Those Crazy Bohemians (Unsung hero: Pére Tanguy)

If I asked  a large number of people to raise their hands if they knew what Impressionism was, I'm willing to wager that a fair number of them would do so. A decent amount would still keep their hands up if I asked how many could name at least one Impressionist by last name.

But if I asked how many could keep their hands raised by naming the man who made it possible for many of these great artists to keep painting, I am pretty darn sure that almost all of the hands would go down. Unsung heroes tend to become an "unknown" very quickly. Which probably is why they're called unsung, right?

Portrait of Pére Tanguy by Vincent van Gogh

Julien Tanguy was one such hero. He was so important to these bohemian painters that they even nicknamed him "Pére" Tanguy (pére meaning father). He owned an art supply shop in Montmartre, and was looked up to as a true rebel with a cause: he had spent some time in prison for his political beliefs. This, of course, endeared him to the free-thinking bohemian artists.

He had opened his art supply store in 1870. Pére was heavily involved in the Paris Commune that ruled Paris for two short months in 1871.  During La Semaine Sanglante (The Bloody Week) estimates vary from 6,000 to 50,000 as to the number of men, women, and children killed when the government troops stepped in and forced the Paris Commune out of power. Pére avoided execution and somehow was not kept forever in jail, but he made sure he stayed in the more rural, bohemian area of Montmartre as a precaution.

Besides, that is where all the excitement was happening in the art world. Pére also began to show Van Gogh's paintings (but never sold one). Soon he also had many works by Monet, Sisley, Gauguin, Seurat and Cézanne. As prized as a Cézanne painting would become later, he was very much considered a "painter's painter" and didn't sell well during his lifetime, either. In fact, from 1877 to 1893 the only place where one would find a Cézanne in the whole city was in Tanguy's art supply store.

So, why was he so important to these bohemian artists of nineteenth century? Well, ignore the fact that he showed their work and tried to build an audience for them and consider this: most of those artists were dirt poor. Many days they didn't eat. That also means they had no money for canvas and paint. Without canvas and paint, the paintings that we now prize from that era would have never been created.

They certainly were created, though, thanks to "Pére Tanguy. You see, Pére let them buy paint and canvas on credit. No, he didn't change them interest or high prices. He simply gave them what they needed with only a verbal promise to pay him whenever they could. He had to have known full well that many of those supplies would never be paid for, yet he continued to honor the artist's verbal agreements.

One could call him a fool. I'm betting his wife often did. It isn't hard to see why some would call him that. It isn't a very smart way to run a business, and Pére was not wealthy. He wasn't even close to middle-class. What he was, though, was a believer in the talent of outrageously new thinking artists, who had the nerve to show people the world in brand new ways. When you consider that, it isn't hard to see why an anarchist would have a tender spot for these crazy bohemian painters who always promised, seldom paid, but always hoped to.

Promise and hope. Without it, the world is a much colder place. With it, great things can happen. The art world saw painting change forever in great ways - thanks to an unsung hero. "Pére"? Oh, oui, indeed he was like their father. They didn't disappoint. His "children" did him proud.

Portrait of Pére Tanguy by Vincent van Gogh

Fourth Book in The Gastien Series and New Painting Photos

Happy 2013 to all of you! I hope this year brings you closer to realizing all of your hopes and dreams, with many coming true. I have been so busy that I forgot to announce the release on my fourth book in "The Gastien Series" here on my blog!

Also, a lot of people had been asking me when I was going to get some of my painting up on a website.  Well, I haven't designed a speicific website fo them, but I did add tabs to the top of this page where you can view some of my paintings.  Just click on the various "Makin' Love to the Color" tabs to see my work in various styles.  I hope you enjoy them.

And, now, introducing the newest book in "The Gastien Series" :

Europe is full of dark memories. Giselle's love is forbidden; her chance to be a mother destroyed. She flees to America where she becomes the haute couture fashion designer to the wealthy, high-society Grand Dames of New York. After all, she had been mentored in Paris by the legendary Charles Worth himself.

