Another Winter Wonderland

"Lonesome crow in the storm"  by Hilary J. England, 9" x 11" oil on hardwood panel

We awoke to another Winter Wonderland this morning; six inches or so of fluffy snow--and to the grumbling of the local world.  The postmistress and company were particularly agitated...I could hear their complaining through the walls of my office, but I don't mind.  My mind is numb to all the snow...it's become a commonplace obstacle.

I like the snow, and the isolation it causes.  The streets get quiet, and people just stay indoors.  I suppose a hundred years ago they would sit about and knit, whittle, or just tidy up and enjoy a good discussion by the crackling fire, but now everyone lays about watching the tube, playing videos, or, what I'm doing, pecking away at my keyboard.

If I dress in layers and stay nice and warm, a good, calming trek into the woods is always conducive to inspiration.  But, the feet are a particular problem when the snow gets a bit deeper.  Cold, wet feet always translates into discomfort and misery, and my hiking boots are waterproof, just not to this depth (of snow).

I have given up trying to keep up with all of the snow tracked into the house...one thing about this old house, was the builders didn't have the foresight to put in a mud room.  That would have done wonders...

Well, out to the studio to work on some bigger paintings.  Hope you enjoyed the one above!

Mushy and slushy

"Blackbird in blooms" by Hilary J. England  7" by 7" oil on canvas

It's definitely been a mushy and slushy couple of days, with more snow supposedly coming tomorrow night...I kind of have enough years under my belt to accept the dog days of winter, so this doesn't bother me too much!  What bothers me is sharing my studio with a brazen barn rat, who, everytime I get it nice and warm in there, decides to come out and do whatever barn rat business he has to do, right in my peripheral vision--gives me the "willies!" 

I don't want to kill him since I feel that is mean, but I get to thinking, what if he has buddies?  What if he is not alone, and that is not the same guy I'm seeing?  What if there is a hoarde of them?  Yikes!!!   That just repulses me, so I am in a quandry.  I have seen him, and he is pretty unique looking--he has a thick black coat that looks pretty different, so I'm hoping he is the only one.  I just don't want him to go insane and run up my pant leg or something, haha!

My Dad has a "have a heart" trap, but it's for a raccoon, so it's huge, and wouldn't contain this little critter.  Apparently, mouse/rat sized "have a hearts" are hard to come by, because when I mentioned this to the local purveyor at the hardware store down the road, he looked at me as if I had grown a second head.  "Why wouldn't you just kill it?" was his question.  Ah, he just doesn't get it, and it's really not the poor fellow's fault.  I ask myself this question as well, but I am just very squeamish about killing anything, especially an animal.  Just an eccentricity, I guess.  But, I'll not open that can of worms...

Anyway, above is another quick study of crows/blackbirds.  It's called (simply enough) "Blackbird in blooms" and I did this one on a 7" by 7" canvas, in oils. 

So, out to the studio, and I'm hoping my "friend" stays in his own quarters in the dark recesses of the unfinished barn.  I'm not into being Captain Ahab today, so I'll just pretend he doesn't exist for right now...

Out of synch

"Raven in a thicket" by Hilary J. England, 11" x 14" oil on canvas

I'm feeling a bit blue today.  I don't know why, but I slept a long time and even after showering, didn't seem very motivated...I got everything done I intended to, but I had this nagging fatalist feeling in the back of my mind...the old, "what is all of this for" hopelessness that sometimes rears it's head on me.  I try to not think about it and just push myself to complete what needs to get done.

Problem is, this feeling usually runs parallel to a general irritability which makes me want to withdraw from everyone, and just be left alone, and it's no one's fault, just my own freakiness working it's attitude.  I try not to let it show, but it's a transparent thing, so best thing is just to retreat alone into my studio and let it work itself out without involving anyone else in it....

I'm pissed about a few things, and it's the usual menu of bullcr$p.  I feel like I'm on a hamster wheel sometimes, with the same stupidity cropping up over and over, and this makes me depressed and angry.  So, I'm trying to enjoy a cup of coffee, make some dinner even though I feel wretched, and force myself out of the funk by not indulging the dark thoughts. 

I've done a series of studies that I didn't post before, but they definitely reflect some of the angst and loneliness I feel from time to time.  The first, which is above, is part of series of 4 I was looking to make into large works, but up to this point I have not done that....I may still, but I don't know if I really want to stay in the frame of mind to do these darker paintings, without making myself totally insane.  So, for now, they remain studies...

Now, out to the studio for some more alone time.

Fuel - Innocent

Satan, you know where I lie


Gently I go into that good night

All our lives get complicated

Search for pleasures overrated

Never armed our souls

What the future would hold

When we were innocent

Innocent



Angels, lend me your might

Forfeit all my lives to get just one right

All those colors long since faded

All our smiles are confiscated

Never were we told

We'd be bought and sold

When we were innocent



Yeaaaaaah Yeah



This prayer is for me tonight

This far down that line and still ain't got it right



And while confessions not yet stated

Our next sin is contemplated

Never did we know

What the future would hold

Or that we'd be bought and sold

When we were innocent, innocent

When we were innocent
**********************************************

It's so cold...I finally had to bring it all in tonight, since my studio is a frozen, barren tundra.  I'm in my office, with my outdoor easel set up, working like an elf in these little quarters.  Sniffing fumes and smoking cigars...

