Day Trip to Tombstone: a video

This is a little different today. For about three weeks now, I have been working on making my first video. It is a lot like composing a painting, but not as tactile. I wanted to use music to tell a story, set the mood, and show how popular music can be for expressionistic statements, while juxtaposing them against images. I'm such an amateur at this (am receiving helpful criticism from family), but I offer it to those of you who have never been to the Southwest and would like to see what it looks like around here today. Plus, learning the terms of film editing is challenging. The terms don't have any concatenation* to the process of moving, splicing or manipulating images. I suppose that non-artist types (N.A.T.s for short) would probably say the same about such painting terms as: vanishing point, scumbling, golden mean and alizarin. Some movie editing terms I learned, but have no real understanding of: "ripple delete", "cross dissolve," and "default still." Now, I must get back to making that mailart piece I promised Ell this week. Oh, yes, and sidle up to that new way of painting that gestures feelings more than an academic rendering. Please forgive this change in medium. I'll behave better again soon. *Another word I've never heard of...Concatenation. Who will use a synonym of this in a sentence first?!

Sister Sky, Turquoise to Place

Like spontaneously finding the best parking space at the market, like finding the sweetest blueberries on a day in which everything else falls into place, followed by a spectacular sunset, good food and a great night's sleep, the paintings I last worked on surprised me so, and stopped me in my tracks--like a race track smooth and level--harnessed to hold the sky, just for pondering and quiet consideration. I excogitate further and offer a realistic study as a short interlude.... Made me think about this horse competing in the last run of the season here at the Rillito Race Track in Tucson last Saturday. We went to see these glorious creatures and I took a bunch of photos of them, of course. I hope to do more studies of them during those times I'm afraid of abstracting landscapes! This study, 6" x 4" on paper, is a study using the 'three sisters' and Caran d'Ache with water. I'm hoping to post more of these in the future, but here is the photo I used as I drew from the monitor today. Extra credit for those of you who know the word "excogitate". I stumbled upon it while correcting my spelling and thought...why not?!

...Und Vahlet....Und Vahtch

Put on a sweater, wear long pants. Oh right, don't forget to change from the summer flip flops (white) to the winter flip flops (black). Grab camera, forget dogs, race for Sabino Canyon once again. This time with the pre-paid, displayed, Park tag. Alright. Maybe race isn't quite my style anymore. But, hey. A scientist recently wrote, "The early bird catches the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese." Snow on the Santa Catalinas, cool air, crisp blue skies, and the sights and sounds of the desert are so exciting that it inspired a completely different approach this week. Here are the three paintings (9" x 12") My goodness, one painted each day. I chose to simplify and ask how the landscape makes me feel rather than try to capture the stunning sights before me (often, I feel too inept for realism). I took many photos and I've linked a slideshow of them at the bottom of this post.

DeGrazia's Refuge in the Foothills

The weather was so beautiful this morning that we thought we'd hop into the car, take some photos, and come home and paint. Little did we know that nearly everywhere we would go, there would be some reason to keep moving. 

We headed for Sabino Canyon. We knew that we couldn't take our dogs on any trails, but figured that we could park nearby and walk along the road or just outside the park. Not so. There were 'no parking' signs everywhere, 'no outlet' signs when we turned to the west, and a fee station to park--except dogs not allowed out in the desert. 

I remembered a comedian from years ago remarking that everything you might want to do in California cost money. In fact, he said that at the state line, he thought there would soon be signs stating, "Do not back up, tire damage." Yes, I was feeling like Arizona had become a place where only the wealthy could afford to live and walk in the most spectacular wilderness. 

We considered driving up to Mt. Lemmon, but we were told the road had closed because (you snow people will love this) snow had begun to fall, i. e., a few snowflakes were observed near the top of the mountain. We drove west to DeGrazia's Studio. I took some photos while Mr. Artyfice sat in the car with the dogs. I don't know how many of you have heard of Ted DeGrazia, but he had a pretty bad reputation among serious artists in this town because of his kitschy Native American children with the gigantic eyes. Yet, I remember reading an article about his early days here in Tucson and saw some photos of his work. He was a good artist. He found a way to make a living from his art, but it was never easy. He built an adobe home, studio, and chapel, that became a gathering place for his artist friends. He was a generous person. While it is disturbing to see the two story apartment building a few feet from his few acres, we found it to be a welcoming place today. 