Giselle's past remains cloaked in shadows, increasing her allure. Her heart is engaged by a man who comes to her only in secrecy, drawing her back to her mysterious past.

When her brother dies and his wife abandons their child, she takes on the care of her infant nephew. Giselle decides she has to stop and take stock of her life. She has been given her one chance to be a mother, but the cost will be the end of the few moments she can still have with her one true love.

Yet love is not easily destroyed for those who are strong enough to survive its pain.

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Thank you. Next blog we will be getting back to Those Crazy Bohemains...unless something else starts tapping at my brain!

Those Crazy Bohemians! (What is Impressionism Anyway?)

Impressionism. We have been talking about it for awhile now on this blog. Most people have heard of it even if they aren't particularly into art or painting. But for many it remains just a word.  What defined Impressionism? Why was it so different from previous painting style?

We already established that artists knew they had to do something different in order to still be valuable.  The camera had seen to that. Impressionism was essentially freedom. It had started a few years earlier, but it's first "launching" was in 1874.  The Cooperative and Anonymous Society of Painters, Sculptures and Engravers decided to have a showing at the studio of Felix Nadar, a journalist who was also a photographer. Thirty artists (among them Monet, Degas, Pissarro,Cezanne, Renoir, Sisley, and Morisot) exhibited together eight times between 19874 and 1886.

It was a rebellion against Academie des Beaux-Arts. The Academie was considered the authority in the realist styles of French painting. If you didn't paint like they insisted, you were nothing in their eyes. The Salon de Paris was their annual art exhibit.  For new artists and struggling artists it was extremely important to get into this show. They could win prizes, earn commissions, get reviews, and become a known artist with a good reputation.

The Impressionists were painting with different brush strokes, using brighter colors, and paying much less attention to detail.  Instead, they were interested in how light affected a subject during different times of the day or season. They also were painting landscapes and community life instead of religious, mythology, or family portrait types of paintings. Some of them also decided to stop trying to give depth to a painting.  A canvas was two dimensional and so they painted their buildings flat. The artists mentioned above were routinely getting rejected over and over again. Can you imagine Monet or Cezanne being seen as "not good enough"?!

In 1863 the Academie rejected Manet's painting Luncheon of the Grass because of the nude woman in it. This rejection was considered ridiculous by Manet's fans, even those who were traditional arts patrons. That year so many artists were rejected that Napoleon II decreed the start of the Salon of the Refused. The reviewers, however, were rabid. Cezanne and Monet got verbally beaten up the worst. Their work was called "unfinished sketches" and "impressions". Here is what one said:

I"mpression—I was certain of it. I was just telling myself that, since I was impressed, there had to be some impression in it ... and what freedom, what ease of workmanship! Wallpaper in its embryonic state is more finished than that seascape."

Regardless, these painters kept painting, accepting the name Impressionist for themselves and Impressionism for their work.  This style of painting would go on to affect not only painting, but literature, photography, and film making. This avant garde painting style, and the artists who worked in it, were eventually embraced  widely by the public. Unfortunately, for many of them it would not be until after their death.

Don't let the word Impressionism fool you.  There are a wide variety of art forms that were born from this style of painting, making it more diverse and stylistic than at first glance. I dare say that all of modern art owes its existence to those crazy bohemians who embraced the term "Impressionism" and painted as they pleased, regardless of the consequences.

Thank you for reading this. We will learn more about these artist's lives in future blogs.

Those Crazy Bohemians (If you can't join 'em, beat 'em!)

The rise of Impressionism didn't happen easily. Paris was known as the capital of the art world, and the powers that be of that great city were not happy that a bunch of "misfit" artists had the gall to paint outside of the lines. The art schools and the people who sat on the committees for art shows in Paris had very strict rules.

Those rules dictated how one painted. They expected - no, demanded - that an artist followed those rules if they ever hoped to get in a public show. From how to apply paint on a canvas to subject matter and style, these people governed how art should be made. When the Impressionists began ignoring those rules it was not seen as a good thing.

