Back to Art Content List

From the Pavilion in Central Park, 2007

Postscript Intro Remarks
General

Back to Art Content List

The first thing I noticed after a few days was the fading of much of the white flower paint spots I`d placed near the top of the vegetation line, especially those right below the horizon line.  The white had absorbed some of the wet green below.  My decision to make was, whether to, as I usually do, re-apply the white flowers, or let the painting stand as is.  This is where having decided to do another, slightly larger 9x12 size, and then an even larger 18x24 played a difference in my decision.  I usually kinda expect the lighter upper applied paint to absorb some color from below, even when the previous coating is almost dry, just one of oil paint`s traits.  If I didn`t care for it at all, I`d either wait a very long time for the previous paint to dry, sometimes months, or use acrylic.  I rarely let a painting stand, dry, and let it be what`s it`s become if it`s too far from what I`d envisioned for it.  In this case though, since I was already preparing to start the 9x12, and knew I`d apply the paint slightly differently along the land lines to keep more of the initial spray of white flowers, I let the 8x10 stand as is.  It`s since become its own self I`ve come to appreciate, especially with the other two.  Now I see it as early dawn, the earliest of the three, before the light sparks the whites of the flowers into mass view.

The 9x12, being wider in format vs its height than the 8x10, not by much, but enough to effect the image, let me stretch the big tree to the left of the old farm house.  Much of the paint down to the horizon line was applied the same as before.  What changed this time is I laid a very thin coat of varied greens I wanted behind and through the white flowers this time, in sketchy patches, letting more of the massed whites sit alone on the canvas, letting other portions touch the much thinner undercoat of greens and yellows.  Again, as I neared the bottom of the canvas, I let more and more of the canvas itself show through, letting it act as an off-white compared to the thicker titanium white of the flowers.  With the slightly larger canvas to work with, I was able to keep the farm house and large tree pretty much as before except marginally larger, and still add the old wooden posts with the wire hung, skipping between them.  The softness of the wire paint slipping in and out of view across the canvas told me as I was on track and ok with the image.  It suited me.

Several things now seem to have happened for the image.  The masses of white flowers stayed white and massed, giving impetus to add more white to stretch across the sky, arching over the sweep of the arch of the tree and resting barn, giving me the impression of a slightly later time in the morning than the 8x10.  Possibly more importantly to the image, the wire fence looped casually from post to post enclosing the viewing space and the access to the barn and tree, but, because the fence seems low and kinda loosely hung, it seems to me more for keeping large critters like cows and such from wondering off than to say "keep out!"  At least i hope so :-)  And it`s probably somewhat so `cause in the 18x24, twice as large as the 9x12, there`s a cow lounging among the tall grasses and flowers.  But as with the expansion from the 8x10 to the 9x12, the extension of the picture edges to an 18x24 leaves me room to include more than before.  In the 18x24 my vantage point was just slightly higher.  I could make out a bit of landscape beyond the soft ridge of white flowers, trees and hills fading in the still soft morning light

As I`d mentioned in an earlier mailings in this self-critique series, my choice of image crop, what I leave out and what I want visible, received more leeway than usual once I realized I would be doing first a second, then actually, three total pictures.  There were several nice views of this spot off Hwy 71.  In contrast, both the Central Park piece and the Houston skyline pieces I`m currently working on, are so detail orientated with manmade structural elements, and the cropping for each so right where I want them, they neither encourage nor lend themselves to the same multiple treatment.  It crosses my mind it might be interesting to eventually do a self-critique of one of both of those, but I`m not sure yet.  Too soon.

For now, I`ll try to end by briefly talking about two more things in re to the 18x24.  One, how size, in terms of physical effort required to do the actual painting, the pushing of paint, in this case, compared to it`s similar smaller sized siblings, does matter.  And two, how the happenstance of a color appearing and making the right impression on me in the course of creating the painting can alter my impression of what is working and what is worth bending the final image toward.  The physicality of painting in general was more of a comparative realization as I`d worked on all three within 3 weeks or so of each other.  The second, how an unintended color appearance can alter my plans, was more like an intuitive allowing; a faithfulness to the softness I need to experience inside me as I work to know I`m on the right track; knowing by emotional response the image is feeding me feelings I need.