No charge for parking. The views--stunning. If he and his family hadn't fought so hard to preserve the acreage that they owned, there would be a multi-million dollar home or three on the site and I would be persona non grata today. Here's a quick study of the chapel he built with his own hands. It is 5 1/2" x 8," on watercolor paper. We left feeling a bit better, and so, I offer the beautiful rendition of One Love, Playing for Change.

 

Reaching into the Medicine Bag

What do you put in your medicine bag? Walking the dogs this morning (a crisp, clear, warm, and sunny morning), it occurred to me that I need to consider the kind of medicine that we give to one another and the kind we give to ourselves. 

Poison...We give to ourselves when we listen to the negative thoughts from an unsettled mind, from the unwarranted criticism of others, the result of our choices, or about art, and then act upon them.

Sustenance...Ah, this is what we give and receive when we count as legitimate the good comments and the healthy internal dialog that we speak out loud. We recognize the courage it takes to approach a canvas and to make a mark. We decide who we are. As we present ourselves to the world, it is not always possible to be received well. 

What will we do with those responses... I reached into my medicine bag today and found some healing medicine: 

My fellow artists: I'm fed by your work. You can do no wrong when you are authentic, and because of you, I am drawn to go forward. 

My artistic ancestors: How did Frida overcome? How did Joan Brown navigate a path with family and professional art? What did Georgia O'Keeffe say, and how powerfully did she dig in her heels for her own beliefs? How hard was it for Käthe Kollwitz to create uncomfortable works and thereby comfort us?

Words that comfort, in winter, in recession, in the face of an unpredictable future: "Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are pure....think on these things." 

Symbols: A leather medicine bag (drawing, 5 3/4" x 6") that I made for Ell before going off to college. Secret nourishment inside that I cannot reveal. 

But in mine: There is mesquite meal that always calms my tummy if I've waited too long to eat. Prickly pear fruit that reminds me that I am often hard to get close to, but I do have a colorful center that is not too sweet. A sacred rock that informs me that there are immutable things that cannot be traded for shifting sand. A feather telling me that my spirit soars like an eagle whenever I connect with paint---when I dream. A container of water like my body--changing as it moves through the landscape, yet forever able to erode that which seems to be more powerful than I. Water wins every time. May I always offer you good medicine as a fellow traveler.

P is for Cactus

She dared me. That's it. That's the ticket! I promised Silvina I would attempt a painting that she suggested I make. Mmm, hmm. The gigantic cactus in this painting is here as a result of a short discussion about dreams and our quests for visions...regarding our art endeavors. I thought it would be fun to make a kind of narrative piece that is somewhat like the mailart pieces I've made on paper. It was a hoot! I hope I can make you chuckle. Did some research, too, on the use of hallucinatory medicinal plants in religious ceremonies. Did you know that in Arizona there is a non-native church registered to use such plants (not too far from Tucson)? However, they are in a kind of legal limbo, as Arizona allows religious use, but Federal law does not. Interesting. So, what does it mean? I don't feel we really need these medicinal plants to trigger a vision. We carry in our own hearts and minds the most powerful chemicals for illumination. We can encourage them to gain heaven and healing with our better angels, or we can devolve into darkness (the internal monsters to unleash). The road is...The drive is...a quest toward happiness, if we'll hang on long enough to complete the journey. Sounds perfectly legal to me...Oil on canvas, 22" x 28."

Elegy for the Loss of a Child

Remembering an important day. I'd like to dedicate this poem to all those who have lost children. May they all be visited by angels of comfort, angels of restoration, angels of peace.

    

The Baptism--2007 (4' x 4,' approximate) © Melinda S. Esparza 

 Solomon Who (10 January 2002) 

 Solomon Rey who

twenty-eight years ago to the day

Died. quietly napping in his baby-sitter's bassinet

while the woman screamed

and an ambulance pierced the winter sky

as cars waited at red lights.

