Another painting from my new series “Too Small, Too Young”.
Undecided, 15.5 “x 20”, mixed media painting on wood stretcher.
This series is about being a child now, looking back and/or remembering being a child and also about being an adult/parent watching your child grow up. It is bitter sweet to say the least.
Sometimes I find myself looking at my children and feeling unbearably sad. I know that this sounds crazy but it is because I am not really looking at them right now, instead I am thinking about how much smaller they were not so long ago or how soon they are going to be all grown and leaving me. Awful I know, but it is the truth. I think about how far away my own childhood seems now, how foggy my memories are. How young my parents were.
In many ways, these are timeless paintings. They live neither in or out doors but exist simultaneously in both. If as though, our memories can be in some other plain all together, existing in our mind but also in this place that shifts back and forth, in and out of focus. Often hard for us to grasp completely, save a snippet here, a smidgen there.
I guess in these works I am trying to capture childhood, mine and my children’s and to somehow hold onto it for a little bit longer. If I can’t manage it in real life, perhaps painting it will help me remember to think less and be more.
The Clandestine Meeting
Now that I have your attention
The meeting will now begin
What do two white ravens need to discuss?
They would like it to be noted in the records
They are not albino
They simply have some type of mutant gene
They like that they are symbolic of peace
And they really like the gold sequins on your hat
That is all
The meeting can now be adjourned
Little red riding hood knew she shouldn’t have strayed from the path. Her mother had told her not to. It was just that she wanted her grandmother to feel better and knew that the sight of wild flowers would put a smile on her face. But now, it was getting dark and she had the strangest feeling. You know that feeling. Like she was no longer alone. Like someone was watching her.
Little red riding hood stopped picking flowers and stood up straight. Standing silently she listened for movement in the dark woods surrounding her. She moved the freshly picked flowers up toward her face. ‘Maybe their sweet smell would calm her’, she thought to herself, but this feeble gesture did nothing to ease her increasing feeling of dread. The harder she tried to listen, the louder her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She was all at once being taken over by a horrible sense of foreboding. Like she was being devoured, body and soul, by fear itself.
This is an original 2.5″x2.5″ mixed media painting of Circus Girl ( I think she is going to have an actual name very soon!) I am working on this character for a children’s book. Every now and then, I just have to paint her to get myself all inspired about this story again. She really is beautiful and I love painting her. After the disaster painting day yesterday I thought I should ease myself into painting by doing something that I know I love. The story is slowly coming together. I am trying not to rush it but maybe it is time for a little more of a tough love approach. My husband thinks so. I don’t know.
I was looking for fairies in the Garden
I left a little cottage teapot for them
So that they could set up house
Perhaps they would prefer to sleep within the flowers
If I were a fairy I’d live amongst the poppies
Their big papery petals would be my walls
and close by I would have lupins and foxgloves and hollyhocks too
Their lovely fragrance would surround me as I
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?