Alternative Venues

Golden Marsh

Original oil painting 24x36"

by Susan Roux

Yesterday I got to play decorator!

A magnificent old house with tons of rooms was recently turned into A Center for Healing Arts Therapy. A dear friend gave them my name and voila it came to be that I received the fun job of hanging art throughout the space.

I brought 23 paintings (mostly large, some really large) and 7 photographs which I hand-picked from my husband, Michael McAllister's collection. I expected to have strict rules and guidelines presented to me, even a scrutinizing of what I intended to hang. But no. Complete carte blanche. How wonderful is that?

After unloading all 30 pieces, I had the two available therapists come give me an idea of their preferences. I wanted to hang images in their areas they'd really like. Aside from that, three floors of lovely colored walls waited patiently for my selection. Up stairs. Down Stairs. In the stairwell. Hallways. Waiting rooms. Rooms and rooms and rooms... So many rooms and doors, that at times I was getting lost.

During the process, another lady arrived and asked if I was the new acupuncturist. Oh no, I assured her. I was the artists here to hang art. Her face lit up and she immediately asked if I would hang some in her room. She unlocked a door to reveal a beautifully decorated space with one large empty wall. She was the message therapist and just entering her room made one begin to relax... I had the perfect piece for her. The 24x36" Golden Marsh posted above complimented her empty wall as though the room had been decorated with the anticipation of its arrival. It took her breath away... (It's actually softer than this older image portrays. You know how it is with photos.)

I won't tell you I wasn't stiff when I returned home. This was far from the normal workout I get standing behind my easel all day long! Seriously. Three floors, thirty pieces of art, but it was a good tired. Whenever the therapists' had breaks between clients, they were seen exploring the house examining what I had hung and how it transformed their space. The smiles couldn't be wiped of their faces. Wouldn't it be great to be able to market that? The look original art puts on people's faces. It's priceless, yet many people have never experienced it.

The center is having an opening soon and I'll use the opportunity to advertise it as an art opening as well. Will art sell there? I don't know. But I'm holding steadfast to the concept of being open to alternative places of exposure. Catching the Rain, as Eric Rhoads put it. After all, what are we suppose to do with accumulating inventory???

Rick was asking me if there exists an art orphanage to send them all to. I know I'm not alone in this respect.

What alternative venues have you found? Are they working? Sales generated? Please share your findings.

New paints and palette

It was time for an upgrade.

Sometimes its wise to realize you've gone as far as you can with the tools you're using. I was there. My paints were student grade, washed down and inferior. I'd grown so accustomed to them, it never dawned on me to change them. But when a wise old man (maybe not so old) visited, necessary changes became instantly obvious.

A bucket full of new paints!

If that doesn't make me want to jump up and paint, nothing will. Big juicy tubes, full of creamy paint, hollering to be squeezed. Its like being a kid again with a new box of crayola crayons!

Better yet is my new place to squeeze them on. Oh, I'm playing with the big boys now... A glass palette. I have to tell you, I'd seem them used before, but never realized the difference it makes mixing your colors.

Its a whole new stimulant!

I'm showing it to you all clean. Really, I should have photographed it in living color. Patches and patches of mixed swirls of paint gradually change with every value and tone at your fingertips. My palette knife rest, if you can believe that. I was so hooked to it before for mixing colors, I'm shocked how easily I've been able to let it go.

So when I tell you I've made some positive changes in an attempt to improve my art, I wasn't kidding. Everything all at once. I've repeated how my head hurts from all the thinking required during these days of experimenting. My brain is in overload. Not just from adjusting to a new way of looking at things, but from working with all new toys.

Would I do it again?

In a heartbeat. I suggest an upgrade to any of you who are serious about your art and wanting to improve your results. I looked at it as an investment in my future. It wasn't cheap, but I'm hoping it will all be worthwhile in time.

I'm currently working on portraits. I hope to secure the lessons of my past workshop by experimenting with similar subjects. Mike's taken photos of family members in strong light so I now have plenty of material to work with. No excuses... I don't know how many I'll decide to paint. I suppose as many as it takes to drill the lessons into my head. Maybe when my brain stops hurting and they get easier to paint, I'll know its time to move on.

At the moment I'm working on a double portrait. It has problems. Hopefully I'll feel comfortable posting it after I resolve some of them...

