This new morning

June Blossoms

Original oil painting  24x18"

by Susan Roux

I've been juggling painting time with outdoor gardening time. You know what that's like, right? It seems every year I establish a new flower-bed or revamp an old one. This year is no exception.

Maine has had plenty of rain recently. Just as the weather warmed nicely to do the outside work, it also  gave way to too many soggy dreary days. Bring on the sun and the perennial gardens come to life! It doesn't matter that I'm knee-deep in framing and trying to deliver to my galleries; when the sun finally shows it's lovely face, I need to go dig in the dirt!

I was suppose to deliver to The Wright Gallery today but I changed it to tomorrow. Rain is predicted then, once again. Usually I try not to deliver in the rain, but I need to take full advantage of the sunny days. I tackled a rather large project outside and once you begin to lift plants, it's kind of necessary to place them in soil again soon.

I love the seasons and the feeling you get as a new one announces itself. Spring, summer, fall. They're all such nice ones to revisit. Winter and mud season are never my favorites, but necessary to experience the wonderful charge that comes with spring! It feels like a new morning...

Which brings me to the title of this post and the title of Luka Bloom's new CD. Have you downloaded it to your library of tunes yet? For those of you who aren't acquainted with his music, let me tell you a little secret. Luka should market himself to artists. Listening to one or two songs won't do it, but play a long session of his music while painting and it's like magic! I've tried it on lots and lots of artists. Everyone has the same reaction, that it's perfect to paint to, except Kevin. But I blame his ancient player and bad speaker system. You see he likes to listen to the sixties and seventies stuff and his system is from the same era...

You can't expect to hear today's songs on yesterday's equipment. It's like trying to watch an HD movie on a fifties black and white TV! Doesn't work.

So because of that, I don't count Kevin's experience as a real negative. Plus he always tries to give me a hard time anyway...

Back to Luka. His words are always uplifting. His melodies are soothing and they're conducive to swaying. Both making your body and paintbrush sway. He also falls into short bouts of chanting which put you into a wonderful trance. You know what I mean, that great Painting Zone... Don't you just love getting there?

I've become so accustomed to painting solely to his music, that now instantly upon hearing it I want to slip off into that zone. It's has such a relaxing quality. It calms the spirit and allows you to focus and fall deep into your art. If you get the opportunity to see him in person, do yourself a favor and go. His show is worth the small fee it will cost  you. Plus Luka's pretty funny!

This New Morning!    

It could be your new art friend. 

I wanted to thank everyone who voted for me. It seems I've surpassed the required 77 votes needed to get to Time Square! I just love new experiences!


Note: June Blossoms is a scene from Monhegan Island. You can see part of the Island Inn in the distance, enveloped in costal fog. It will soon be delivered to Blue Hill Bay Gallery. Peter will be happy to help you if you'd like to purchase it.

More Pirates? Seriously?

This is a reprint of a post that was up briefly yesterday.

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I'm sickened again today.

As you're probably aware, I'm really opposed to copying other artists' art to sell as your own creation. This is a painting by Andre Kohn. I found it today on Marie-Monique's Blog, Art-Monie, where she showcased a lovely collection of his work.

I also found this painting today...

claiming to be an original by a well liked blogging friend of many.
Oh Celeste, I never expected this of you...

I find myself wondering about every other walking in the rain painting you ever did. I'm shocked and crushed.

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I removed it from my blog after receiving a long letter from Celeste Bergin. She confessed to copying without making reference to the original artist. She admitted to copying as a form of learning and made it seem an oversight that she didn't give credit to Andre Kohn. She claimed it was the first time she has ever done this. In her words, "I know you wrote a big article on this subject and you point out that it is never correct to paint someone else's work."

I gave her the benefit of the doubt and removed the post.

In her letter she wrote of having worked very hard to earn her reputation and this post could ruin everything for her. She made it sound like her future rested in my hands. Perhaps it's just me, but if this were the case for myself, I would have been waiting with bated breath to see the post disappear and quick to thank for its removal. It was an odd feeling as I waited for a return email. The strange feeling that I had been had. 

I wondered if she was laughing, thinking how easily I had caved. But my thoughts were wrong and eventually nearly an hour later, I received her thankful letter.

