He had asked permission before he took the shots. Then he got busted. I wish we had more photos. Some is better than none I say. The biggest piece is called Helter Skelter. There's a Jackson Pollack. I love the wings! We went to the movies afterward.
My printmaking teacher Terri, owns a little shop in Dallas called Paper Arts. She was having a Christmas sale, and I wanted to check out her store. There were huge sheets of beautiful paper that can be used for origami, collage, bookmaking, or whatever you choose. All kinds of paper: marble, handmade, shiny, glitter, glossy, fabric, leaves, tie dyed. I got a couple of shots of some of her work before the battery on my camera died.
I asked her if she had heard of those paper dresses. She said that when she was a little girl she owned a red and white checked paper dress with a draw string. She would dance to her 45 single of "I Can't Get No Satisfaction", "These Boots Are Made for Walkin", and "Downtown" on the flip side.
Things I heard in class. Someone said, It's not what I planned it to be, so I'm trying to figure it out.
She said, Don't think about what you had.
This will evolve to what it is.
You can't go back and change this now.
Just go forward.
You might want to go deeper. Look at the other lines. How deep are they?
Someone else said, I don't feel like I have as much control.
She said, Same control just a different tool, and a different mark. It's what you're comfortable with.
Someone else in class asked, They're like static electricity. Do they attract or repel each other?
They have several different exhibits. I like the student pieces unframed hanging by clips. There are photographs, watercolors, acrylics, oils, textiles, transfers,
drawings, mixed media, and collages. Fairies and faces, musicians and objects, animals and landscapes. There are simple nudes and series of words twisted in shapes of bodies in action. Youth seem to be more raw in their feeling. They haven’t yet learned to edit out their emotions.
This separate artist, I’m assuming he’s an adult. I think his name is Nicholas. His work was outstanding. His paintings looked like Grimm’s Fairy Tales, not Disney.
We went to Gallery 414 we saw Radiolaria Print Series by Linda Dee Guy. This lady said if you have any questions let me know. We looked.
I didn’t know she was the artist. I asked her about my favorite pieces, which happen to be her latest ones.
She favors her most recent works too. She teaches printmaking at TCU.
Is that wax? I ask. No it’s layers of acrylic medium with drawing and acrylic paint underneath. It’s very thick and takes a long time to dry. I ask if this is acrylic or watercolor?
No this is toner ink from a copy machine. She said dark and mysterious, too heavy? No, I like it. It’s intense.
Are you an artist?I’ve been taking relief printing. I’ll be taking basic printmaking next.Where?In Dallas, I can’t find any classes in Fort Worth, and all the University ones are too expensive. She agrees and tells me they want to do an affordable workshop sometime maybe next fall when another professor retires.
Next fall is too far into the future. It might as well be light years away.
A week ago we went to the Amon Carter Museum. We looked around like we always do. There was a guy at a table that said “Ask Me About Art” so I did. He was waiting to share his knowledge and enthusiasm. He explained the process of film evolution. I saw and
touched negatives, slides, tin types, and various cameras. I don’t regret asking.
We continued our journey. The sculptures
standing out with their textures, shapes, light
What I notice
most of all is artist signatures. Where and how they place their signatures fusing it into the artwork.
A man approaches us and says “I’ll start a tour if you’re interested."
How long is it? “How long do you want it?” The short condensed version.
I’m so glad I said yes.
The docent was good. The tour size quickly grew. He had an entertaining way to involve and show the artwork with stories and history.
He took western
art ,which I normally am bored passing by, barely glancing, and I stopped to actually look.
There were the Rocky Mountains painted in front of me.
The ones I used to see everyday.
Another thing I so easily took for granted.
I found out later his name was Joe Strang and he was a former school teacher.
Which says to me his background is engaging people with short attention spans.
I notice proportions on nudes more now than I used to. Since I took my figure drawing and figurative clay sculpture classes, I study the size of the waist, arms, legs, and feet. Do they match or relate to each other? Do they seem to scale?
my random observations:
That crown looks like yellow flames.
She glows through the grey sky.
Somebody looks busted.
