand version of it all! in the age of technology, Plein Air really keeps traditional art alive.

The multitude of colors and facets on an artist's palette can represent or coincide with what is within. We can be responsible for pulling or evoking an array of feelings. At what point do we take responsibility for that? and should we?

Not every artist is basking in the sunlight during one of their many trip adventures and afforded the luxury to see the beauty of the world. Not every artist is living in the slums looking for their next paycheck. 

What may make one artist who paints only visually beautiful paintings create an interesting piece, is perhaps for them to find the beauty in something not traditionally beautiful. For example, The artist confined to where their pocket allows them to go, can highlight the struggles not often seen. Perhaps the overarching theme is to go outside of an individual's perception of the world and think about the reception of ideas.

I once shared a poem with a close friend. After reading only one, she remarked how dreary and depressed it made her feel. She had asked if I could share anything more pleasant. I realized I had been releasing most of my dark energy in many of my written works, and that I should probably look within myself and find the part of me that appreciates the beauty in things. The same goes in other aspects of life. When I sang for 4 hours a night at nightclubs, I had to balance the tempo, material and types of emotions I had performed. If I sang dreary songs all night, I might clear the room. I am aware that there may have been a few who would stay and relate though. The question is, at what point would I just sing what I felt for release and that I had also wanted to sing?  I can't help but remember the struggle I felt one night I had a terrible fight with my partner and wanted to belt Adele all night... but doing so might have caused me to be fired from the gig and I may have depressed everyone in the room.

One might say that it depends whether you are creating/performing for money. I think it goes beyond whether you perform for financial gain. Performing for the general public in a "general" sense can provide a window into what people tend to want. the answer may lie behind why they want what they want. A night club isn't a gig like a wedding or funeral that requires material geared towards a specific emotion. It is a free for all. When you perform for the general public in an almost neutral situation, you realize that the norm is that  most people listening want to feel energized, relaxed and relate to a few sad songs. They don't want to stay in those solemn moments forever. This can serve as a guide for a creator to stay balanced and aware. When you create pieces of art, I believe it is the same. We should express many facets of ourselves. If we are only creating dark pieces, it is clear we are not evolving and possibly stuck. If we are always producing beautiful pieces like A Kinkade, we are hiding from the ugly truths of life that can be made beautiful through our honest, personal lens. If we succeed, we can both inspire and be relatable throughout the entirety of our work whether we are sharing our pain or idealism.  I believe that some people also think of an artist as a self-indulgent, narcissistic person obsessed with aesthetic beauty. Painting only aesthetically appealing pieces can support this idea that art should mainly be pleasant, which purports that the artist is often shallow. It is also evident that another plaguing issue that an artist may face, is painting only what they believe others want, for an acceptance of some sort. As I have often mentioned in previous blogs, I believe that the responsibility and journey a creator takes should probably be shaped by a perfect balance between what will serve both the audience and personal growth, because we can also learn from the invisible dialogue between the audience and artist.

Today, I share an aesthetically pleasing piece "The Flume"

My daughter showed me a song titled "As it Was" which refers to the glory of the 80' and 90's. Being alive during that time and also very young, I can certainly reminisce and compare the end of the 20th century to now.  Although I miss "As it Was" I certainly can appreciate today at the same time.

I am currently obsessed with a show titled "Bros of Decay" in which the host explores the beauty of abandoned mansions. I was also recently exposed to a handful of famous paintings from the past, which depict old houses and dark scenes. I feel like this current time period (at least in my life) is drenched with darkness and the theme of decay.

There is a beauty in everything though, life and death, light and dark. I can stand here and look back and appreciate simple times of the past, whether pertaining to periods of history in general, or my very own personal history. The youth who only know of the present, can look towards the future, without the comparison of the past that can weigh one down. The only place for one at the bottom of the well is to look is up. I tried to balance all of this with my latest project.

I have always appreciated abandoned places, history and all things of the sort. There is truth found in objects and buildings. No narrative can be twisted when you are holding a piece of history in your hand. I can't help but imagine what life was like. Seeing old decrepit places made me yearn to reimagine and make a narrative of my own. Since I have not lived in the 18th or 19th century, I needed help from old artists, in particular Wilfred Bosworth Jenkins, to gather the missing pieces during my journey while creating the latest piece. Looking at some of the remaining old buildings and painting styles of the era, I created "Homage to Wilfred."  Wilfred Bosworth Jenkins was an artist known for his beautiful depictions of dusk and evening and the beauty of light in the dark. Being that I was inspired by and sort of employed a part of his style for its execution, it was only fitting to title it "Homage to Wilfred." Through this work, I connected the present with the past utilizing my voice with those long gone. To me, that is beauty.

Cement

For the pleasure of others

Hard and stuck

Temporarily immortal

Centered in nothingness

Made with purpose but serves no meaning

You cannot see my gaze with those eyes of stone

Organic life surrounds you,

Impermeable to the sweet aroma of flowers, hot striking rays of the sun

The cruelty of life does not allow you to partake

Muscles carved that you cannot use to feel the warmth of skin

Even loneliness is too much of an emotion for you to grasp

Or is it?

