Two studies I did yesterday of ‘Circus Girl’.
We are flying off to Victoria tomorrow. Going ‘home’ for a little visit. I can’t believe I’ve lived in Edmonton for over ten years. That is so crazy. And more than a little sad… you see, I love Victoria for so many reasons. I was born there, which is a tie but my brother in law was born in Germany and I don’t think he is longing to get back. It is more than where you are born and it is even more than where all your family still live, although that is a huge draw. I always thought it was the Ocean that was calling me back or the view of the mountains but that is not it either.
I think that I have finally figured out that it is the familiarity of it that I love. I know it like the back of my hand. Everywhere I go I have been, in some form or another. Even if the shop is new, I know the building or the building before it or even the land before that. I know it. I feel so comfortable there. It really is like being in the comfort of your own home. I have never been able to find that comfort level in Edmonton, it is like I am always looking over my shoulder. In Victoria, I never have to look, because I already know what is there.
So, lately I’ve been trying to paint any chance I get and sometimes, actually most of the time, that is when Scarlett is asleep and Imogen is not. This is not good for Imogen. I try to create interesting games or better yet, give her fun crafts to do while I am painting but the other day she told me I was really boring and all I did was paint. OUCH. This is not what mummy wants to hear. Especially, when mummy thought she was doing such a great job at playing along with her make believe games. This days game involved me being the Evil Queen that poisons her with the flowers we got from the dollar store and, I just need to remind you, this is while I am actually trying to paint. So, I was a little sad and I’ll admit, worried, that my painting days were numbered.
Then, something happened: she started to paint from the same reference photos that I use. I guess she figured: ‘if you can’t beat’em, join’em’
So, here is Imogen’s version of ‘Wooly Hat’ . I think that it is pretty amazing. I know I am slightly biased, and I will admit my ulterior motive is that maybe, just maybe, if she sees her art posted it will buy me more painting time. I know, not exactly Mother of the Year, but what can I say? I want to paint.
My orange peeler.
One day I handed Scarlett a bowl of tiny oranges and was surprised to see how long it kept her busy. As I watched her I had this weird vision in my head of rows of toddlers peeling oranges. An orange peeling factory. I am still working on a large 2’x5′ canvas of six Scarletts, all peeling away. Meanwhile, I have painted two other versions of just a single Scarlett.
Anyway, all that aside, this is a great way to keep a two year old busy when you are working in the kitchen.
Circus images are swirling around my head. This story is slowly writing it self and I am being very cautious and very attentive, trying to listen carefully to the direction it wants to go. It is an exciting process. What is going to happen next?
I did this painting of Imogen. Like the larger version, I can’t seem to part with it. I put it up on Etsy and then took it off. It is hard to part with your paintings. Especially ones of your children. I really regret selling a few already but that is why you do them isn’t it? To send them out in the world. They can really become a huge weight when they are hanging around the house staring at you. You always remember the ones you sell a little more fondly than the ones you see everyday. I wonder if our recollection of them is better than the actual painting? I hope not. That could be pretty disappointing during a retrospective. YIKES!
Come on, admit it, the frosting is the best part. As we get older we eat the cake part as well. It is all part of good cupcake etiquette. It just wouldn’t be acceptable to do what all three year olds do and lick that puppy until it is a wet and shiny globe resembling the top of Daddy Warbuck’s head.