a good sign

It really is sunny here every day. I wake early to find it streaming through my windows. I like working in natural daylight, so it suits me quite well, as plenty of light comes through the big street-facing studio windows. I've strewn my stuff over two large tables and can't believe I ever managed to work at my little desk/table all these years. Well, usually I sprawled on the floor, and did spread everything around, but it wasn't the best way to work, as anyone who ever lived with me would point out. I was looking over some little finished pieces I'd brought with me, and in the bright light I could see all the floor lint caught in the varnish. Now, I do like texture, I don't really fuss over bits of this and that, it's part of the work and I feel it reflects who I am, somewhat rough and shabby but also, hopefully, of a tactile, vibrant and genuine nature.
I'd inadvertently brought some mismatched stretcher bars, so I stopped by the local art supply shop yesterday. Closed, but he let me in to grab a few, as well as a bottle of gesso. I'd also packed pre-stretched canvases, but I wanted options. On my way out, he asked if I'd tried the water yet. "You mean THE water?" I asked. There are more than a dozen hot springs joints in town. I've received several recommendations already, and I think this needs to happen today, so I plan to take a soak before returning to the studio. Life is tough.
So far I made some drawings and a 9"x12" gouache (opaque watercolor) on paper, which may be a study for a larger painting. There are many good 50's era signs here. This one has the bonus of the excellent star on top, as well as the classic sentiment. Until I was painting it, I didn't notice the connection between the Jesus line and the $33 rate. Keep it in mind when you visit.

truth or consequences, first day

5/1/11
Yesterday, a long day of traveling in a sleepy haze due to less than 4 hrs sleep, as I'd wanted to be with friends on my last night in Beacon for a while. On the bus from Albuquerque to T or C, my first impression was of a predominantly beige landscape, a horizon line stretching far into the distance, and bright sun flashing through the windows. By the time dusk fell I was ready for bed. Nine hours later, I woke soon after sunrise and thought happily, I am in New Mexico. This is actually happening.
I was received warmly by the young woman who's founded this residency. My living quarters are charming. Blue painted floors, cheery yellow doors and everything I need. Outside, a courtyard with sun and shade, 2 raised-bed gardens planted with corn & squash, and around the back, the hot springs tub. At night, strings of colored lights go on and the dark sky fills with stars.
This morning, riding a borrowed bicycle, I am taken on a tour. Turtleback Mountain rises in the distance beyond the town. Many brilliantly colored little buildings as well as warm earth-toned ones, the shops and galleries and spas and churches. The Rio Grande, green and cold, flows nearby. The studio space/gallery is in an orange-painted storefront on Main St, and there is lots of room for me to work. I meet several nice people over the course of the day. Still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that I have a whole month to spend in this quirky Southwestern town, to move past the initial over-stimulation that excites and tires me and to feel it all gradually soak in. Becoming part of something within me that will always be there to draw upon.
I unpack my supplies and note with some relief that whatever paint spilled was fairly minimal and that it wasn't the cobalt blue. Later there is an after-dark performance outside a restaurant to celebrate the first of May. A drumming circle and fire dancers spinning and flashing light through the darkness, hips and arms a wild blur.

packing

I seem to have saved most everything for the last moment, and have procrastinated myself right into this blossoming green leafy Hudson Valley spring morning. Thinking I could just fling my art supplies into a suitcase, but traveling by air leads me to carefully consider every jar of paint, every drawing pad and stretcher bar. Choosing each brush. I rather enjoyed this process, throwing away empty crusted tubes and frayed brushes, actually having an idea of the colors I've got and the tools ready to use, instead of riffling hopefully through messy trays and boxes. I even know which of my drawing pens still have ink in them, and tossed the others. Small accomplishments, but it feels good to know exactly what I've got, like getting rid of the unworn clothes mashed in the back of your drawers and closet. After all, you only wear your favorites anyway, in the same spirit as you reach for the particular brush that lays the fresh paint down just how you wanted it.

starting my blog

Well, this is about as far as I've gotten, for the moment. Whew! Time for a popsicle. Here's a picture of me with some of my paintings for my kickoff post. I'd been thinking of starting a blog for quite some time, a way to keep people up to date on my art doings in a more immediate way than can be done on my website. As time goes on, I will likely branch out into other subjects that interest or occupy me, which is why the blog is eponymous, at least for the time being.
The main thing prompting me to get this off the ground is that I'll be leaving in a few days for a monthlong artist residency in New Mexico. Following that, I have another residency on a farm in upstate New York. I am very excited. This will be an entirely new experience for me, to be in a quite different place for even a month's time, solely to soak up a new environment, to paint, draw and.. think. I have made some changes in my life to be able to do it, such as moving out of my apartment, stashing my stuff, and generally upending my sense of stability. Who needs stability anyway? My intent is to knock myself off balance for a while, and to return invigorated.