In fact, these powerful people made sure they did everything to squash Impressionism from the start. No artist that painted in this style was allowed in any of the highly renowned public shows. This hurt the artists quite a bit. Without the public becoming aware of their work, how were they supposed to make a living?

No matter. These bohemian rebels started their own shows. Finally Napoleon II gave permission for a show of the misfits. This was known as a show for all of the artists who had been rejected entrance into the more prestigious shows. Not a very enticing advertisement! At first, not many came to their shows; and those who did came to laugh. The term Impressionism was originally a slam to the movement, a derogatory term.  The journalist and critic Louis Leroy looked at one of Monet's works and snorted "Impression!" and then went on to say, "Wallpaper in its embryonic state is more finished." Thanks to him, one of the greatest movements in the art world was given its name.

Impressionists were interested in landscapes and contemporary life, not religious, mythological or historical scenes. Capturing light and how the same scene changed during different periods of the day was an important part of their painting. Many of them also refused to try to make a painting look three dimensional.  Since the canvas was two dimensional and they were not trying to "trick" people into seeing their work as real, but as a painting, they painted the scenes flat.

Yes, a new movement in art was born, thanks to those misfits. Things would never again be the same in the art world. We will continue to look into the lives of those crazy bohemians in future blogs here.

Those Crazy Bohemians! (Place du Tertre)

As an indie author, I can appreciate the new found freedom the Impressionists found when they started painting outside.  How nice to be able to get out of the confines of a studio and be out in the fresh air! I know that I enjoy writing outside during the months that weather permits.  There is just something about being outside that inspires me. Regardless of if the Impressionists were in a busy city setting or out in the countryside, I am certain that they found it to be inspiring, too.

The most popular place to paint outside in Montmartre became Place du Tertre. Sitting in the heart of Montmartre's elevated area, this tiny cobblestone square became a hub of artistic activity. Men painted frantically, new ideas coming faster than paint could dry. Those ideas were shared and tested, sometimes to great success.

Place du Terte had some trees, but was surrounded on all four sides by village life going on about its business. Many people would stop and watch those bohemians, shaking their heads either in wonder or in confusion as to why anyone would try to paint a street scene in "those" colors! What the villagers couldn't know was that history was happening right before their eyes.  This era is now seen as one of the most influential, if not the most, periods in art history. Oh, you crazy bohemians. You were just trying to find a way to keep eating.  In the process, you set the world of art on fire.

It didn't hurt that Place du Tertre was only a few blocks away from the infamous Au Lapin Agile, a favorite watering hole for the artists. Au Lapin is so steeped in history that a future post will be devoted to it.

Artists still gather to paint at Place du Tertre every day.  In fact, it grew so packed with artists that one now has to apply for a permit to paint there.  The permit, of course, costs you money. The day is divided into two parts, with some artists jealously guarding their extremely small space until lunch, and others coming in after lunch to claim those small areas. Dining tables have also been crammed in, taking space away from artists.

Now it is commercial.  Now, many of the artists overcharge and - quite frankly - don't paint nearly as well as they should in order to ask the prices they seem to think they are entitled to.

But back then?  Ah, back then they painted for the love of it.  They painted because they had to, and only hoped they would sell a piece before they went hungry too many nights. Overcharge? Hell, some would  give a painting away in exchange for a small piece of cheese, a baguette, and a small bottle of the cheap red wine the nunnery in Montmartre produced.

And if they got those things, they usually didn't hesitate to share with their friends. After all, what is a good glass of vin worth, if not shared in the company of others?

Those Crazy Bohemains! (At last, painting en plein aire)

As both an indie author and a painter, I completely relate to the excitement and fear the nineteenth and twentieth century bohemian artists of Paris felt in regard to their new found freedom.  Now they could paint what they wanted, yet they were not guaranteed any income! The same is true for indie authoring/self publishing. It is a roll of the dice. But, oh, what freedom!

This freedom to paint whatever they wanted was joined with the need to paint in new ways. This was not the only freedom that these artists had for the first time, however. Something very simple and basic to us had just started to exist for these artists.  Paint in tubes.

