Art & Life by Sue Davis

There is this decrepit little bridge in Arkansas that begged to have its picture taken.
Each year we have declined the plea. This year we acquiesced and memorialized the poor thing. This is the result. Happy now?

Le Rifain assis by Matisse

I will try and post a new quote each day.

“A new painting is a unique event, a birth, which enriches the universe as it is grasped by the human mind, by bringing a new form into it.”
Henri Matisse

Guess what? I did not see a single cow painting at the Geneva art show that we attended yesterday. How refreshing. I was impressed with the selection of fine art displayed and would have purchased many pieces if I myself were not a “starving artist.” Of particular interest was an artist named Tommy (yes, I obtained his approval before mentioning him on my blog.) He painted abstract, three-dimensional squiggly, organic things. I was struck not only by the simple, repetitive beauty of his art, but by his sense of humor and personality as well.

Here’s a scenario. I picked up a shrink wrapped painting from a bin, turned it over and began to read how this artist achieved his dimensional effects. A man approached me and said, “I can tell you about that.” And we began to talk. The man, Tommy, explained that he heats the paper to 180 degrees and applies thick layers of acrylic paint, followed by washes of of various colors.

His title on one work was “Aliens Pushing Pink.” According to the artist, aliens came to earth and realized that the color pink was ignored or sparingly used at best. So the aliens figured that pink must be a rare commodity, decided to collect it all and take it to their home planet. The piece depicted colored circles coralling clouds of pink pigment. It was funny and creative. I wondered if he really believed in aliens and their capacity to evaluate color.

Funny thing is, all of his work looked very similar. Pink spheres, green spheres, brown and yellow spheres. The color schemes changed but the “subject” was the same. The circle theme alternated with another prominent motif of squid like shapes. Again, painted in various color palettes.

He mentioned that he could produce two painting per day. He told me he listens to Kenny G. and Bocelli when he paints. He mentioned that he uses his own saliva as a thinner. Maybe, just maybe, this was too much information. I liked hearing the stories behind his art. I don’t particularly enjoy Kenny G. Questions began to parade around in my mind. If I purchased one of his pieces would I associate it with Kenny G? I would rather purchase a piece that was shrink wrapped than be exposed to a work that utilized the invisible dried saliva of a relative stranger. And two paintings per day? Is that “assembly line” art?

The prices were affordable, the art was appealing, the guy was interesting and likeable. I still might purchase some of his work when finances become less problematic. The questions raised are hovering in my consciousness. Is art about uniqueness? Should all of the story be told? Are affordable prices the driving force? Is painting a common theme merely redundant or is it a niche? I really have no answers.

Any thoughts?

This is a pencil drawing of, guess who, that my husband Mark rendered in high school.
I think he may have exaggerated certain body parts, or perhaps time has wrought some serious changes. At any rate, the guy has talent and is thinking about creating art once again. You go boy!

Teddy, my 12 year old son, has never liked the Winter Choral Program at his old school. When he was little, he would run screaming from the room upon hearing “Happy Birthday”. At last, his angst is expressed in this poem he wrote.

EARBLEEDERIFIC
(The Winter Program at my old school)

I remember a night
When I was almost filled with fright,
Wished I was deaf,
Or they thought I was Beth,
So I might as well have pretended to be a
garden gnome

The day ahead would be far from terrific,
In fact, it would be earbleederiffic

I wake up,
Act sick,
Doesn’t work,
Go out the door,
Poor me

I have to sit down on the cold, hard floor,
I’m staring at the door.
If school was cool,
They’d get a real band that ruled

Kindergartners started singing,
My ears started ringing,
Eventually it’s such a bore,
I close my eyes and start to snore,
But alas!

Show’s over,
Torture’s over,

YES!!!!!!!!!

Is Norbert old enough to have a girl friend? I think that’s a guy falling from the sky in the final frame…

Max, my son is 8 years old and has some interest in creating art. Where DID he get that talent? Here is his character Norbert in his first adventure.

Thanks to my husband (whom I tend to take for granted). Without his technical wizardry this site would not be possible.

I would like to dedicate this blog creation to a friend of mine (she knows who she is). Thanks always for the inspiration you provide. Cheers!