Day 4 — Lotus from Mermet Lake

I’m back on track, having finished today’s painting on time to get it photographed and posted before the end of the day. Dave and I went on a drive a couple weeks ago on his day off to spend the afternoon at Mermet Lake in southern Illinois. It’s about an hour’s drive from Paducah and is just a fantastic natural area with loads of water fowl and wild life. Right now the water lilies, or lotus, are in full bloom all over the lake. They sit tall above the water like dancing ladies. So I couldn’t resist painting a few.

Lotus
Lotus

Watercolor on paper

$50

Contact me for purchase

~ Stefanie

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In the Ruins

I got started later than anticipated yesterday and so by the time I finished my little painting it was too late to photograph it. So, here it is, yesterday’s painting. This little guy is a Mexican horse, or maybe it’s a pony as it turned out from the way I painted it. He’s looking out from some of the ruins in Real de Catorce, an historical town up in the mountains of central Mexico on the way to San Miguel. It’s an interesting town, accessed only through a mile long tunnel carved through the mountain like catacombs. The streets are steep and meandering. We stopped on our way south last year to explore and were charmed beyond belief. This little guy was peeking out of an abandoned hacienda at the edge of town.

Hidden
Hidden

Watercolor on paper

4.5″ X 5.5″

$50

Contact me for purchase

Dave, my in-house art consultant, has convinced me, along with another knowledgeable friend, that my pricing on these daily paintings is off. Pricing is always a tricky business, and when you start something new like this you kind of have to gauge response and what others are doing. So, taking all that into consideration, and because I value their opinion and judgement, I’m changing the price on these to $50 each.

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Day 2 — Black Ibis

Today’s selection is an image from our first trip to San Miguel de Allende. Just to the east of town is a nature preserve with a man made reservoir that attracts myriad water birds, among them Black Ibis. Exceedingly shy birds, we’ve never been able to get very close to them, and absent a telephoto of some power, this is about the best you can do. Later, when we rented a house on the east side of town while building ours, the ibis would make nightly sojourns from east to west to roost somewhere for the night. Their trek invariably took them directly over our house, making them a special bird indeed for us.

“Black Ibis Flight”

Watercolor on paper

4.5″ X 5.5″
$50
Contact me for purchase details

Black Ibis Flight
Black Ibis Flight

On another note, yesterday brought a reason for celebration other than starting this series of small paintings. My painting, “Mexican Place Settings,” which I’ve posted as a new work this spring and also as part of a post during Quilt Week, was accepted into the 63rd Annual International Exhibition 2009 Aqueous Open. This show is put on by the Pittsburgh Watercolor Society, and for me represents my first acceptance into a watercolor society show of any kind. Strange as that may seem, and for all the other shows I’ve been in, none of them have been exclusive watercolor exhibitions. The show will be at be Galleries, 3583 Butler Street, in Pittsburgh, PA from November 3 – 28, 2009. The opening reception will be Saturday November 7 from 6 – 9pm.

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Daily Paintings — 100 Days

Calla Lilies
Calla Lilies, watercolor on paper, 5.5" X 4.5", $50

Recently I’ve felt stalled in my work as though I’m stagnating in an isolated pool. It hasn’t helped that over the past few weeks I’ve had one rejection after the other for major wholesale shows and grant awards. One of them even sent me comments from the jurors that focused on my technical skills. That might be okay if I were just beginning to paint but I’ve been at this medium for 30 years so I think I’m past that. So I’ve decided to crank things up a notch and give my promotions a shot in the arm, because that’s really what’s been stagnating. The vacuum I’ve created has become too stifling so it’s time to break out.

Since the economy is still in the drain and people continue to have less money to spend on non-necessities, I’ve decided on a strategy to make what I do more affordable and at the same time get more stuff out there. For a number of years now a lot of artists have gotten into the concept of doing a painting a day. It started with one artist who wanted to challenge himself, and so he began a discipline of painting a quick study and posting it on his blog each day. Soon it caught on, he developed a following, sold most of the little gems, and the rest is history. I’ve toyed with the idea of following his and others’ leads but have always rejected it as too much work. I’ve now decided that’s just been my excuse for not diving in and seeing where this might lead. But not anymore.

I’d like to grow my following and sell more paintings. Starting small is manageable for me and hopefully for more people who like what I do but don’t feel they can fork out a lot of money for the big stuff. My goal is to do this for 100 days. We’ll see what happens and I’ll go from there.

So, this is my first one. Calla Lilies is the title. Watercolor on paper. All paintings will be $50 plus shipping, which will be around $12 cause these will be unframed.

Simple, huh.

Subscribe to my blog and you’ll see what I’ve done every day.