I looked out the window, and the snow is gently falling again...but I won't drown in the snow.  The aroma of odorless spirits is noxious...but the sweet scent of cloves makes me feel good.  Happy Birthday!! Or, is it Happy Un-Birthday?  Whatever....

Still the snow is falling.  I'll be o.k. in the morning.  What do ya want?  Maybe it's cabin fever...

Frozen fingers

It's been brutally cold, and will likely get even colder in the overnight--but, I am prepared!  I have been hauling my wet paintings, and palettes into my office in the main part of the house, so that the paint doesn't get "funny" with the frosty temps.  This is not really a bother when I see the flipside of the coin--thick, clotty paint, and frustration.  No thanks!

I am about half way through my new painting, and it's moving along at a really good pace.  I also have two smaller paintings going, but these are really just "exercise."  I like to paint little still life paintings, quick studies, just because.  They are cathartic little brain candies...kind of like knitting!

I wasn't able to get into the City today, as planned, so tomorrow is the goal.  The curator for the gallery I was going to meet wasn't able to make it today--she's a sweetie, and I know she is very busy, always on the go putting stuff together, so this didn't ruffle my feathers at all.  Tomorrow works better anyway...

All in all, it was a good, productive day--the karma was good, the brain juices flowing...hoping to keep the groove going over the next several days and get all the work done~

So, that's that for now, and off to enjoy the chilly evening with some dinner, and a good, old flick!

Another snowy day~

I am awaiting the snow...but that is not a bad thing (I know people will cringe when I say that).  I love a good snowy day, just like I love a good rainy day.  There is something so peaceful about the snow, the purity of the flakes, the gray skies obscured by the white gales.  I like to glance out my window as the wind gusts and causes drifts around the landscape, while my little potbellied stove struggles to keep the cold out of my studio.  I feel safe and warm inside, like a pioneer in a wagon or a primitive cabin, or even an Indian in a teepee.  I enjoy seeing the snow start to creep under the barn door, and the wind ruffle the blanket I have hanging as a barrier over that ramshackle old door.  Yes, I know I'm a bit strange...but that's ok.  So is everyone in their own peculiarities...

I'm still working on "A brave new world."  I need another few full days of studio time, and the snow actually buys me that.  Here in this "neck of the woods," everything basically shuts down now even with the threat of snow, so I have that to fall back on as an excuse for no interruptions, no need to take anyone any where, no danger of people showing up unannounced (unless they are stranded, and that is not too likely), no errands to run.  Everyone sort of hibernates, and everyone is very o.k. with that, even expectant of that. 

Tomorrow's N.A.W.A. opening on Fifth Ave is starting to look further and further from the possibility of accomplishment.  I see the chances of my attendance to that reception growing remote as this supposed storm front begins to envelope the next few days.  I was looking forward to it, but I accept that Winter is a capricious season, and Old Man Winter gets cranky pretty often, and when he does, we all have to obey him and stay put.  

So, I'll throw another log on the fire, and a few pieces of coal, brew up some more coffee, roll up my sleeves (put on my Jets hat) and get to work!

Enjoy your snow day!

A difference of opinion...

Long day, but not bad.  I attended an artist's reception today, since I had won the "People's Choice" Award of First Place, and, being asked at Christmas time, to attend the awards ceremony by a former committee member, I decided the cordial thing to do was to go ahead and attend, but once I got there, I began to think otherwise!

I walked in, and I was very much given a cold shoulder, for real.  Apparently, the Association that mounted this exhibition didn't agree with the Curator/Juror who judged the show, and were rather miffed that I, an outsider, and a brand new "Club Member" had won the show.  Plus, the old dragon ladies that were running this institution, were not thrilled with my painting.  I stood behind them, and listened to their comments, all the while giggling to myself, since they didn't have a clue as to who I was, as they had never met me.

I heard the words "appalling," "shameful,"  "arrogant," and other adjectives, along with this exact sentiment "This painting makes me uneasy--what was the juror thinking?"  Another older woman looked at it and said, "I don't like this painting at all.  The way these young girls are looking is very menacing, and it's just not a nice painting."  One of the womens' husbands disagreed, saying, "I really enjoy it.  It's a very different take on figurative work than I have seen.  I also like her treatment of the girls' hair, it has nice texture."  Both women looked at him as if he were nuts, and then he looked rather sheepish, and walked on.   As the younger people came in, they automatically and instantly gravitated to it, admiring and discussing, and I also sat back and enjoyed that.  I knew they would see the truth in it.

As I was standing there, a woman of the press corp stood in front of me, and stared for a long time at the painting.  She turned to me and smiled, and said, "I just love this painting."  So, I said, "Me too."  She nodded and looked back at it, and said, "So, do you have a piece in this show?"  I just smiled and said, "Yes, that would be it."  Her face lit up, and she broke out into a huge grin and said, "YOU did this?  I love it!" And we both laughed knowingly. 

As we got to talking, she told me she saw the show being hung, and she was there and excited when the painting was juried as First Place.  She told me the Juror, a professional with a very impressive career behind her (I'll not mention any names here), also loved the painting, and that made me smile.  Neither of these women knew me, they had just seen the work, and the work spoke to them, and the work spoke for itself...so the art was a success.

