I actually had time to put paint to actual canvas this week, which is something I haven't done since I moved. When we left our old apartment, I had to sell/give away most of my artwork. I had a lot of stuff that had accumulated over two years, and swore I would focus on digital media once in our new place in order that my new office/studio should not become cluttered and overflowing with paintings. I failed. I just missed that visceral feeling of painting, of actually mixing the colors that never come out exactly the same way twice. The feel of it on your brush as you sweep it across the canvas. Though I have outgrown my idea of earning a living selling paintings on the roadside (granted, there are folks that earn a living that way. I have not figured out how. More power to them.) I feel it is something I will always come back to.
When my husband and I were living in Rock Hill, there was a gallery that we would visit upon occasion called Lark & Key. They have a wonderfully unique collection of dreamy, earthy works from their artists. Check them out at
http://www.larkandkey.com/ My favorite artist is Duy Huynh. I always feel terrible that I can't remember how to spell or pronounce his name, but I wish I had a thousand dollars so I could have some of his work! His depictions of floating girls, shadowless birds, and contemplative youths in mysterious open spaces are just hypnotic. I literally stood in the gallery for fifteen minutes just staring at a single piece.
This is a really bleary picture. I have the worst luck at photographing my work. Anyway, in addition to being influenced by Duy's work, it's also inspired in part by my friend Erin. When Erin was little, whenever she and her mom would drive by a memorial garden or cemetery, she would say "Look mom! A flower park! I want to go play in the flower park!" But of course her mother would never let her. I rather think I would have a different perspective on death if I were allowed to play gently in a cemetery as a child.
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