Changing from the real color to something better

It's really blue, the LBJ Junction School.

After painting it blue, I read the Bill James Masterclass article in an issue of International Artist. The magazine joined me for coffee on the deck, while the author explained and encouraged the use of complementary colors to add excitement and unity to paintings. Guess which painting immediately presented itself for a redo?

The blue is sort of blah, right?  The grassy hill felt ok to me, so I chose its complement, orangey red, to liven up the building. That was like a stand-back, wow reaction. Continuing Bill's advice, I worked lighter values of the greens and orange into the trees and sky. Which is better?

I took my reference photo 5 or 6 years ago, but often thought about the great profile of the school at the top of the hill. Lyndon B. Johnson first attended the one room Junction School when he was 4. As president, he returned to sign one of his major education bills at Junction School, his first teacher by his side. 
My art, blog and newsletter hang out at http://carolynhancock.com.

From I can't to I can

Yoga, relaxing? 18 sessions and it still makes sore muscles. But the positions I could not contort my body into, are now doable.
The cross-legged Sukhasana position starts the yoga session with relaxation and deep breathing. At the beginning I tried to achieve it, straightened my legs, folded one leg in, tried crossing, nothing but sheer agony. Now I'm ok for a few minutes in Sukhasana, not perfect like the instructor, but ok.
Painting the background in a figurative piece has the same history. My beginning pieces had no color, no shape in the background; then color gradations, nothing obvious, just a hint of color. Then shapes of color, something to lead the eye. Little by little, I have inched my way into painting backgrounds that become part of the story.
Just like Sukhasana, so uncomfortable in the beginning, painting the background now brings some joy. I don't love it, but a little stretch of ability and a little mental perseverance transformed I can't into I can.
This painting combined figurative with fitting grafitti  from a LA reference photo.

Little Accomplishments

The year ends and you wonder where the time went, if you accomplished enough. Accomplishment itself just means completing something successfully, an achievement, or a special skill or ability gained by practice or training. And it is not defined by size or quantity, so all the little things count as an accomplishment.

As I navigated my thoughts through the days of 2013, I found lots of check marks and job well done's. It's a great feeling. Slide your way down this small list; add to it with your own little things. Your year will likely have more accomplishments than you thought.

• Maybe it was one commission or sale, and not one a month. That one counts.
• Maybe it was a venture outside your comfort zone, talking about your art to a group or giving a workshop. Sure, it was only two hours, but what an inspiration you were to at least one person. That one counts.
• You probably easily handled updating your website or blog with a new color scheme or template. Most likely you could have designed an entire website for a friend, but that one update counts.
• You applied to that special art group that gives you a little extra prestige and pride, and got accepted. That definitely counts.
• Press releases conquered and actually published? An adding-to-your-credibility count.
• Wrote an article or just a little blog entry, then opened an email asking permission to publish it? Getting your name out there, that's a big count.
• You tackled that scary thing called making a video, then found the nerve and knowledge to put it on YouTube. High Five count.
• Learning another language with online Duolingo? A culture handshake count, that one.
• You sat there wondering how many more words can I come up with for my newsletter - and did it? A big marketing count.
• You were asked to be an officer in your art group, and said yes, knowing how much time it would involve? That's a personal best count.
• Then on almost the last day of the year, you are Artist of the Day on Visual Language Magazine? Well, that's a great early birthday count.

Along the way, with all those accomplishments, you managed to paint, to create that thing you most love - a piece of art. Looking forward to a new year!

You don't have to send it

Real live conversation - remember it? Not a text, not an email, not a post. 
A quote attributed to Randi Zuckerberg, sister of the famous guy: "If you're going to put something in writing, make sure you would be comfortable if it was reprinted in a newspaper." 

Texting, emailing and posting have a double edged weakness:

• They remove personal interaction. Vocabulary, gestures, responses, emotions, you get those things in a face to face. By default, words decrease with tiny keys, abbreviations, and aware of it or not, that decrease carries over in live conversation. Eyes tell the brain so much about another person; the keyboard simply cannot compete with that kind of input.
• They are essentially permanent. That written message becomes a forever traceable record. Where a spoken conversation between two people may be misstated or misinterpreted, the actual words are just a whisper of a memory. They can be forgotten, even denied. But put it in writing, and they are forever, around for anyone to see. Write something wrong or hurtful? A reply to all broadcasts those words. Or that text message may be forwarded to 300 people. And post or social-media-it, the results can be heartbreaking.

I love email, prefer it to phone calls. I'm not a quick thinker, so writing time to get the words right. It lets me communicate at a time of my choice. Sometimes it even lets me vent, knowing that I can backspace all those angry words away: the send button is an option, not a have-to. Better than email, though, is a give and take conversation, two people talking, responding, working through a problem or just enjoying a fresh idea. Caring and interested in the other person.