As word filtered down through the show who I was, not one person of the official committee came forward and introduced themselves to me, or even congratulated me.  I noticed that my painting was situated in the back of the exhibition, where it was somewhat obscure, not in a place where the winning painting would be placed.  Instead, in the view of honor, was the second place painting, a very tame painting of a few onions on a lace doily, of which the vested ladies fawned all over, "What gorgeous treatment of the lace," and,  "Really, this lovely painting should have been the winner." 

I actually rather got a kick out of the whole situation, since it made me feel very good...actually, it made me feel great.  My painting had done it's job, which was to provoke a reaction, whether positive or negative, you couldn't ignore it, or just walk by without actually being drawn to it.

I also noticed the comments were not of the technical prowess of the painting, it was rather of the subject matter.  I had abandoned the high art tradition of making these girls submissive, shrinking violets, who cannot meet the gaze of the viewers, as most women are portrayed in art.  Men can look you square in the eye, but according to our ancient and idiotic traditions, a woman should be demure and meek in a painting...I say, "Bullshit."  My girls are girls of the 21st Century, and if they want to meet you squarely in the eyeball, and be in your face, so be it.  And, that was the crux of the problem.  I broke with tradition, and these old dragons were quite insulted with it.

When the time for the awards came, they basically shoved the check in my hand, and all but told me *not* to elaborate on the painting.  I was really amazed by this point, but didn't care.  The final insult came as I was getting ready to walk out the door...

A tall, thin, elderly lady with rheumy green eyes and an angry red slash of a mouth approached me.  She was decked out in an elaborate fur jacket, with pearls at her throat and wrist...she was so stereotypical, it was almost a laugh riot. 

"Ms. England?" she sniffed, and when I acknowledged, she went on.  "My name is &*&^^*&*, and I am head of the exhibition committee.  I have been curating all of our shows for the last 25 years.  I would just like to voice a....'problem' to you.  While we were hanging this show, this, er, painting of yours, apparently was still wet somewhere, and your painting 'soiled' one of our ladies' sweater.  You must be sure if you plan to submit any further paintings to our group for exhibition that it is fully dried." 

And then she stared at me.  By now, my annoyance was aroused, so I said, "Are you trying to say that you damaged my painting?" I looked at her in the eye and said this quite pointedly.  She was taken aback, and in surprise, at the tables being turned, said, "Uh...NO!  No!  That's not what I meant!"  I folded my arms across my chest and said, "Well, what do you mean?  This painting was fully dried, so perhaps she had paint from another work she handled?  And what does she mean putting her hands all over the picture plane anyway?"  At this point, she knew she had lost, and she said, "I'm sorry.  It must be a misunderstanding," and she just turned abruptly and walked away.

I had been standing there with a small group, and we looked at each other in amazement at the exchange, and then we all  burst out laughing.   I traded info with a few people, and with one woman in particular, since I really enjoyed talking with her, and she also paints, so we made a plan to get together with a few of the other local artists I know and do an informal model session.

So, all's well and end's well!

Schedule 2011

Well, as today is January 7th, I would say after a week of getting my act together, that 2011 is in full swing!  I have an opening reception tomorrow night at A-Forest Gallery, New York City, for the "Values" exhibition, an People's Choice/Best In Show Award to receive Sunday afternoon at the City Hall Rotunda in Bethlehem, PA at the opening reception for the Palette Club show, another opening for the N.A.W.A. Associates Exhibition on Wednesday, January 12th, and literally half a dozen other shows in the works for the next few months--busy, which is good!  For a full schedule of my upcoming shows and exhibitions, check out the new page I just made on my website:   http://www.fieldsendart.exhibition-info.html/


I have started a new painting, and I really am feeling this one, so I am anxious to get out to the studio and work on it.  I've got the studio some new insulation, so it's a tad warmer than it was--and that makes all the difference--the difference of freezing your buns off, and having stiff paint and stiff brushes, or having a nice, warm, juicy flow to everything...

So, that's it for now.  Check back as I'm hammering things out, and I'll let ya know!

New Year, new year...

Nicole Cummings England, September 24th, 1973---December 24, 2010

Yesterday was Nicole's viewing, and what a hard day that was.  We started off with all of the kids crammed into the car (like the good old days!), and we set off to New York.  We had to make a "pit stop" in Manhattan to drop off some of my work for an upcoming show, and we did not anticipate that we would be sitting for *two hours* in the helix by the Lincoln Tunnel.  So, imagine a carload of teenagers whining about their asses being sore, having to use the bathroom, and being hungry, and being bored.  I was ready to RUN through the tunnel on foot by the time we actually got near to it!

The City was still poorly cleared and cleaned after the blizzard, so it made for monstrous traffic and parking became like the legendary unicorn...we did manage to find some illegal parking, and Mark stayed with the car as I used the young muscles to carry my work to the gallery.  After a much needed bathroom and food break, including a dirtywater dog for Mark for his post as parking spot "watchman,"  we started out on our journey again over the Brooklyn Bridge.  With traffic moving steadily at a crawl all the way through to Staten Island, we arrived nearly seven hours after we started our trip, and we were frazzled and just grateful to be out of the car by that point. 