For the first time, artists did not have to spend hours painstakingly mixing their colors from raw pigments mixed with medium of their choice. This took hours and confined them to studio painting. It was simply too difficult to be portable. When painting in tubes became widely available the game changed. Now artists could pack up and paint wherever their hearts desired! Imagine the excitement of painting for the first time en plein aire (outside)!

Now artists could paint landscapes and street scenes in new ways, capturing the glow of sunrise or sunset, the glare of full sun, the shadows as they moved across the buildings during different parts of the day. The colors of things changed depending on the weather and time of day. Artists had always known that, but now it was even easier to capture on canvas. Gone was the desire to paint picture perfect. Instead of worrying about making a two dimensional canvas appear three dimensional, many Impressionists allowed their painting to look flat. They concentrated on showing us something different: The brightness, the glow, the shadows, the color. Show me something different indeed!

These Impressionists found they had a new problem when painting outside. Now they needed to work quickly, and oils take time to dry between layers. They began to work alla prima, or wet-on-wet. This technique not only allowed them to work faster, it demanded they do so. It was imperative to get the layers on before the first layer dried.

These artists shared techniques and ideas constantly, both at popular painting sites and at cabarets, such as Au Lapin Agile and Chat Noir. One of the most popular places to paint en plein aire became Place du Tertre in Montmartre. Although technically part of Paris, the village maintained that it was independent of the city, and it was the place where Impressionism truly began. We will talk more about these famous places, and about the bohemian artists and their lifestyle in later posts.

Those Crazy Bohemians! (Why Montmartre?)

What made the artists of Paris leave the city and move to Montmartre in the nineteenth century? The first answer is the most common reason that artists are always on the move.

Napoleon III wanted Paris "beautified" and so he gave most of the prime land in the city to wealthy friends.  It was their responsibility to develop it. Develop it they did, and rents soared. The original inhabitants had no choice but to leave.

Montmartre was officially made part of Paris in the 1850's but the city did not develop it, and the village considered itself very much separate. It was free of Paris taxes and had a nunnery that made cheap red wine. Those alone were good reasons to move to Montmartre.  Add the facts that Montmartre sat at the top of a hill that overlooked the whole city of Paris, and there was an abundance of light (hard to find in the city) and you had the perfect location for painters to gather.

Johan Jongkind and Camille Pisarro were some of the first artists to inhabit the area in the mid-nineteenth century. It was not until toward the end of that century and the beginning of the twentieth that artists really began to flock there.

 Vincent van Gogh, Pierre Brissaud, Alfred Jarry, Gen Paul, Jacques Villon, Raymond Duchamp-Villon, Henri Matisse, André Derain, Suzanne Valadon, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Edgar Degas, Maurice Utrillo, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Théophile Steinlen, and African-American expatriates such as Langston Hughes worked in this village and found artistic inspiration there.

Pablo Picasso, Amedeo Modigliani, and other artists living in poverty worked in a commune, a building called Le Bateau-Lavoir, during the years 1904–1909. Composer Satie (who was a pianist at Le Chat Noir), also lived in the area.

The last of the bohemian Montmartre artists was Gen Paul. He was born in Montmartre and a friend of Utrillo. Paul's calligraphic expressionist lithographs, sometimes memorializing picturesque Montmartre itself, owe a debt to Raoul Dufy.

In fact, many of these artists painted scenes of the village. More and more artists flocked to the area in order to draw inspiration from each other. It must have been quite a scene, and one that I would have loved being part of.

Stay tuned for more information about the bohemian artists of Montmartre and Impressionism.

Unleashing the Creative

Last night I finally got back to painting class.  It had been two months since I had picked up a paintbrush! While I am primarily a painter in my soul, I am also an indie author, and I am trying to build an income writing fiction.  It is a tough road, but not as tough as trying to make it as a painter!

July found us vacationing during 3 full weeks.  August was a month where my art teacher vacationed.  I was busy finishing the first draft of the 4th book in The Gastien Series. So, here it was - September -  and I had not painted since June. I was worried that it would seem foreign, that I wouldn't be able to switch on my painting brain. It was also the first time in a few years where I went to class at night.  After editing all morning and babysitting all afternoon, would I be too tired to create?

