Dreams and goals

Up On Lighthouse Hill

Original oil painting  22x28"

by Susan Roux

I love this time of year.

In Maine the weather's raw, the snow is bright and glorious and my focus is to jump head first into (no not Sebago Lake with the other Polar Bears...) my art! There's something cozy about winter after the holidays. The house is warm with the smell of wood wafting each time the stoves are loaded. You could cozy up by the fire with your favorite drink or... spend relentless hours in front of your easel.

I usually choose the latter.

It's also a time to look at life and your current direction to see if you're staying on track. Goals have been made over time and if you're like the pack, the end of a year has us thinking about them more than usual. With it also comes the feeling of time. A whole new year ahead of us, much like a blank canvas, to be filled with something new. Endless possibilities. What will you fill your new calendar with?

Are you looking for gallery representation? Perhaps you'll peruse new opportunities for artist? A competition? Will you be taking a workshop or two? Maybe your contemplating teaching, sharing your skills? Will your focus be on marketing yourself? There's a certain excitement in knowing you have a choice to plan and choose whichever direction you want. Sure it will take a lot of motivation and hard work, but you have a whole year ahead of you! Piece of cake.

As for myself, yes I have approached a few new galleries for further representation. To be honest, it's still scary. The first time you put yourself out there to be judged can be terrifying but for those of us who've been out there awhile, it still holds a level of anxiety.

The anxiety goes both ways. You feel like you're holding your breath waiting for their response. You're trying to brace yourself for the rejection. Are you standing firmly enough or will it knock you right over? Those nagging questions circle in your head. I like to think I'm sturdy enough to have it bounce right off of me. Shake it off like it wasn't a big deal. But we all know that those rejections can be crippling.

Then there's the other side of the pending anxiety. What if they do accept me??? It will be very affirming and a wonderful boost. Complete joy! You can just imagine your creative energy escalating. Escalating until you get to that point when you doubt yourself and wonder if you can continue to create a level of quality that satisfies your new gallery? Ouch. The things we do to ourselves.

Art has to be one of the most difficult ventures. I know we can't help ourselves and the desire to create can consume us. But the reality of it is we are drawing from within. Exposing ourselves in our most naked form and the fear of being judged and then rejected is terrifying. I don't care how long you've been doing it. It's as terrifying each and every time. The better you get, the higher the bar you're reaching for. Will you grab and slip and come crashing to the floor? Or will you reach to a comforting hand that pulls you upward towards your dreams?

I've been looking at your blogs and I love your goals. It's so inspiring to read. My favorite is those of you professing to paint 30 painting in 30 days. It's a huge commitment. I think of it differently than the daily painters. I imagine normal size canvases with full fledge paintings. I don't think I could keep up that momentum. I'm pretty prolific but that would do me in. I applaud you for your gumption and drive.

Whatever your goals are, I wish you the tenacity to push on no matter how terrifying it might be and be successful in achieving them.

What are you dreaming for this year? What bar are you reaching for?

Company

Purple Passion

Original oil painting  16x20"

by Susan Roux

Company. Isn't it part of the holidays? The best part, I'd say. I have to confess I love having people stay over. Whether loved ones arriving or casual acquaintances, it puts the house in an air of celebration.

Purple Passion developed quite differently than my previous still life. When I look at it, it reminds me of the feeling of holiday company. There's a big difference in hosting a holiday meal and having overnight guests. The meal has the house filled to capacity with a fancy table and wonderful smells wafting through the air. Overnight company, on the other hand, is filled with special quiet moments that can remain in your heart forever. 

Like early morning conversation when only two people in the house have awaken. It doesn't matter that your hair is a mess, nor that you're in your bathrobe. Some nice quality time emerges while sipping your first cup of coffee. Don Hatfield and I met like this every morning when he visited a few years ago. As you can imagine, conversations were always deep and about art. Priceless... The same is true with the evening. Cuddled up in front of the warm fire sipping whatever makes you feel cozy inside. This is what I see when I look at this painting. The fancy of company with warm hugs surrounding it all.

My middle son arrives today. I'm ecstatic. Yes I still have plenty to do before my house is company ready. It's exactly like what I read recently on Sally Rosenbaum's blog, the reason women have difficulty rising in their careers to the same capacity as men is: We don't have wives! Consequently, if we're devoted to our work, the house suffers. Let me tell you, I've been very devoted to my art! So after this post, I'll be busy with a plethora of household chores...

I know I'll miss my routine of painting. I always do in December. My classes will still run as usual for the most part. Students really need the break from holiday madness this time of year. They're so thankful for a reprieve and a bit of stress-free time with a brush in their hands. I too am happy to pick up my brushes. What I miss the most is time to paint on my own. 

Come January I'm usually ready to explode on canvas! (not a bad thing.)

So if I don't post again before Christmas or don't stop by as often as usual, know that I'm cozied up in front of the fire sipping something special with my very welcomed company.

Happy holidays to all of you. May you find time to enjoy those special quiet moments amidst the hustle. I also want to take time to thank all of you for stopping by throughout the year. Whether you leave a comment or not, I love that you take time to pop in. And for those of you who are so dedicated to leaving me a little note, know you're the ones who put a huge smile on my face... Blessings to all and have a safe and happy holiday.