We stopped to gather with the family before the second viewing of the day, and enjoy some light dinner together.  Her parents were holding up as best as can be expected when enduring a tragedy of this magnitude.  Her mother is an elegant, and beautiful woman, and Nicole and she were so similar, it is amazing to behold.

We arrived at the funeral parlor, and Mark went out to find some parking, as the number of mourners and friends, even at this final viewing, was overwhelming to the point of having to open up the adjoining rooms to accommodate everyone.  Luckily, Nicole's was the only wake for that time in that funeral home, so that all of her well-wishers packed every last seat, spot and crevice of the place.  There had to be at least a hundred people at this particular viewing, and several hundred during the course of the day.

The flowers were so amazing, literally a hundred different beautiful arrangements, some monstrous in size, down to a few, small delicate orchids with a dainty vase and beautiful sentiment, and they filled every last spot along all of the walls, fanning out from her coffin.  The scent of the flowers was overwhelming at first, and made me cringe...that sickening smell of sweetness, in association with funerals, always repulsed me until I can get over my aversion and adjust to it.

Nicole lay in a beautiful, pink lined coffin that was pearlescent gray, with rosebud handles, looking like Sleeping Beauty.  She was so beautiful still, even in death, with long blonde hair spread out, and a look of deep peace and serenity on her lovely porcelain skin, a hint of shimmering pink on her lips.  My emotion overwhelmed me at the sight of her, a mixture of disbelief, pain and sadness...how this can't possibly be true, it can't possibly be the end...and it's not.  The look of glowing acceptance on her cool cheek bolstered my knowledge of her residence in Heaven...she was with God, and she was released from this mortal world.  No more pain, no more suffering, and she will always be young, always be sweet and beautiful...

My sister had pinned a delicate, pink antique crystal brooch to Nicole's pretty white sweater, and the beauty of it made me smile.  Nicole was always such a stylish woman, she would be pleased.  I touched her smooth, relaxed hand as it clutched her crystal rosary, and whispered my final good-bye to her...

I hugged my brother and the boys.  They were holding up, and were grateful for the large outpouring of love and support.  My brother seemed dazed by the whole event, but put his best face forward, and greeted everyone with dignity and gratitude.

Today was her burial, early this morning, but we were unable to make it back.  Her parents understood, hugged us "goodbye," hoping that will keep in touch even though Nicole is gone now.  I promised her Mom that we would, and she looked deep into my eyes, with her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears, and for that moment I looked into her soul, and felt the depth of her pain, and all I could do is hug her and weep...

And so, we said good-bye to our beloved Sister. 

It's New Year's Eve, and I am very subdued, and yet, hopeful for the happiness that 2011 will bring.  Life is a mixed bag, and for the huge, sad events that happen to us, there are many, many good ones too.  We shoulder on, we remember our dear ones who left us, and we go forward and build happy bridges to the new people that enter our lives...our sister Nicole left us this year, but my sister Dale gave birth to a new baby girl, named Nicole, for our dearly departed, and we now get the privilege of moving through the new circle of life, and the pleasure of watching these new people grow into our lives...in the end, life is Good, life is a Gift, life is a Blessing.

And, with that thought, I look forward to 2011.

God bless you all, and have a wonderful, happy, healthy, prosperous 2011.

"The Kiss"

"The Kiss" by Hilary J. England, 2010, 16" x 20" oil on hardwood panel

I finally was able to finish this painting, after MUCH struggles...but, I am very happy with the results (just need to adjust the photo since it is way too high key due to the circumstances I photoed it under).

This painting is number three in the continuing series I'm doing studying youth, and the impact of their circumstances, and the struggles they go through as they come of age.  In this painting, I conveyed the pain, shock and disbelief of being betrayed by a good friend, the dawning realization of what acts had been committed, and loss of innocence that accompanies that first shocking betrayal.  In the end, I watched how they sorted out their differences, and how the friendship was cooled, and I saw how Noelle was altered, and a little less of a girl, and a little more wordly because of it. 

I worked through my own issues to complete this, having lost my sister-in-law less than a week ago, and Christmas in the midst of it, and to add to the mix, having a flu that left me so drained, I could barely get out of my pajamas.  I decided that no matter how I felt, I still had to move forward with it, and with this series.  I have another four to complete, and then I'll see if I feel I have finished with that particular subject matter...maybe not!

My mind is somewhat scrambled, since following Nicole's death this week, we've had some MORE bad news about another family member, and I feel like I'm being dashed against the rocks emotionally.  My brain is resisting the absorption of all of this negativity, and when it gets over-loaded, it has a tendency to short-circuit and shut down. 

I need a few days to regroup, and recover from the sadness of the upcoming funeral before I start deciding on what subject matter I want to tackle with the teens, and how I'm going to compose it, light it, etc.  I usually mull these things and sketch, and also write out, my ideas.  I'm not too formal in doing tight-assed preliminary drawings (that's right--be shocked, Myron!), and kind of do some loose sketches, get the main design elements together, find an emotional center that I connect to, and pretty much go from there...and, usually, some internal cut off switch just lets me know when I have completed it.  Simple stuff?  Nah, not really.