Are they strapping him in? Or helping him up?
Dead bird feathers, empty bowl, dinner anyone?
I don’t like this painting it looks like mud and silly putty.
Copper plate shine reflect.
Grey, somber, white, dark ghost, pallor flesh beneath trying to show through.
Bird on her halo whispers in her ear coming from a ray of sun angel wings.
They are drinking and blowing smoke rings. They look like a joke.
Oh, it’s the ocean! There’s the beach, and I can see all the colors in the water.
Klimt’s Three Standing Women they are naked except their garter belts and stockings.
He’s cut up and bleeding. She holds his damaged hand covering the wound with her thumb. But all I can see are her wings, sky aqua teal blue with traces of grey.
I love the artist Joan Miro his childlike happy bold colors on white backgrounds outlined in black.
Andy Warhol’s Jean Cousteau a name in the lips.
He flatters her. I wonder if he’s in love, or just trying to get paid well.
Mariano Fortuny I Marsal watercolor, pencil Portrait of A Girl. Her face, hair, hands, jewelry are in color. Her dress is all white except for the blood coming from the right side of her hip. Her face is somber waiting for it to end.
His face is soft. He is a man that has gentleness, but he doesn‘t look weak.
Peace dove in the center shines a star halo over her head. Soft peach, blush pink, orange, and powder blue clouds and angel cherubs surround her.
He’s in pain. He’s suffering in his dark cave. I’ve been there. He’s staring at a skull. He’s clutching his chest cause his heart hurts.
A painting of Venice I want to go there, and see the laundry hanging from the balcony, the crowded buildings, the cobbled streets, and the gondolas! But I don’t want to smell the sewer.
Her halo is like rays of sun. Her face like a model. Why is she standing on three babies’ heads? She’s above a city divided. One side has mountains, evergreens and a fountain. The other side is a desert, palm trees, and a well.
He goes to the older one with the open book. The one he thinks has the wisdom. The older one doesn’t know the answer either.
I ask who is the focal point in the painting? It’s her, not him. He’s blushing see? There eyes are looking down and their heads are facing towards him. But she is who you see first. She’s the one you can’t stop looking at.
She looks exposed. She thinks she’s covered herself. But you can see through a spot in her clothes. Her head is turned unknowing. Her skin is showing. She keeps focused. Her finger is pointing. She is reading outloud. She is only concentrating on what she is doing.
ZHe wears a ruffled collar, ruffled sleeves, a long trail of buttons on his coat, a big hat. A clown with a sad face.
She’s in Paris cause I can see the Eiffel Tower. She is alone. Is she waiting? Is that her closed book on the chair beside her? On the other table a full mug of beer sits with a folded newspaper. She overlooks the city below. Her clothes are stylish. She has money. She wears a stack of gold bracelets and a gold ring with blue stones. Her black shoes with bows reflect her blue skirt with lace on one side. She is wearing a red hat with a red ribbon tied around her chin. Her umbrella is closed, all red with a bow.
She’s holding him. He’s sick. He’s dying. He is green and grey. His lips are blue. She is heartbroken.
There’s a girl with a ribbon in her hair. She wears a gold hoop in her ear. There is peach, rust, orange, white, blue, grey and yellow. She has empty dishes and bundles in her arms. She is going somewhere. She looks up. She has hope.
On Thanksgiving we went to the Ice Sculpture exhibit. Long line, lots of families, a little girl about 8 yrs old with her friend maybe 6 yrs old. They were alone with each other on Thanksgiving. Her cell phone had lots of new features, like Guitar Hero, make the photo sunny, have phone say cheese. I know this because I took their picture. She said her maid washed her phone so she borrowed her brother's, and she was happy.
We spent $46.00 on the exhibit. It was 9 degrees. They provided everyone with thick blue coats. Outside, saw two convertibles with their tops down, cause it was nice outside. I liked the colored ice candyland that looked so yummy I wanted to stick out my tongue and lick it. I didn't. The ice slide was fun too.
It never lasts long enough though does it? I would have traded the whole experience to be with the other people in my life. The other ones I love, The ones that seem so far away.