 - Jamie Derr

In conversations with other artists, I often heard that they don't enjoy taking commissions as much as when they have the creative license to paint what they wish. For instance, I have read that John Singer Sargent began to dislike painting portraits of the upper class so much that he switched to doing drawings, because it took less time to complete. Whether it was because he was tired of the subject matter or the fact that his work was being used as a token of wealth or status, the question remains as to the artist's creative purpose. I have come to find a balance to painting both commissions and subjects that I choose.

I can be honest in saying that I tend to procrastinate and get caught up in romanticizing the vast possibilities of the next project. I am not alone in this, even the great Leonardo Da Vinci was known to be a procrastinator! and nothing snaps me back to work mode as much as having a deadline and not a what if/when/what sort of deal, and nothing gets the creative juices flowing as much as after a commission has been completed. I relish in the "freedom to paint as I wish" shortly after. Most importantly, this isn't the largest benefit, which is actually gaining a different perspective of a neutral subject.

Painting someone's lost pet, a loved one or  a special place is an opportunity to explore the lens of another, and it is an intimate experience and a privilege. During the hours  I spend staring at the subject, I am forced to imagine how it feels to share a connection to what I am painting and imagine what it is like to feel something towards the subject as I attempt to capture it. With care, I try to depict the love they may feel through the strokes of the paintbrush. I feel that creating art is not all about showing the world how I view something, but equally connecting with others and trying to understand a glimpse of  their life and letting my paint strokes communicate what I see. Continually doing this not only helps me understand the world a little better, but pushes me to paint objects I may not have even thought of painting. I can, in the end, take each of these experiences with me when I do decide to paint something of my own. My creative purpose is not all about showing the world what I hold dear, think, or enjoy, but fostering the learning and growth process through understanding others. I feel I will share more quality work in the future that will connect and reach others more in this way.

This Painting "Langella Pond" is for a couple who have spent so much time and dedication nurturing and tediously caring for their landscape. I tried to honor this by tediously and accurately capturing the details, while keeping it true to a painting and adding my own style.

There is often a strong chorus of voices in my head attempting to lead me off the necessary path to fulfillment. I believe most of us are aware enough to know how and when that happens. The real struggle is finding our way back once we have succumbed to the action that lead us astray. For example, If you get lost in the woods we are told to retrace our steps as best we can to get back on the trail. I believe in all aspects of life we sometimes need to retrace our steps to move forward to our desired destination. We can't linger but we must identify how and why we lost our way.

I remember an incident as a child  where I wanted to know what a type of bread was at the supermarket, so I pointed near someone. My father clammed up and looked at me in horror for pointing. He quickly and sternly corrected me. He often made sure I respected everyone else's feelings over my own. As for my personal hopes and dreams, my parents would call me a ham every time I tried to perform a show for them. This ultimately resulted in talking myself down to others over the years instead of building myself up, so as to appear "humble." I am realizing now that if you do that enough, people begin to believe you no matter how good you are at something. It is especially tough if you don't have a good support system to do the talking for you. You really do need to "pat yourself on the back." For someone like me that is truly scary. 

I decided to stop apologizing. I also decided to let go and stop trying to be so perfect and to just let the creativity flow. One particular night, I created the piece " Golden Hour." The title was more than fitting, because it personally was my golden hour. I felt so connected with my inner guide and all "voices " and distractions were mute. I stopped criticizing myself, let go and didn't worry about what others may think.

I felt proud of it. In the end I saw a piece that reflected a positive turn in my journey. I truly saw raw and unfiltered impressionism. 

As a member of Fine Art America and inspired by my growth, I decided to start a contest titled "Your Best Impressionism Painting." It was my first contest and I was nervous because it took awhile before there were any entries, so I figured adding mine would get others interested. I had debated long and hard as to whether I should enter my art worrying what others may think. I could hear my father's voice telling me it was shameful and could see my mother rolling her eyes. I knew it would be fair and I couldn't fix the results, so I went ahead and entered it. To my surprise I won first place out of 197 entries.

I definitely did not anticipate this happening. I felt so uncomfortable yet proud at the same time. I had won my first online contest and wanted to celebrate so I decided I would. 

All was great! until a gentleman who received fewer votes in the same contest posted in the discussion section that It was "queer that the person running the contest won" and that the results should be questioned.

And just like that, he deflated my balloon and I heard my father loud and clear. 

I ran a few more contests and stopped entering my own entries until I had an epiphany-- If I hadn't ignored the voices in my head I wouldn't have won my first online contest. How many other times have I gotten in the way of my own success because I felt ashamed for believing in myself or afraid of my own greatness and allowing my light to shine? 

I know my father and mother meant well, but perhaps while they were attempting to protect me from rejection, they taught me to reject myself.

So here, I unapologetically share my "Golden Hour."