My fears were unfounded. What a pleasure it was to get back to creating visual art! We had a brief lesson about Josef Albers, an abstract painter who is known as The Godfather of Color.  That lesson was perfect for me.  I am interested in the energy of color and I love abstract. This brief visit into Alber's world connected me to my source of creativy. I was back in the world that feels like home, the world of painting and color.  Albers wanted to paint color for the sake of color only.  There was no subject matter, only the play of colors against each other, broken down to the simple.

Then we used colored paper to make a collage based on his style.  Mine was supposed to be shown above. However, as I blogged about earlier, I am still learning how to use my smartphone.  For some reason I can post photos on Facebook and text or email them, but not put in my blog!  Another thing I have to be shown. I will turn this into a painting someday I think.  My husband does not like this one, but I love it.

Then we began individual projects.  I am working on a new abstract which is going in a direction I had not anticipated.  If it not at all like an Albers. Will I like the finsihed product? I don't know.  Will I learn from it?  Definitely.

Yes, it was good to be back. I feel more complete once again, and my mind sees things in a fresher way.  Once again, I was reminded who I really am deep inside. "Welcome back," the color whispered.  "Welcome back."

Painting Free

"Late Night Cityscape" by Caddy Rowland

It is no accident that my first series as an indie author is about an artist and his family. I am only truly me when I  am immersed in painting.  The same is true for my main character.  They say you should write what you know, and I do know Gastien. He may have lived in another time, but we are connected deeper than any two souls could possibly be. Fictional or not, our very beings are merged together. 

I don't think you always need to write what you know, nor do you need to paint how you know how to.  Without experimenting new technique would never happen. Just think about the Impressionists and how "strange" their work seemed to the people of that day.  Yet, what they did is certainly mainstream now.  Many other styles evolved from Impressionism.  Some are easier to "understand" than others.  But all of them only happened because someone dared to paint what they did not know.

"Flight in the Rainforest Canopy" by Caddy Rowland

I have been taking off some time from writing to paint the last couple of days.  I will probably continue to do so for the next week.  I am not busting out a new style, but I am painting more free than I ever have.  For me, some doors have been opened that I have been pounding on for awhile.  It may not set the art world on it's rear, but I am happy to say that I am growing.  That is exciting and rewarding to me.  Even better, I think Gastien would be proud.

There have been new painting tools introduced and new processes tried.  Now I am trying to paint just the energy of different items. Plus, I am working on a street scene that may end up looking Impressionist or it may take off on its own.  Who knows?  It will be what I feel. 

Someday I will be totally free in my painting because I will understand all of the rules.  And you know what Picasso said.  You have to learn the rules so that you know how to break them.

"Energy of an Orange" by Caddy Rowland

If You Could Marry Any Person In History (Now Dead)

As in indie author, I really look for ways to stoke my imagination.  One of my facebook friends used to ask cool questions almost every day that forced me to get my brain revved.  One was the question I am going to ask you today.  Then I will tell you my answer.  (Thanks, Kevin!)

If you could marry anyone no longer living that was famous, who would it be and why? It can be any time period in the past and it can be same sex as you or opposite.

Being an artist, this one was easy for me.  I absolutely adore Picasso's work.  I always feel silly saying it.  Why? Because it seems like people who don't know much about art but want to pretend to, at least know Picasso and will say he is their favorite.  But, he really is mine. Second would be his friend Braque. In fact, lots of times they would paint the same subject matter side by side.  Sometimes I like Braque's better.

                                     (Violin and Candlestick by Braque)
I know, I know.  Picasso was known to be an a-hole and a womanizer.  Hey, I have to tell ya...if I had the choice I would much rather be his mistress than his wife.  But the question does not allow that. It asks who you would marry.  Therefore, I would marry him.

                   (Portrait of Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler by Picasso)
There are no romantic or sexual reasons for this. My God, just think of what I could have learned from him about painting! To paint along with him and learn from him would be one of the greatest gifts a person could be given. I have a very strong personality so I would have insisted.  No sitting in the background for me.  He would have taught me or listened to me bitch day and night.

