Norene … listening to Serena

Detail from Dreaming a Piece of Land, Ardoise, Nova Scotia

Shannon and I were talking about the music we listen to when we paint. We thought we should make a list, a recommendation for those who are wildly creating, tucked away in their home studios. So, here goes:

Norene’s latest favourites:

If Your Memory Served You Right, Serena Ryder
Car Wheels On a Gravel Road, Lucinda Williams
West, Lucinda Williams
Love and Negotiation, Carolyn Dawn Johnson
Fallen, Evanescence
Get Back Change, Ron Hynes
Hymns of the 49th Parallel, KD Lang
Stand Still-Look Pretty, The Wreckers
Famous Last Words, Hedley
Daughtry
Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
Pink

Now I think D and S should add to this list.

Diane . . .

"We went back home … for flowers. Stayed for dinner and had a glorious afternoon."
Beatrice July 25, 1926

Norene . . . ‘Here she lies where god has flung her.’

Detail from Chemainus, British Columbia


When I asked the subjects of my paintings for their thoughts on their chosen landscapes, I was grateful for their willingness to open up and share private feelings. I was moved by the rush of emotion that poured out.

Okay, some responses were what I expected – how luck and timing resulted in discovering the perfect home, how a desire for change meant a new point of view, how their environment nourishes and inspires.

What I didn’t expect was being thanked repeatedly for asking the question. Let’s face it. We’re all too busy. Running behind ourselves. We don’t often take the time to reflect on how we got here. Most were glad to try to frame their thoughts, maybe even surprising themselves with how they felt.

Some were haunted with dreams of a childhood topography that was so elemental, they searched their whole lives trying to find it again. One preferred the excitement of exploring an internal landscape. One was so overpowered by the purity and lightness of the air, the transcendent quality of the terrain, that his heart was pierced and nothing was ever the same again. One has looked at the sky and seen the face of god.

In the end, this exercise has made me realize that wondering about people and the places they live has been a fascination of mine since I was young and living the transient life of an army brat. It flows under the surface of everything that I do.

Shannon . . .

March 30, 2008 12:15 pm

I knew it was my turn to blog but I didn’t know what I wanted to write about. Until today. I went to the gallery to drop off our promotional material and while I was there I checked out the current show. Great abstracts and lots of them. A woman came in and walked around the room touching some of the paintings then she went to the person who was gallery sitting and said, “Have any of these sold?” The gallery sitter replied “Yes, 4 of them.” She got up and pointed to the paintings with the red dots. The viewer looked perplexed. “The red dots mean they’re sold?” “Yes,” replied the sitter. ‘Why would anybody wanna buy this crap?” the woman asked. It stopped me in my tracks. Like deer in the headlights I couldn’t move. The sitter tried to explain but the woman was having none of it. She pressured the sitter further, “I could paint this crap.” Standing behind the partition I winced. I had spent the morning painting and trying to feel confident about my abstract landscapes . . . then the words I feared . . . “I could paint this crap.” Oy.

Diane…

I guess this is what it's like when the time is getting close. I feel pretty immersed in the show. Even if i am not working on it, or i'm with other people, I'm still thinking about it. Shannon has finished designing our invitations, which is really exciting, so I'm looking up addresses of people I want invitations sent to, and I think we are all madly chugging away at completing the paintings.

Today I worked on my 'Artist's Statement' again. Not sure what format the final version will take, but it's getting easier to articulate what I'm trying to do now that we're getting down to the wire and i have many of the actual paintings to look at.

The whole idea behind 'From Here' is that the three of us will make individual explorations into the concept of home. My part deals with the influence Lunenburg County has had on my life, even though I only lived here for a few months as a baby, until i retired here with my husband in 2006. But my family roots here go back to the 1700's on both sides, and this county has formed an emotional backdrop for me, ever since I was a child growing up in Ontario. In finding inspiration for my paintings, one of the things i have been doing is poring over old photos and journals - from the early 1900's to the 30's) that were kept by my great grandparents, whom i never knew, and two of my great aunts. It amazes me how all the members of the family and their neighbours have sprung to life for me over the past few months. They liked a lot of the same things I do, but there was a lot more work required for day to day living. I sometimes feel as though i'm in a time warp, and their generation is still there, just over the road a bit, shovelling out the roads, noting the first day the lake opens or the spring frogs peep, going to town by horse, or walking for a couple of hours, or by train (there were still trains !!!! ) busily getting in the harvest, going to the pictures in Bridgewater several times a week (Barrymore. Dietrich), listening as a group to the brand new-fangled radio in the 20's. Everyone had lots of jobs to do; lazing around was rare, and almost everything was done from scratch.

Still, it sounds like a good life to me.

Norene . . . Struggling with my mother

Detail from “Minnedosa”

I have been working on one of the smaller paintings the last two days. I love the image. I don't know if it is the square canvas, 20x20, or the reference material. I am looking at it more graphically than I usually do. I was my intent to have both my father and mother in the frame but I cannot capture her. At all. I tried all day yesterday, using several different references, until about 11pm last night. I finally painted over her and went to bed. Now it is a portrait of them both but she just isn't there...and the landscape is comprised of lines etched into the paint. Which brings me to a concern I had when we were first planning this exhibition. The period of time was so long that I was worried that my style of painting would change by the time we mounted the show. I was right, to worry I mean. But what will be will be...

Diane . . .

Mar. 5/08 8:30 a.m.


“Sunlight streams through the window. Gesso is on our shared stool waiting for her morning treat, coffee's hot, and everything in my temporary workspace is ready for another productive day of creativity: table cleared off, fresh blobs of cerulean and cad red glistening on the palette, clean paint brushes clustered at attention, stalwart easel with arms outstretched, and references neatly aligned ready to lift me to uncharted heights of inspiration.

Sigh.

Unfortunately it's not like that at all. Except that Gesso really is waiting, and of course the coffee's ready, but the sun isn't even shining – there's an ice storm outside – and my workspace is a mess, as usual. I always mean to tidy up when I quit, but I don't. I drop everything and flee. If I'm lucky I escape without ruining whatever painting I'm working on. It's way too easy to screw up with watercolour, the famously unforgiving medium. For example, today I'll work on a scene I've already tried twice this week, but I added too much paint, and got lost along the way. The previous efforts are here in the piles somewhere, sending out vibes. I should listen to their message.

When to stop. That's what I'm thinking about today. Or will be, after I clean up enough of the mess to start my daily attack on the paintings for our show. And give Gesso her treat.”