Once upon a time, I painted. With oils. Linseed oil, fine brushes, all the accoutrements. And a “tutor,” no less. Lessons with my father, who could paint with a one-camel-hair brush in great detail. He did still life.
The pallet knife was my weapon of choice. I used it like a trowel slathering plaster. Semi-abstract and thick with texture. The tutor was aghast: she could never make me understand that you can’t put on an inch of paint at one time.
“Fire Next Time” was done over a period of months in the Winter of 2012 using what was available, that is, cardboard from anything that was delivered in a box.
The central bird shape is part of the deconstruction of an especially large box, ripped and bent to fit in the garbage receptacle.
The only paint I had was left-over from the interior and exterior work I had done on The Cottage. And “Spackle”, that very useful substance which made a texture-y dividing line.
Timid. I never sketch anything or have a plan. I had decided to do only the center panel. “Paint Fear” sets in.
Photo printed out on ecru bond brought out some color. Not a “painting” just a photo: unacceptable. Proportions wrong.
Detail. Decided to use the three panels, and keep the folded side flaps of the original box. Added more torn pieces of cardboard for balance and texture. More painting outside in the freezing garage and ensuing bronchitis. Bit of trimming on top and bottom for proportion. Cut and paint-over photos of birds. Decided to stop while I was ahead (in my mind, anyway).
in situ. Top is 60" above entry to little room.
Thank you for bearing with me on this seemingly endless process. All your encourgement kept it going!
I have renewed and immense respect for all painters.
~ PhDilettante / mmargot