That said, we may not have lived long.  At least, not both of us.  I am sure we would have fought.  A lot. He was passionate and opinionated  I am...passionate and opinionated. Quite possibly one of us would have done the other in during a particularly heated round of arguing.

But until that happened, what bliss to paint with Pablo.  I would have even put up with his mistresses to learn from him.  Besides, while he was away at play I could have had my own dalliances.  There were several other artists I would not have minded "brushing" into. Ah, yes. You need some time away from the studio?  No problem, dear.  Don't hurry home.  And when you come home, bring more paint.

But today, I Paint (The Pure Bliss of the Color)

As an indie author, there is no end to the tasks I should be doing.  Marketing my first two books in the series, finding additional reviewers, and writing that third book.  I have about 46,000 words done in the first, rough draft.  If I want it done for spring, I need to start flying that plane toward home.  Yes, I know that.

But today, I paint.  I will go to class at the studio of a dear artist friend and mentor, Susan Fryer Voigt. (Check out her work by clicking on her name. The photos are not her work, nor are they mine.)  Amazing artist.  There, I will give myself permission to get lost in creation, making love to the color.  There, I don't have distractions and my books can't call out to me to help them be seen, help them exist.  They might be calling out, but I am too far away and can't hear them.  For a few hours, I become who I have always been from the beginning of my creation.  A conduit for the creative force through color.

It is an odd life to be called by the color.  No one gets it except other artists.  No matter what else you are doing at any given moment, the deepest part of your soul longs to be united with your paints; your brush.  For an artist, that is the only time that they are fully alive.  Then and during orgasm, which is the closest any of us get to our spirituality while here on earth.  We die for a brief moment during that release (the French call it the "little death") and when an artist is one with the color, their mortal self dies for a little while, too.

That union, that bliss, cannot be denied forever.  My easel sits with my latest work in progress (not this photo) out where I constantly see it.  I hope that I will take more time to enter that nirvana if I constantly am called...but other things have to be done.  Like trying to find a way to make a little income by writing.  And so it sits, impatiently waiting, wondering why we only have an occasional fling when we both know it is my deepest love.

Reality makes it so.  Don't get me wrong.  I love to write.  It is enjoyable and I have fun with it.  I am good at it.  It is also a long shot at providing any sustainable income, but less so than painting.  Since I have already spent most of my life working at careers that don't fulfill my calling, I have decided to try to make a go of it.  It takes time and luck and LOTS of work. I might fail in the end.  Writers, like painters, are as common as dust on my coffee table. But at least I am finally trying. 

In the meantime, my lover waits.  Color knows no sense of time.  It just knows when we are apart and when we become one.  When we merge, I understand what it means to fly. My deepest love, how I wish we could be one all of the time. This love is different than the love of another person.  This is the love of the force that made you.  This is that force speaking through your hand. It is ecstasy.

Yes, my books need me.  Gastien Part 1 and 2 languish far down on the list and deserve to be in the Top 100.  Book 3 is waiting to be born.  I know I need several books to get the momentum really going.  I know that. And I love them deeply.

But today, I paint.

Ménage à Trois and Loving It

People say it's wrong.  I know that.  Still, I can't stop.  How can I choose just one?  To live without either would kill me.  They both fulfill me in different ways...and in like ways, too.  Each can consume me.  I get lost in them for hours at a time. When I am with either, I am totally immersed in their sensuous, sinuous offerings.  Yes, I am in love with two.  And I am damn proud of it.

Oh, wait!  Did you think I was talking about men?  Or perhaps one of each sex?  No, no, nothing that ho-hum; nothing that cliche. I am talking about writing and painting.  Those, you see, are the two that I love.  Of course, I love my husband even more in a completely different way, but I did not want to say I love three.  You might think I am too promiscuous then!