Unless one does a physical craft with varying sizes and weights involved, such as picture framing, pottery, painting, dance routines in costume, playing various size musical instruments, making or covering furniture pieces, things like that, that vary in size and weight from piece to piece, it`s hard to realize the physical effort adjustment needed to accomplish the chosen task and produce a craft or work of art (and often a blend somewhat of the two.)  Maybe I should add handling different age small children too :-)  Knowing this, I was still pleasantly reminded of this little appreciated truth once i placed the 18x24 before me, selected a larger brush, again a nice filbert with soft rounded corners, squeezed extra piles of white paint onto the palette close to colors I knew I`d use, and scooped what felt like a nice starting mound of paint and started the sky.  Right away I had to reach further, further up, to the right and left, and definitely across.  I could feel the distance difference.  I could feel the heavier sturdier balance of the long handle of the # 8, and the heavier pull of the larger scoops of paint I pushed across to air the sky.  It felt good, but also made me smile thinking the two smaller pieces were almost like sprints; this would be a leg stretcher and take some wind.  The sky felt more grand, the trees, there were more than one now, stretched easily with room to spare, joined by faded distant views of far off trees and possibly hills.  The crops of white flowers truly mounded now, on both the gaps of canvas and thinly laid grounds of greens and greenish yellows.  The rush of land toward the bottom edge could dance more with flares of reddish tints and swirly grass abstracts.  It`d taken a bit to acclimate to the larger weights and sizes, but once so, I had more room to dance.  The old fence posts and wire joined hands and the painting was done.  Kinda.

A bluish hue had set in among the greens and yellow greens and rare tips of reddish tints.  It differed from the tone of the smaller two paintings, and for a moment, respecting my pictorial intent that`d guided me from my first starts on the first tiny 8x10, I questioned whether to leave the image as is, or nudge it back, back to it`s green origins.  I gripped my brush to dry scape some green onto the tips, to press pass onto the blue shimmers, but couldn`t dip to draw the green paint.  I liked the bluish tone.  I told myself it seemed like a little later in the morning now, yes, when the sun had begun to glaze the first bit of glare on leaves and let the shadows begin to deepen, with shallow hints of blue.  It felt so right, it had to be.  It must be.  The blues, barely shaded off the greens, so gently, they seemed to shift and hide then peek out again.  I didn`t dare touch them.  The deep bluish barn beneath the old red and white roof, the red and violet mixed lightly into the blue, worked well with the bluish tint in the greens of the field.  The fit was good.  As the much fainter nearer ground of greens, some with pale mustard, some with a frosting white of nearing noon balanced the ground though, the lower portion of the arching sky needed quick dry glazes of reddish yellow white to let the further higher sky of blue balance the bluish hints below.  With the white signing of my name the painting was done.  The slants were right, the colors were right.   It`s like one of those rare times you and your child know you`ve said and done the right thing.  Both you and your child are pleased.  You know the moment won`t last, but you know the memory will and your heart smiles.  A painting done right, is like that.  It just happens.

I may continue to self critique various work as I do them.  I enjoy it, but I don`t want to promise something I may regret or be unable to do.  Or God forbid, tire of  :-)  And some work is simply more problematic, takes more time.  My current projects with Central Park and the Houston skyline are like that.  Many manmade structures.  They need to be right, then they need to look good, then they need to fit with the aspects of nature I see around them.

Right now, the morning sun is speckling through the trees onto the keyboard.  I actually made it to Jazzercize this morning; fresh morning groceries are already bought, I can hear a few people making it down the hill past our apartments to Town Lake Park, and I think I`m ahead of even Leo our cat in thinking it`s `bout time for our tuna lunch.

Thanks ya`ll,

adan
www.adanlerma.com

ps - i have another project, no idea the time frame to get it all done yet, a few weeks? by end of the year? but i want to place the backlog of my email newsletter posts onto my website in categories: reviews, self critiques, new work announced possibly, and have them available as a combination blog archive

this would allow anyone to go back to any article they`d like to review, go to one they regret deleting  :-) , or even enable you to refer someone you might all a`sudden realize might be interested

i`d still send the email newsletter, many people say they fwd them to friends who don`t yet want to sign up; and each newsletter would give both my website link and article archive link

thanks again,

adan

Back to Art Content List
Original Works

Subscribe to the Email Newsletter Your information will not be sold, lent, rented, or distributed to anyone without legal authority. Unsubscribe at anytime.  Newsletter is intermittent, covers a variety of art related interests, and is also available online in my Archives sections.  Feel free to bookmark.  Thank you.



