Today I spent seven hours slaving away over a hard concrete slab. Yes, the annual Indio Chalk Festival. This year the festival was moved from outside the city hall to Miles Avenue a block away, and the street was blocked off. I knew that I was being asked to do a much larger painting this year, and had in mind that I might do a triptych, though I had no clue what exactly I was going to do. However, instead of being assigned a space, I was asked to pick one. I had the choice of concrete or blacktop, and opted for a familiar surface, mostly in the shade. The area I chose had four perfect squares with spaces in between, so I decided to use them all. I wasn’t sure whether to do four seasons (like Vivaldi’s Window) or 4 times of day, like the painting I’m working on for my timelapse video (hopefully done in time for May’s newsletter) – so I did both.
And yes, tomorrow will be the best day of the year to commit a crime – I have no fingerprints – wore them off rubbing the chalk into the concrete. Oh wait, I have a show in Indian Wells this weekend, and I ache everywhere, especially my knees.
There’s nothing like a palm tree to make the painting feel like Southern California. Or Florida, or Hawaii, or Morocco, or any of the other places that have palm trees. You just know it’s going to be a warm day.
#1242 One Palm Morning. Refractured watercolor on foamcore, 14×11 matted to fit 20×16 frame. $195.
I had the strange notion to visit an art museum today. I had the day off, the kids were in school and I had no desire to peruse the aisles of Target again, mindlessly dropping things into my cart that may or may not contribute to the bottom line of some evil CEO and Trump cabinet member. I hadn’t been to an art museum in years. I just felt the NEED to go.
I felt the NEED to connect to humans in a way that spans time and space. I was seeking stillness. I wanted the art to speak to me, quietly, shyly at first, then explosively like an atomic bomb of understanding. It can’t lie to me. It can’t manipulate me. It can’t mislead me, sell me something, take my money and my dignity. It can’t take away thought or speech. It just remains there, suspended for all…
So, a week after the reception, talk and workshop, I finally get around to uploading pix from the gallery. I have a solo show in the main gallery of 29 Palms Art Gallery through the end of the month – so if you’re in the high desert, stop by if you can! If you think the workshop looks fun (it is****), I run them elsewhere, or can schedule a private one for a group of the right size in Southern California.
This section was difficult to photograph because I’m shooting into the light. Thank you for photoshop!
The workshop is fun for just about any age.
Little ones getting some help. I was glad Kadence’s Mom stayed around, she is not confident of her abilities.
Older ones getting a little guidance too
“It’s important to dab the excess glue away, otherwise you’ll have a shiny spot.”
Some of the output.
Posing with the little ones and their completed works.
Lots of people like the butterfly shapes, though it is one of the harder ones to create – both from the cutting point of view and the assembling point of view. Red Admirals are butterflies that I remember from my childhood in Wales – though I have never seen one in the US.
#1241 Red Admiral Morning. Refractured watercolor on foamcore, 11×14″ in mat to 16×20″. $195.
Here are two refractures that came from the same painting – I had enough material with the random-cut shapes to make an 11×14 and a 10.5×8. The original skyscape is from a shot taken outside my booth at the Deserts Arts Festival in Palm Springs, probably winter 2015-16, looking up at fast-moving clouds.
#1240 Look up I. Refractured watercolor, 14×11 in mat to fit 20×16″ frame. $195.
#1244 Look up II. Refractured watercolor, 8×10.5 in mat to fit 11×14″ frame. $105.