Solomon Rey who left so suddenly right after lunch while the older children played 

while Mama built the missiles Phoenix,

Who loved piano sounds but not riding in cars Who cooed when Mama sang 

Who didn't like to sleep

in his crib maybe afraid to sleep at all

Who can't go to college today or talk of poetry, girls or brothers

But, 

Who can make you think twice about having baby

Who gave me long love looks just days before

I buried my flesh today in a powderbluevelvet casket

while the crisp and cheerful chirps of birds 

 and while the puffy shimmering clouds

Above the priest 

Above the people in a day 

in a moment

changed the world

And, Solomon Rey Who, 

through smaller threads of memory is fading from detail--

just couldn't stay

© Melinda S. Esparza

What Kind of Artist are You Anyway?

A visit to the local independent video shop can be the art treat that sets the tone for the work week. Of course, Netflix can provide a similar result, but will lack the visceral enjoyment of the hunt for an art DVD accompanied by fresh popcorn from the in-store popcorn machine. I rented art:21 just because Susan Rothenberg was one of the featured artists. A few weeks ago I made a couple of monotypes of Thimble Peak from a photo I'd taken while on the Mt. Lemmon highway, thirty miles north of home. Today, I worked on the ghost image and played with print ink and oil paint. It occurred to me that I am about to find out what kind of artist I am. Actually. Really. Truly. Without Permission. This is the first monotype straight from the press with only the one pull. The second photo is the first layering and the third photo is the working of the ghost image that I may consider finished. When I took a photo of the second one, the lighting cast a kind of sepia tone on the image and I liked it so much that I went back and changed the sky color and scratched a little into the mountains with the end of a paint brush. (12 1/2" x 16 1/2") Usually, after such a venture, I would announce to myself (and anyone within bellowing distance) that I have no talent, that I have no idea what I'm doing, mostly because it doesn't look like the work of...insert favorite artists' names here. I didn't do that today. I decided that this is okay. Why do I love Grace Hartigan, Joan Brown, and Susan Rothenberg so much? I'm starting to see. Without angst, without fear, without apology.

Static, Non-Static, A Beautiful White Noise

Waking up in this new year brought a wonderful sound: Rain. Made me think of Ladysmith Black Mambazo's song "Rain, rain, rain, rain, beautiful rain." Love rain. Love that this is a new year. I'm missing all of you art bloggers this week. I'm glad to see you're all getting back to work! The white noise of rain is a comforting sound to accompany the static of the banal requirements of life and the anti-static beginnings of an artistic ambulation.

Karen has been very brave in listing her goals and I am inspired to follow her lead. I see that many of you are considering this new year and its possibilities. It reminds me of the book Karen recommended, A Field Guide to Getting Lost (Rebecca Solnit)--with the essay The Blue of Distance. I think about this daily now. And, consider:

Sitting in the middle of desire, peacefully observing two points: the whereas of past and present events, and the wherefore of a future planned with optimism. I like this place and see great value in visiting it often. Sometimes it can appear to be the most comfortable spot to rest, wanting never to leave. But, rest is foundational not the destination. This is what I tell myself. Keep moving, step forward and carry the "Blue of distance" in a daily approach toward paint, friendship and conversation. It's okay if the horizon is always far away.

A big leap, not from the edge, but into the distance. I'm going to finish this painting, this year...oh, yes I am. This is the el gigante painting of the Grand Canyon (4' x 6') that I started more than a year ago. For your consideration, I've got a link that might cause you to dream large. Click Grand Canyon and dream with me. Tell me your dream for this year and let's see how it does come true.

"...The real problems of our culture
Can be deduced from the fact
that we name mountains after men."
--Richard Shelton (from his The last Person to Hear Your Voice, 2007)

May this year bring visions of grandness and nameless wonders to all of you!

We're On Our Way: Painting, Partying, Planning

The holiday rush is on. I don't know about you, but I'm stressed, and I don't really have any big commitments for Christmas. However, there is something about this time of year that, at first, inspires curmudgeon behavior. Then, about two weeks or less before Christmas, I just want everyone to have a prezzie. 