Project Graduation Raffle

Magical Garden

Original oil painting  16x20"

by Susan Roux

Are you familiar with Project Graduation?

It's a good program organized by Mom's of high school seniors to raise money for a safe graduation party. I don't know if you recall, but each year there were news of seniors dying in car accidents after celebrating their graduation by partying it up too much. It was sad indeed. So sad actually that parents, mother's particularly, began Project Graduation.

The fundraising goes on all year. A huge alcohol-free celebration is planned. It's a big secret. Not a secret that the fundraising is going on, but a secret as to the location of the party and the activities involved. Depending on the amount raised, more "fun things" can be rented to spice up the party. The seniors are bussed away, directly following the graduation ceremony and don't return until the following morning. It's an all nighter with all their friends and everyone arrives home safe.

Arriving home safe. That's the whole purpose of this project.

I remember one of my sons cruised out on Casco Bay. (That's where Portland Head Light sits.) Imagine the fun all night with the city lights as a backdrop? He recalls it as a blast and so romantic. My other son was taken to a resort. Indoor pool for the whole senior class! How fun! They also had rented sumo costumes. Yes big inflated puffy costumes  and they had wrestling matches. His stories were priceless! 

And everyone arrived home safe...

The above painting is my donation to the project. It's hanging in the school lobby showcase all dressed up in a beautiful 3" gold frame. Raffle tickets are being sold until the drawing on February 9. 

Would you like a chance at winning this original Susan Roux? (I'll tell you, it's much prettier in life than on this photo...) 

Tickets are $3.00 each or $5.00 for two.

It's a great deal! Someone will walk off with Magical Garden at this low price. Shouldn't it be you?

Just send me an email or snail mail me at:

Susan Roux

50 Bishop Rd.

Poland Spring, ME 04274

Your donations are really appreciated. Please take a few minutes to buy a chance. After all, it's like we're giving it away!

Thank you in advance for your kindness. You might also want to contact your local high school and make a donation towards their project graduation. After all it's for the safety of our kids!

Thank you very much.

In the wake of it all

Portland Head Light on Sandy's Heels

Original oil painting  18x24"

by Susan Roux

It was the day following the hurricane.  

I was down in Portland helping my husband hang his photography show. It was nearing noon and he wanted to swing by the lighthouse to snap a few photos of the ocean. The sky was dark. Not my idea of a perfect photo shoot day. As we drove in the winding road of Fort Williams Park we could see huge waves spraying off the fort. Wow, I'd never seen spray like that! It must have reached 30' or more in the air. 

I was surprised to see the parking lot so full. Mike is known to be a storm chaser, but I don't usually tag along. Who would have known there were so many storm chasers? Typically he goes on the following day. I'd have a hard time letting him go during a furious storm, though if it were up to him he'd probably be there. Just as we approached the lighthouse, the thick gray sky opened up. Everything suddenly lit up. The lighthouse brightened into a shooting white tower against the blackened sky. Such drama! The ocean appeared strange to me. The roaring sound seemed to overlap itself creating a stereophonic harmonious rhythm. It was filled with unbelievably powerful energy. Relentless energy. I was deeply moved. The froth it stirred resembled whipped cream. From the safety of the tall cliffs I watched in amazement. The sun shone brightly in the opened sky and all of the lovely sea foam sparkled spectacularly. Mike told me it was high tide and he'd planned to be here at this particular moment. Little did he know the clouds would open briefly for all the shutterbugs gathered. 

The drama was so breathtaking, it was beyond words. How could this scene of beauty be the culprit of the disastrous effects only a short day ago? My emotions were mixed. I felt guilty for finding beauty in what caused so much suffering for others. But it was beautiful. Spectacularly beautiful...

The cliffs circle around the foamy area. When we stood facing the huge sprays, it resembled snowballs exploding like giant fireworks. There was so much froth generated that rather than a typical spray splashing, each droplet became a clump of froth. It was a scene like none I've ever experienced. The sunlight created soft delicate shadows within the clusters. I stood there watching and watching. Wave after wave the energy persisted. I prayed for my friends caught in the disaster. I prayed for everyone caught in it.

It's in moments like these that I recognize how tiny we are. Like little specks on a huge planet. The forces of nature are no match for us. I felt humbled. As the ocean persisted my thoughts drifted in so many directions. All the while, viewing spectacular beauty...

Just as we began to return to our car, the sky closed back up and all became dark again. For photographers, it was a gift of light.

Our photographs could not capture the feeling of being there. The sounds, the cold gentle spray reaching us at times, the ocean's strength and energy couldn't be contained in a still shot. Yet we had a record of being there. 

I began this painting that night. It's been difficult trying to capture my emotions from that day. As usual my art photography is lacking and what you see here is just an echo of the actual painting. It is filled with light and every pastel color you could imagine. 

Recently in my post titled Red, I spoke about popular subjects that have been painted over and over again by artists. The Portland Head Light certainly qualifies as one of those. But you can expect that if I paint it, I'll be giving you a different version than what you're used to seeing. This one is no exception. 