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LowerTown Festival

Painting at the LowerTown Art & Music Festival (photo credit: The Paducah Sun)
Painting at the LowerTown Art & Music Festival (photo credit: The Paducah Sun)

We had an exciting Memorial Day weekend here in Paducah with the LowerTown Arts & Music Festival. I even made the front page (below the fold) of the Paducah Sun with a picture of me painting and some quotes regarding my festival experience. A very nice article that you can read here. This year was orchestrated in a new format than previous years, showcasing local artists instead of bringing in artists from around the country, as is the norm for such events. We faced some challenges in pulling it off so that people weren’t put off by the small number of tents and getting them to circulate through the various galleries in a 9-block area. But the crowds came out in force on Saturday, the weather cooperated with sun and a breeze, and it turned out to be the festival we’d hoped for and then some.

Dave and I had two tents for the first time ever. We borrowed one from one of our LowerTown neighbors along with a set of really nice Propanels from another generous neighbor. And yet another neighbor helped me set up the tents and panels on Friday. That’s what is so great about this place. We all help each other out in big and little ways. People are generous with their time and resources so that you feel supported both philosophically and physically.

Another big change this year was having artists demonstrate their work. I set up a small table in the front of my tent and started a painting, sketching out the image and then beginning the color washes. It was a wonderful way to show the process that goes into creating my watercolors and my technique. I’ve learned from my experience during the Quilt Show that I enjoy painting outside with people wandering by. It’s a bit more challenging to also try to greet people as they come into my tent and make sales. So the painting wasn’t continuous but it still went well and served a purpose.

Not too many sales during the festival, just some small things like sets of note cards and batik star ornaments that Dave has been making. Sunday was literally a washout with torrential rain from morning onward. We struck our tents at 2 o’clock after it was clear that there wasn’t going to be any let up and everyone else along the street was packing up as well. Here’s hoping for better weather throughout the festival next year.

This is just the beginning of what should be a busy summer and fall season in LowerTown. Second Saturdays are in the process of revision, with new and exciting activities in the works throughout LowerTown. We still love it here, in answer to the repeated question about our relocation to Paducah, and are looking forward to a great summer! All the fantastic comments about our work have us jazzed and up-lifted, ready to create new paintings to add to our body of current work. That’s another great contribution from our Paducah community.

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A New Creation Quilt Show Week

Quilt Show week is past and so Paducah, especially LowerTown and downtown, is back to normal. I spent two afternoons of the weeklong festivities painting outdoors by the gazebo on Broadway. A local artist, Jeff Spicer, organized the outdoor painting and creating sessions, inspired by his own successful activity last summer painting outside of Wildhair Studios on Broadway downtown. So far, the artists’ public activity has been met with a lot of enthusiasm. Who knows, maybe the city will agree to let us do this on a more permanent basis along the streets of downtown and at the Texaco station in LowerTown.

I was a little nervous about the prospect of painting in public, not so much at being watched, but because I’ve never much enjoyed painting outdoors. The elements seem to always be a problem – too hot, too cold, too windy, and there are usually bugs bothering you. I never seem to be able to get comfortable. But Jeff told me he’d have some tables set up and chairs, so I figured I’d at least see what I could do. Just to be sure, I ended up buying a portable small table from Walgreen’s and a fold up stool, both of which I could also use at art fairs.

Me painting at the gazebo
Me painting at the gazebo

Both days ended up sunny if windy, and there were lots of people on the street as expected, it being Quilt Show week. The previous week I’d started a new painting destined to become “Mexican Place Settings,” a still life of sorts of two tables, overlayed with colorful hand-woven Mexican tablecloths, surrounded by several wooden, brightly painted chairs that are typical of Mexico. The painting had presented a challenge of pattern and execution, how to make the tablecloths look realistic with a woven pattern while not over working them. I’d had to spend a lot of time with precise drawing to make the chairs appear correct in perspective, with their arched ladder backs and spindled legs and backs. And up until I carried it off to paint at the gazebo or be damned, I had spent the week previous worrying about how to pull the painting off.

As it turned out, there wasn’t a lot to be worried about. To my surprise, I enjoyed the heck out of being outside and painting. Maybe it was having a good set-up with two tables, one to paint on and the other to use for my palette and other materials. Maybe it was the shade overhead from the tree behind me and the constant breeze (sometimes wind) that kept me cool and easily dried my work without need for a blow dryer. Or maybe it was just having fellow artists around me doing their work too, and people coming by from time to time to watch and offer a friendly comment. I’ve come to realize how much both of the latter mean to me and how much they help to inspire me in moving forward.

