A time for thanksgiving

The Thanksgiving season is the perfect time to examine our lives and give thanks for all the gifts we have had the good fortune to receive. This is why I think it's important to wait, at least until the sun goes down on Thanksgiving Day, to start "decking the halls" and diving in to the celebratory hoopla of the winter holiday season.

In taking quiet time for reflection and appreciation, we accept our humanity, acknowledge our humility, and encourage the blessings to continue to flow. Plus, it's just plain fun to feel the smile come over your face, and sense the warmth in your heart, that comes from recalling and reliving pleasant memories.

Last night I decided to make a list of the highlights of my art career. As I was compiling this list, I realized how many people have given to me generously during the 14 years I have been a professional artist. Their generosity is what has brought about all of the experiences on my list. (Out of respect for everyone's privacy, I haven't mentioned names here, but these folks know who they are, and I hope they know how grateful I am.)

These highlights include:

Three of my monotypes were purchased by the Boston Public Library in 2011. I am very grateful to the artist who was kind enough to give me the contact information for the curator there, and allow me to use her name as a personal reference when I contacted the curator.

Ten of my paintings were purchased by Berkshire Partners in the John Hancock Building, and ten paintings were purchased by the Four Seasons Hotel in Boston. I am very grateful to the artist who recommended me to the consultant who made these sales. I am also very grateful to the consultant herself, who has encouraged my work and made so many sales for me over the last five years that we've worked together.

Twice my artwork has been exhibited at U.S. Embassies - namely, those in Oman and Cameroon - through the Art In Embassies Program. I am very grateful to the friend who brought this program to my attention and recommended that I apply.

I am very grateful to the Boston gallerist who showed my work in two solo shows and two three-person shows at her gallery, and who recommended me for the St. Botolph Club Foundation grant, which I was awarded in 2002.

I am very grateful to the independent curators who have invited me to participate in their exhibits.

I am very grateful to the art critic who reviewed my work for the Boston Globe on four separate occasions.

I am very grateful for my many artist friends who have shared with me the good times and the tough times that we all experience in this crazy creative career. From artist friends whom I see on a regular basis, to those I've known since we were together in art school and first starting out, to artists I've only "met" on Facebook but whose commentary and support I enjoy and appreciate -- I have many good folks in my life.

And of course, my entire career wouldn't have been possible without the support of my beloved husband and parents.

This list reveals that I have a LOT of great experiences in my career, and they all happened because of the great people in my life. Here's to many more years, of many more highlights!

Next canvas in new series

I've completed another new painting in the latest series; this one is also 40 inches square:

Recommended biography of Willem de Kooning

I saw the Willem de Kooning retrospective at MOMA a few days ago, and I'm finding it enhancing to that experience to read "De Kooning: An American Master" by Mark Stevens and Annalyn Swan.

What a wonderful book! It is thoroughly researched, with well-considered discussion of the artist's major works and career progression. The authors reveal de Kooning the man, but they manage to paint a clear picture of him without turning into armchair analysts. They also present a fair view of the volatile relationships in his life -- his rocky marriage to Elaine de Kooning, for example, and his brotherly friendship with Arshile Gorky, which snapped when Gorky married and found sudden success -- without taking sides or making one person wrong or bad. Best of all, and not to be taken for granted, their sentences are intricately but smoothly constructed.

This is in direct contrast to another biography of de Kooning I read before this one, titled "Elaine and Bill" by Lee Hall. This book is the "People magazine" version of de Kooning's life, filled with gossip and speculation about de Kooning's relationships. It's packed with purple prose (I literally cringed at least once per chapter), and it's poorly organized. The same points come up in chapter after chapter, as if the author forgot that she'd already said the same thing.

Which brings me to a point: I am surprised at the number of poorly written artist biographies I've read (or tried to read) lately. These include the new bios of Joan Mitchell (important events overlooked while minor experiences are detailed to death, filled with unsubstantiated psychological theories) and Lee Krasner (so haphazardly presented that it reads more like a draft than a finished book). These books make me appreciate the achievement of de Kooning biographers Stevens and Swan.

As bad as the Lee Krasner biography was, however, at least it treats Krasner with respect. I am still shocked at "Jackson Pollock: An American Saga" by Steven Naifeh and Gregory Smith (1998), in which the authors present fictional accounts as facts. Specifically, they attribute words and actions to Krasner that were based on a character in a novel that was rumored to have been based on Krasner. And they use these stories to paint a picture of Krasner as a pathetic nymphomaniac, certainly not at all the serious artist that she actually was. In the Krasner bio, author Gail Levin says she interviewed the novelist whom Naifeh/Smith referred to, and he said his character was NOT based on Krasner.

It's scary what authors can get away with in print these days! But having seen the thorough presentation of de Kooning's art and life at the MOMA show, I believe the Stevens/Swan biography rings true. And besides, it's just plain good writing, a pleasure to read.

Just finished

Next installment in the "Tendrils" series; this one is 40 inches square.

Reflections on gym class

I have always remembered my gym classes in school with dread.