********************************************




Saturday, September 15, 2007, 12:42 am

Off Hwy 71, Abundant Spring, 3 variations, Part Two





Back to Art Content List

Because of several things at once, because the sky paint is so thick, and because the barn needs to stand out, and both the barn`s color and directional textural brush strokes will definitely cause the barn to stand out, I have to be as sure as possible where the strokes will start at their top point in the sky, apply enough pressure to make the thick heavy rust red paint stick, yet lay off enough pressure to let the paint "skip" diagonally across the texture of the sky letting the sky color, formerly an underlay, peek barely through, now as reflective hints on the old barn roof.

Too much pressure, and I`ll gauge out a chunk of sky underneath and create a crater.  Not enough pressure and the paint will roll in raised balls and leave too big a gaps of the underlying sky color.  I decide not yet to worry about getting the top ridge line of the roof as positioned as it`ll need to so`s not to look like straw sticking strangely up the sky. I wanted what I saw, old metal sheeting resting for years on a sturdy barn.  Maybe it`s time to play a little "Lady in Red" and take few deep breathes.

Though much of the thought process I describe here really passes in an instant, sometimes a few moments, this being both a remembrance and self-articulation, most the following did take place about as described.

Even to myself, I had to admit, I was stuck.  I`d been deciding which way to proceed by what seemed best for the painting so far: sky or foreground first, to undercoat or not, use a thick thin or varied paint application? what color tone, how bright, how grey, etc.  Now I needed to fall back on pure internals, meaning going just with what I "wanted" to do, which, as is often the case as I paint when I reach this level, I don`t know what it is til I`m doing it.  It`s like those moments in lovemaking when one is simply enjoying the action and reaction without thought to how when or what.  Sheila on occasion has told people I`m one of the few people she knows who can switch from left to right brain so easily, I think it`s her kindly way of saying I`m sometimes scatterbrained, anyway :-) the barn roof needs settin`.

I stare at the end of my # 6 filbert brush with its flat rounded corners and wonder if I need to switch to a full flat or bright, their corners nice and sharp.  I don`t like switching brushes in a painting, though I know the sharp cornered flat would probably work easier for the edges of the roof line.  But I still don`t like switching brushes, so I load the filbert with a rough mix of white and coral, enough so a dragging brush stroke would lay a varied mix of the two.  My first slanting mix of rusty-red slides diagonally across the hardening ridges of the sky.  I like the way it creates a crumbly look.  But I know I`m still gonna have a problem lining up the 5/8th inch or so wide strokes so their starting lines in the sky will make a decent ridge line at the top of the roof.  I press a plastic palette knife`s edge into the thick sky paint and softly create the outline of the roof, the softness guiding my concerns.  Now the reddish coral and white has a boundary, "...lady in red...is dancing with me...", the leading edge of the bristles gently gripping the ridge line like cat`s paws stretching then treading a path back to itself.  I know I can smooth the right and left roof edges when I`m done.  The rusty colors laying thickly across the pale blue sky soothe me.  With the side edge of my brush I lay tiny scrumbly lines of white then deeper red and even greyish blue creating the seams in the old roof.  The deeper darker bluish shadow under the eaves lets me create the bottom edge of the roof as it hangs outward, keeping shade in the growing light.  I pull down on the deep blue shadow of the barn with hints of violet tinged with fleeting red, pulling down the barn`s shadow to where the flowers and grasses will soon grow with new paint, very soon I can tell, but next the tall lone tree.  My pace has stirred.

I pause the music.  Stir a tip of rust-red into medium green lightened to an early morning early spring green.  Sheila`s home from her exercise and the small natural food store she prefers, "hello!" "hi!"  I use one corner of my brush, dab into the freshly piled paint, and place the tallest leaves lightly into the sky.  I like it.  The leaves are soft against the sky...swipe a deeper green to carve the main trunk like calligraphy, then bare bits of branches breaking clear of foliage, pressing more morning green of tiny leaves against the sky - whispers from the brush`s bristle tips, pushing flecks of glitter-green along the curving arch marking the tree`s tips against the quickening sky - impulsively picking pigment onto the brush dancing leaves across the western roof edge, touching shadow-greens softly round the lighter leafy greens, imprinting dabs of white flowers whites spraying them along the long horizon line beneath the tree, across the barn, beyond the seen edges of my painting.  I have to rest.  Decide how the land will form.  From the kitchen I hear greens and plates being laid out.  Leo our cat already knows, Saturday, tuna time, is here again.  Soon we will eat.