She wrote that her other umbrella paintings were original. Her husband was a photographer and she uses his photos as reference. She also said, she paints over any copies she does and will be doing so with this one too. I took this to mean she never sells copied work.

I was relieved.

It's one thing to post about a pirate half way around the world, yet another to pirate out a blogging "friend". It seemed the best possible ending and I was pleased to shake it off and get on with my day. 

But some things leave a very sour taste in your mouth and stomach. While busy teaching my classes, thoughts churned in my head. I didn't want to go looking for incriminating evidence. I wanted to feel good about having removed the post. 

The burning question that haunted my mind was why did I remove the post? Was I doing an injustice to all the true artists out there? What about the reputation of Andre Kohn? How long and hard had he worked to earn his? Why was I favoring the reputation of the copier? 

The painting by Celeste posted is titled Walking in the Rain II. I wanted to believe her. After all I've been following her blog since I began blogging nearly two years ago. I liked her. She's always up to something different. She inspires a lot of us and seems fearless to try anything. 

I decided to search for her first Walking in the Rain. I wanted to believe she was innocent, but nothing was adding up. So many of her works are done on small format. Usually her large pieces are destined for galleries or exhibits. Why was this latest umbrella painting done on a 40x30" canvas? Who does that with intensions to just paint over it? The sour taste got sourer...

Here is Walking in the Rain by Celeste Bergin.

This wasn't painted from a photograph shot by her husband. This was another copy of Kohn's work. It went to gallery, art exhibits and eventually sold.

I had been fed a mouthful of lies. 

I often wondered why the Portland, Oregon artist's large works differed so much from her day to day plein air things. The quality of the large pieces always astounded me. I innocently thought to myself, wow, she really pulled it all together for this one!

Truth be told, she was copying. I'm inclined to wonder how many of those gallery worthy paintings she produced were actually originals...

I know this is difficult for many to read. I too had difficulty swallowing all of this. 

I'm quite certain these links will only work a short time. From experience a pirate scurries around trying to delete all they can that is incriminating, an action that only adds credit to their guilt. I later realized the reason for the hour delay in her thank you email. She was busy scurrying and deleting.

Were getting a better understanding of this whole pirating process. First a stranger in Spain where we wondered what type of person would do such a thing. Second an artist's point of view after she found out she was being copied. And now this. What type of person would do such a thing? Many of us feel we know Celeste very well. She's fearless and would try anything!

Next time I see this smiling face, I'll know what she's smiling about. Success. (That Charlie Sheen "winner" type of feeling.) The feeling derived from having worked so hard to fool us all. Yes Celeste, you put a lot of time and effort to build your reputation. How often have you been seen all over town painting, sketching? Seems a perfect cover for a pirate. The problem is what was brewing in the solitude of that basement studio of yours...

I'm sorry if this upsets many of you. Turns out I have zero tolerance for pirating. I didn't ask to be the Art-Police, as Kevin Mizner calls me, but when it falls right into my lap, I can't ignore it. Fellow blogger or stranger across the Atlantic, it doesn't matter. Pirating is always wrong.  

Trusting instincts

A Marilyn Moment

Original oil painting  28x22"

by Susan Roux

Painting is unusual. Most things, do them long enough and you almost become an expert.  I know this like the back of my hand. Sometimes you feel you could even do them with your eyes closed.

Not true with painting.

It seems no matter how long you paint, or how good you get at it, there are always those pesky paintings that give you a run for your money. For some unknown reason they just won't come together. It's like back paddling, never pushing you forward. You begin to feel like you're just moving paint around. Colors that were once alive, dull. The more you layer, the worse it gets. At some point you might even consider wiping down the entire canvas. It's how I felt yesterday while toiling on this painting.

But...

Frustration can be your friend. Seriously. It doesn't feel like it at the time, but when you get to the point where you're ready to just trash the entire canvas, freedom and spontaneity take over. The big brushes come out. There's fearlessness pumping through your veins. That "I don't give a care" attitude can propel quantities of emotion onto your canvas. With big bold strokes, you find yourself hacking into your work. Where you once delicately painted detail, you now obliterate with a single stroke. Oddly it seems to be better. Either that or you just feel better unleashing. The painting takes an unexpected turn. A clearer direction, perhaps a new direction announces itself.