There were two types of students in gym class: those who were GOOD at sports and those who WEREN’T. It was immediately apparent to both the students and the gym teacher who fell into which category. We were required to perform various activities in order to “try out” for the President’s Physical Fitness All America Team, which included performing (or, in my case, attempting to perform) a series of exercises including sprinting, sit-ups and pull-ups.

I could barely do 5 sit-ups, while many of the students beside me were doing them as fast as they could, seemingly without tiring. I couldn’t even do one pull-up. It was obvious to me, my classmates and my teacher that I was not “presidential” fitness material which, as you can imagine, made me feel ashamed of myself and my body. I was deeply embarrassed.

Now, as a teacher myself, I can’t help noticing that NONE of my gym teachers EVER TAUGHT ME ANYTHING. No one ever said, “Try doing some sit-ups every morning for a week, and then come in and show me how many you can do.” Or, “Take longer strides when you run to help you speed up. Try running from here to the end of the bleachers and back, and we’ll see if that helps you.” They just observed that I couldn’t do what I was asked, made a mark in their little grade book, and moved on to the next student. (If I did this in my classroom, I would have a room full of students who had no idea how to draw.)

Fortunately, when I was about 14, I began taking ballet lessons, and here my body gained strength and coordination. I learned the joys of physical expression and achievement. So my frustration that I couldn’t keep up with others in the area of fitness wasn’t a permanent experience. But those years of embarrassment in gym class left permanent doubts in my mind about my overall capabilities as an athlete.

About a month or so ago (at age 49), I decided to deal with a recurring backache by taking on a 30-minute yoga and stretching routine every morning. At first I was very stiff, barely able to touch my toes or extend my legs. But after a very short time, I have found that my body has developed markedly improved flexibility and that I can hold poses and stretches for much longer than I could even last week. I am getting excited thinking of how much I can improve over the coming months as I continue to work at it. And my back feels simultaneously strong and relaxed: much, MUCH better.

Looking back on my miserable experiences in gym class, I’ve realized an important lesson about the human body: with gentle persistence, anything is possible. A consistent routine can work wonders.

I've also realized that some bodies aren’t strong and other bodies weak; all bodies can become stronger and healthier, slowly but surely. The inability to perform a certain exercise doesn’t mean you “can’t” do it; it means you have the opportunity to start from where you are and keep working at it until you can see improvement. Then you can savor a sense of pride in accomplishment as you enjoy your newfound physical abilities. Just as in life!

Review of Elliott retrospective

Here is my review of Willoughby Elliott's retrospective at the New Bedford Art Museum, which appeared in today's New Bedford Standard-Times:

"Exhibit gives glimpse into 'ever-unfolding discovery'"

Ode to a staple gun

I just bought myself a fantastic present: a brand new Power Shot staple gun!

It’s luxurious to use. You barely have to press the handle to make the staples come out, and the staples shoot in all the way, so you don’t have to hammer them in the rest of the way, like I did with my old Arrow staple gun. Much easier on the hand muscles, much easier to stretch a nice tight canvas, and much faster going as well.

But this does not mean I will be disposing of my old Arrow staple gun. Believe it or not, the old gun has great sentimental value. Because it was the first present my husband (then my boy friend) bought for me, and it proved to me that he loved me.

At the time he bought it (1989), I had dropped out of art school and wasn’t painting at all. I was working at a variety of secretarial jobs, exhausted by boredom and long unfulfilled hours of sitting at a desk, frustrated that I was giving my precious time away for a paycheck that barely covered the bills from my not-at-all-extravagant lifestyle. (City living will do that to you; rent alone eats up most of your income.)

Kevin had first met me when I was taking art classes, and he saw the difference in my demeanor, my spirit, when I was engaged in creating art vs. when I was not creating art. He realized, even when I was denying it to myself, that I needed to live a creative lifestyle in order to be wholly human, to be who I was, to fulfill my destiny.

But Kevin is a gentle, non-pushy person. Even when he saw I was floundering and he knew why, he was too kind to confront me directly with the big mistake I was making. But he did want to help me. So he bought me a staple gun.

And as soon as I saw it, I realized he loved me. With this gift, he was giving me permission to be myself. In a gentle, quiet way. It wasn’t a big push; it was a kind invitation.

Up until then, I had used store-bought canvases, which meant I was limited to the store’s pre-made sizes. (There were far fewer sizes available in those days; now you can buy pre-made canvases in almost any size.) Sure, I had tried removing the staples and restretching store-bought canvases, but it was beastly hard. With my new staple gun, I could buy stretcher bars in any size I wanted. It really gave me freedom to work small, large, and in any dimension. It was a big opportunity in a small package.

The rest is history! With my staple gun in hand, I went back to school, got two degrees, and began to show and sell my paintings. That staple gun was the first step; it represented freedom for me. It was this gift, this gentle nudge from the man who loved me, that allowed me to become an artist.

So no matter how much easier and faster the new staple gun works, I will always keep the old one in my studio to remind me of how I got where I am today.

More tendrils

Continuing on with the Tendrils series, trying in a larger size. This one is 40 inches square, just completed this afternoon. Now to test different color combinations.