Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Roll over, Cezanne...
Trying something different. My first love, even before I went to college and learned boatloads of stuff about all those artists that came before me, was Cezanne. I loved that he outlined things. That was my partner's first criticism of my art. Things do not have outlines! Well, tell that to Cezanne. Everything just jumps off the page, right? And then there are the COLORS! Holy palette, Batman! So just imagine the fun I had doing this pastel yesterday. Well, I had not done anything for a while, and I was ready for a challenge, and in the end, it really just did itself. The way things are supposed to happen, sort of automatic painting. In the end, this is the best therapy there is, to just noodle away with the paper and pastels, pushing color around, getting all messy in the process. I had to do laundry, that's how intense it was. And this is the way artists have learned their craft for centuries, copying the masters. What Cezanne teaches me is a love of scintillating color, dabs of which are everywhere, even where you least expect them. I want to paint like that.