Here is a portrait that I am working on (22" x 28," oil on canvas). I've been layering, starting over, re-doing sections for a few weeks now. My boy is going to be home tomorrow night after a very long and difficult semester away at college. He'll probably still have snow in his hair when he arrives. I know he'll be tired. I am going to be distracted for a few days. I may not be online for awhile.

Even though I'm not finished with this portrait, I wanted to post my process. The grand finale will come later...Oh, it would be nice if it could be finished before the end of the year. We'll see. I've got gifts for you, my online artist bloggers. The following links are for art submissions. I believe they are all legitimate. I know that I am hoping to submit work to at least one of these opportunities. Here they are: Emerge Manifest Gallery in Ohio Santa Cruz Art League San Diego Art Institute of the Living Artist Slow Art Los Angeles Printmaking Society Art interview online magazine MOTA Let me know, won't you, if any of these are ones you find interesting, or if you apply and get accepted? Best wishes to all!

Into the Wilderness--Plein Air, Sans Weapons

I'm shifting slightly toward another direction this week (I've got a portrait that is developing adequately, but I'm not ready to post it yet.) More on that soon. 

We took a short day trip down Sonoita way (45 miles southeast of Tucson) on Friday. Just before the Border Patrol Checkpoint (have you got your papers in order?), we turned off onto a small, bumpy road and headed west. There was another road about three miles later that led off to some hidden hills. We took this washboard dirt road, but became intimidated by the sign that warned travelers that drug smuggling and illegal immigration could be encountered in the area. 

We decided to park under the sign and set up our pochades. Was it quiet? Sort of...except for the single engine airplane (drug smugglers or law enforcement?), the friendly group of off roaders with the ATV and the man with his two huntin' dogs with subsequent shooting. Yes, it was mostly quiet. We brought along our German Shepherd, Loki, and his fluffy companion, Katie, for moral support, ahem, safety. I wondered out loud, again, about the laws concerning concealed weaponry. Actually, I could be heard blurting, Whars mah gun?! We looked at Loki and smiled, deciding that he's always loaded.

  It was bright and sunny, too. This hill, with its minimalist shape and few bushes intrigued me. I usually make different choices. Mr. artyfice set up across the washboard looking west. The dogs, watered and fed, lounged in the vehicle, at the ready, eyes attentive on the surroundings. As I painted, I asked myself how would Jeffrey Boron paint this? And, what approach would Silvina take? I really like how each of these artists use their brushstrokes and textured paint. Another great reason to visit artists' blogs. I'm still exploring this style. As we passed the Border Patrol officer on the way home, she smiled and waved us through.

Gratitude, Thankfulness, Best Wishes

Made a fire, grabbed the Sunday NY Times, and sat down outside in front of the chimenea. It's so nice to have a sit. Should I feel guilty about that man over there who's raking the yard?! 

Another moment of clarity, this time with a note of peace and gratitude. My boy flew in and shared good food, good times, and a couple of walks around the neighborhood. It's been a long semester and now the next few weeks promise that the Christmas holiday is near--more time to listen and share stories from the East and the West. 

 Did you have family gatherings that you will now cherish as your loved ones return to the demands of work? Perhaps you'll write some of your best memories in a journal, perhaps images will come to mind that you'll paint about later. This reminds me of genealogy research. There are significant dates in every history, but those that include stories (silly or serious) and images (photos, drawings, paintings) make a history worth remembering. 

I continue to be thankful to all who visit here. I'm especially grateful when you comment and when you teach me new things. It gives me joy to know that there are kind hearts out there painting and overcoming all the trivia that seeks to keep art from existing. But, of course, we all know that that is impossible. We are unstoppable! With best wishes--m --

Here sits a visitation of joy, captured by a flickering light 

Easing the cry of a world yearning to rest 

Just for a moment 

This is my gratified wish 

To be present in this warm light 

Not far away 

Where I am of no use 

©2008 Melinda S. Esparza

Unusual but True: On Being Art 'Tagged'

From the truth window: This really made my day. Barbara of Barbara Paints tagged me yesterday. What a delight. I had been a bit discouraged this week...with the usual questions, you know, "Shouldn't I get a real job?" "Who am I kidding?" and "There are so many skilled, expressive, and talented artists, who needs to hear from me anyway?" Then, I had a deadline--make mailart for Ell and send it off with a food package before the post office closed, and, after I created a piece in two hours that I liked. 

