2011

Rosé

docsusan — Wed, 08 May 2013 15:14:58 +0000

Rosé

docsusan Wed, 05/08/2013 - 11:14

Rosé is a type of wine that has just enough red in it to look pink. Though a pleasant color, it can appear weak, washed out, or diluted. The title of this piece, Rosé, came to me on completion. Though not planned, I worked through it in a way that was more akin to art therapy than fine art production. Started in fall 2011, I approached the canvas with gusto. This creation was going to be atypical to my repertoire, a one session overnight piece from the imagination. Very quickly, white flowers started to emerge, and a sense of peace. Then, things got crazy for a while. It seemed impossible to get back to finish off what was started, the mood lost. Fast forward to May/June 2012, and I coaxed myself to try again. One day on, one day off. Like many other artists, I struggled with needing to take time-out from painting. I’d put paint on, then wipe it off, Any brightness was jarring. Words floated in my head. Some fit the painting. Others didn’t. Friends came by the studio and seemed to like the dull look, advised me to leave it as it was. It was incomplete that way, I thought. I added the words, had to add the words. Then, it was complete—at least to me.

  p.s. If the words can’t be seen clearly from the photo, here they are, from left to right, top to bottom: motivation, respect, truth, belonging, love, ambition, hope, trust, connection, confidence, support, joy. Please note, I have marked in bold four of them to come back to at a later date. If you take the first letter from each (in italics) the word blah is evident. More about that later...

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil-4

docsusan — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:04:37 +0000

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil-4

docsusan Wed, 01/04/2012 - 23:04

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil-3

docsusan — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:00:40 +0000

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil-3

docsusan Wed, 01/04/2012 - 23:00

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil-2

docsusan — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 03:56:21 +0000

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil-2

docsusan Wed, 01/04/2012 - 22:56

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil Composite

docsusan — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 03:46:24 +0000

Sun-Kissed/Gorgé de Soleil Composite

docsusan Wed, 01/04/2012 - 22:46

The sun kisses and caresses. It also, scorches, burns and fades. Without sun, there is no fun. With sun, we need to stay mindful. A fire ball, it has the ability to destroy as well as heal. This series was inspired by first-time travels to India. In late October, still sunny and warm, I got a taste of what could be, but not full force.The colors of the countryside, as well as the architecture, artifacts, and people, danced in my head the whole journey home. Three thousand plus photographs took months to process, kept feelings and impressions strong, clear, and powerful. Faded glory, tumbled wealth, tired and torn surroundings. We all have our day, our sunshine, our moment. Then there is what remains: touches, disturbs, provokes wonder. The legacy for those who come after us is open to interpretation as is this work. I painted in layers and at intervals, not sure exactly what could emerge or how or why. The process proved delicate and careful. Each application of metal leaf was intentional. Every brush stroke counted. Magic in the air. Sunshine filled heart and mind. Positively potent!

Ambiguities and Alternatives: 8, On the Edge

docsusan — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 03:22:19 +0000

Ambiguities and Alternatives: 8, On the Edge

docsusan Fri, 12/30/2011 - 22:22

Just before New Year’s 2011/12, as I was filing Jpeg images on my computer, I noticed that I failed to post this important work from the Ambiguities and Alternatives series. This work had taken me longer to create than all the others and was extremely painful to complete. Remarkable to think that what I painted was triggered by the grain of the wood. Almost as with a painting by numbers an image emerged from what was already there...

Perhaps I’d wanted to forget it later. Perhaps, I needed time to digest what was in it. Whatever the case, there are, generally, no accidents with the choices we make. Even if they don’t always feel right, it’s good to consider the extra attention they get, as well as possible reasons for it. Timing can be interesting, as can conclusions. So, what is the message here as I see it months after painting?

You (little bunny) are on the edge. Who is there with you? What does your “family portrait’ or “circle of friends/supports” look like? There’s a divide to jump (or not), rushing waterfall below and between. Are others interested or concerned? One closes her eyes. Another looks to the side, protected by a wooden shield. Trunk from an aging tree reveals years of growth, possible roots of concerns—patterns of responses. A little bunny, though on a ledge, has lush grass to rest on and an unknown towering over her, eyes open—perhaps to protect or help, perhaps to monitor what ‘s happening. Bunny looks healthy and composed despite everything. A rushing waterfall may present a way out or obstacle. Does she find ways around it? Could others in the picture do anything (change their stance). or is it all up to her?

Painting of this work directly preceded The Rain and the Pain.