On the silence on the land of the bare canvas left, I scatter-push flat mushy-green greenish-yellow pulled-down rectangles of paint the full width-press of my brush, twisting the surface paint into wet waking grasses.  Pausing, setting the volume of the music low, starting the pressing tempo of "Working for the Weekend," the image is starting to feel like a late Friday afternoon, almost done.  Liberally leaving random patterns of canvas-white I streak spread and mix varied yellow greens down to the canvas edge down toward the viewer dabbing white more whites in dipping points twisting round the scattered groups of grass, topping the tree in reflective mini white-greens whirling through the leaves as the sun plants more morning white bits with masses of flowers blooming along the now wavy horizon line  "...you wanna piece of my heart?  you wanna be in the show?..." the music moves friendly following seeking the flow of sky as I stretch spots of white paint into faint morning clouds arching beyond the tree above the fields, the faint almost star like faded stretched white clouds joining the brightening leaves and grass waving round the ancient barn.  The sky is new, the tree renewed.  The fields bursting with the whites of new flowers...only my name is needed now.

Though the bottom half of the painting is not nearly as thick as the sky and top portion of the fields, I easily press my letters into the bottom left wet paint, A..d..a..n

I curve the letters to match the movement of the other paint, the letters strongly imprinted in a soft wave and I am done.  The moist scent of fresh cut celery reaches me across our small apartment.  Leo`s crying in the kitchen and Sheila`s teasing him wanting to know if he`s really hungry.  He meows yes.  Time to turn the music off, let the machine rest.  It`s the weekend.  A small but nice painting`s done, and from the sound of laughter and meowing in the kitchen, I know it`s time to eat.

I hope to have Part 3 in about the same time frame, where I`ll try and show where and how the second painting, the 9x12 differed from this first effort, and why.

thank you much,

adan
www.adanlerma.com

ps - In the next few weeks I`ll also have information on some auctions this fall that`ll each include one work i`ve donated; one is with the American Heart Association chapter here in austin


Back to Art Content List

Original Works

Subscribe to the Email Newsletter Your information will not be sold, lent, rented, or distributed to anyone without legal authority. Unsubscribe at anytime.  Newsletter is intermittent, covers a variety of art related interests, and is also available online in my Archives sections.  Feel free to bookmark.  Thank you.



**************************************




Sunday, September 9, 2007, 1:23 am

Off Hwy 71, Abundant Spring, 3 variations, Part One


Back to Art Content List

Rare, very rare for me, is a public self critique of any of my work.  My plan is to present to you a look into the creation of a series of three recently painted similar paintings.  Though I`ve thought a bit about what I`d like to talk about, the details`ll emerge as I write.

This is Part One of a planned series.

First, I`ve pasted as similar size depictions of each image as I could into one new photoshop file.  Hopefully we`ll both be able to better compare and view the three images.

In the next part I`ll show the three images in actual proportion to their actual size and lead in from that perspective.

If you prefer or need the actual jpg to view in your own image program, to enlarge or isolate areas, email me at flerma@fulbright.com, and i`ll send you the attachment, without additional commentary :-)

Second, this is not an expose on my "working" technique.  It varies from image to image and time to time, though it`s fairly easy to see patterns, preferences, etc.

An example, within music, of my listening preferences, while I work, are my following current favorites (in no usual particular order but as I listened to them this Saturday morning):

Avril Lavigne`s "Girlfriend" - a really smart fun song, the video really interesting as she plays both "girlfriend" roles; played over and over til the up-tick`s engrained in my manner again

Gwen Stefani`s "Cool" - very cool :-), great rhythm, very funky and playful; lovely lovely song that played again and again embed`s a nice smooth sense of strength to my eye

INXS`s "Never Tear Us Apart" - so wonderfully full of stops and starts rise and falls and angst and hope and power, I can play this over and over even when I`m sleepy-down and it rarely has failed to eventually pick me up

Chris de Burgh`s "Lady in Red" - so heart wrenchingly beautiful; can play over and over til my heart`s at least half full again rather than half empty

and frequently filled in with these in-between or afterward:

OutKast`s "Hey ya!" - one of favorites to dance to in jazzercize, just fits my style-wanna-be

The Three Tenors` "Puccini: Turandot -Nessun Dorma" - gorgeous without explanation, makes me act like my cat when he`s trying to mimic the sound of a bird that`s attracted his attention

Loverboy`s "Working for Weekend" - but I usually have to stop painting and move to this one  :-)

Bon Jovi`s "Prayer `94" -  a slower heavier deeper variation of "Living on a Prayer", though there`s a lot of his work I like but at different mood-times

Mazzy Star`s "Flowers in December" - so haunting, love it while painting at night

and so many others, Brett Dennen`s album "So Much More", Jewel`s early work, Meatloaf`s early work (though it`s hard to believe he`d still be waiting beneath the dash board lights for the end of time rather than moving on with his life  :-), but you get the idea, I like music, I like to dance, I like variety but in a repetitive kind of way.  This is also how my art seems to work.