Both writing and painting offer me the platform to create.  Ah, creation.  The start of everything the universe has ever known.  Is creation, that energy that turns thoughts into realities, what God is?  Perhaps.  Creative energy.  That certainly does not put limits on God.  In fact, to me it makes God as huge as a god should be.  The vastness of creation is unparalleled.  To give something like that human qualities (jealous, forgiving, loving, angry) seems much more limiting in my book.  Of course, my book may be much different than yours.

Writing gives me the ability to create characters and scenes; thoughts and deeds.  Painting gives me the ability to express emotions and visual beauty or horror.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  Yet, they also say that verbal abuse is much more damaging than physical abuse. 

Words and visuals.  Paintings and books.  They both can cause a woman to sigh in ecstasy, a man to fall to his knees in horror.  Words can make a grown man cry, paintings can slice a hole in ones soul.  Both can heal.  Pretty heady stuff, books and paintings.

So, I will continue my love affairs with both.  Today I am committed to writing twenty pages in my third novel.  Yesterday I got a review from a total stranger, a man, for Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny.  There is nothing quite like the feeling I get when I see that someone I will never know has been drawn to read my work.  He gave it 5 stars.  I am honored.  He said he laughed and he cried.  I made a man cry with a love story.  Words.  They have brute strength.

After I write my twenty pages, I will pick up my favorite paintbrush and continue to caress either my impressionistic painting of a street in Montmartre, or I will continue to soul kiss some cubism I am working on.  Depends on my mood.  Paintings.  Visual statements from my soul to your eyes. Will you love them?  I don't know. What I do know is that the paintings will know that I loved them to the best of my ability.

Me and my loves.  My loves and me.  How fortunate I am to have them both in my life.  They sometimes fight for attention, but they both know I love them equally. We exist blissfully in our ménage à trois. Care to join us?

The Mental Illness of Creativity

Being an indie author and a painter, I have had the opportunity to meet many other creative types.  I have also read about a lot of different artists, mostly painters, or watched documentaries about them.  What I have discovered is that for the vast majority of them, mental illness seems to be part of their make-up.

Everyone assumes that being talented in the arts is a blessing.  Yes, indeed it is in many ways.  In some ways, though, it is a curse.  Most of us will never make much money at all from our artistic endeavors.  To pursue the life of an artist full time is usually equivalent to pursuing poverty.  It is not enjoyable to move from crappy room or apartment to another, nor is it enjoyable to wonder where your next meal comes from. How many famous artists made money while they were alive?  Point made. For a painter, fame usually follows death.,,if it comes at all.

So, most of us work at other jobs.  Usually, these jobs feel to us like they are sucking our soul out of our body.  Some of us always work at something else full time.  Some work part-time.  Others take some time off to just create, hoping against hope that they will find a way to continue full time at what they were meant to do.

This creates other problems.  If we have other jobs, our free time is limited.  Do we create or do we involve ourselves in personal relationships?  It is damn difficult to work 40 hours, write or paint, be a lover and friend, raise kids, take care of a home,  and all of the other things that involve life.

The artist is always torn. Really, the reason they are here is to create.  When they are not creating, they feel real anguish and a pull that is hard to silence.  When they create, they become so involved in their work that everything outside of that is shut out.  That hurts people they love.

Because artists are human, they also need love and want to love.  If they take the time to be involved with another adult, take the time to have children and really enjoy them....when do they create?  Do they give up sleep to create?  That can't be continued forever, either.

That is the conflict that creatives face every moment of each day.  One thing that I have noticed and discussed with many artists is the fact that, if you read about almost any past painter, almost every one of them either spent time in a mental institution (sometimes more than once), had alcohol or drug problems, or committed suicide.  Seriously, I would bet at least 90% of them.

So, here is my question.  Are creatives already mentally ill because of the way they see things?  Or does the stress of trying to create, make a living, and be involved with others all at the same time cause it?  I know I see things differently than most.  I always have. I have also struggled with some forms of mental illness.  Drugs for it dull creativity so I opt to go without.  Learn to cope. Accept my alienation that I feel at times.  Go deep inside and ground myself.