So, that's that for now...

Snowy peace

The East is being hit by a blizzard tonight...but not us.  I know my friends in New York are seeing up to 20 inches of snow, but here, the snow has circumvented us...it skirted the mountains, gently touched the edge of the pine trees, and left us a pocket of flurries...a light snow dusting covers the grass, and nothing more.

Yesterday, Christmas Day, was a riot of noise.  My parents, my sister and her boyfriend, and Gabby and the children arrived, and the kids dove in to opening their gifts.  After all of the hysteria of that, we sat around in the kitchen, eating and drinking, and recalling good times of Christmas past, and had many laughs, and again, a tear or two.  We enjoyed each other's company all the more, it being recognized as precious, in light of Nicole's passing the day before...

After everyone was gone, and the house was quiet, Mark and I began the clean up, and quite exhausted, we both went directly to sleep.  This lingering sickness reared it's ugly head at night, with aches, congestion, sore throat, etc., and along with a general malaise in my mind, sleep was hard to come by.

We arose early today and headed out to Church, which was quite empty, since of the approaching snow and recent holiday, but the message was comforting, and I was glad I made the little effort to get there.  I got home, and everyone just quietly went to their own little corners of the house to do their own activities...Mark and Anthony sat to watch football, Noelle to play on her new iPhone, and I headed out to my studio, for the first time since the day before Christmas Eve, to do some work.

As the fire crackled in my little potbellied stove, and the snow gently fell, I felt such a peace wash over me.  It was like a little pocket of Heaven, a moment frozen in time.  In that moment, I felt a radiant love in the midst of the mental queasiness that had been hanging over me for the last few days.  Then, as quickly as it came, it evaporated, and I stood there, in front of my easel, and I could just feel the paint jumping out at me, the colors blazing, with a sense of urgency...As if all of my fears were tied into that painting...the ridges and swirls of colors, the smooth expanses of creamy hues, and I felt an appetite arise in me that became as big as the room itself, and again, I felt peace.

I don't know what this New Year will bring, none of us do.  Sadly, I have reached some sort of proverbial "hump" where I don't really look with excitement toward the New Year, more like with bated breath and a bit of trepidation, but I won't do that.  I staunchly refuse to let fear creep into my life...An old friend of mine used to say, "Do all you can do, and then stand."  That's what I plan to do. Stand, not cower.

Nicole's wake is set for Tuesday and Wednesday, with her burial on Thursday.  It was a long, suffering journey for her, and now, she has reached her destination, the Heavenly realm.  I pray for the strength to go this last distance with her earthly remains, as the parting point for us here, and we will meet again in the next life...that thought brings me comfort, and shores me up for the difficult next few days...

A Devastating Loss

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm very exhausted.  I have been battling a flu that won't go away, and I woke up to very sad news I have been dreading...  My sister in law Nicole, has died.  Her battle with brain cancer is over.  She was called home to Heaven this morning of Christmas Eve, and she is now with Jesus. 

Even through all of her suffering and her struggles, she was so strong, and so beautiful.  She fought death for  months beyond what anybody would give her.  She entered hospice in early September, and she amazed everyone with how she survived.  She wanted so much to be with her boys, my nephews.  She fought through the pain, to the very threshhold of death, and stilled and poised, there she stayed for over three months. 

My brother and her parents are devastated, as are we all.  Even though we knew how gravely ill she was, every day she stayed alive was a gift, and somehow gave us a strange hope...a hope against hope...even though we knew what the end was predicted to be, still we prayed and prayed...first for the cure, for her miracle, and in the end, for the release from this mortal pain. 

After much consideration as to what we should do, we decided to go ahead and gather for Christmas Eve dinner, and we will gather for Christmas day dinner as well.  We decided that we would have a rememberance of all of the wonderful times we were blessed to share with Nicole, in honor of our girl, who was taken much too soon from this life.  We shared alot of laughs, and also tears.  It was hard to be around the table, thinking of earlier, happier days, and know she will not be there again...not in our earthly lifetime.

So, until we meet again, sweet Princess, you are in all of our hearts, always.

Rest in peace, Nicole, age 37 years, and 3 months, to the day. May flights of angels see thee to thy rest.

Arghhhh!!

Sometimes a painting is just a pleasure, and you sail through it on a calm sea, completely in tune with your brush, and it is such a triumph.  This painting I'm working on is not. 

I can understand that not all paintings will be as mentioned above--if they were, we would never grow as artists.  I had to come into the warm and take a breather, since this new painting is giving me a fit.

It started off as usual, but now that I've hit the middle ground, it just isn't "gelling."  The eyes are staring through me rather than at me, and since I'm working in such a high key, the midtones are completely gone, so I have to create my own three dimensional visual "bridge" that really isn't there...that's called improvising, and if it isn't done right, because there are no perceptual visual cues for me to go on, it changes the dimensions of the face...so I'm walking a very fine line. 

My plan of attack is usually to start working on another area of the painting when I get stuck.  I usually walk back about 10 or 15 feet, and look at as a whole, and see what needs to be adjusted, and get to it.  Today, I woke up feeling yucky, it was cold out and I wasn't tolerating it well, and the face, which is one of the main composition components of the painting was just glaringly annoying me, the tones were wrong, the dimensions off, and too many fussy little things going on too early in the painting,  so I went berserk and just basically painted out the whole thing--got rid of all details, and started again with big design components...

