You’re a Winner

After deciding to reward one of my faithful subscribers with a painting, I picked a winner on the fourth of July. Instead of just giving a painting I already made, I created two new pieces and offered my follower her choice. It made the process much more fun as well as ensured that the recipient really liked the work. I posted the progress on social media and loved how involved people became in the process. Here is one of the paintings I made:

WaveDistortionMini1,2015,11x14inWave Distortion Mini 1, 2015, acrylic on birch panel, 11″ x 14″

And this was the alternate piece and the one the subscriber chose:

VoidDistortionMini1,2015,11x14inVoid Distortion Mini 1, 2015, acrylic on birch panel, 11″ x 14″

The latter piece was actually inspired by my seven year old’s beautiful attract drawing she made while we were in Washington DC:

Elle'sAbstractDrawing

It is becoming clear to me that she has an incredible talent for art and that no matter my own desires for her life and career, I cannot ignore nor discourage this ability. Here is a drawing she did just a few days ago:

Elle'sSeagull

I posted this seagull drawing on social media jokingly exclaiming that she might be following in my footsteps to RISD. While as a parent, I think what my kids do is amazing and I encourage and praise their efforts, it is the reactions of other people that so overwhelmed me. Now, she does benefit from emulating her older sister as well as her own very strong drawing skills but I never had that ability at seven years old. She has expressed a desire to be a fashion designer but I never heeded that beyond any other kid expressing a wish to be a firefighter or Cinderella. And kids change their minds daily as to aspiring future professions. I know my older daughter’s gift lies in writing and that she sits down almost daily to work on one of her many novels in progress. Seeing the artistic gifts my children possess is certainly amazing at such young ages and nurturing those gifts is a privilege. I only hope that when the times comes, I will be capable of seeing those gifts to fruition and support both of them in every way possible. I knew I always wanted to be an artist, as I have mentioned before in this blog, but I wasn’t entirely sure in what way it would manifest. It was only at RISD, when feeling exiled from the sculpture department, that I found my way into the accepting arms of painting department.

My older daughter is also a talented visual artist but her real gift lies in writing. Here is a poem she wrote in reaction to being rejected from a school she dreamed of attending:

“Walk My Own Way”

Well, now I tell you
If you don’t want your path
To be guided by another hand
Or your future seen
With a different eye
Or your wisdom
To be held in someone else’s head

Well, now I tell you
When you don’t wanna be pushed
And you don’t wanna be pulled
This is what I do
I walk my own way

When you don’t wanna be shoved
And you don’t wanna be sheared
This is what I do
I walk my own way

My way
Is a place without obstacles
Or rules
Or traps
Or bumps
Or dents
No, sir
It is an empty pathway that still needs to be paved

And I think one of them is for you

By LWM, 2015

Back in Valencia, Spain, the exhibition, Pinceladas Colectivas, is up at the Imprevisual Galería and includes the piece I created for the project as one of 148 artists. The cover of the catalog shows the figure given to each artist to embellish in its original form as well as the result of what 148 visions derived.

PinceladasColetivasSideView2

Here is a shot of my work from the opening. It is hanging on the top row. And yes, women still use folding fans in Valencia!

PinceladasColectivas

I visited the artist in his studio when my piece was finished to deliver my work. The artist and organizer of Pinceladas Coletivas, Miguel Ángel Aranda, made his living by copying existing paintings for clients; mostly pastoral scenes evoking a very traditional time in Valencia. While the neighborhood of Ruzafa, where our studios were located, was in a creative enclave of artists, the main inhabitants had been there far longer and were more nostalgic than avant-garde. The spelling of name of the neighborhood and its streets changed depending on whom you were speaking to: Ruzafa and Cadiz or Russafa and Cadis to name just a couple. As I reflect on my three years working in Valencia, what I miss the most is my studio, Sporting Club, and the artists I worked with in Russafa, I mean, Ruzafa.

This month’s music: Unknown Mortal Orchestra

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