As first mentioned, this critique segment I want to feature the three images as closely in size as possible.  My feeling and observation is that at a basic base level, an image is itself, regardless of size.  Depending on the viewer`s or image owner`s needs, a postcard size reproduction of the Mona Lisa competes well with a wall size poster of the same. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mona_lisa)  The same is true of Salvadore Dali`s "Remembrance of Time." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Persistence_of_Memory)

Regardless of the reproduction`s size, either image carries incredible cultural impact.  The image has transcended its originating size and presentation.  It no longer belongs to its original substrate and medium.  It can and has become transformed into part of our consciousness.  Which doesn`t take much away from wanting to see the original.  I`ve been part of very long lines to see both. 

Both images were shocking to see live.  Neither was as large as imagined (I sure didn`t pay any attention to the dimensions posted about either image.)  The Mona LIsa was darker and partially obscured by glass while the Persistence of Memory was a flat dull matte finish totally unlike the many glossy larger posters of it I`d sold in my poster/frame shop across from the University of Texas in the early 90`s.

It was seeing both that brought me an awareness of this idea of a painting being an image onto itself.  It`s not an original thought to me, but it didn`t stick or mean anything to me, or become an idea that itself became a part of me til it was brought out from me by my seeing these two images in person.  That in itself says the idea was a process.  That I`ve seen each original only once, and that I saw the Mona Lisa in Paris years apart from seeing the Dali`s tiny aged original in Houston (another great traveling MOMA show at the MFA Houston) only magnifies the time and process it took for me to grasp the idea that an image, at a basic base level, is itself, regardless of size.  So with this in mind I wanted to first present and speak about the 3 variations of "Off Hwy 71, Abundant Spring" in a format where each was as close to the others in size.

The original sizes are 8x10, 9x12, and 18x24.  I`ve placed them side by side and begin my excursion into my thinking and creative methods for these three from this spot. (this is already so long I`m reminded of starting a James Mitchner novel.  Let`s hope this writing ends up at least as worth wading through at its own level.  :-)

Each painting was created with the same materials in a sequence commencing about one week apart starting with the smallest size and working up to the 18x24.  This is not a standard procedure for me.  I often begin or do a work with only one "go" or one image of it in mind.  Occasionally I intend a smaller and larger piece; often, for some reason, doing the larger first then the smaller, kinda the opposite of doing the smaller first as a practise or study.

Actually the very first go at this image I forced myself to compose into an 8x10 because I didn`t want to hassle with doing a 9x12 and needing to find a frame that`d work for it.  All three sizes are called standard sizes, but 9x12 frames are far fewer in selection or availability than the other two sizes.

Once I determined I could fit a crop I liked of my chosen digital I`d taken into an 8x10 size, my first task was to decide what to paint first.  This is not an automatic same-as-always decision for me.  Like experiencing a variety of splendid meals, sometimes nibbling at the various treats is best, other times having a few olives, and other times it feels best to savor an ample amount of one of the main courses first.  The latter is how I decided to begin this first of the three, the 8x10.

I`ve begun my paintings with thin washes, with canvas coatings of thick directional textures, with complimentary colors, in spots and in total.  At times the image directs me to one or the other of beginnings.  And although sometimes even my mood and feelings of the moment dictate which way to go, in this case the paint itself lead the way.

These two beginning impulses then, in my beginning painting, to savor an ample portion of my image (it is mine now, to work and to imbue), and the paint I would work with, joined in my recent drift toward working from the distant to the near within the image. (In contrast, the two works I`m painting now, one of the skyline of downtown Houston, the other of my son in Central Park NY under a covered pavillion, both started with the manmade structures being set first, those taking much more of my time and concentration, neither being my stronger suite vs my preference for natural elements.)