So now I'm in here...feeling crabby, and taking a breather.  We've had a row, my painting and I, so now I need to be away from it and sulk for a while.  Soon, I will go outside and make up with it, but just not now.  I need to clear my head and get warm ;-)

Yes, I know it sounds psycho, and maybe to an outsider it is, but to me, it's how I operate and communicate to the Muse...sometimes we are friends, sometimes not.  It's a very real thing, and once you leave your "zone," or can't find your way in, it's a problem.  So, I'll clear the head a while, another cup of coffee...

"Young Model"

"Young Model" by Hilary J. England 16" x 20" oil on canvas

The last two days at the Art Student's League have been productive.  I was able to complete this above painting in about three hours, (four hours time with several 5-10 minute breaks).  Although I must admit to working with some inferior materials, when the world hands you lemons, break out the salt and tequila!  In other words, I tried to make the best of it.

 She was a good model, easy on the eyes, although, for me, I was literally on top of her in my easel position, and due to where I was, she was almost completely in shadow, again.   I seem to be always in the area where the model is always in shadow, which really forces me to see the warm and cool tones in the flesh, or else she would come out looking like a  solid blob of gray with a few flecks of yellow here and there...so these studies are very good for me in that they really force me to see beyond the obvious.

I knew Joe would be back after being absent the night before, and as is his way, he can be brutally frank when he critiques, but for some reason, he seemed to be happy about things--maybe he was in the Christmas spirit! 

I had skipped out last week to go see the tree at Rockefeller center with Noelle, Jill and Trevor.  We ate some food at the Brooklyn Diner, which was quite festive and done up for the holidays, and then off to the tree...encountered some rats in the subway, but, heck, they're entitled to stay warm too! 

So, that's it till next week.  New model, new painting.  I'm also working on two new paintings in my studio, and have put off any landscape work due to the holidays and it being brutally cold out lately...heck, I just can't muster the Under Amour right now...I will after New Year!
 

Cozy winter days and a new painting

"The Thinkers" by Hilary J. England 18" x 24" oil on hardwood panel

I have been spending the afternoons and evenings playing chess with Anthony.  I enjoy that time we spend together, as we take out the wooden chess board, and all the neatly carved pieces.  He is a young man now, and I am flattered that he doesn't find the time with me boring.  We laugh and he usually beats me, but I am proud of his intelligence, and getting defeated in chess by him only makes me more proud, and not bitter like he jokes it does!

This is the newest painting in my series revolving around Noelle.  It's called "The Thinkers," and it was a very interesting painting to complete.  I really had quite a gusto for it, and I didn't feel any stagnation through this process.  Some paintings just flow so easily, others come kicking and screaming.  This was a pure stream of thought, and the creation of it was very harmonious and satisfying. 

I enjoyed the girls "mugging" for me, playing at sophistication in their 14 year old minds.  How deep and complex and devilishly simply all at the same time.  The playfulness of it masked the very adult way they try to take themselves...as they are in the early stages of young adulthood, and they wish to be "older."  Sigh....

So, I tried to convey that, how complex and strangely simple they are, and of course, not let their happy youth get lost in the impishness of their age.   A unique balance, but I feel I caught it at the right moment.

Back home

Sorry I didn't post a little sooner, but this last trip really took it out of me.  Barcelona was beautiful and chic, and the Galeria Con opening went smoothly and was very enjoyable, but I was literally stomped by jet-lag and depression, so that even all of the beautiful sights, sounds and smells of the city did little to lift my spirits...I did have internet access and should've blogged, but I couldn't bring myself to...I just couldn't.

As I sat down by the Mediterranean over the weekend,  watching the huge breakers wash over the shoreline, I thought of my family back home, enjoying Thanksgiving, and I felt sad.  Not about missing the turkey, or even about missing the gathering, but about how time has changed so many things for us, how we've all grown up, apart, and we've all moved away.  My parents are old now.  We've lost loved ones.  People have entered and exited our lives.  The kids aren't kids anymore.  WE aren't kids anymore.  So much has happened, and rather than being in the midst of it, being away from it made me see how far we've come, both in a positive, yet scary way.

This brought tears to my eyes, in the realization that everything changes, inexorably, constantly moving forward, ripping and tearing along the way, leaving bits and pieces, sometimes whole sections, behind.  I felt nostalgia when I thought back to holidays of the past, when we were all together, and there was a feeling of safety and home.  It seems gone now, hollow...and that made me feel even further away than I was.

I thought about Nicole, and the pain washed over me in a wave bigger than the ones in front of me.  I can't help her.  I can't fix her.  I can only hold on to my memories of her, young, gentle and lovely, not the present reality, and allow the grief to run it's course. 

Many changes happened this year, and this trip caused me to remember rather than to forget, as it was on the anniversary of a few of them.  I guess if I wanted to forget, I should have went back to Paris ;-)

Anyway, the holidays are rapidly approaching, and that just means one thing--hold on to your wallets!  Santa is coming with his big, red sack, that contains a Shopvac in it, to suck all of your money out...spoken like a real Grinch!  Actually, I do love the holiday season very much, the good times with family and friends, the cheerful decorations, the food and parties, even the season's first snowfalls, and the peace of seeing the countryside blanketed in pristine white.   Yes, I do love the holidays.