I felt that it is worthwhile to make the art I do, that I'm like the bird who builds a nest, gets it blown over, and builds again. It's what I do. To have a talented artist tag me...well, it was more than swell. I am extremely grateful to everyone who visits and offers comments and camaraderie. You have no idea how meaningful it is to me. But, I will hazard a guess that you, too, find the art community to be as essential as water. I drink from this well feeling refreshed and renewed. I will continue to offer a cool drink in the summertime, and a warm cup of tea in winter to any who wander through, seeking art medicine from a fellow traveler. These are the rules for being tagged. You need to:

 

1. Put a link in your posting to the person who tagged you. 

2. List 7 unusual things about yourself. 

3. Tag 7 other bloggers at the end of your post and comment on their blogs to let them know. 

Here are some truths about me that some may find unusual:

 

1. I knew a "Russian prince": 

When I was a kid, my folks were friends with a man (Alexis Badmaieff) who had been smuggled into France during the Russian Revolution. He wanted to become a doctor, but, instead, became an engineer. He operated on my foot after a run-in with a sharp shell on Santa Catalina Island in southern California. He drank a glass of vodka every day with a raw egg in it. He died in his mid 50s... I later found out that, in fact, his father (Dr. Alexei Badmaieff) was friends with Rasputin and not a Russian prince. (I continue to research him)

 

2. Almost became a professional actress: 

I started performing at a young age. In high school, I was nominated best actress in AZ during a theatre competition. I was subsequently offered a full scholarship to NAU as well as a small role in a movie being filmed in Texas. I turned these offers down, believing I wasn't good enough. 

3. Thought I'd become a classical pianist: 

While I started out playing folk guitar in my teens, I really wanted to play classical piano (or play lead guitar in a rock band). I studied with a woman whose instructor studied with Rachmaninoff. I used to play an impressive Prelude in C# Minor, but my teacher said my wrists were too weak for a professional career. After a traumatic brain injury in 1997, I could no longer play anything on the piano, but my guitar playing is coming back and my artwork is much improved! 

4. Art found me when I was in my mid-twenties: There was a lot of tragedy connected to my early adulthood. I wandered around lost until a week of intense grieving produced two words that seemed to come to me from God--like lightning--STAINED GLASS! They were powerful words. With only $60 dollars to my name, I set out to teach myself to work in glass. I returned to Tucson with six crooked pieces and lots of confidence. I landed a job and began designing windows. As a 'commission only' artist, I made $15 my first two weeks, but four years later, I had completed two large restaurant commissions totalling over 200 square feet between the two. It was then that I felt the need to get some proper schooling in art. I later earned an associate's degree at our local community college. 

5. I cleaned the pools of the wealthy: After graduating from college, I got a job cleaning pools. I felt very lucky to spend my days cleaning and swimming in pools at million dollar properties while the owners slaved away in order to pay the bills. I made enough to work part time to buy an MGB Roadster (which I loved working on and pretending to race), and to work on art the rest of the day. 

6. I held a tarantula in my hand: When my boy was in the fourth grade, the teacher had a contest in which the student who brought in the most crickets would win the class tarantula. Most people are afraid of spiders. However, I had a serious phobia. I couldn't even look at photos of them in magazines. But, you know, it was my opportunity to overcome this fear and teach my son about changing one's mind. I made lots of artwork from our Molly Francesca Gomezina. We had the very special gift of observing her molt. She'd come to us with one leg missing (a common thing), but after her molt, she had eight new legs. 