Often a new day and fresh eyes help. You might even put off going into the studio. After all you're expecting to see a terrible mess, but it usually isn't as bad as you remembered. Those bold strokes of late yesterday seem to compliment. That's when you know your gut took over. There's an empowering drive in trusting your instincts. It's comforting to see your instincts didn't fail you.  Even through bad days behind the easel, the creative you persevered. There's wonderful energy in that. Part of you suddenly becomes reassured.

When the going gets tough the tough get going. Kevin Mizner recently posted about keep on working especially when everything is going wrong. He never brings it full circle to connect with the painting process, but it's implied.

Where do you land on this? How long do you work a painting? Do you try to salvage or does it get dumped as soon as it begins to go awry?

Are you trusting your instincts?

Artists journey

Gardner's Home

Original oil painting 18x14"

by Susan Roux

Where has your art journey taken you?

I was reading Kevin Mizner's post this morning and he talked about the artist's journey, well mostly his own... He made the statement, "The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know, and how much more there is to know."

Wow. Now there's a loaded statement and it's so true.

Think back when you first started. Didn't you think painting was easy? Do you think you'd have started to paint if you'd actually known how far you had to go? It's one of those totally frustrating things. Like a cartoon mirage. Remember that desert oasis? You see where you want to go and you work towards it only to find when you get there, you're not there at all. You have a long way to journey still.

Art is one of those things that as soon as you get comfortable settling in or accepting your level of achievement as the final end, your work suddenly turns into formula painting and it automatically slips in reverse. Think about that for a minute...

I know you know artists who've done that exact thing. I won't mention any names, but even some of the greats of today have fallen prey to that terrible trap. The artists journey is one without an end. The desire to strive for improvement must remain throughout your life. Look at Monet. He pushed himself to the very end. Even blind, he continued to paint. Just before he lost his vision (those nasty chemicals. I hope you're taking precautions to protect yourself...) is when he did his best work. Why? Why were his nympheas so magnificent? He'd spent a lifetime pushing himself. He never settled into a comfortable place where he accepted his level of achievement.

I remember several years ago studying about color. I began to understand color at a level I didn't know existed. How wonderful to have your eyes opened anew to a subject that already excites you tremendously! Who would have known there was more? I certainly didn't. I floated around wanting to explode with joy and had no one to describe my new discovery to.

I've been trapped at a fairly stagnant level for a few years. Yes, there were some paintings that rose above the others, but mostly my work had flatlined. I didn't stop pushing. It seemed futile, but oddly something inside me kept telling me there was more. I listened. I was frustrated. I'd get discouraged. Still I pushed on believing there was more and if I continued trying, I'd achieve it. Now, just like the deeper knowledge of color that opened my eyes a few years back, I feel equipped with a new understanding of grays. Yes, I said grays.

I know it sounds dumb. Insignificant grays are anything but insignificant...

Suddenly I'm exploring like a child let loose in a giant toy store! Seriously, it's that kind of excitement. There is more too. A renewed realization that we aren't just portraying an image, but painting poetry, a passion, a vision of more than just objects. Suddenly I'm finding my work moving forward. I'm thrilled I never stopped pushing. Though the lulls are discouraging, the triumphs are exhilarating enough to compensate. I just want to explode on canvas.

I feel equipped with new tools of understanding and my journey continues. I know these new tools will take me forward for awhile. Forward in improvement, I hope. But I also know that in time it will flatline again. It's the journey. If I'm to be all I can be in this line of work, I know I mustn't ever get too comfortable. Luckily, though frustrating at times, it's also the excitement that drives me ever forward.

Don't you just love knowing it'll always be exciting? There'll always be more to learn and develop.

Have you fallen into the formula trap? It can be a tough rut to climb out of. May the new year ahead jolt you enough to push you out of your comfort zone and propel you forward in your journey. Allow yourself to be renewed in that childlike excitement of discovery. Don't stop pushing yourself. The rewards will amaze you.

Posted is the finished Gardner's Home. It was painted with a class, drying completely between sessions. I may revisit this scene on my own when I can paint wet on wet. I'd be interested to see the different results. I posted this work in progress on Oct. 29. Oddly it was the post where I introduced Kevin Mizner to you. I'm just noticing that. I wonder if that means anything?

