The Pear Tree

Archive for the ‘Projects’ Category

“She could never go back and make some of the details pretty. All she could do was move forward and make the whole beautiful.” – Terri St. Cloud

All good things must come to an end, as we know, and Monday night saw the wrap-up of my six-week art class, Exploring Acrylic Painting Mediums, at the Kelowna Art Gallery.

But, as I mentioned last week, rather than an end I am hopeful that this might just be the beginning for me. Not because I see any great potential in my artwork so much as because as a therapeutic outlet, it’s amazing. The beauty really is in the journey, in this case (and that’s how I hope the quote above will be interpreted).

My generous teacher, Megan Bernard, was more optimistic than me, reminding me how long it takes to learn an instrument or a language.

“People approach art as though it’s different, but it’s the same idea. It takes time to learn,” she said.

A fellow student, whose name I didn’t catch but whose work I frequently coveted, added that she could have cried after her first art class. It was a water colour class, she related, and the paint and brush did not cooperate with the vision in her head.

“I wanted to quit, but I kept going,” she said.

Perhaps another course or two could be in my future, in an attempt to further hone the skills I’ve started to learn.

While I could learn at home, from my talented artist husband, I love the classroom environment, finding inspiration in the approaches and work of my classmates as well as the knowledge and experience of the teacher. We’re all learning the same information, but applying it in our own way and it’s so much fun to witness.

In the meantime, here is how I finished off with the poo swirls and (below that) the Rows of Roses, as I’m calling it. Both, as well as the top photo of a music themed painting I did, will likely have a bit more tweaking, but this the next best thing to finished.

And let’s remember. The point was not to turn me into an artist so much as to “culturize” myself. And that it did, in spades.

- Words and photos by Lori-Anne Poirier

Complete Story:

Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson I
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson II
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson III
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson IV
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson V
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson VI

Here is a rundown of my Monday evenings since I started my weekly, six-week art class at the Kelowna Art Gallery:

4 p.m. The beginning of what I’ve come to call “The Arsenic Hour” in our home. Generally, I’m trying to come up with something healthy, quick and agreeable to eat for dinner while my daughter (19 months) magically becomes more needy than she is at any other time of day, insisting quite loudly that she must only be held. Simultaneous, my son (almost four) throws himself into high gear, racing and squealing around the kitchen, while the dog decides she really must go outside every five minutes.

5:15 p.m. Hands are washed and Thing 1 and Thing 2 are in their seats, ready to eat. Mr. Pear Tree comes through the door and sits down just in time for the prayer. I dish out and get Thing 2 going with her dinner while trying to gobble mine.

5:30 p.m. I gather up my painting supplies and attempt to say good-bye to everyone but then Thing 1 inevitably wants to go potty and I’m the only one he wants to put him on the toilet, Mr. Pear Tree needs something and only I know where it is at that moment (likely under two feet of debris on my desk), and – oops! I forgot my camera battery in the charger and must go back to get it. Oh, and I accidentally brought and left my keys upstairs and have to make one more trip for those.

5:42 p.m. I’m finally out the door and in a panic to get to class on time. One quick pit stop at the Starbucks near my place for a grande Tazo Chai and I’m really on my way, seriously, for sure this time.

6:05 p.m. I arrive at the KAG only to find there are no parking spots nearby. I drive around the block at least once before finding something. On a good night, it will be only half a block away.

6:08 p.m. I walk into my class and unpack my supplies. I look around at the six other students (one other one slides in a little bit after me), who all look calm and collected. I take a sip of my chai and catch my breath. Stillness.

For the next three hours, I hear snippets of quiet conversation between my fellow students as they compare notes, share a story or learn a new technique from our teacher, Megan Bernard. No one screams. No one pulls at my clothes or climbs on me. I don’t have to take anyone to the potty.

I am free. Free to push colours around a canvas, sip my chai and hear myself think.

I wish I had tried a class out years ago – even before I had children in my life. Back in the days when I was chasing deadlines and squeezing in extra work and telling myself that covering events was as good as attending them at leisure. I could have used the occasional evening like this.

It seems there’s always something around to crowd out quiet, creative time – especially when creativity doesn’t come naturally to a person.

There’s only one more week left in the class, and then we’ll be left to bring what we learned into our regular lives. While I’ve made notes of all the impressive techniques Megan has introduced us to, the most important lesson of all is to just paint.

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My work, so far:

- Words and photos by Lori-Anne Poirier

Complete Story:

Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson I
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson II
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson III
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson IV
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson V
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson VI

I missed my last art class at the Kelowna Art Gallery because of a family gathering I attended this week. Fortunately, though, it was an evening of working on our projects without a lot of new information being added.

So. I took an evening to myself, set up at the dining room table and started a new piece, incorporating some of what I’ve learned.

It was the first time since I started the class that I took what I’ve been learning out of the classroom and into “real life.”

I threw on some Lhasa de Sela.

I brewed myself a cup of chai.

And I contemplated what to do for close to an hour before finally splashing on my first layer of colour.

Unlike my past projects, I wanted to envision a completed painting this time before I started, rather than taking the “see what happens” approach again.