Ambiguities and Alternatives Composite

docsusan — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 12:27:20 +0000

Ambiguities and Alternatives Composite

docsusan Fri, 12/30/2011 - 07:27

Ambiguities and Alternatives (9 works)

This series was painted June - July. After completing the My Blue World series (immediately prior) I’d hoped to move on from process oriented pieces. However, following a critique in which a “reviewer” said that I don’t challenge myself enough (April), my creative spirit was jolted. Even though others reeled about their reviews too, this nudge, at an already vulnerable time, made it hard for me to switch gears and think of anything else... It’s not so much what was said, but how—the prompt to develop imagery more akin to art therapy than fine art. Given that I have come to recognize art therapy as a métier and fine art as a vocation, I am especially sensitive lest the former eclipse the latter. That said, if this series can help others know that they are not alone in in coming to terms with the vicissitudes of the human condition, the pain manifested here (through process and product) will have been worth it.

1. Scary and Scared (18 x 24 in)

I started this piece after seeing a face in the grain of the wood. Initially I began by painting what I thought was my brother, a follow-on from the last work completed in the My Blue World series. As the painting got further along, I suddenly saw my father in it too. The brush strokes became softer and more sympathetic. Pity appeared as well as angst. My brother’s conduct has been scary to me. My father has made me scared through his aging and illnesses.

Viewers of this piece in my studio say they “get it.” It speaks to them in powerful ways. Everyone has someone in their life who causes them SCARE, family member or not. Should we feel sorry for the scary one, or should we feel sorry for ourselves? What does feeling scared do to you, and what does it do to others? What happens when fear and feared come face to face?

This was a one session piece (unusual for me), painted on a very long Saturday morning. I felt horrible when I started painting, but much better once finished.

2. Seeing Red (11 x 14 in)

Even though the first piece in this series left me in better mood, the second gave a jolt. I cannot get over things overheard, uttered by those important in my life. Details included here may be familiar to artists and athletes of all types. They may have been told the same directly:
your heART (the only thing you are good at) is a NONSENSE! If we don’t believe in you, how can anyone else? Get a 9 - 5 job.

3. Leap of Faith (16 x 20 in)

This is one of those pieces that I might never have painted had the image not emerged from the grain in the wood. Truly representative of where I was at at the time—hoping for a big leap of faith—I meditated on this while painting. Later, when photographing the body of work to which this piece belongs I forgot to include this one. I believe there are no accidents, in art or life. A higher power drives circumstances and the best laid plans might not happen. I rediscovered this missing piece months later, at a time when faith was challenged once again. The stretch was huge, and making it to the other side of the pond (literally and metaphorically) would make all the difference.

4. How High Can You Climb, How Low Can you Fall? (18 x 24 in)

This piece was guided by the grain in the wood and was possibly a reaction to a piece created a little before, Seeing Red. “How high can you climb, how low can you fall?” That’s what seems to have wanted to come out here. It was early on a Friday evening when I started painting and the sun shone into my studio. I kept thinking it's Friday night (the Sabbath), I shouldn’t be painting. I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things, but...

Keeping the rules hasn’t worked, so if I now paint on the Sabbath is that really a sin, or is it telling me something more—how the faith has made less sense to me over the years? Judaism, as I have discovered, as a single, is a family religion and if you haven’t made a match and been fruitful and multiplied, there is little to make you feel welcome—at least in community settings. Others may believe differently—I can only speak from personal experience... Friday nights can be painful when alone and Shabbat Shalom (Peaceful Sabbath), the common Hebrew greeting is not being mocked. I am just choosing to share that my Sabbaths don’t really feel peaceful, no matter how hard I have attempted to have this as goal over the years.

Climbing Kilimanjaro, I made it to the top. I was alone in my perseverance, but not on the journey. With sherpas and co-climbers, there was a sense of belonging, one that felt nurturing, if only then. When we climb high, or fall low, we reach out or have others reach in to us. The little brown character off to the side, whose appearance was also provoked by the wood grain, has outstretched arm. His/her/its pit in the stomach as well as heart in eye are significant too.

Even when the look of paintings changes, my recurring symbols may not. I started to paint the next piece before finishing this one. It was just too difficult to do it all in one session. Pausing and stepping back matters more to me than racing through.

5. Dog is God. Poodles are Heavenly (48 x 36 in)

Without my Poodles, I don’t think I would have got through most of the challenges of the last 14 years (Lev is 15 Feb 2012). When there is no constant (human) other in your life, Poodle pals, at least for me, provide the love, care, and wisdom necessary to survive. They are the burst of light and hope that guarantee safe passage to the next day. They lick tears from face and coax to walk. They keep secrets and show responsibility and purpose when there seems no point. I painted this piece with some delicacy. This time, I wasn’t following the grains of the wood, but my own brush strokes. I needed the soothing to begin—magic to happen. It came on gently and softly, at first without plan, then the Poodle face appeared. I went with her, her curls and noble nose. I didn’t want to push her too far, or make her too obvious. Likely, I didn’t... Those visiting my studio have seen other images in this piece. One neighbor noticed the torso of a woman with substantial chest (not me!), head held up and back, mouth wide open as if about to scream. Projection can be interesting...