K. Mizner

Work in progress

by Susan Roux

Ok, I've kept an interesting blog to myself for long enough now. Its time for me to share.

Remember Chicken Coop man? Well he signs his canvases K Mizner. Frankly I don't know why, because Chicken Coop man is so much easier to remember...

If you recall I met Kevin at a workshop and painted in his studio Coop with Nora Kasten. Kevin is quite hilarious and even at the workshop, we were drawn towards each other. We set up our easels side by side and more off-handed comments were slapped around than paint! At the time I thought it was our shared Maine residency that drew us together. We seemed to have the same off-kilter view of things. But now as time passes, I think it was his humor that drew me in.

Kevin didn't blog.

Well, that never settles well with me. Why not? I asked. Its a great thing. After all, its how Nora and I met. I explained, I'm certain with wise cracks thrown in (some people bring that out in me, but I won't mention names... Rick), that blogging is a great way to meet, interact and network with artists from all over the country and the world. Well Kevin may be from the backwoods of Maine, but he's no dummy. Up here, backwoods doesn't mean backwards. There are some pretty smart cookies tucked in around here.

I think it was the very next day that I received an email from Kevin announcing he had started to blog. Smart guy.

He's posted daily since. He has so much to talk about, frankly I don't know what he did with all those thoughts before he could rant them out on a blog. You need to go be a follower. I mean seriously. He'll crack you up everyday. He can't help it. It just pours out of him. I literally burst out laughing aloud while reading it. My husband asks what's so funny? I'm just reading Kevin's blog...

I've chosen today to send you there, because he has a wonderful chilling Halloween story to tell you. He spoke of this while we visited his Coop, but the story he shared then was different than the one he posted. So you can urge him to post more on the subject. He's got stories...

Chicken Coop man currently has 9 followers. Yes I know, its sad. Go make his number rise. I'm sure he'll appreciate it. And for you, a daily post full of laughs with some art thrown in here and there. How can you go wrong?

Posted is the progression of the Wednesday Night Ladies class painting. We finally filled in the remaining white canvas and I allowed some of the sunlit flowers to emerge. Hey, I had to keep them happy...

One more note: For those of you who've been asking, I found artists to fill the four bedrooms in the February rental.

Chicken Coop

What's your studio like?

A place in the basement? A spare room in the house? The kitchen table? A shed out on the lawn? How about a converted chicken coop?

I met Kevin Mizner at my last workshop and that's exactly what he has. A chicken coop studio! I couldn't imagine it. How must it smell in an old chicken coop? Lots of silly phrases followed that I can't really post here, but suffice it to say, we went from giggles to hysterics over our creative comments. One led to another as we built upon the previous absurdity. All I can tell you is when a painting goes south, he simply says he laid an egg. You'll have to imagine the rest...

His town is conveniently located between my house and where Nora Kasten was staying. Yesterday we all met there for a studio visit and painting session. The chicken coop made a great studio! It smelled of fresh cut pine from all the new boards he lined the ceiling and walls with. Kevin showed me pictures of how it looked a year ago when he first bought the property. The low water-stained ceiling nearly grazed the top of his head. When he removed it, a wonderful open cathedral space was revealed. He kept a small section of ceiling, creating a storage loft above and a cozy easy-chair living space beneath. His dog Champ lays quietly on the scattered rugs. I don't have to tell you about studio pets. You already know about their loyal companionship.

Kevin gave us a tour through his beautiful historic farmhouse. His paintings hung in every room. One of my favorites was these boats. I loved the light he captured on this typical coastal scene. Mizner paints scenes of Maine, most of which are familiar nearby subjects.

There was ample room for us all. You can see my latest painting on the easel. Its still a work in progress, but is nearing completion. It was a very productive day.

Nora chose to sit, observe and talk with us. I love having conversations of art with various artists. Everyone has their own ideas and sharing our views is so stimulating. The energy floating around this chicken coop studio was wonderful. Nora don't be mad I posted your picture. You're beautiful, baby! Our time together has been so special. Safe travels as you go on your way...

Kevin thanks so much for letting us crash your chicken coop. ( I must stop or some of those silly phrases will just pop out!)