LinkedIn expert, Melanie Dodaro takes Zuckerberg's caution one more step up the ladder:  "I would even go as far to extend this to cover pictures, videos or any other form of media that can be attached to you in any way. Not only is it important that potential clients aren't seeing anything negative, you really have no idea who is looking at that stuff. It could be a new girlfriend/boyfriend 10 years from now, a competitor, potential business partner…anything is susceptible to go up in smoke once you hit that "Post" button, so be absolutely sure you want it out there."

The Whistling Ducks and Artists

Sofia, Pastel, 12x16, by Carolyn Hancock

The whistling ducks live and socialize alongside the pond created between two fairways behind my kitchen. Lots of whistlers. A couple of months ago, a neighbor started putting feed out every afternoon. Can you guess?  the number of whistlers multiplied.

After yesterday's heavy rain, they separated into groups. One group in the middle of the fairway, one group of the same size at the edge of the pond. And then the aloof group of loners, maybe half a dozen, spread out, distance between each of them. Watching the three separate groups, I related their actions to the diversity in artists.

There's the group in the middle, joiners, waiting close to the feeding station, thinking something will just come to them, someone will give them a meal.

There's the group of doers, foraging, pecking in the ground for their own meal, knowing survival is up to them but not knowing if they will find that special delicacy to fill a hunger.

Then that ultimate group, the loners, going it on their own, doing things a little different, fending for themselves, willing to take a chance.

2004 marks 20 years since I began my art journey, and I've been in and out of all three groups. Am I a successful artist? No, in the sense of monetary achievement. I was lucky in the beginning to live out of the country with a group of people who felt a kinship with the my artwork; it struck a memory of travels they themselves had taken. And they had the money to purchase artwork. Back in the States, exotic locale paintings and realism held no sway, people wanted abstract or artwork they didn't have to emote with. So I changed groups.

I painted flowers and landscapes, subjects that provided an easy connection. I worked hard at it, and I think ultimately that the "worked hard" showed through the painting - the emotion was not there.

And that brings me back to the question: am I a successful artist? Yes, in the sense that I have rotated through the groups and circled back to being myself, part of that group of loners. Successful in that I know that my heart and passion lie in painting people. Successful in knowing that I am willing, maybe even eager, to look into different methods of applying my pastel, in seeing the subject. Successful in finally understanding that those threads of feeling I had in painting a character are the very same ones that cause a person to cross the room to look at my work - and those only exist in my figurative work. 

The Big Reveal | Carolyn Hancock Blog

The Big Reveal | Carolyn Hancock Blog

Every painting has a story. Sometimes the story is obvious from the composition or the subject matter. But sometimes behind the scenes is not obvious, and the artist seldom gets to do the big reveal. 

I lived out of the country when I started painting. My preference even then was to paint people, and every one of the paintings originated from a trip to another country, a different culture. And behind every painting was a terrific story that would likely not be communicated.

A couple of weeks ago I was digging through links, tracking things I liked, when a restaurant photo stopped my fingers. What were those little circles, one on each item of food? I let the mouse float over the icon and, Wow! Fun idea. It was like a commercial, "I want one of those."

Old Halo is my first attempt with this new way of telling the story behind the painting. Give it a look and let me know if you like it. Click this link, give it a moment to load, then hover over or touch the icon. 

The Survivor, for at least 1200 years

The Survivor (at Shangri La, Orange, TX), Pastel, 9x12

Bob Rohm - what a great instructor he is. Very generous with his time, he unlocks little mysteries that surround landscape painting. While taking a workshop from him, I purchased his painting, Evening Color. It was an award winner, a landscape with a grouping of trees. The main tree, in the foreground, is rendered so believably that I truly feel I could reach around the tree. Bob used value and color with a mastery that is my gold standard for tree painting.

Landscape painting is a struggle, a constant string of what-if's. I try to make it about shapes, masses, light and shadow. As with any other subject, it takes lots of doing to get it right. So my summer is dedicated to the "lots of" painting landscapes. I love painting the sky: clouds with big color, soft clouds, dramatic ones and subtle ones, receding and directly above ones. I think I paint skies ok - but can I paint a tree I can reach around?

Shangri La in a little Texas town? Yes, it's a beautiful mix of botanical gardens and nature center, with a terrific history, in Orange, Texas. The boat tour down Adams Bayou drifts past a tree aged to perfection during its 1200 years. This tree of unbelievable beauty is the one I dared to paint, hoping to reach the bottom rung of the Rohm gold standard. Track the progress with these photos. In the first photo, small guide marks quarter the paper; this helps with initial drawing. The sun was behind the tree, so most of the beautiful yellow greens were obscured by the foliage.

Does the final painting make me feel the volume of this giant? And the main challenge - can I see AROUND the tree?