Acrobatic outcomes

I've been doing studio gymnastics for a long time now, and there's no way to predict when I'll land on my feet.  It was 2016 when I painted "Clowns Take a Tumble" and considered it then to be a kind of breakthrough.   I haven't painted over it yet, but not every attempt of mine has survived that long -- or even reached that stage.

Remember "Young Fil"? 

It seemed to start out so well, and then at a late stage, it became clear that too much was wrong with it.  Quite disappointed, I stowed it in a dark corner until just recently -- when the time was ripe to turn it upside down, paint it over, and start with something else.

I decided I'd work from a drawing I'd done several months ago at the life drawing studio.

I worked away and began to wonder if this particular canvas had a curse on it.  The placement of the shoulders wasn't right. The slope of the head was wrong.  And even as I made adjustments, I decided that as a drawing it had been one of my great successes -- but as a painting….it was boring.

Enough!  I reached the stage of what I dramatically call "The Point of Abandonment."  But as if on cue, almost that very day, my niece N sent me a fabulous photo of her (and my) friend H, who lives in Bellingham.  I knew I had to give him a try and started with a quick familiarization study on cardboard.

Then I took the troublesome canvas, painted over the model's head, turned it upside-down, and began to lay in H's portrait.  He's one of the kindest men I know and in his quiet way draws people to him.  Notably, he's also a fabric artist, and I decided to place an imitation dyed fabric behind his head.

It's taken some juggling, but two tumbles later, this canvas turned out to be magic for me.  Here's the final version of "Artist, Friend, People Magnet," (copyright 2019).  

This is truly the best painting I've ever done. (Not that I intend to give up my pursuit of surrealism).   And here's the real work of art -- a close-up of one of H's tie-dyed scarves that he and N gave me, a cherished essential in my summer wardrobe.

Out of the shadows

It's that time of year when the low sun works mysteries in The Yellow House.  At its long seasonal slant, it bounces off windshields of cars parked out front and creates enticing shadows as the reflection passes through outdoor foliage onto my living room walls.  Continuing my Denizens series, I pulled two more candidates out of shadows of their own.

First up was an unusual young elfin woman I spotted on the bus.

As I laid in her features, which brought to mind a woodland sprite, it occurred to me that she might be at home in camouflage.

If you want to be dazzled by pattern, google "camouflage" or take a look at this page of a gazillion variations.  After studying many examples, I was almost seeing double by the time I'd narrowed my choices and placed the nymph among them for Denizens Series - "Camo" (copyright 2019).

 Just as my vision needed a rest, another bus rider caught my eye.  (I've perfected a technique of not being noticed as I constantly scan people's appearance -- their posture, their costume, the lift of their eyebrows, the ridge of their noses, the shape of their chins...)

Compared to the dazzle of the "Camo" elf, this young man was almost all uniformly dark -- his cap, his hair, his beard, his skin, his T-shirt, his sunglasses, his earphones.  Here's the final version:-- Denizens Series - "Shades" (copyright 2019).

Right now, there's a possibility that Metro Vancouver bus drivers might go on strike.  Luckily, I have years of stored images in my sketchbooks based on memories of fellow transit riders.  And when you look around you, Denizens can be seen anywhere -- as on the shadow side of this building.