Ah, yes.  The blessing of creative talent.  Is my storytelling simply a way to escape reality?  I don't know.  What about my painting?  Is it a blessing? When I am dead, who will give a damn about the hundreds of canvases painted in my basement? When I think of that, my paintbrush feels more like a dagger that could, at any time, be plunged deep into my heart.

And so I go back to square one.  Go back, as I said, deep within myself to find my grounding.  I remember, once again, that I don't create simply because I am good enough or because I love it.  I create because I have to.  That is why I am here. Words and me.  Color and me.  Why I am here.

Strange Magic: The Courtship Between Color and Me

I don't know how most artists paint, but I definitely have a sort of courtship dance that I do with my work.  I always look forward to the days that I plan on makin' love to the color.  In my head I imagine spending hours upon hours lost in that special place.  It seldom happens that way for me, though.

For some reason, I have to "court" the color, or perhaps the painting.  First, I get things set up.  Easel, canvas, paints at the ready.  My favorite brushes.  The palette.  Then, the dance begins. 

Oh, I may draw a little bit, or paint the background or underpainting.  I am just as likely to do nothing, though.  I have to kind of walk around the house, looking at the canvas on the easel.  Not too bold.  Just a glance.  I don't want to make it uncomfortable.  That canvas is no hussy!  It is a rare gift to me, and I damn well better treat it right!  To paint is to be with my Creator and that is holy.  Homage must be made.

Finally, I approach.  It may be the same day, it may not.  As I begin, I play one of 4 CD's.  Dire Straights first album simply titled "Dire Straights".  Joan Osborne's CD "Early Recordings".  Joan Jett's Greatest Hits.  Or The Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band".  Why those?  I don't know.  Does it matter?  Sometimes I will listen to the radio, too.  Classic Rock, or Classical.  But mostly it is those four.  Those four are "our songs".  The songs the color and I fall in love with each other to.

I may paint three or four hours.  I may paint two.  Then, the dance begins again.  I have to walk around, glancing at it.  Look up from the table while eating and notice nuances, what works, what isn't.  Still, I don't jump up and "fix" it or elaborate.  No, no!  One cannot accost their lover.

When the time is right to begin again, I know.  I can then start to caress my lover and show it, just a little more, what I am feeling for it.  Eventually, the painting gets done.  Sometimes I feel it is a success.  Other times, I feel I have fallen far short of what I was trying to express to my dearest love.

It used to puzzle me, this game of cat and mouse.  It seemed I must be scared to just paint!  I finally realize it is not fear.  It is reverence.  It is a building of anticipation, a sensuous revelling in the erotic pleasure of creation. 

Just like making love to a human, the joy...the bliss of the act should not be ignored.  Yes, the ending is breathtaking for me, just like with sex...but, oh, the pleasure of building up to that!  That is not to be taken lightly, but prolonged so that every fiber of my being can rejoice in it. My color.  My love.  My everything.

Finding time to do art

Here I am a new blogger, trying to find my niche in the blogging world!

As a writer and a painter, I find it really hard to balance my time between the two.  Since my first novel has just come out, I have decided to put painting mostly on hold for awhile.  Yet, it bothers me to think of those brushes gathering dust!

I need to promote, write some more, format those...the list goes on and on.  I realized today that, even though different things may be pulling me than what pulls at other women, we really all suffer from the same things:

Too much to do in too little of a time period, and guilt that we are doing the wrong thing-no matter which thing we are doing.  Why do we do that to themselves?  Is this something mostly female, or do men feel guilt like this?

If I am writing, my brain gets after me that I should be marketing or painting.  If I am painting, my brain screams at me that I will never get the 2nd novel done unless I put down that brush!

I am willing to bet that women (men too?) all over the world hear that same voice.  It does not matter if you are a mother, lawyer, doctor, writer, clerical worker.  Why do we allow ourselves to feel guilty and ineffective no matter which of our many "hats" we wear or how well they fit?

I would love to hear from others that have this same issue.  I would love even more to hear from others that have quieted that voice!  Oh.  I need to go now.  I hear paintbrushes and novels calling, along with my husband, a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and 2 parrots that would love some socializing.