7. I married a man ten years younger than me: After community college, I organized drawing sessions in my home. One of our models became my roommate and asked to invite her friend from school. We married two years later. I always feel ten years younger. I think he mostly feels ten years older...I am grateful that he provided the safest, most nurturing environment in which to raise our son, and for me to finish my BFA in 2004. I couldn't have done it without him and my son tutoring me in math and other subjects. It's been an amazing journey so far! 

Please visit the following artists who inspire me and give gifts of beauty, insight and wisdom to so many: Karen Silvina Loriann David Jeffrey Martha What a challenge to limit tagging to only six or seven. I hope to do this again sometime. Thank you, all, for being so generous and supportive of me and your other fans!

New Mexico Light

Although the painting currently on my easel is a portrait, here's a small painting (5" x 7") that I finished about a week ago. I reworked this puppy several times and am okay with it now. Funny how a small painting can almost break your resolve to see it through. Life is just so much better this week, yes?!

Wishing every artist a new start.

Keep Painting

Make art because you love it. Paint because you must. Don't worry about rejection. It doesn't have anything to do at all with that moment...that moment when you smile, calmly satisfied, after struggling with hue, composition, contrast. Not a thing. One of my favorite artists, Grace Hartigan, said, "I cannot expect even my own art to provide all of the answers---only to hope it keeps asking the right questions." I got an email notice today from the National Portrait Gallery that my submission was rejected. I had submitted the self portrait that can be seen further down the page (She Learned Obedience Suffering). It was good participating and I'm looking forward to seeing the paintings that were chosen. It's a wonderful exhibit. Thank you, to those who viewed my selections and gave me really good feedback. I might even try again next year. Les Brown wrote, "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss it you will land among the stars." Journaling last night, I finally finished a small study of a place near San Simon, Arizona and Lordsburg, New Mexico. I snapped this photo while traveling to Silver City, New Mexico this last spring. The little bushes were so interesting. Easy to pass by at 85 miles an hour and not take any notice. But, being a shutterbug, I'll snap photos through the car window without even looking through the lens, just to see what I catch. This is another Caran d'Ache, but this one is on watercolor paper. (8 1/4" x 5 1/2") An exciting day tomorrow. I hope to work in the studio but may be too darn distracted. Wishing all artists a calm day. One last quote that causes a chuckle each time I read it..."Whenever I have to choose between two evils, I always like to try the one I haven't tried before."--Mae West.

Strawbale night study

Years ago, we here at home in Tucson, got a wild and crazy idea to add on a room to our house by in-filling the patio, 18' x 18,' with straw bale walls. Of course, we had to do most of the work ourselves. Of course we weren't qualified. Of course it took at least three years longer than we'd planned. Of course, technically, it's not completed in the interior closet area. However, it is a glorious room and we humbly pat ourselves on our backs for having got this far...and for surviving. Even the little pony wall on the porch hasn't been painted yet. This view is so comforting and inviting that I love to go outside and stand in front of my studio and stare at the lighting, the strong, thick walls, the beautiful solid wood door with the lovely flagstone on the porch. Inspired by Silvina's Blog and her gorgeous nocturne, I set to work on this little study. It is 5" x 7," on gessoed panel.

Journal: Cyclamen and the Mud House

Pensive, looking for signs, seeing light in a cloud of darkness: Waiting. 

Write something cheerful. 

Draw something kind--of friendly of real

kind of hopeful and reminiscent of Ginsberg's wandering in "A Supermarket in California" 

"...Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour..Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles...home to our silent cottage?" 

wandering in to this house made of mud seeking the key to flags of peace flags of reconciliation amidst a country struggling to remain whole. 

A cyclamen sitting patiently waiting out the cycle of human discourse

dissent 

disagreement voting that 

come spring there are more leaves

more blooms 

fresh soil 

food for the soul 

good dirt for insulation against the cold imaginings of unkind of hearts 

© Melinda S. Esparza 10/17/08

A Walk, A Gathering, A Cup of Desert

What do you do when the economy is tanking, fuel is too expensive for traveling, and politics resemble a mangled car wreck from which you find observing it too difficult to turn away?

  Take a bucket and a pair of tongs, wander over to the nearest prickly pear patch in the evening sun, harvest some fruit (tunas) as the ancestors, the Tohono O'odham, did long ago.

