Painting again....

After a bit of a break, I have started to paint again. I have a bunch of ideas that I want to capture on canvas; ideas that have been percolating around in my brain ever since our trip to Italy last fall. Recently, they have finally made it to the surface and seem to be calling out to me to be realized.

Painting for me is a liberating experience. Working from photographs I start by sketching a design on a big canvas in charcoal or pencil. Purists would say you have to paint from nature. But, I am doing what feels good to me and what makes me happy; capturing colors and images from photographs on canvas makes me happy. Lately, I have been working in acrylics instead of oils. I am doing this mainly because there is no mess, less set up and virtually no smell. Although, I have to confess that I do love the smell of linseed oil and turpentine. It is one of my favorite smells of all time. It takes me back to the paint spattered studio in college, where big windows poured pure light onto canvases set on giant easels.

These days, I work in our bedroom, with my canvases propped up against the dresser next to our bed and the window blinds raised to their highest position. I sit on a big tarp cross-legged (my favorite position, whether I'm painting or sitting at my computer) in front of the canvas. I squeeze my paints out on a big tray and strew my big brushes about me for easy selection. I turn on the t.v. in the corner of the room, and set it to RAI international. I enjoy hearing the low babble of italian flowing over and around me while I work. Then, as I begin, I find myself entering a unique space in my head. My concerns become which shades of purple are appealing or if I have enough Naples yellow on my palette to express the golden light shinning on a farm field. It is an enjoyable process of mixing colors and laying down colors, and that alone is worth the effort. For me, painting can be an intensly personal experience. I work at close proximity to the canvas and then I stand and stretch. I turn around and walk away and then swivel to face the picture that I have been working on. Sometimes, if I am really lucky, I experience the excited little thrill in my stomach that tells me that I have done something special. From a distance the painting looks different. After a gaining a little perspective on the piece, I return to my crossed-leg position and continue painting, excited with the results I am achieving. I am lost in colors, and take pleasure in the way they are placed next to each and how darker colors placed next to lighter colors create shadow and light and define a form. I can never recapture the real thing; I am not trying to. I am capturing a mood, a feeling and that is very real to me.

I know I am done with a painting if I have no urge to go in and change things around. The trick is knowing when to stop. I will keep my painting perched in front of the dresser and throughout the next couple of days as I pass by, I will continue to analyze it and study it and enjoy it. Then, I either hang it somewhere or prop it up in the bedroom amongst piles of other canvases that I have finished. After a while, when I look back on some of my work, I often see the paintings in a whole new way. If I am lucky, I still experience that same little thrill I had when I was creating it. Then I know that I created something special.

This is a recent painting of a house with ruins behind it near Castel Muzio in Italy. We were out driving around at sunset and saw this beautiful spot. I wanted to drive up the lane to explore some more but fortunately, spotted the sign that clearly stated "Entrare Vietato! Non Disturbare!" just in time. What a shame. I would have liked to have driven up the lane for a closer look. As it is, I have to be content with a photo from a far and a painting that comes slightly close to the feeling I had standing there outside of Castel Muzio with my husband, on our way back to La Moscadella for dinner.