So when the day is done, my palette gets cleaned. The days used paint is scraped into piles of grays to use tomorrow. And then, one two three, it closes up tight keeping my paints from drying too quickly, into...

A handy dandy, ready to travel, suitcase!

All these changes are helping me from falling back on old habits. There's nothing to fall back on. Everything's been flipped upside down...

Nothing like a whirlwind to propel you into a new direction. Hopefully its forward...

Moon beach

The weather was lovely yesterday, so Mike and I drove to the beach

and landed on the moon...

Well, not really the moon. It just looked like it.

The coast was completely fogged in. The tide was way out and the shapes it left behind were nothing like I've ever experienced. Humps and bumps and crevices as far as the eye could see. Coupled with the lack of detail in the haze, it seemed the perfect setting for a sci-fi movie. It even felt eerie being there...

We could hear the waves crashing, but we couldn't see them. The mysteriousness had us moving forward cautiously. We even turned our heads in slow motion as though fearing what might be creeping behind us...

It was a totally different "beach" experience!

With cameras clicking, we continued on. I kept hoping the sun would burn through the haze. It was obvious it wanted to. At times we could feel warmth on our faces. Little peek-a-boo's of filtered sun lit dots of landscape then disappeared again.

People emerged in and out of the fog.

Sand dunes in Maine... No, wait. Maine doesn't have sand dunes. Cape Cod has sand dunes! The beach had been terribly beaten and broken this past winter. One horrific storm with record high tides swallowed the land. Popham Beach was virtually unrecognizable.

Suddenly, much to my surprise, we came upon purple sand! Its a dream for me. For those of you who don't know me well, I'm a purple freak and here I find purple sand!!! Wow. I was in heaven. How lovely it was. I wanted to take some back with me, but I had nothing to put it in. Why do we go to the beach without a zip-lock bag in our pockets? There are always little treasures we want to gather and take home.

A bit further down the beach, we saw the reason for the purple sand... Trickling from the mainland was a stream of blue and purple carving its way, like the empty branches of a tree, towards the sea. What chemicals are leaching, I wondered? Suddenly the purple sand seemed much less appealing...

We didn't stay there as long as we expected to. Afterwards, Mike and I laughed at the strange experience it was. We did have a nice walk together. Taking photos is one of our great pleasures and Mike was just breaking in his new camera. The foggy conditions created a good opportunity for him to try new buttons. Apparently his new baby has plenty of buttons to push and he always claims he's just a button pusher...

Michael McAllister, seconds before getting his feet wet...

Tiny petunias

Mike and I returned from our two week holiday in Ireland with over 6000 photos. I know that sounds excessive, but we like to walk around taking pictures. Fortunately for us, its what we both want to do. I could post a daily picture from there for several years and still have images to spare.

So then I wonder, what makes me chose one image over another to post?

Take this simple image, a flower box of small, late-season, stringy petunias. Why among thousands was this my choice? Much like choosing an image to paint, this one caused a response. This one spoke to me.

The longer I look at it, the more I like it.

I like the fact that the trim is painted in two shades of red. The bright shiny wood slats of the window itself and the neutralized red, almost dirty red, of the sill. Notice how there are flowers in those exact shades growing. There are even soft yellow ones to match the color of the building. The lankiness of the stems create movement that dance my eye throughout the image. Though tiny and almost struggling to hang on, they remain bright and cheerful. Aren't window boxes up-lifting? I've always loved them.

As I observe closer, the reflection becomes impossible to miss. The window sits in shadow, but the reflection is all sunlit.

There in the distance are houses, a canal, small boats and two figures walking engaged in conversation. The easiness of their stride is captured in the reflection, even through the folds of the curtain. This relaxed easiness can be found throughout Ireland. No wonder we returned so relaxed...

I also like the curtain. Though its white, it appears to be a soft blue. If you look at the top image and squint, it pretends to be the sky...

This entire little image is poetry. It has a whole story to tell.

This captivating little window belongs to Monks. Monks is a pub in Ballyvaughan, Co. Clare. Like all the Irish pubs, they had great fish! The Guinness wasn't bad either. (I never knew beer went with fish...)

I think this is why Mike and I like to walk and take photos. Sometimes the neatest ones can only be found when walking slow. Taking time to look at the details is where the real beauty lies.

Kind of reminds me of people...