The smallest things can provide blips in your workflow. Our digital camera has gone off its head, and so weâ€™ve taken it into the shop to have a technician look at it. So much for posting progress of my latest paintings.
Camera aside, Iâ€™m determining what my next piece will be. Iâ€™ve not done anything in a while that had to do with our world travels, and so they beckon. Dave showed me a picture from the New York Times of a scene from Marrakeshâ€™s famous Djemaa El Fna, the greatest nightly food court cum street fair ever, which we experienced in 2000 on our first trip to Morocco. Sadly, we didnâ€™t get back to Marrakesh in 2005, but I remember the nightly festival clearly and with fond memories. It to that date and to present remains one of the wildest experiences Iâ€™ve ever had. It is pure street theatre and purely Morocco, filled with amazing storytellers, musicians, hucksters, and a labyrinth of food stalls. We forwent the food back then, but now agree that weâ€™re brave enough to partake the next time weâ€™re there. And we have to go. Morocco has had its hold on me since reading The Drifters, and experiencing it has only added to its magic.
I pulled up the pictures from our electronic files from our trip to Fez and Meknes in 2005. It all came flooding back, immersing me in a feeling of timelessness, strange and pungent smells, and a bounty of colors and mystery. I like the personal dignity of the people, the menâ€™s long gowns with pointy hoods, the bustle and bump of navigating the souks. There is a strange sight at every turn â€“ goat meat hanging from a hook; small, whole fish for market, their names in French and Arabic script; silversmiths banging out their pots; the stench and color of the tannersâ€™ row. Women drift by in clouds of flowing material at the periphery of consciousness, dark apparitions save for their exposed faces. Donkeys laden with a multitude of wares tread the narrow paths of the bazaars, forming an urban supply train as counterpart to the camels of the Sahara, and as time honored.
Expect some images brought to life in the weeks ahead. I dream of Morocco.
My painting is at a resting phase, something they all go through at what appears to be their completion. I wait to let them sink in and see if they have anything else to tell me. I, on the other hand, am in motion. After so many months of not writing blog entries and not doing very many paintings, Iâ€™m trying to get my groove back on and develop some long-needed discipline. It seems I read about it every day, the benefits of setting a schedule for your work and sticking to it. Robert Genn devoted an entire letter to it recently and has spoken of his own schedule from time to time in his Painter’s Keys bi-weekly list. My neighbor, Bill, puts me to shame, painting like a mad man. So, I’ve taken note and am trying to set a new course.
I recently came across a neat way of taking credit for the time you spend in your studio. An artist I found online posted calendars for the past three years, showing the days sheâ€™d painted or drawn colored in with bright colors, so that by the end of the year they made a colorful abstract painting by themselves. Seeing the three years together also showed her progress in spending more time on her work. Itâ€™s sort of like getting a gold star by your name when you do your chores. The kid in me likes that, so I may have to make my own calendar to fill in.
The first painting of the year is entitled, â€œTwo Ibis,â€ inspired from one of our trips to Florida in the past few years. I love the birds and wildlife there and try to spend at least part of each trip someplace where I can wonder in relative silence and watch the creatures go about their daily lives. Ibis are particularly busy birds, nearly always at work wading through bogs and waterways thrusting their bills into the muck to find some tasty morsel. Here, they rested, perhaps gathering energy for their day ahead.
One of my New Year resolutions was to start a new blog, one of my own that would be separate from the Cowango blog, writings about our travels and life in Mexico. Since weâ€™ve moved to Paducah, that blog has almost been mothballed, its reason for being having pretty much disappeared. Settled here in Paducah with only periodic trips back to our casita in San Miguel, the blog needed re-thinking. Iâ€™ve felt a greater need to have a separate voice to devote to my watercolors and my efforts at making my way in the art world.
So, the fireworks are over, the calendar has been turned to 2009, and I canâ€™t think of a better way to start things off than with a new venture. Besides the blog, Iâ€™ve promised to paint more this year and work on marketing even more than ever. Right now it feels a little like trying to start a fire. Gathering little twigs and pieces of dry grass, arranging them carefully to allow for some room for oxygen and enough energy to create a spark that will ignite even bigger things and become something of substance to give off warmth and sustenance. Iâ€™m still trying to get that flame to take hold.
Maybe this blog will be the spark, along with some luck, to get things moving along beyond where Iâ€™ve come so far. Iâ€™ll share my work, progress, thoughts, and whatever interesting pieces of flotsam and jetsam that comes my way.
The year closed with an experimental piece completed as part of a community art project about communication and community. One artist started by creating a painting, which was then viewed by three other artists, who in turn created their own work inspired from what they saw from the original painting. This continued on with subsequent artists looking at those works and creating their own paintings or pieces of art. Kind of a visual game of â€œTelephone.â€ My painting was one of 15 works of art that became part of The Ripple Effect exhibition at the Maiden Alley Cinema in Paducah exploring communication and other themes brought out as a result of the project. My paintingâ€™s theme of religion played off the idea of religious community portrayed in the artistâ€™s painting I viewed. The process shook me up, took me into a new direction. Now Iâ€™m wondering what else it may tell me.