I am working on three new paintings in the meantime, as I have two shows coming up that I need to complete my work for, plus still going to ASL to paint with Joe, so busy days ahead.  I will post as the new paintings are finished.

Ciao for now, and God Bless.

League Time

"Andrea at the League" oil on canvas 16" x 20" by Hilary J. England

It's been interesting time at the ASL, and I love being there.  I understand as the "newbie" in the class, I had to get my fair share of ribbing and also the worst "pole" position when it comes to our easel assignments, but I think the pranking went to the outlandish, so far over, I actually just burst out laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation:

I was basically working in a "phone booth" on this painting above.  Not in a literal sense, as we don't have phone booths in the classroom, but I was physically boxed in between three painters, all working on tremendous canvases, so I would have to step out between them and peer at the model, and then scurry back into my "cave" and paint.  This made tonal judgements quite difficult, since I did manage to position my palette out into some dim, precious light, but when I went back into the "cave," I had to rely on faith that my initial brushstroke and color/tonal choice was the correct one, since I was nearly in the dark, and painting in the dark is quite a hurdle to overcome.  

Plus, if this wasn't handicap enough, the young Spaniard behind me, working on his six foot canvas that was literally an inch from my back, began beating on his painting with a mahl stick, in some new method of trying to achieve texture, so I felt as if I was in the middle of some tribal initiation, and with this insanity going on around me, I just couldn't help but to laugh, as it truly was bizarre and funny! 

Anyway, all hurdles and handicaps put aside, I did manage to blaze out a coherent painting in four hours, with breaks.   It's called, quite simply, "Andrea at the League," and Andrea enjoyed it, and so did I. 

Day of rest

Wow...I forgot how much commuting takes it out of me.  I used to drive to New York and back four, five or sometimes six nights a week when I had a young family to support, and now that I haven't done that in five years, I am wiped out from it.   But, the end result is the big picture, and working with Joseph Peller makes it worth it.

He is a tough guy, with rigorous standards, and I wholeheartedly appreciate that.  No slacking with him--but he is even and fair about it.  Even though he is strict, I can see he has a good heart beneath the gruff exterior, and that puts me at ease.  Besides,  discomfort is the catalyst to change!   If he sat around telling me how wonderful and amazing my work is, I would have absolutely no reason to change anything about it...and that's NOT the reason I am putting myself out there...I want a growth experience.  You don't go to the gym and lift the same amount of weights for years if you want to get results!

Anyway, the commute wasn't quite so bad on the way in, since I decided against sitting in the parking lot we call the Lincoln Tunnel, and went over the George Washington bridge, and down the Henry Hudson Pkwy, so it was a nice, speedy trip in.  The ride home was pretty good until the poor fellow speeding along in front of me on I78 hit a big buck that jumped from out of nowhere on the median, showering my car with chunks of bloody deer meat and fiberglass...it stunned the hell out of me, but I was able to knock the big piece off with my windshield wipers without missing a beat or pulling over, and had Mark pick the smaller pieces of deer meat out of my grill, wiper blades, etc. when I got home.  THAT is the reason I don't use a nice car to commute with.  The guy that hit the deer totaled out his car, since the deer was pretty big, full rack and all.  I felt bad for both the guy, and the deer.  Rotten timing.

On a brighter note, I got word via phone call yesterday that "Alejandro on a swiftly tilting planet" won first place in the most recent exhibition I entered it into...that is always a nice thing, and some prize money to go with the honor of it, so I was very happy to hear it.  I'll post more details as they come along. 

When I get a chance, I'll post some of the work I have completed at the League.  As for today, I think I'll take it easy, enjoy some r&r, and work at my leisure.  Have a nice day!

Up and running

I am up and running this today...actually, I got quite a bit done, which makes me feel relieved...I had a large list that was starting to grow even larger...that never sits right with me!

I dropped off my one painting to a local venue I'm going to exhibit in, and after some confusion on the part of the organizers, was able to deliver the artwork with no problem.  It is "Alejandro on a swiftly tilting planet," and it will be on display in the Bethlehem (Pennsylvania USA) City Hall Rotunda through January 9th, 2011.

As for the other two paintings that I have going from that series, they will be going first to N.A.W.A. NYC, in Dec./January, then to Red Dot NYC in March, then off to Europe and Japan for the Summer and Autumn of 2011...so, I am busy, busy, busy!

I spent a lazy night last night, lying on the couch after dinner, the house completely still--both kids upstairs either on their computers or chatting on their cells, and Mark was napping before work; it gave me time to just zone out, while Chorkie decided my fingernails needed to be nibbled and groomed...she is the funniest little dog--and she literally puts me into a trance when she goes into her grooming mode--she washes her own face with her little paws, and that instantly strikes me dumb, like a great white shark getting put into a state of catatonia by grasping it's snout...it's immediate.  She is the most relaxing mini dog to watch as she goes through her routine, and then ends up, all 6 pounds of her, sprawled on her back like she owns the couch!