 

Put them in a pot, boil them into a softer mixture, mash them until they release their dioxazine purple/permanent rose-like liquid. Add lots of mesquite honey and some lemon juice. Have a small cup of desert.

 

The Moleskine journal paper seems to be the most ideal surface for Caran d'Ache that I have found. I'm really enjoying the way the water soluble crayons hug the paper, producing a soft, blended, painterly like surface. Image: 4 1/2" x 6 1/2," on moleskine paper.

Landscape du Jour and Dream of the Blues

A quick study showing process. J. H. Thomas has an interesting approach on landscape painting that fascinated me. My response was to take a 5" x 7" canvas panel and try his method. I'm not sure if the painting is done, but I'd like to think so. I started with a thick covering of cerulean blue and titanium white, followed with the major shape of the mesa with an indian red. Later, I added the mixture of alizarin crimson, french ultramarine, etc., for contrasts. I did use a palette knife and brushes.

  I miss playing my guitar lately. "The Marshall is supposed to be 200 watts, but mine's never worked right; it peaks out at 80."--Stevie Ray Vaughan.  Yeah. This is how I feel. My amp is an old Legend...but, when it works right...80 watts is enough.

In another life...

Take a day off. Go have some tea. Think about clouds, next painting, next mailart, next days. From San Xavier Mission on the Tohono O'odham Reservation, a small pastel on canvas, (5" x 7"):

From the Ettan Press, a monotype (22" x 17") with gold paint © M. S. Esparza:

 

Art as Metaphor

We all know this, art is metaphor, but we still have strong preferences for the way in which that metaphor is painted. I'm eager to see the film Silvina has posted on her blog. I thought of some of the ways I've painted portraits in the past. 

David's blog has some wonderful portraits in watercolor and acrylic that then led me to Barbara Paints with more fabulous portraits. 

If we constrain ourselves to one genre, or 'ism', we do so out of choice today. That is the positive side of Post Modernism. What we often call 'ugly art' may send us running, but it really provides a broader base from which all artists can work. 

Here are the three paintings I've got for this musing. The first is my attempt at photo realism of our family friend of long ago: 36" x 36," oil on canvas.

The second is a looser, more impressionistic portrait of Mr. Arty Fice himself, also from a few years back: 24" x 36," oil on canvas.

The third is a self portrait (I don't really look like this, except in the morning). This is a narrative piece about the day I was biking with my dog. He bolted, his leash wrapped around a mailbox and I went flying. I suffered a traumatic brain injury that rendered me dog-like for quite some time--couldn't write, couldn't read, couldn't speak well (only in telegraphic sentences, as they call them). Are these valid paintings? Is one better than another?

 

Ironing with Ray and Women at Work

I am so inspired by the community of artists blogging and want to add my own comment with a mailart piece. 

It was because of Lisa at onpainting that I thought this mailart would fit in with the current discussion on women in the arts. 

The text for this piece:

 

Ironing with Ray

Here are some symbols for you to ponder in a way that will stimulate emotional filtration. 

The joy of ironing provides a moment to consider the ironies of life. 

Irony being: the use of words to express something other than and especially the opposite of the literal meaning. We see this in calling war, peace, etc.. 

So, I was ironing with Ray the other day thinking about the pressing issues that face us all in this new century, remembering how far women have not got...I'm still ironing. 

Waiting for God to show..Loving the few moments I have for art, the smell of clean laundry and the fresh ink from my press. 

Press...Pressure to keep up~cold press~hot press~Permanent Press~~Never needs ironing--but enjoying the irony, especially sardonic irony from political comedians. 

Then I thought about~~~missing you~~and~~~I became upside down and a sad iron~ So, I feel like Mrs. Pott's~~old, wondering if I can finish all my work and keep in touch with you. 

I'll ask then.....Is she also thinking about painting or pressing...

Press: Ettan Press Co.~~What are your pressing issues??? 

