Lean In

Did you read the previous post?  Did you guess which painting would get the makeover?

When I finished this pour, I was pretty sure I'd be using it as a background or changing it in some way.  While it has an impressive number of cells, it seemed to lack structure or focal point.  So I set it aside until one day I glanced at it, not really thinking about what to do with it, when I began to see something.  Do you see it?

I'll give you a second,

or two.

Okay, time's up.  Here's a hint.

I could have left it at that but I decided I wanted color.

I tried out several ideas on Autodesk.

Using acrylic washes is a bit tricky.  I wanted to be able to see the details of the underpainting, but still have true, even colors. 

I may tweak it a bit more, but for now I'm calling it done.  

Wait, no, I'm calling it Lean In.

I lived in Kansas for about 25 years. 

Kansas, named for the Kansa Tribe, aka People of the South Wind.

I learned the best way to keep your footing in the wind is to lean into it.

Challenges

We all face them from time to time. Sometimes they're welcomed; other times, not so much.

One kind of challenge I welcome is an art group challenge.  It can give direction, boundaries; helpful when the options are vast.

I recently participated in a pouring group challenge:  create a piece, using any acrylic pouring technique, but using only blacks and whites.

First I tried out a technique using string dipped in paint and pulled across wet paint.  A lot of fun. 

Some of the details are so pretty.

Next, a dirty flip cup.  It went mostly grey but I got a gazillion cells. Go ahead, count 'em.

And last, but not least, a puddle pour. Oh the drama!

I'm still amazed at the variety achieved, even when using the same materials.  

Speaking of challenges, this post started out with a different idea but because I find keeping my focus and staying on topic a challenge, it went a different direction.  No worries!  Come back for my next entry when I get back on track.  Hint: one of the paintings above got a makeover.

Finished Before I'm Done?

To be honest, sometimes I feel that way about life.  I would imagine everyone feels that way once in a while.  However, that's a little too deep and serious and not really the direction I was going with this post.  

I was thinking more along the lines of how do you know when an art piece is done.  I mean, you can't just stick a fork in it!  Well, of course, you can if that's the look you're going for.  But you know what I mean!

I've debated this question with just about every piece I've ever done.  It seems there's always more that can be added, tweaking that can be done. But how does one know when to quit?  

Good question!

This is just the beginning, so obviously, not yet.

The sky and ground were poured on and moved around with my hand.  The middle is a mix of orange yellow and red dirty poured into puddles.

A little tipping and tilting to spread the puddles and a little blowing with a straw to mess up the straight edges.  Now, at this point, I suppose I could have called this Autumn Abstract and been done with it but that wasn't the look I was going for.

The grass is always greener if you paint it that color!  You may be asking why I didn't use green in the first place, instead of purple.  I was playing around with the idea of dappled shadows under the trees, knowing that I'd probably do a green wash over it.

After playing with some ideas in Autodesk I used a sharpie to doodle on the leaves and create the trunks and branches. I also used a white gel pen on the sky.

At this point, I was considering it done and it could have been.  But every time I looked at it it seemed something was missing.

So I did what usually do: I asked someone else to tell me what to do.  Well, not exactly.  But I did ask my daughter to offer her opinion.  Sometimes having fresh eyes look at what you've been staring at can help.

Is it done?  It could be.

Am I finished? Maybe.