I watched the old 1927 German silent film "Metropolis," last night.  It was quite an amazing film, but I think the scene that really threw me "for a loop" was the scene in which "Maria" has become the Machine-Man, and performs this eerie, spooky and erotic dance as the Whore of Babylon...it literally made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up!  Brigitte Helm had this lanky, blonde waifishness about her, and as the reincarnation of the Whore, she does this darkly contorted, pseudosexual "horror show" dance, in which she incites the men into a homicidal frenzy of sexual hysteria...it's really an astounding scene, and one that is timeless in it's effect...

I also watched "The Walking Dead," and brother, that is just a yucky, Zombiefest!  A totally guilty pleasure!

Anyway, my painting in Berlin has grown legs, and will now toddle over to another exhibition, which is wonderful.  I heard from Infantellina this morning, and I will post the details of this new exhibition.  I am also now looking forward to going to Barcelona in two weeks for the "Square Foot--Rhapsody in Barcelona" international exhibition at the Galeria Con...

So, it's been a busy and fulfilling week...even got to go to the gym with Gabs!!!  Nice....

Resistance to Change

It's been a while, yes.  The last few weeks were tumultuous, but they usually are...choppy seas rather than smooth sailing, yet the hurricane seemed to wind itself down to an afternoon thunderstorm--roared in quickly, and left just as fast...

I spent the last few days in New York, at the Art Student's League.  I was very much looking forward to taking a class with Joseph Peller, as I admire his work and can relate to it.  To me, education is an ever, ongoing process, you just never stop learning or perfecting yourself or your skills...I looked to him since I enjoy his painterly method of working, and would like to broaden my own skills with his perspective, so I very much anticipated being in a public learning setting again.

I arrived early, looking to link up with Jilly, but the weather was not cooperative...the rain was driving, and lugging my equiptment all over Manhattan made for a sort of comical, farce like atmosphere of everything, so I decided not to be an ignoramus, and rented a monthly locker, since my time at the League would last until a minimum of Spring.  Parking is also always an issue in Manhattan, so, thinking I was quite the winner of the chess match, triumphantly brandished a coupon I printed online to the local parking attendant, only to find out I was at the wrong address!  Wrong address, right company to my dismay...I was at the parking garage one block away from the one I printed the coupon for...but, the attendant was sympathetic, and decided he would honor it anyway, for a $2.00 "processing fee"  haha....his idea, not mine.  I probably would have offered him $5.00!

I was disoriented and, being the "new guy" in the class, I didn't know anyone, so I found a little nook in the corner of the cafeteria to just catch my breath and dry off.  I looked around and my heart warmed at all of the creative characters that populated the little lounge...I felt quite at home!  Everyone was friendly, and curious, so I soon met some new classmates. 

After sitting about for an hour, I got restless and decided to hop the subway down to South Ferry and meet Jilly...she would be off work soon, and I could kick around down in Battery Park since the rain had slowed to a light, foggy mist.  I decided to check out the Ferry terminal, since I had not been in it since it had been remodeled after the tragic accident on the pier.  I felt a twinge of sadness as I walked through the crowd, and looked about.  The terminal was unrecognizable to me--the old, weathered wooden benches, the throngs of pigeons that did not care about the humans, the groups of homeless that used to stay along the entrance to keep warm...where did they go?  Had they been ground into Soylent Green?  When did New York solve the homeless problem, and why didn't we share that secret with the world?  The new, shiny Ferry matches the new, shiny, hi-tech City...the feeling of the City is gone to me...it's been wiped clean and sanitized, left all sparkly and antiseptic and generic...the Walmartization of the globe....Ripley's Believe it or Not escaped the confines of it's prison...it was a disappointment.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't feel like the old problems we had as a City were something to "pine" over...but to wipe away all traces of the original flavor of a city, and replace it with "made in Taiwan," loads of rules, signs, and plasticity is Orwellian in my book, but, "my book"  is just my opinion, so it really matters NOT...

The rain picked up it's pace, and I ducked into Starbuck's for my 3rd cup of coffee of the day, and a mini vanilla scone.  Unfortunately the Starbuck's was take out only, so I was forced to find a building to hide under, with the wretched smokers puffing miserably away in the cold, wet of the day.  I thought amusedly back to the time when you could smoke without being dragged outside the walls of the city and executed...for all of our micromanaging, have we found ANYONE who can conquer the grave?  Only one, and He was the Only one! We can stop smoking, eat 100% right, do everything 100% right, and get hit by a bus...what do we do about the injustice of that?  Outlaw buses?  Outlaw cancer that strikes the health fanatic that never smoked, drank, did drugs, did anything?  When do we stop outlawing, and start being free to live our lives again?

My feet were thoroughly soggy, as the rain ran down my face in slow rivulets.  I walked around like a person in a dim dream, lost between two worlds, a ghost of an era past.  I saw the new buildings, the old skyline gone, the new regime had ordered everything well...I was a relic of another decade...that knowledge might have made me sad, but it didn't.  It stood for many things, and all of them were good.  It was a testament to time, and change, no matter how we resist.   I was flexible enough to come this far, and strong enough to endure, and mostly, that I wasn't alone, and I never would be.  That was the most amazing knowledge of all....