6. wHOLE in the heART (30 x 30 in)

Those who have have been lucky enough to bear a child may not be able to relate. Those who have longed for one, but never had the opportunity, live with a void. a void that cannot be filled. As I was completing this piece, the Today Show was playing in the background and gave the statistic that one in five American women, today, don’t bear children. It also said that for some this has been a choice. I find this hard to fathom. For me, there are no substitutes for the gift of real life motherhood. Not even the two best dogs in the world...

This piece emerged spontaneously. The first thing I saw in the wood was the eye. Before I detailed its form, I built around it and coaxed a heart form to emerge. Hearts are my thing! As I started to fill the heart, an area off center remained blank. At first I thought it was starting to look like a heart within a heart. Later, I realized that it was, probably, something more. This form has appeared in earlier pieces. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but had to.

With everyone else’s problems being more important than my own, there has been little air time for my mid-life crisis and the pain it gives, not momentarily, but constantly. This piece, I realize, is painted in tribute to the wonderful single women friends n my life who are in similar positions. Our lament is huge, talent enormous, and recognition lacking. We would have made finer mothers than the many out there who make a mockery of that role with offspring as accessory, inconvenience, or object of abuse...

There is a comfort in knowing that you are not alone in a circumstance with which “outsiders” cannot identify, but this doesn’t help make it any easier.

Other works that have emerged earlier on a similar subject include:  
Mother and Child: Dream or Reality (2005)
 Mother/Child Unraveled (2006)

7. Long Face and Big Back-Side of Burden (16 x 12 in)

When things aren’t going well, we show it, whether through the face we wear or the weight we add. Internal stress has external signs. And you can’t turn your back to it. This creature is picking head up and contorting body, ready to make a move—get back on track. That’s all we can wish for her. But, she cannot do it alone! Some may say that this creature isn’t scary or ugly. She doesn’t have to be! I have a tendency to paint pretty pictures even when life isn’t. An innately positive person wants to shine through.
Visitors to my studio have remarked that some of my work has a bit of Chagall in it. He is one of my favorites, and this is flattering feedback—especially when painting more difficult themes.

8. On the Edge (24 x 18 in)

Painting of this work directly preceded The Rain and the Pain.

9. The Rain and the Pain (16 x 20 in)

Rain has different significance for different people. It can bring mood down or lift it up. When painting this piece, my mood was low. I was throwing paint at the wood and watching it trickle down—relieving and releasing pain. The magic of the process—drips made and how they ran thickly or thinly had me waiting and watching. When all was dry a few weeks later and I added a layer of varnish the clumped masses shone.

Secrets

docsusan — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 14:19:50 +0000

Secrets

docsusan Wed, 12/28/2011 - 09:19

At Art Battle To, participants are given 20 minutes to create an acrylic work live, audience members voting for most popular. This painting was created when practicing at my home studio the afternoon before the event. Its message: "Secrets we all have, but few share: heART helps." Whether working on belabored series, or a quick semi-spontaneous rendering, my mood was definitely pensive...

Black White

docsusan — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 21:35:31 +0000

Black White

docsusan Sat, 12/24/2011 - 16:35

Any time we see all in black and white, things might not be well. This work is primitive and expresses raw emotion. Black paint was slopped onto half a dozen 12 x 12 in linen canvases when I felt lower than low. Some of the canvases had words written on with marker under the paint. Some of these words show through. When doing the overlay I didn’t care if they did or they didn’t, I'd made mistakes when writing the words in ink... I was really fed up. Usually, I turn to painting to raise spirits. When I can’t create imagery that pleases, there’s very little left that can. Most people have experienced extreme lows. They wouldn’t be human if they didn’t. I hesitated to post this imagery on this site, but if its being here is helpful to others—announces that they are not alone in their pain and despair—that will make me smile.

The series that followed—of my dogs—shows light at the end of the tunnel. After periods of negativity, it’s good to seek out anything/one that has potential to be positive, and shift focus The black and white work, resembles chalk board scrawls, some faint, some not, hesitancy and impulse, shame and shun. The series that follows, Love (with my dogs) is stronger and bolder. As 2011 closes, its creation helps set me back on track, more prepared and optimistic for 2012!

Love: 1, We

docsusan — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 14:37:09 +0000

Love: 1, We

docsusan Sat, 12/24/2011 - 09:37

We is set on Toronto Island. As many days as possible of summer 2011, we cycled there, doggies in bicycle basket, or running alongside. They were like pups and kept me going, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Just to see them enjoy the moment was uplifting. So much to learn, so little time... Our canine companions know what matters and how to fit it all in.