Trying to iron out the wrinkles becomes a sculpture, an abstract that seems, or is like the perfect 

French seam, an elegant line like a woman's breast or 

delicate line like the rolled-like hem that is the butterfly's body beneath its winged fabric. 

Let us seek the gathering of spiritual, artistic and optimistic community, not in the pocket of the cruel, not merely basted in, but toward a clean finish that always supports directional stitching.

©2008 Melinda S. Esparza 

Traveling with the Tablets

Years ago, I wrote a short poem for some exchange students from France. Here it is.

 

O the encounters of brave travelers-- 

Teenagers flying above the clouds bouncing toward futures 

Ricocheting with the shots of good fortune and

Blessings of strangers/angels in Cowboy's grinning hats slinging rays of sunlight 

or smoothing moonlit nights of softened light 

Night of Tucson chirps 

despite the howl 

Of dogs of war--and clichéd wanton greed--lassoing 

The world out of linguistic conversations of hope and Sanity 

Cuidado jumping cholla 

Cuidado ricocheted words 

Cuidado and Vaya con Dios muchachos 

Cuidado et bon voyage 

© Melinda S. Esparza 

As my college student returns to his school so very far away, I recall the mailart tablets I made and sent to him this year. These took much longer to make. I wanted him to have before him a reminder of the most important things. The painter, Fritz Scholder, once said that we kept the Tablets, but lost the Ark...But, I think we carry both within. What do you think?

It Rained in the Desert Today

We dance, we sing, we rejoice when it rains in the Southwest. This letter, written in November of 2007, was about a day when it rained here, but I still had to water the plants with a hose. 

The text: 

Sunkist, burnt to a crisp...It rained in the desert today. 

The ground began to gather in small circles as droplets struck its roof. 

The rain could not soak in very far, because the celebration was short. 

As dirt met heat, the dance burned away water

as birds watched and 

quail waited patiently in creosote ancestors. 

It said, "I could be a rainmaker and this gave me joy! I waved my arms holding the water's source, drinking in the smells of earth and green. 

Then, sky looked down and called clouds to gather like the pebbles on earth--coolness moved in to see what all the talk was about.....If there are snow flurries to the east, surely we can share our bounty here in the west. In the sharing, we free up space to be replenished. 

O Earth. O Sky. 

Let Go!

©2008 Melinda S Esparza

Mail Art and Letters to Ell

What do you do when the passage of time abruptly interferes with your routine, and your child, once the toddler, now takes off for university? You write letters.

But, as an artist mom, it's a lot more fun to make sermonettes more palatable by making art out of them.

This week, in this last week of summer vacation, I'm preparing for an empty nest again. I don't like it.

I wouldn't have it any other way: 

In the company of angels 

In a complex world I think of what it is-- 

To be a simple kind of man 

To be a simple kind of woman 

Arcing a lifespan 

Resorting to good-- 

Making courage jump from a pool of fear 

Making gratitude sing from a selfish mouth 

Graphing a perimeter > (greater than) a stony heart

 

Staying on target 

IHOP toward my landscape

 

oK Ma rt!

 

A new GAP

 

Sears my gray and we UTurn

 

That will be our Gold Bond 

(Then we get a bickie) 

© M. S. Esparza (Jan. 2008)

Tobacco Sphinx and Datura

In the studio, I've got five little paintings and one medium sized one in the works. Until I can say they're finished, I've got the following: Two more journal studies--one Tobacco Sphinx moth, and a Datura drawing I made sitting out when it wasn't blistering hot. 4" x 5," on paper.

Definitely feeling the dog days of summer and looking forward to cooler temperatures. What's the weather like where you are? Does it affect your artwork...the subjects, the number of paintings you make?

Helper Dogs and What's on the Easel Today

It's really great to see inside the studios of other artists. Thought I'd share one view of my humble studio. I'm lucky to have two good dogs offering support today as I revisit a painting of San Felipe de Neri, Albuquerque, NM. This painting has been languishing for awhile and I just can't stands it n 'more! Must finish it up. It adds a little variety on the blog and reminds me that missing New Mexico is an ongoing feeling. The press waits quietly to the left, knowing that the monotype I made the other day is just the beginning.