Setting the color of the sky without an undercoat meant mixing a touch of coral into a lightened cobalt blue.  The key in this case, that the paint, a Grumbacher Titanium  White, had been in its tube longer than normal and was thicker than its normal buttery self, requiring both more push, and allowing the filbert shaped bristle brush to leave its imprint along the paint surface in a less glossy slightly more crumbly more matte textured finish than usual.

I have and use three types of Titanium White, from Grumbacher and Holbein for most of my work.  All water based oils by the way.  An Artisan Titanium White (also water based) is reserved for painting the sides of gallery wrapped canvases.  And a final Flake White, pure oil, Winton or Grumbacher is used to add to my regular water based Grumbachers and Holbeins when they`re too buttery for the use I want of them.  Occasionally I`ll do as I`ve read Monet would do and squeeze out a substantial blob of paint onto an absorbent surface (paper towels in my case) to absorb excess oil and make the paint thicker and thus more purposely produce a thicker paint that`ll leave the brushmarks more visible.

Generally I like a thicker more texturous paint surface.  It suits my imagined image of myself, deep with interesting surface features  :-)

Anyway, I began slightly below the final horizon line laying a fairly thick flat even stroke fairly flush with the lowered horizon line, raising my sweep across the length of the canvas slightly up towards center then returning on the right side edge to the starting height I`d begun with on the left side edge, creating a little hill in the brush stroke sweep.  Once across in a height of about an inch or so, i soft brushed the whole bottom edge, about an 1/8th of an inch or so, downward, essentially thinning the bottom edge thickness into a soft or "lost" edge to soften almost seep the horizon line into what would become the land beneath the sky.  Though not necessary to do, since most the very bottom paint of the sky (placed slightly below where the sky would actually visually start) would be covered with vegetation and the farm house, it helped me establish then keep the sense of softness I like and wanted to experience with this painting.  The discovery of this feeling as I paint is my primary guide telling me I`m on track.

I continued going across creating the sky in about an inch or so swathes arching the center a little higher each time, just a little.  The color needed to sweep lightly gently deeper matching the brush stroke movement arching higher.  Once done, not just because it was sky, but because I wanted the feel of the same sky the morning I took the picture, I smoothed excess texture a little more even across the whole sky plane so the texture, though grooved and tactile, was itself even, continuous.  If this had been vegetation, and possibly water, I may have left the excess bumps and grooves more in place.  This is not an iron rule for me though.  Not much is  :-)

Placing these types of even texture bands across a canvas is not my usual bent.  I like to stab and push and swill my paint like a happy pig in pigment.  Both my early growing years (from 12 on) having to learn to sit on a roof in Houston placing shingle after shingle in place, carefully, my dad having taught me which patterns prevented leaks and which would encourage them, plus my recent much older years placing paperwork in careful sequences to prevent potential problems, have actually helped me learn to take a breath, settle down, and place the paint the way I need to achieve the texture color and movement that`ll make me smile with pleasure.  It`s definitely not automatic!

The paint is a good 1/8 inch thick or more across the top half or so of the canvas.  I`ve gradated the color minisculely to an ever slightly richer pale blue-white.  The texture movement needs tiny directional prodding to make the sky more peaceful, waking, but not yet alert.  Now the paint needs to rest and harden.  Sometimes it`ll flatten some, other times the grooves and ridges will become more pronounced.  It needs to set.  What next then?  I decide on the barn.  I don`t know if it`s really a barn, but I like the idea that it is.  I wait a few days for the weekend to come.  In the meantime I stare at my digital and stare at my sky sweeping gently over the blank bottom canvas.

Saturday morning comes and I feel a strong urge to paint.  I skip jazzercize, not something i want to do, but....the coffee`s hot, Sheila`s out the door to exercise, and now it`s just Leo our cat, me, and the waiting canvas.  It`s time for the barn.

Now the brush action becomes a little trickier for me, and more interesting, which is not always the case.  :-)

Back to Art Content List

Original Works

Subscribe to the Email Newsletter Your information will not be sold, lent, rented, or distributed to anyone without legal authority. Unsubscribe at anytime.  Newsletter is intermittent, covers a variety of art related interests, and is also available online in my Archives sections.  Feel free to bookmark.  Thank you.


*****************************

Not sure if the next part in this series will be ready in a few days or take til next weekend, but I`ll try not to have it take longer than that.

Thanks ya`ll,

Adan
www.adanlerma.com

ps - feel free to pass this along to anyone you think may enjoy it, thanks