Art is long and life is short.
"Anyone can revolt. It is more difficult silently to obey our own inner promptings, and to spend our lives finding sincere and fitting means of expression for our temperament and our gifts." - Georges Rouault, 1871-1958 My favorite artists for as long as I can remember have been the Spanish masters - Velazquez, Goya,... Continue Reading →
I showed up at my computer early this morning with a fragment of an idea to build out in this post. It wasn't coming out right, so I got up from my chair to get a second cup of coffee to clear the cobwebs. I noticed the November issue of RealSimple on the kitchen table,... Continue Reading →
On Sunday, I walked into Michael's studio and immediately noticed that my painting - I'm still working on the study of Rouault's The Old King - was on the easel, but the photo of the original was not. I was on to Michael and said, "You are taking away my crutch." He replied that yes, indeed,... Continue Reading →
Today I saw the phrase "show up" three times. The first time was in Seth Godin's blog around 7 am, where he reminds us that we have to do more than show up, that our job is "to surprise and delight and to change the agenda." Around 9 am I got an email from a friend with a... Continue Reading →
In my last post I described how I was coming down with a bug and that my creativity suffered as a result. The silver lining was that I was forced to pause, and in doing so, I remembered why I love to paint and was able to share this realization and gratitude with you, my... Continue Reading →
I was feeling under the weather all day today. Thinking it was allergies (molds were unusually high today in Austin, the allergy capital of the world), I pressed forward at work. Around 4 PM, I was about to text Michael, "Can't make it to art class today. Feel sick." But I didn't. I thought, "What... Continue Reading →
Last week I arrived at Michael's studio with no ideas or images for my next painting. The holidays had worn me out, and I just hadn't had a chance to think about what I wanted to do and learn next. Michael pulled out one of his art books and turned to an artist named Georges Rouault. I... Continue Reading →
When I was small, my family lived in Salamanca, Spain, a university city about 2 1/2 hours' drive northwest of Madrid. For reasons I don't know - and I keep forgetting to ask my parents this question - we did a short trip to Sevilla when I was 2 (1971). I have no memory of... Continue Reading →
Where's my paintbrush? 