Mexican Place Setting -- Watercolor by Stefanie Graves, 21.5" X 14"
Mexican Place Setting -- Watercolor by Stefanie Graves, 21.5" X 14"

My quilt week guest, Ginger, offered her own take on my worries about finishing the painting. Well, of course you were nervous, she confided. You were giving birth to something new to the world. You were bound to be worried over it. Those were birth pangs you were experiencing!

How ‘bout that. My first birth pangs.

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A Rude Awakening

Mexican Place Settings -- work in progress
Mexican Place Settings -- work in progress

Deaf moments – those times that something unexpected, and usually embarrassing, happens as a consequence of being deaf – rarely occur these days. But I still have them from time to time, I suppose just to remind me that I still am deaf and to add spice to my life. What would life be without its entertainment value?

Well, I had a doozy this morning, a deaf moment to go down in history. The light was dim through the curtains when I first opened my eyes, and since Dave was still beside me I knew it was fairly early since he had to be at Lowes for work at 9AM. I tossed a bit and went back to sleep. To awaken sometime later with Dave gone and still not much light coming into the bedroom; I went back to sleep. This went on a couple more times until I told myself I really needed to get my butt out of bed. As I started to toss the covers off, I was struck with a thought that sent me into sheer panic. I had an adult education class coming this morning at 10 to begin a tour of LowerTown galleries! God help me, what time is it??? Glasses hurriedly crammed onto my face, I looked expectantly at Dave’s clock. To my utter horror it was 10:01. I could only pray they were late.

Being as I cannot hear a ten gun salute next to me while I sleep much less a door bell or the phone since I am without my processor, I knew that had they rung my bell or knocked I would have been oblivious to their attempts to arouse me. I flung on clothes and put my processor on hurriedly. The first noise to assault my consciousness was the trill of the phone from the living room. Oh, heaven save me, get me to the phone before they hang up! Of course it was them. I ran to the phone just in time to reach the instructor at the other end of the line. Where are you? she quite reasonably wanted to know. Well…ur…umm….well, I am here. But you see, I am deaf….uh…well, and I couldn’t hear you……and……ummm….well. Oh, geez, I have just now awakened. I am SO SORRY!! This is so embarrassing.

Sandy, the instructor, was such a gracious person, to my eternal gratitude, and offered to go somewhere else first. But I wouldn’t hear of it since I had maps for them all, marked as to which galleries were open. In less than a minute I had my hair brushed and studio lights turned on, the studio blind lifted, and opened the door to wave them in from their van. Sandy alighted and greeted me, “Rise and shine, sleepy head!!” Hugs all around.

The good Lord save me from myself. I hope they had a wonderful day here in LowerTown and Paducah.

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Images of Morocco

Unloaded
Unloaded

At last! We have a working camera after two protracted visits to the repair shop and finally the purchase of a used lens through ebay. The old lens was the problem, as it turned out, not registering anything with the camera body. I kept getting “error 99,” whatever that meant, when I tried to take a picture. So my little blog, with all its high-flung intentions, went neglected until I could post pictures.

After the lens arrived in the mail today I immediately attached it to the camera and fired off a couple test shots from inside and outside the house. Success! I then carried my painting outside for its long-awaited photo shoot and took some shots to transform via Photoshop. Digital images are so much easier than taking slides as you used to have to do. Now I don’t have to worry about what’s surrounding the painting, I just crop it out in the image preparation. After some futzing with the tripod and then a little touch-up after looking at the photos on my computer, the images are ready.

The painting is called “Unloaded,” and is a fair depiction of a familiar scene in a souk, or marketplace, in about any of the major cities in Morocco. This one is actually in Fez, but the important thing is that burros, such as the one standing prominently in the foreground of the painting, provide the predominant means of transporting goods into the market. Their ability to handle huge, heavy loads, their sure-footedness, and their resilience makes them the perfect adaptable transport. Not to mention the narrow, twisting corridors of the souks that they can easily traverse, which don’t lend themselves well to trucks of any size.

I like the strong geometric sense and contrasts of the composition. There is a hardness in those strong lines, reflective of the toughness of the donkey.

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Facebook Fascination

I finally did it. I joined the Facebook nation, that social networking tribe of folks out there sharing both mundane (terminally) and enlightening insights across the web to their chosen group of friends. I’d seen it as a time suck (as one person aptly called it) but have begun to see it as a potential marketing tool for my art. The more friends you know the more people looking at your work and telling their friends, etc., etc.

So if you’re a Facebook person, you can find me there too. Send me an invite and we can get connected.

Dave and I are off tomorrow for an outing to Louisville to check out Kentucky Crafted, a state-sponsored show for Kentucky craft people for both the wholesale and retail market. There’s a similar show called Kentucky Market for visual artists. We’ll see what Crafted is all about. Maybe the snow will stop by then.