I apologize to anyone this may offend. Know that I'm not insensitive to the horror Sandy caused. I just needed to paint and share my own experience, in the wake of it all.

Still life. Really???

Grandma's Tea Set

Original oil painting  20x16"

by Susan Roux

From a teaching point of view, I've been wanting to introduce my students to still life painting for a while now. It requires close attention to values and defined light and shadow patterns. Much like the challenge of doing a figure without the proportions being as important, so long as the overall composition still works.

I wasn't sure how to go about this. Each class meets once a week and it can take a good month to finish a painting. How could I possibly set up a still life that would last that long without being moved? Not to mention any flowers. The other problem I faced was everyone's vantage point would be different. A set-up could be very pleasing from one persons perspective, but very unattractive from another's.

One day the solution came to me.

A photo shoot. Yes, it was that simple.

I'm predominantly a studio painter. I work from images most of the time. Why having images of a still life didn't occur to me is baffling. I did still life work over a decade ago. It fascinated me and made me focus differently than painting landscapes. I enjoyed the challenge a few times a year. Each time, I'd prepare a set-up on my bay window to paint from at the same time of day. It was my time to explore painting from life and I loved the light and colors I'd see.

It came as an unusual thought to paint one from a photograph, but it seemed the perfect solution. So one day I called a student in to help me. Bring along some things that would work in a still life, I said. Much to my surprise, he arrived with a car full of unusual and interesting things. We set up a table in the hallway, the darkest place in the house. A single light source could be brought in. We worked for hours that day, setting up various things on different cloths. Click, click, click went the camera. Artifacts were strewed all over the house by the time we finished.

Those photos sat in my file for at least a month. Last week a class wanted to begin a still life. It hit me that I was perhaps not the best teacher for this, not having done one in so long myself. We began. A loose background and the objects drawn in with paint was the extent of our progress.

I found myself wanting to continue after class, but since I paint along with my students, I couldn't. The next best thing was to do another one on my own. I figured it would really help me direct the class though the process if I did. So here it is. Grandma's Tea Set.

I surprised myself. I don't know if it was the emotion around the memory of my Grandmother or the fact that artists were in and out of my house to paint that day, but something extraordinary seemed to happen.

You work for years trying to establish your own style and define yourself uniquely as an artist. It's odd when you suddenly choose a completely different subject and it falls into place so naturally. The fascination for creating still life feels awakened in me. Where has this desire been hiding all these years?

The artist journey is too complicated to describe in a few phrases. Even to the artist himself, it is full of surprises.

You can expect to see a few more still life paintings show up here. I can't promise they will all turn out like this, but time will tell.



Behind the easel, the adventure continues...

Silent Auction

Billowing Cloud

Original oil painting   16x12"

by Susan Roux

I had lunch at a local brew pub today and learned about a cook who'd been hospitalized with a growing number of problems. What started out as shortness of breath was soon diagnosed with failed kidneys and an enlarged heart. A biopsy attempt went awry and accidently cut an artery in his bladder.

This feels like a scenario from a movie script.

The bartender/waitress at Gritty McDuff's continued to inform us that this unfortunate man has a wife and seven kids. Seven kids? I can't even imagine having seven kids when life is going great. With the holidays right around the corner, the added worry and stress of this situation has people opening their hearts to help out. Don't you just love how giving people can be when someone else is in need? It's the true meaning of Christmas.

I'm donating the above painting for the silent auction which takes place on Black Friday, Nov. 23. If you'd like to put in your bid, please call 207-376-2739.

Thank you for your help.

 Wouldn't it make a lovely Christmas gift for someone on your list???

Red?

Daybreak Silence

Original oil painting  20x10"

by Susan Roux

This is the popular red house on Monhegan Island. Some subjects from the island have been painted over and over again. This is true of this unusual house. It sits on a rock face with a small beach tuck inside my hidden cove. Most of the day, this facade is in shadow. I was stunned early one morning as I walked the silent streets at daybreak to see it lit in glorious golden sunlight.

I've never been a follower. I pride myself for seeing things from a different angle. I've been approached before by artists asking where on Monhegan is a particular scene I've depicted? So when I saw the crimson colored house transformed to a stunning cadmium red in morning light, I knew right away I had to paint it.

It's November already and many of us are thinking of holiday art. The color red is suddenly in the forefront of our minds. I had to chuckle at myself for choosing to paint this now, when clearly it appears to be orange next to a true Christmas red.

It's a lovely red and green scene, isn't it?

You can expect the unexpected from me. I work hard. I feel deeply. I notice things that many others never see. My view is often slanted, skewed. The photos I work from are usually from an angle that would be impossible to capture painting plein air. I like to duck low, perhaps with a few forefront flowers veiling the distance. I tingle with joy at offering people a view they wouldn't usually experience.

So if you're used to seeing this house painted in lovely crimson, my version might look unusual to you. Unusual yes, but not a fantasy. Just remember, early in the day it shines in lit-up beauty!

So are you painting red for the upcoming holiday season?

What shade are you using?