This Rose and Teardrop pattern, by Charles Rennie MacIntosh, was an influence.

I know – you’d think that roses are a favourite of mine. An obsession, even. They’re actually not. But I do enjoy swirling that palette knife around the canvas. And I guess I wanted to revision those poo swirls I started with (which I’ll continue working on next week).

It was a great evening, and one that I look forward to indulging in more often, now that I have a few skillz in my tool kit.

- Words and main photo by Lori-Anne Poirier

Complete Story:

Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson I
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson II
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson III
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson IV
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson V
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson VI

There’s a saying I’ve heard, that goes, “beautiful hands are lazy hands,” or words to that effect. The point is that only hands that are idle can be kept beautiful.

I happen to disagree. While I acknowledge there is a certain distinction in having flawlessly smooth, well-proportioned and even-toned (something I lack) hands, some of the most beautiful hands I’ve seen have been creased, wrinkled, or marked from a lifetime – or even just a day – of good work.

A shot of my teacher, artist Megan Bernard's, hands.

I was thinking about this at my last painting class at the Kelowna Art Gallery. It was near the end of the class and I happened to glance at my paint-spattered hands (above). I felt strangely proud of their pied beauty. Like some of the artwork had crept off the canvas and onto me, and had become a sort of extension of the work.

Traces remained, even after a good, soapy wash. And until I obsessively picked their last traces away, I wore them like a badge of honour. Like a “real” artist. And if somebody had only asked me (but nobody did), I could have responded, “oh, yes, that’s just from my painting. Acrylics. I’m working on a big piece right now.”

Whether it’s paint from an art class, dirt from the garden, or just the wear and tear of putting them out there, living life, the character our hands collect along the way is symbolic of the interesting person we become on the inside. Just ask Scarlett O’Hara (though Rhett Butler may not agree). She only really started to become three-dimensional when the sheen was off her hands.

*

In case you’re wondering about the poo swirls, they’re coming along nicely. This week I reshaped them with a generous slathering of Heavy Gel (Matte), which will be more or less transparent when it dries…

And added a wash of red. We’ll see how it really looks when it’s dry.

Here’s one more thing I’ve been working on – the rose is actually a transfer of a photocopied picture of a rose, and the white on and around it is more Heavy Gel (Matte), to give it texture:

- Words and photos by Lori-Anne Poirier

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Giveaway Winner Announced!

Thanks to those who commented, blogged, Facebooked and Tweeted our last giveaway! The randomly-drawn winner of Prairie Feast: A Writer’s Journey Home for Dinner, by Amy Jo Ehman, is Rosanne. Congratulations! We’ll be in touch by email to work out the details on getting your book to you.

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Complete Story:

Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson I
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson II
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson III
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson IV
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson V
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson VI

I had a Zen moment during my Kelowna Art Gallery painting class this week. It surprised and discomfited me just a little bit.

You see, one of my challenges as a would-be artist seems to be generosity. With the paint, I mean. My teacher, artist Megan Bernard, gives us these inspiring demonstrations of things we can do with our acrylic paint. Mixed with matte medium the paint becomes thick and stiff, adding wonderful texture with ridges and dips, peaks and valleys. A wash of contrasting colour, added after it dries, ups the interest factor even more.

But I just can’t seem to do it. I want, I try, I fail.

Some thinly spread texture on one of the paintings I'm working on...

You’d think something like this would be as easy to fix as slopping more paint on the canvas and stirring it round. But really it’s more psychological than that and I think I’ve sussed out the problem. It’s either a) I am inherently stingy and/or b) I am afraid to commit. I don’t want to waste significant amounts of paint or medium, and so I measure out my paint in careful, small amounts. When the time comes to slather it across the canvas, there is only, at best, just enough. Exactly the right amount to spread thinly over the space. No extravagant bumps or wanton ridges.

Practical? Yes. Creative? Hardly. And it smacks just a little too much of J. Alfred Prufrock for my comfort.

Could it be, I asked myself, that acrylic paint is a metaphor for my passion? Measured out in dribs and drabs, making it stretch, not wanting to waste it on the wrong effort?

Did I stop living passionately? Have I ever? Or have I just so admired the passion of others that I convinced myself that I, too, was just like them – in the same way that I see the work of artists who work their medium so beautifully that I am certain I would paint just like that if only I… umm… could paint.

“Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me,” says J. Alfred.

I don’t know if forcing myself to slather paint unsparingly across a canvas will up the quality of my life significantly. But I love how devoting those three hours a week to learning about it has opened a space for me to think about it, removed from the myriad distractions of children, work and life.

So. While learning how to transfer images onto paint (wildly exciting potential there) or make pseudo encaustics – like we learned this week – certainly make the class interesting, informative and well worth taking, this opportunity to reflect on things, while exercising the creative muscle, just might be the most valuable thing I take from it all.

Update on the "Poo Swirls." Yikes!

- Words and photos by Lori-Anne Poirier

Complete Story:

Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson I
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson II
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson III
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson IV
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson V
Channelling the Painter Within – Lesson VI