– Stefanie

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A Short Story — Part II

So where were we? Oh, yes, just having made the Sahara Desert late in the day and headed off the beaten path onto a piste that our guide, Abdul, was unfamiliar with. And the car stopped. For those of you who are just tuning in, may I strongly suggest you go back first to the previous post, A Short Story — Part I, and read the beginning of this tale. Otherwise, you will be highly confused and really miss the whole point. For the rest of you, off we go, back to the desert.

The Desert Calls (continued)

Stefanie in a professional wrapped scarf, desert-ready head gear
Stefanie in a professionally wrapped scarf, desert-ready head gear

Abdul put the car in park, shut it off, and then restarted it. And then shut it off again and got out of the car. “What’s going on,” I asked David. “Are we out of gas?” No, we’re stuck, he informed me. In my mounting panic I envisioned us spending the night here huddled in Abdul’s car, awaiting rescue in the light. Abdul called to David and we both got out. Motioning him to the rear, Abdul instructed David to push up and down on the car above the rear wheel while he put the car in gear and tried to drive out of the soft sand. The temperature was cooling with nightfall and the breeze brought a bit of calm to me with it. As David and Abdul strained to gain advantage over the sand I looked behind us to see several forms in the distance walking toward us. Their figures were lean and fluid, as though shadows formed in the waning light. “Wait. Somebody’s coming.” Abdul and David stopped, and we all looked backward as the figures came onward, revealing themselves as a group of five or six young boys, perhaps 10 to 12 years of age, carrying a small, round washbasin, a water bottle, and a shoe. They trotted enthusiastically toward us the last several yards, exchanging excited greetings of friendship with Abdul. My fears evaporated with the boys’ laughter and camaraderie.

Soon, a phalanx of boys stood with David behind the car, ready to push at Abdul’s command. The boys’ figures appeared slight beneath their flowing robes, and their mixed voices cascaded into the night. I thought of summer nights at home when neighborhood kids and I had played until darkness fell, and I recognized a familiar excitement that comes with the day turned to dusk. A smaller, almost delicate, boy eased up beside me and slipped his hand into mine. “What eez your name?” he asked me. Startled and warmed by his unexpected touch, I answered, “Stefanie,” amazed at his knowledge of English. He told me he preferred to watch and let the others push the car from the sand.

With a crank of the engine and a mighty heave from David and the boys, the car jolted out of its rut. A thrill caught my throat as I leapt into the back seat and we set once again into motion, not knowing the way exactly, but glad to be moving forward again with possibility. This new spirit filled the car, and I felt a bit sad to so soon have said good-bye to our little heroes. Now there was blackness and I wondered at their ability and ease at such an age of making their way to wherever they might be going in the desert alone. But they had only laughed and waved as we left.

Our concentration now was focused on the beam of light in front of us, sweeping the rolling car track coming and going in the sand. I felt strangely resigned to whatever our fate might be in finding our way forward. We might just have to spend the night, but the morning would come and rescue with it. Suddenly, a larger patch of sand loomed in front of us and the Peugeot lurched to a dead halt. We hadn’t gone far, and as we clamored out of the car we heard the boys calling to us, running to help. They reached us out of breath and trailing laughter, once again throwing down their basin and shoe to help us on our way. In unison, they rocked the car back and forth, up and down above the wheel mired in the sand, and with great effort freed us a second time. With a whoop, Dave and I swept into the moving car as it spun out of the sand but were surprised to see that one of the boys had joined us for the ride. We were off without delay, this time with the boy posted behind Abdul instructing him in his ear on which track to follow, gesturing wildly when he’d missed a turn or over steered. The car careened into the night, sweeping over hillocks and through dips in the piste. We were no longer in the Sahara but on some strange, fantastic roller coaster, literally leaping through piles of sand, skidding around looming scrub, and knocking our heads on the ceiling, all the while through shrieks and peals of laughter. I held to the back of David’s seat as we exchanged looks of disbelief and sped into the night. Onward, onward, up and down, time unknown, unceasing. The boy’s directions remained sure, unwavering, as though there were signposts to tell him the way. He guided Abdul continuously, leaning over his shoulder, in rapid fire French. I imagined him saying, “This way, no there! There! Go up that hill, now there!” as he pointed and directed our way into the night.

In one strong motion like a homing device, our headlights suddenly latch onto a small, squat structure immediately ahead. Made of what appears to be dried cornstalks and sporting one paneless window, it appears as though a vision before us. And in front of it stands a tall, strikingly handsome, dark skinned man in a black turban and flowing blue robe, a sultan before my eyes, waving us in. Just beyond the cornstalk hut is a camel hair tent with a rug hanging in its doorway. We are home.

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