Rain, Rain,Rain & no plein air

Today the map displayed a storm in Illinois running all the way into Indiana. I looked outdoors as the phone rang. It was Tim. "Hullo, it's raining here. How about there? What do you think paint today or go back to bed?" I replied without needing to think on the matter. "No, I guess we'll shoot for Wednesady, huh?" "Sure."  With that I layed the phone down.

When we were at the grain elevator last week, I shot a few images of the office which caught my attention because of the whiteness of the building in the sunlight and the blue sky outlining the triangular shape as an abstraction. I remembered it and figured today would work since we weren't goingto apint today. I was getting into the habit and a habit is hard to quit.

I grabbed a canvas I stretched last week and brought up several jars of acrylic paint setting up in the kitchen.The image was on my laptop sitting on the table across from the counter. I began and the moment was changed into the painting process which keeps most artists going when they are at the bottom of their creative roller coaster. Dark strong blues and whites poured out on the glass palette and deep crimson. Beginning with a line sketch in the wet underpainting of gray and white quickly laid down. I started to lay in color keeping the paint wet by adding a wet brush to the canvas intermittently. Color after color layer built while a part of me painted. The part that I meet only when I make my art. We, rarely, talk to each other to avoid disturbing the 'other'. My eyes and hand know what to do. Just leave them alone is all I can think. Before I know it, the canvas has an image on it that wasn't there an hour ago. I am finished but for the signature. The difference, an older artist told me, between a painting that is discarded and kept is a signature. C.SPEAR 2010 is added and I set the painting in another room. I didn't look at it 'til later. Who does these artworks I wondered. Such is the nature of the creative process.