Sunday, February 27, 2011

Let the Sun Shine In

When I was a very small child, my mother would come into our room in the morning and open the blinds and sing, "Let  the Sun shine in, face it with a grin, open up your hearts and let the Sun shine in." I don't know it's author, but I know it was a wonderful way to awake in the morning. As the years went by and there were difficulties in the night hours, Mama lost her habit of getting up early to open the blinds, or sing songs that made us smile.
Now that I am older, it isn't lost on me that the jingle had a two-fold meaning. I remember we also sang it at Sunday School and Vacation Bible school. Of course the lines would read, "Let the Son shine in..." referencing Jesus, the Son of God. The sun waking me in the morning is still one of my favorite things in life. I love it falling on my face and being so bright it blinds me as it ignites over the horizon on any given day.  It gives me courage and calls to mind the alternate version of the song, helping me to remember at the break of day, first thing to "let the Son shine in."
Some of the things God created are so trasparent that they let the sun shine completely through them.  The cells of flowers and of some tiny insects are like that. It reminds me of how fragile life is, and how amazing if the sun shines through it.  One day as I was taking pictures of my azaleas in the front yard, the sun peeped through from behind my house and was filtering straight through the petals I was getting macro pictures of. (Poor english, I know< for give please.) But the results were nothing short of a gift from God.  Once again God made His presence known in the Garden.  He is bigger than the design of these fragile beautiful things, so I must remind myself that he is bigger than the fragile delicate short lived things in my life.
They will come and they will go, but the Son of God is there to shine through. I praise Him for that. God not only can see into our hearts, He can shine right through us.

Thank you Father, that you make transparent our fragile lives. You shine right through us. You glow from within us. You make us beautiful, when we are unlovely. I praise you. Amen

Friday, February 25, 2011

Slowly but surely...

Turning this picture of reflections in water into the appearance of colored cloth, looking like woven crepe, created a great opportunity to use the drama of the background to put in a deep contrast foreground. In the first one I just outlined the shrubs in the actual foreground. But the more graphic one, is where I painted in an all black tree which acts like a puzzle maker. I haven't decided if I like the metalic copper bevel or the black band as a border.
(The original pictures are mine, and the effects are totally mine. The blog consistantly asks me to be sure I use only my own work, and this is why I blog, because it is about my own work.)

A second version of pictures from this same  area yeilded a unique cylindrical graphic with a directional shaft of light.
 

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Layers and Paths

 I thought I would take my son's advice and learn to use a new program.  The two I have used before have taught me what I need to know to understand this  new program.  But to learn it, you have to just dive in and take the time, sometimes hours, to do things wrong until you get them right. My work is still a little amateurish, but I am getting there.

Since it is February, I thought I would stick with the theme  of hearts and love, and just see what I could do. And I had fun doing it.



Tuesday, February 8, 2011

I find myself facinated with the reflection of light and color in morning or afternoon light on ponds, lakes and streams. At certain angles the colors seem more intense than they are in life. Supported by a background of deep green, to vibrant blue to jet black, these colors are reflected to us much more richly than if we are looking at the same scene in actuality.  Watching more tenured artists than myself, I found myself wondering why the masters often started with a dark pallet and added light colors. It seemed ridiculous to me, until I looked closely at the reflected light from my pictures.  Try as hard as I might, I could not get the camera to see what I was seeing in the grass, and bark and sky, unless I was looking at them as reflections in the water. Then the colors had depth, multiple hues, clarity, and harmony. They have light.
In both pictures above, the actual trees are overwhelmed by the sunlight. Yet the trees in the reflections defy you not to look at them. They are enhanced by the sunlight. Yet they are less realistic.They have less definition and less detail, but are overwhelmingly the more beautiful. I have learned a valuable art lesson, to realize it is not the details of the picture that makes it worth looking at, but how it uses the light, color and intesity of those things that make it have value as a masterful work. Yet there is one more thing that adds life to art.
It is depth. Dramatically obvious in the picture above, where the trees in the foreground are so tall, and the mountains in the background are so tiny, the mountains are far away. But size alone does not determine this. Both in real life and in pictures, it is color.  And so it must be in art. Darker more opaque colors in the foreground, except where the sun dictates its own yellow hues on the color, bring the items closer.  Even the blue in the nearer sky is bluer. Lighter, less opaque shades are in the distance. And shades is the correct term, because shades are greyed tones of colors. In addition the hue is a much bluer green rather than the more yellow one of the foreground. So hues have an effect on how the background recedes. The water is it's characteristic greenish color in the foreground, but ceases to be water in the distance. Rather what we see is the reflection on it's mirrored surface of the sky and the distant scenery.
Even when the distance is not miles across the lake and into the mountains the same effect on the greens is obvious - from natural opaque greens sunlit by yellows to softer greens to bluer greens to grayer greens. The red on the cardinal is more opaque than the same color of red on the flowers beyond. The greens in the foreground appear to have dirt for a background as browns peep through, yet the dirt on the distant hill is gray.
And the one defining thing that provides a third dimension in all the pictures is that which provides it's movement. Light. It is light that casts the shadows, gives the trees a third layer, brings reflections into play, breaks the lay of the land into visual distance.
          So when painting each of these scenes, I will try to incorporate the correct background color, and use different composites of the overlay colors in each element of the picture.  I will use the hues and shades of colors to provide depth to my composition. I will scale the items in the foreground dramatically larger and those, in the depth of the painting, dramatically smaller the further back they are. I will layer the planes in my painting closely upon one another. And I will be very aware of the light and how light defines the space as I paint. I am glad I had this little conversation with myself. Because I have begun to visualize things I already knew, but had difficulty wrapping my brain around.
This is why I love to take pictures of things I will paint.
Most masters prefer "en plein aire", or painting outdoors at the scene. But I am sure my mind would not have captured all this dramatic color and light on paper in the short time that these images remained, before the sun fully rose above the trees.  I am sure I would have lost it before I could have painted it.

There is one final thing that I noticed before closing, that most masters leave out of their paintings. I will have to decide if I find it distracting to a painting enough to leave it out.  It is the shadows of things not in the painting - things that would be beyond the frame of the scene, which by the way is defined only by the fact that I chose it. A great example of this, is the very first picture above. The Reflection pictures I took that day indicated a lot of trees on the other shore.  But including them in the frame of the scene diminished the  beauty of the reflections when I compared pictures. In several of those shots however, the shadows of the trees fall across the grass and into the water. Many painters often leave these shadows cast by things beyond the frame of the scene out of their painting. I like the shadows cast across the trees in my picture, as well as the dappled sunlight, that falls from well out side the frame of my picture.  I think it adds yet another dimension, and another opportunity to add realism, and contrast and there by add light.