Facing that blank canvas, Dad always questioned why I wasn't working. After my answer, he would pull the lawn mower from under the porch and tell me to use it while I was deciding what to paint. It wasn't always our lawn that needed mowing, and I usually found inspiration pushing that mower. Dad believed in a full day's work, not painting. Sometimes cleaning out the garage brought out the inspiration. Staring at Mom's flowers was my preferred path though…
These days I find doing one painting leads to another. Seldom do I put down the brush for more than a day. A model with her hair up may create a shape that I spend days on capturing. A dying geranium leaf may interrupt a nude, which interrupted a landscape. Colors laid out for one subject may make another subject more exciting. No set palette for me. I like trying new colors. That orange dying geranium called for a brighter red which was perfect for the nude's pink toenails.
It’s very hard for me to teach simply because I don't know how I get a painting done. A conversation with a model may come into play, allowing my hand to move freely, touching colors I normally would question putting into a figure. Like a violin giving rhythm, to me models add to the way I see and feel. Painting, the creation of art, has taken on so many dimensions for me. Collectors, models, and other artists have added to my soul, and how I see the world.
