Frida

I've never given much thought to Frida Kahlo and I'm really not sure why this is, exactly. It isn't that I don't care for her work; after all, she's no Georgia O'Keefe or Mary Cassatt (and we all know how I feel about them). I'm guessing it may be because I haven't had a tremendous amount of exposure to her in my lifetime. I know well her story: an intellectual who was crippled at just 19 in a horrible accident, she would begin to paint during her convalescence and create some of the most amazing images of the 20th century. Though her body was sick, her works were all humming with life, and it was the writer Carlos Fuentes who said that she wore all that gaudy jewelry and the enormous, colorful hair adornments so that she always gave the appearance of being nothing less than vibrantly alive. And in doing so, the line between the real-life Frida and the Frida of her art was very much blurred.

A truly Mexican artist whose works were heavily influenced by indigenous Mexican culture as well as European Surrealism, she painted beautifully her physical and emotional pain in self portraits and paintings that resembled icons of saints. I have never seen a Kahlo in person and the MFA hasn't a single Kahlo in its collections, though it does have a dozen or so Diego Riveras, an artist whose work doesn't interest me in the least.

I just rented a 90 minute documentary on Frida Kahlo called The Life and Times of Frida Kahlo and I'm looking forward to learning so much more about her as a woman, her relatively brief life and her extraordinary body of work.

Self Portrait, 1926

Large Bram Drawing

This drawing is so large, it actually dwarfs the real-life Bram when held up next to him. I thought it would be nice to work larger for a change as I've been doing so many little drawings lately. And I'm already back to working tiny: my current drawings-in-progress are all 8 inches or smaller.

Large Bram in Repose: graphite, red chalk and watercolor pencil on paper, 2010

On My Mind

If you remember, I wrote about the painting I had bought from Anne Sargent Walker back at the beginning of April and how it never ceases to bring a rush of joy to me when I walk into the room where I have hung it. Well, I've spent the last couple of weeks since my purchase thinking about her work and how much I wish I could buy another piece. Or ten.

I'm not sure if it's the birds since I have a rather obsessive love of birds, or if it's the paintings' color palettes or the solid feel of Walker's choice of substrates. Maybe it's the story each work tells: brushstrokes as words that whisper into my ears charming little tales and whimsical ideas. Is it man and birds coming together in an ideal relationship, without fear and without hesitation, as I find myself quite often wishing for that effortless interaction between myself and wild birds? And while I may not be able to put my finger on what exactly it is that makes me react so strongly to her work, I am very drawn to it all. It speaks to me on a very visceral level and it makes me smile all the way from my heart up to my lips and back down to the tips of my toes. And how could I not love something that makes me so perfectly, blissfully happy?

Photos of her work courtesy of Anne Sargent Walker.

Picasso Drawing

This is a small head study of a much, much larger work by Picasso, Portrait of Fernande Olivier, 1905/6 that hangs in the MFA. I really need to spend more time at the museum drawing because I miss it a lot.

Head Study of Fernande Olivier, graphite and red chalk on paper, 2010

Gourd

A very tiny sketch of a speckled gourd sitting on my dining room table.

Gourd, graphite on paper, 2010

Busy Art Weekend

Open studios wasn't the only art event I attended this past weekend, though it was the only one at which I bought something. I have been madly in love with the work of Anne Sargent Walker for years and have wanted to buy one of her pieces for just as long and this time I finally did. It's a painting from 2003 and the only one left that hadn't sold from a very bold series. It's called Two Crows and a Man and I simply love it. I had thought I was going to hang it in the dining room to share it with the world (or at the very least, the small part of the world that visits my home) but instead I switched it with a piece that has hung over my night table for some years. Now it's right next to me in the place I love best: bed. I get a secret thrill every time I walk into my bedroom.

On Sunday, David and I attended the 2010 Art and Design Fair where I fell head over heels in love with a small, original Maxfield Parrish watercolor study. It was hands-down the most exquisite thing in the entire show. It came without a price tag, which everyone knows means "if you have to ask, you can't afford it" and so I didn't ask as I knew it would only make me sad. If I had that kind of money yesterday afternoon, this tiny painting would have been the one and only thing I'd have spent it on.

And late yesterday afternoon we also did a very quick run through the last half hour of a high end craft show where I saw some lovely things: quirky mixed media hanging dolls, whimsical pottery (I'll be paying a visit to one potter's studio next month as her work was wonderful) and the work of some very compelling textile artisans as well.

The weekend had me thinking, thinking, thinking. Being in the midst of so much amazing art is incredibly stimulating and sometimes even crosses over the line to being a bit overstimulating: by the end of a day like yesterday I find my brain is cranking away at hyperspeed and feels like it's going to pop. But this always means that the day after is guaranteed to be a wildly productive day, and today was just that. The perfect, perfect day.

Maxfield Parrish, Study for Twilight, watercolor on paper, 1935

Open Studios

It's hard to believe that another year has passed, but once again it's open studios weekend at the Fountain Street Studios in Framingham. I find that the most intriguing artists seem to come and go far too quickly there, never to be seen again, but that doesn't mean I won't be paying a visit to see all the current residents. When you work solo and not within a physical art community, there's nothing quite like the rush of being among a large group of artists exhibiting their work and seeing their studio spaces, smelling their paint and feeling their vibes. Vincent knew the value of being a part of an artist community, and even though it never happened for him in his lifetime, he understood how essential that connection is for an artist. It may be open just a few short hours, but being there is always a guaranteed boost to my creativity and I'm looking forward to it.

http://www.fountainstreetstudios.com/openartist.html

Future Studio

Early this evening I paid a brief visit to my studio-in-the-making and spent a few minutes sitting on a pile of wood pondering how wonderful it will be to finally be able to once again get down and dirty with my art, hopefully very soon. This photo was taken from outside the building, looking into it through one of the large floor to ceiling north-facing windows that will catch amazing natural light all day long.

Dragging My Feet

The opening for my upcoming show continues to loom larger and I'm struggling with every little detail and I have no idea why. Nothing, but nothing, is coming to me easily. Is it because I have no studio space to work in? It's been extremely difficult to stay motivated when I need to constantly pick my work up and put it safely away when I'm no longer alone at the end of the day. Is it because I lost so much time with that ridiculously stupid hand injury last winter? I had high hopes of finishing a completely new series of pieces for this exhibit, but that fell by the wayside due to both of these circumstances. This show was scheduled with only six and half months lead time, so maybe by agreeing to such a close date and expecting myself to be able to churn out a dozen or more well-executed new works in that short amount of time I bit off more than I could chew, all circumstances aside. Maybe my apathy is because in the end I've had to settle for using a group of older works. Granted, these are pieces very few people have seen and they are far more mainstream taste-wise than what I had been working on, but they aren't new and that tends to make for less personal excitement to see them on display.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not making excuses. I'm merely trying to figure out what the hell my problem is. How can I be incapable of writing a biography or even an artist's statement for godssakes? Granted, I have been on a self-imposed sabbatical from showing for a few years, but come on, none of this is new to me so it shouldn't be the herculean task it currently is. I find this all very interesting. I don't understand it, but a part of me is wildly intrigued by what is going on with me, curious as to why I'm faltering so and more than a little perturbed with myself as well.

I'll get it all done and with time to spare, but will it be easy? Not on my life.