Public Nuisance

"Grandma's Kitchen"

oil

20X16

I am currently without laptop. Laptop-less. As a consequence, I'm writing this post from a public computer in the library with all the other poor computer-less creatures. 

And on this the second week of laptoplessness, I am becoming more and more aware of why using a public computer is not the preferred status. Every day there's at least one man (it's always a man) sitting next to me who is making the most deplorable noises. Grunting noises. Repetitious and overwrought exhales...about every 8-10 seconds. Why do some men have to make such a commotion over simply breathing. I want to turn to them and say, "Excuse me, could you just stop breathing for a while?"

 

Even as I type this, a young mouth-breather just plopped himself down in the chair next to me. Even though there are plenty of other computers available. Am I too sensitive? Maybe this is one of the reasons I'm single.

Ordinarily, I would not have chosen the above painting for this post. But I can only access paintings I have on the Web, so...there it is. I painted this many, many years ago. It is - as the title states - my mom's kitchen window. Anyone who's ever been to my mom's house will immediately grasp that I have done quite a bit of editing. My mom is like a bag lady with a house...just one small step away from hoarder. Nonetheless...I was always intrigued by the light effects on all those colorful bottles.

Oh...the young mouth-breather left. But a lady with very pungent perfume has taken his place. My tolerance level is fast approaching. So flowery. It's like I've plunged my head into a vat of Jasmin petals and orange blossoms. Head starting to hurt. And now another mouth-breather has taken the place of the former...only this one is dressed like a young Mormon missionary. I'd better get out while I can...

Experimentation

"Katie"

11X14

oil

I have, in fact, been painting this week. Sometimes I have a painting job to do – a commission, or a request for more lighthouses, landscapes or…whatever, from a gallery. But sometimes when I’ve finished a piece, I have leftover paints on my palette. And since I don’t want to waste perfectly good paint…I will experiment. It’s one of my favorite things to do, in my artistic life. Sometimes.

The only drawback is that, as in any form of experimentation, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes I like the experiment enough to incorporate it into my painting style. When the experiment takes a wrong turn, then I question my own worth as a human being.

Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But experimenting brings both agony and ecstasy. Are any of you old enough to remember that intro to the “Wonderful World of Sports” (or some such overblown title)? Remember when the announcer got to “the agony of defeat”, and that poor skier went flying uncontrollably off the ski jump and into the crowd? That poor guy. I wonder if his name was Hans.

Anyway…occasionally I have an experiment that goes wrong, and for the rest of the day (or week) I feel like poor Hans. Why did I ever think I could be a painter? I could be an accountant sitting at my desk like a regular person…with a regular paycheck. But who am I kidding? I hate numbers and math way too much to be an accountant. 

Hans had to ski…I have to paint. Fortunately, last weeks’ adventures in experimentation went okay. I don’t know that I’ve made any kind of mind-boggling breakthroughs, but every experiment has value. Even the ones that go awry. At least you can incorporate it into your artistic toolbox under the title “never, ever do this again”.

And even more fortunately for me, unlike the pitiable Hans, a mishap in the art studio seldom results in broken bones. And I seldom have to do math.

I wonder whatever happened to Hans. Now that’s all I’ll be able to think about for the rest of the afternoon. Sometimes it’s hard to be me.